The Coach's Wife
Copyright© 2023 by INtrinSicliValud
Chapter 16
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 16 - The initial story in The Wandering Man series introduces Hiram Boetticher, III. A young black man struggling to survive in the Southern United States of the 1980s, he’s hired by his football coach for an impromptu interlude with the man’s wife. But as emotions spiral higher and relationships twist, Hiram begins the journey that will make him a legend. NOTE: Contains references to “rape,” although all interactions are consensual, as well as racial slurs and play.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Mult Consensual Fiction Sharing Wife Watching Rough Interracial Black Male White Female Anal Sex
Saturday arrived with a loud chirping. At first, I thought it was the newfangled smoke detector one of momma’s “friends” had installed. Nope. In the faint sunlight, I spotted a cardinal outside my window. With a yawn and body-shaking stretch, I flopped onto my back. Though it flapped its wings, the bird only cocked its head as I widened my eyes. Beyond it, a flattened orange ball, the sun peeked over distant trees. With only a few puffy white cotton balls whisking by, the sky promised a clear, hot, and humid Southern day.
At the red bird’s next squawk, I sighed and raked fingernails through my wiry hair. With a groan, I lurched from bed and slipped into a pair of rugged brown shorts and a light blue t-shirt. After a quick shave, I retrieved another pair of momma’s shoes from the front room and got the coffeemaker going.
It was only while leaning back against the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug, that I realized I’d been humming. With a swallow, I glanced at the phone.
“Nothing?” I mumbled before taking a longer sip.
Unlike the last time, there’d been no desperate call from Coach. Even as I ate a hasty breakfast and loaded my truck, I continued to listen for the phone. But it never rang.
As I drove to the falls, the crisp morning air bathed me and my mind wandered. I wasn’t sure how I felt about not getting a call. Despite what Coach said, maybe his wife had simply given up on me. Would this date end things between us? With a shrug, I turned up the radio.
“Nothing I can do about that,” I mumbled as my fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “At least, not right now.”
A little less than an hour later, the pickup crunched onto the gravel of a winding trail before halting before a crumbling log parking barrier. Under a shade tree, Chanelle had reversed her car into a nearby spot. At her beaming smile and twinkling amber eyes, my heartbeat soared. With short, black, straight hair clipped at the rear, she waved as I stepped from the cab.
While I walked closer, Chanelle leaned into her trunk. As my gaze swept her lean figure in a pair of olive-green hiking shorts and a red and white checkered flannel shirt knotted at her midriff, my pulse sped faster. Yep, no question about it. She had the toned body of a dancer.
At her struggling, I bent in next to her to shift an enormous wicker basket. After I’d lifted it from her car, I inspected the massive box. At my raised eyebrows, she chewed on her lower lip.
“I, uh, wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be,” she said as she slung a cobalt cloth bag over her shoulder. From its open top peeked a white and blue striped beach towel and a rolled brown blanket.
When she smiled up at me, time slithered to a stop. While everything but her glistening lips, bright eyes, and high, freckled cheekbones vanished, the heat from her body seared my skin. All the voices, the creaking of tree branches in the breezes, the crunching of tires on the dirt, all faded to nothing. At each of her soft, if rapid, breaths, tiny, glittering bubbles moved along parted red lips.
She also was magical. Also? Yeah, an image of Mrs. Jenkins had flashed into my mind.
When I gulped at a tremor racing along my spine, all the sounds flooded back into my ears. With a nervous giggle, she shifted one foot on the gravel. The moment broken; I stepped back to allow her to close the trunk. For what seemed like a million years, we stood so close, I could see the thumping of her chest. I should’ve kissed her. But I didn’t, and that moment passed as well.
After a quick sigh, Chanelle gripped the bag’s strap and moved towards the trail entrance. In silence, I trudged after her, my fist locked on either side of the basket. At her quick glance over a shoulder at me, my chest hitched. Not at being caught inspecting her perfect legs in hiking boots, but at the other heads swiveling to follow her before locking on me.
“Fuck,” I mumbled. “Sorry, momma.”
