Chapter 4

At the buzzing of my alarm, I slapped around on the chipped wooden bedside table before finding the clock. Even as my eyelids fluttered in the dim orange glow slipping past the thin curtains, my mind continued to reel. While trying another long exhale to calm myself, I lay in bed, staring at the slow-spinning ceiling fan. Woods? Mrs. Jenkins? Naked? Against a tree? On their car? Coach? Cameras? No way had that really happened. Only a dream.

Yet throughout the night, I’d awakened with the same questions spinning in my brain. So, perhaps not a dream. After lurching from bed, I staggered towards the door. One glance at my hamper. Dirt streaks on my pants. Lipstick smearing my collar.

Not a dream. As my fingers clenched the worn, rattling doorknob, a shiver rippled through me. Nope. That had happened.

And if I thought that first morning was unsettling, football practices over the following weeks were even weirder.

Although Coach Jenkins treated me exactly as he did before the moviemaking in the clearing—starring his wife—there was an unmistakable tension.

“Boetticher! Tighten up.” or “Boetticher, doin’ great.” His callouts were nothing out of the ordinary.

However, his furtive glances were unsettling. Each time, at the prickling of the hair on the back of my neck, I’d turn to catch his retreating gaze. And then there were the awkward silences. No more jaunty banter. Instead, a profound quiet permeated whenever we passed each other or found ourselves alone. Even if only for a few seconds. There’d be a strange pause, as if he was expecting me to speak.

But no way in heck was I gonna bring up what’d happened in the woods. As far as I was concerned, we’d done something—not right. Part of me wanted to say “wrong,” but how? It’s not like Coach wasn’t there the whole time. Anyway, the five hundred dollars he’d given me was in the bank and my momma was none the wiser.

Which is another point I should mention. It wasn’t like I questioned how momma earned her money. Though tired and often wincing as she moved, she was always home in time to make us breakfast. When Coach had called her my “mommy” that night, I’d held in my chuckle. At the time, I thought she was some kind of special housekeeper, since she’d mentioned that so many older white men liked having black “mommies.” It was only later that I understood.

Well, back then, after the night in the woods, time marched ever onwards. The grinding, daily return of normalcy. School and football. The only real change that I can recall is Cyril had learned to throat us. Okay, two changes. As I’d close my eyes and plunge deep into the little cock-guzzler, I’d think of Mrs. Jenkins. Cindy’s sparkling eyes. Alright, three changes. Whenever I caught a girl’s glance, I locked eyes with her. No more at that first hammering of my heart did I avert my gaze. It didn’t get me anywhere, but I enjoyed the way their faces reddened.

Yet, all the while, in the background, there was this unusual sense of hesitation in the world. As if this saga had only just begun. And so, one particularly hot afternoon when the universe decided to warp again, I wasn’t as shocked. It was almost a relief.

As the sun beat down on us, we’d just finished a grueling practice. After escaping from beneath my well-worn helmet pad, unceasing, trickling rivulets of sweat stung my eyes. With a quick wave of his hand, Coach gestured me over as the rest of the guys headed for the showers.

“Hey, uh, Hiram. Um...” After checking for anyone nearby, he pursed his lips while mopping his brow with the back of his hand. “My wife would, um ... She’d like for you to, uh...”

Yep. As I tilted my head, already expecting what he’d say, the world warped. The entire field sorta wobbled, righted, then swayed once more. Behind Coach, all the white lines kinda merged into a blurry knot. With my heart whirring, I slipped the helmet free and scrunched my brow. Was he mad? Like legit, insane. Not angry.

“She, uh...” After another quick, furtive scan of the area, Coach leaned closer. “She really enjoyed her time with you. She’d, um, like to ... Uh ... You know, uh ... Again.”

“In the woods?” My mind was still wheeling, and the knotted white lines wouldn’t fucking, sorry momma, unknot. As warm air flowed through my open lips, I gaped at him and dragged fingers through my razor-short, wiry hair. “Tonight?”

“No. Today.” After a gulp, his chin trembled as he swept his sweaty palms along the side of his shorts. “At our home.”

