Chapter 7: The Coach Strikes Back

Into each life a little rain must fall. Sometimes things just don't go the way you would like them to. You try and you try but things just seem to go wrong, no matter what. It's an interesting little fact of life, one that Coach Baxter knew all about.

It all started the other night when he was having a few quiet drinks in his favourite bar. He was minding his own business when this little blonde piece of oh-so-sweet arse slid onto the stool next to his. In a matter of minutes she was suggesting that they go back to her boyfriend's place and engage in some serious fucking. She even offered her boyfriend to him, not that he would ever fuck some guy. He was not some arse pumping fag. Nope, no way, that was not for him. But that young guy sure had a sweet arse, if you went in for that sort of thing. Which he didn't because he was definitely 100% straight, right down the line, no deviation whatsoever.

The three of them had gotten into a cab and... well that's where things got a little hazy. He recalled some sort of sexual act in the back of the cab, but he couldn't remember what exactly happened. And then he must of passed out because he dreamed of getting it on with Principal Pendergrast, but that was just a dream because he didn't go in for that sort of thing. The last thing he remembered was staggering in through the front door of his home and hearing his wife yell at him for coming in late. No big deal, she often yelled at him or cried or did some other stupid female thing. It was like she was on the rag twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But it always blew over.

Well, usually.

Three days later she was waving some photographs in his face and screaming about divorce. He had finally calmed her down enough to get a look at the photos. What he saw was a fake, it had to be, because he was 100% straight, right down the line, no deviation whatsoever.

That couldn't possibly be him sucking cock, getting pumped in the arse, and other things too disgusting to even think about. The other man's face was covered with a leather hood, but Coach Baxter's face was easy to recognise. He tried to explain this to his wife but she wanted nothing to do with him. The next day she was out of there, packed her bags and gone to her sister's for God knows how long. And now he was sitting in his favourite bar, drinking his favorite beer, and wondering just how the hell things had gotten so fucked up.

He finished his beer and put his hand in his pocket to get some change for the cigarette machine. As he was rummaging around his fingers brushed against what felt like a postcard. He pulled it out and found it was one of the fake photos, the one where he was sucking some fag's cock. He looked at it, trying to see where the cut lines were, and then he saw something in the background.

A mirror.

And in that mirror a reflection of the person who took the photo. About 5'8", long blonde hair, and wearing a leather bondage outfit. The girl who had met him in this very bar on the night his problems started.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

Tracy Murdoch was close to orgasm. She and Clifford were in bed (which seemed to happen a lot lately) and they were, to put it bluntly, going at it like rabbits.

"Oh God yes, Clifford, make me cum," she groaned as she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and dug her fingernails into his chest.

"Uh," replied Clifford as he thrust into her as deeply as he could, the muscles in his upper arms and chest tightening with exertion. He was not one for conversation when he was close to orgasm.

Just then the bedroom door swung open with a bang, and a 5'8" bundle of blonde haired fury named Stacy stormed into the room.

"I don't fucking believe this," she yelled. "Cliffy, take your dick out of my sister and listen to me for a second." She ducked easily under the pillows and assorted stuffed animals that came flying through the air towards her, and plopped herself down on the bed. "Jeez, don't you guys do anything but screw?"

"I wouldn't know," fumed her sister, "every time we try to, someone interrupts us."

"That's a shame," said Stacy, flicking her long hair back over her shoulder. "You two should put a lock on the door or something."

"I think it would be easier to just kill you." Tracy gently but firmly pushed Clifford off and sat up to face her sister.

"Wow, look at you," marvelled Tracy, "you're all flushed. Were you about to cum or something?"

"Was there something you wanted before I kill you?"

"Oh stop it, you wouldn't kill me, I'm your twin sister, you love me. Now help me with this." She held out a sheet of paper to her sister so she could read it.

"It's a report card," said Tracy, giving it a cursory glance.

"Oh very good. I can see how you get all those A's. I, however, am failing chemistry. I don't want to fail chemistry. If I fail, Daddy will take away my new Beetle car. I love my Beetle." Stacy sat on the bed and pouted.