It wasn’t only scruffy, bearded redneck types, but everyone’s eyes narrowed as we passed. Alabama. Pretty—no, drop-dead gorgeous—white girl with a black boy. A big black boy. Heading for the woods. If Chanelle noticed, she neither spoke nor slackened her pace. However, I stared into each glare. Yeh, I know. Momma’d said to disregard them, but Chanelle ... I’d do anything to protect her. It was that simple. And my expression. It shouted that to any who dared hold my gaze.
As we moved upslope along a twisting trail, shade trees crept closer and, at a few spots, we had to duck. Not gonna lie, I slowed to watch her bend. When she caught me, her teeth sank into her lower lip. At the next branch, she made a prolonged show of gliding under it.
“Those dancer moves?” I laughed.
“Maybe. You gonna tip me, big boy?” At her tinkling laugh and a quick shimmy of her hips, my heart fluttered.
It was a good day.
Until it wasn’t.
After moving further up the path, the scraping tires of several bicycles approached from behind us. With Chanelle before me, they could only see my hulking black frame.
“Hey nigger! Outta the way!” A thick Alabama drawl called out. “We’s comin’ through.”
When I turned, shifting from the dirt track as far as I could, the picnic box jutted out into the trail. With my back pressing into the foliage, I caught the wide eyes of the front rider, a scrawny, pale man with a scraggly spray of curly hair on his cheeks. He wore a gray t-shirt with a rebel flag and cut-off denim shorts. My first thought was I could snap him like a twig. I’m not proud of that. My second thought was based on the huffing brute behind him. With an unkempt black beard, the bald guy was almost as bulky as me. Set wide in a round face, his dark eyes narrowed when he spotted Chanelle moving off the trail.
And that’s all it took for my third thought, which was more of a surge of neurons than an actual thought. As I shoved forward, the solid wicker box smashed into stick-boy, flinging him from his bike. After I’d surged onto the trail, bald pig-boy had a split second to brake. He didn’t. With a snarl, I spun and caught him with the whirling basket, dropping him to roll into the bushes beside his moaning buddy.
Fourth thought: momma would not have been proud of me.
“‘Please’ would’ve served you idiots better,” I growled as I glared at both, splayed amid the crumpled branches on the downslope side of the track. “Now get the fuck outta my sight before I kill both your redneck asses.”
Apologies, momma, but it worked.
In silence, both paled and stared at each other for a brief second before leaping to their feet and grabbing their bikes. With nothing but fearful expressions, they zipped, bouncing along the trail back the way they’d come. It wasn’t until I’d turned to Chanelle that I exhaled. Every molecule of air hissed from my lungs. While stepping back onto the trail, she stared after them.
“I’m ... I’m sorry, Hiram.” Chenille smacked her lips.
“For what? Them?” I nodded down the track. “Not all white folk are fools, but those that are sometimes need a little reminding of their place in the world.”
Not momma’s. That was one of my first mantras.
With a taut grin, Chanelle stepped beside me. As we headed onwards, side-by-side, I missed the view, but preferred her being closer. When I glimpsed her eyes, they sparkled. Magical.
“There. Follow me.” After pointing to a tiny gap in the foliage, she dove under a swaying branch to glide down a constricted, rougher path. “Um, be careful. It’s a bit of a slide.”
As I huffed and twisted, lurching after her, I struggled to keep the basket upright. At long last, with a resounding thud, my boots landed on a grassy patch surrounded by craggy gray boulders and dense trees. The pounding rush of water sounded from just beyond a rough outcropping. With her smile somehow wider, Chanelle waved me onwards before heading for that protruding cliff side.
Once she’d disappeared behind the solid sheet of black-streaked rock, my heartbeat drummed until I’d also cleared the massive cliff. With my jaw dropping, I gazed around in wide-eyed wonder at an isolated pool beneath a tumbling cascade of frothy water. Ringed by rounded and flatter stones, its crystal-blue waters shimmered. Only mottled sunlight penetrated the towering treetops.
At Chanelle twirling and leaping across the grass, my heart sang. With a laugh, she dropped the bag from her shoulder before dashing back to help me with the picnic basket.
“Do you like it? Hardly anyone knows about this place.” She turned to face me. Her perfect ruby red lips glistened. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? So beautiful.”
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