“You sure, Coach? I mean...” After also looking around, I tugged on my sweat-soaked shirt, pulling it from my sticky torso.

My brain wheeled, darting from images in the woods to Coach’s expectant, yet anxious expression. What we’d done out in that dark clearing. Me with his wife as he watched. And then paid me. The look in her beautiful green eyes. The expression he hadn’t caught—because she’d ensured it was only for me. The way his wife had stared at me as I’d ... Look, by that point, after weeks of thinking about it, I’d made love to her on the car hood.

With a loud gulp, I swayed backwards, shifting my crotch as my cup tightened. It’d been hot.

Also stupid as hell. While they played their kinky games, I’d be the one to pay for it if we were caught. Despite all that, when he nodded while licking his lips, my heartbeat thundered.

“Yes. Please, Hiram.”

“Okay.” Of course, I’d agreed. Because, stupid or not, Cindy’s warm, silken skin and hot racing breath were worth it. And those ice-melting eyes. “But, uh, I’d better shower.”

“No. Um, she wants you just like that.” When my eyebrow raised while tracking shiny beads of sweat dribbling down my coal-black, muscled forearms, he nodded. “She does. Trust me.”

“Alright.” My voice was unsure, but after a lengthy sigh, I swallowed. “If you’re sure, Coach?”

“I am.” Again, he nodded, and though I caught the faintest glimmer of nervousness in his eyes, he pointed to the field’s exit. “She’s waiting. Uh, you’d better hurry.”

It was only as I sat on the bus, heading for their home, the gray practice t-shirt and shorts sticking to me like wallpaper, that my chest seized. She’d be waiting?

They’d already planned this. And expected me to accept.

With my head spinning, I hopped from the bus while ignoring the older white driver’s narrowed beady eyes. Black kids didn’t live in any of these fancy, pastel-colored homes with their perfect lawns and manicured shrubbery. While black women might’ve worked as maids there, their children didn’t even transit a neighborhood like that. Unless it was on a dare.

“And they damned sure didn’t fuck anyone around here,” I mumbled. Sorry momma.

After recalling Coach’s instructions, I found his powder-blue two-story house and crunched across its thick green turf. After moving into the side yard, I ducked through a little white-picket gate and into the shade of a sprawling oak tree.

Once I arrived at the rear, I squinted beneath one shading hand. While lower, the bright sun, blazing in a cloudless blue sky, made the snowy concrete pool deck blinding. As I slowed to let my vision adjust, I inspected the area. Surrounded by tall green hedges, the small backyard held several more spreading oak trees, but its centerpiece was the deck. Sunlight glinted off the surface of a sizable free-form pool.

With a sigh, I nodded. This was how the other half lived. Like a page from a magazine, everything gleamed. A large, black grill sat near a pair of sliding glass doors at the rear of the house. Further out, a circular white metal table was beneath a blue-and-white striped umbrella. Four matching chairs surrounded it. On the far side of the pool sat a pair of white loungers.

And reclining atop one of them...

“Oh.” Air hissed from my lips as I stepped onto the warm concrete and let my eyes roam along Mrs. Jenkins’ shiny little frame. As coconut-scented suntan lotion tickled my nostrils, my heart raced. In the world’s tiniest black bikini, gleaming with sweat, she was—amazing. Everything I’d ever wanted in a woman.

Except.

At the sight of the tripod-mounted VHS camcorder pointed at her from beside the grill, my chest tightened. Also the same still camera from the woods.

With a sigh, I shook my head.

Reality. No, she wasn’t my woman. She belonged to Coach.

Funny thing, that. “Belonged” coming into the mind of a young black man in the South. She no more belonged to Coach than I belonged to anyone. Not that I understood any of that back then.

After a gulp, my suddenly parched lips smacked while I walked towards Mrs. Jenkins. No sooner had my shadow loomed over her than she arched her chest upwards. With a yawn and shaking fists clenched, she stretched her long, perspiration-gleaming arms.

“Did you miss me...?” With sweat burning my eyes, I hesitated while peeking at the cameras.

Were the cameras already on? What was I supposed to call her? Whore? Were we still playing that game? Out here, on their pool desk, I wasn’t still “raping” her. Mrs. Jenkins? Or Cindy, the name she’d offered me. While filling her sprawled across the hood of her husband’s car.

Right as I flashed a taut grin down at her, those emerald eyes fluttered open. In the wavering heat, my soul melted. While blinking away a salty stinging trail of sweat, my pulse thundered in my ears. When she shifted her gaze from my face to the crotch of my shorts, my already surging rod lurched. At the sudden motion, a slim smile slipped onto her shiny, full lips.

Rather than reply, Mrs. Jenkins peeled her gleaming frame from the lounger. After shaking out a long ponytail in a glinting fan of golden tresses, she sank her teeth into her lower lip. When she leaned forward, I expected her to rise to her feet. Instead, my entire body tensed at her fingertips, delving beneath the elastic of my sweat-soaked waistband.

When she tugged downwards, releasing my throbbing dark pole into the bright sunshine, every molecule of air flew from lips. At the sudden rapid puffing of her hot breath on my bare pelvis, I swallowed. As the tiniest moan slipped from her, her soft fingers eased onto my wavering rod.

After pulling her gaze from my pulsating tip to gaze up at me, my heart stammered and breath hitched. Molten jade. Her eyes were ablaze. As memories of her staring up at me while we rocked atop Coach’s car came flooding into my spinning mind, my heart thumped louder.

Yeah, she’d missed me. A lot.

“Bigger in the daylight, huh?” I whispered through shaky lips while trying to smile.

After a quick nod, she leaned further while tilting her head. Even though I knew what was coming, when her velvet tongue began a slow, lengthy swirling glide, shivers raced through me. A long, rambling groan left my lips.

“Mmm. Oh, Jesus. Oh, wow, Mrs. Jenkins,” I forced out while dragging my shaking fingers along the sides of her skull.

“Am I still your whore, Hiram?” she said after another lengthy winding lick, hunting drips of salty sweat between my pulsing, dark veins. “Hmm?”

At first, I jerked with surprise before remembering the cameras. Okay, we’d be playing that game. Alright. Sure. Whatever. As long as her fingers were tight to my rod and she kept swirling her tongue, I’d play whatever role she wanted.

“Oh, uh, yes.” My fingers tightened on her head. “Such a dirty little whore.”

“Good,” is all she said before her moan sent a slow puff of warm air gliding across my cockhead.

As I gasped for air, she flashed me a smile and, like silken pillows, her full red lips settled onto the very tip. Even as her tongue probed my slit, her cheeks sunk inwards. With the entire world spinning, a hitching groan slipped from me.

What happened next is another scene forever seared into my memory.

With her shimmering eyes locked on mine, she aligned her mouth with my shaft and placed her hands behind her, waiting. As I adjusted my fingers on her head, she gulped in wet slurps of air. With a sharp glug, she shot forward, driving me to the back of her throat.

Okay. Not waiting.

“Oh, fuck!” shot from me as around us the deck warped, and green grass swirled with blinding white concrete. Sorry momma.

While my legs wobbled, Mrs. Jenkins nudged forward, pushing my swollen bulb against the entrance of her throat.

Okay. I was right. She was waiting. Waiting for me to...

With my heart hammering and nails clawing at her impaled head, I peeked at the cameras. She wanted me to face fuck her? At her home? Before the cameras? Had this been their plan all along?

At a soft cough, I glanced beyond the boxy black camcorder. By the rear doors, Coach was standing quietly. Okay, so I was about to face fuck her in front of her husband? Yeah, it’d been their plan. No problem. In broad daylight. Before her husband. Though pale under sun-reddened sweaty skin, he managed a taut grin.

To read this story you need a Registration + Premier Membership
If you have an account, then please Log In or Register (Why register?)

Support the author's future writing by purchasing this book from Bookapy

The Coach's Wife

INtrinSicliValud

$2.50