"So what do you want me to do about it? You don't want me to take your test for you again, do you? I know we're identical twins but I don't think they'll believe you suddenly knew what you were doing in lab."

Tracy recalled the one time the twins had swapped places in class. Tracy had taken a history exam for Stacy while Stacy had taken Tracy's place in physical education. Tracy had passed the exam but Stacy had done something during Phys Ed, something that had given Tracy a reputation for liking girls in more than a friendly way. Stacy was openly bisexual, while Tracy preferred men. She had slept with girls before, she even had sex with Stacy, but that was under duress.

When it came down to it, Tracy couldn't pass up a good dick. But that one time when they had swapped, Stacy had been caught having sex with four girls in the middle of class. It just goes to show what will happen when the teacher turns her back for five minutes. There was no way in the wide world of sports that Tracy was going to let that happen again.

"Well actually," said Stacy, wandering what Tracy was so upset about, "I was wondering if I could borrow Clifford. For tutoring purposes only."

Tracy wasn't too keen on that idea. She liked Clifford more than she cared to admit, and she knew what Stacy was like around guys, especially ones who were hung like Cliff. But she couldn't show him that he meant something to her, it would give him the upper hand. So she decided to play it cool. "It's up to Clifford, not me."

"Yay," responded Stacy, clapping her hands. "What about it, Cliffy? Want to help me out? I promise I'll make it worth your while." She dropped him a wink full of the promises of carnal delights.

"I don't know." Clifford wasn't sure if this was such a good idea. He desperately wanted to know if Tracy loved him as much as he loved her. If he did this for Stacy, would Tracy be upset? "Are you okay with this, Tracy?"

"Sure, makes no difference to me. Go ahead and tutor her," said Tracy, pretending it meant nothing to her. She knew Stacy would try to seduce him. The little cow would screw anything with a heartbeat.

"Okay, I'll do it then." Clifford recoiled slightly as Stacy leapt onto him smothering his cheeks with kisses. He glanced over at Tracy to see if there was any reaction.

"Well I guess you two better get on with it then," said Tracy, quietly fuming.

"Good idea," agreed Stacy, taking Clifford by the hand and dragging him out of bed. "Come on, Cliffy, we have to get going. Do you still have the keys to the lab?"

"Umm yes, but do you mind if I get dressed first?" Clifford was standing almost completely naked in the middle of the bedroom.

"What are you talking about? You're wearing something," said Stacy, pointing at the one thing he was wearing.

Clifford reached down and pulled it off. "Condoms don't count." He dropped it into a plastic bag and pulled on his clothes. After lacing up his Nikes (blatant plug because the author needs new shoes) he picked up the bag and walked out to the kitchen to put it in the rubbish bin. Stacy watched him go, then turned to her twin sister.

"By the way, I have cheerleader practice now. You won't mind taking that for me, will you?" She ran from the room, one of Tracy's pillows in hot pursuit.

Coach Baxter sat in his office at school, several items sitting on his desk in front of him. He had found out easily enough from school records who the twin girls were. He even found the name of the boyfriend. Then it was a simple matter of going through some lockers. Aside from a box-load of sexual aids (just how many dildos and vibrators do teenage girls need anyway?) he found the camera used to take the incriminating photos, an interesting leather bondage outfit, and a coke bottle of brownish liquid. The bottle had a label that read "Spanish Fly, use sparingly."

Coach Baxter remembered a rumour about the kids who ran the school newspaper, about how they were drugged with something that drove them into a sexual fervour. He picked up the bottle and inspected it. Was this the stuff that caused those kids to lose all control? Was it possible that this brown liquid could cause a sexual fugue impossible to resist? A smile surfaced on his lips, a smile that quickly turned into an evil grin.

Stacy dragged Clifford all the way from her house to the school, chattering about how good it would be to pass chemistry, and then telling her teacher, Mrs. Wigglebottom, to take her class and shove it up that cobweb-laden hole of hers.

Clifford was always amused at how much energy Stacy seemed to have. She threw herself into anything she set her mind to with a determination that was astounding. He thought to himself that they wouldn't be here now if she had shown that sort of enthusiasm for her schoolwork. Come to think of it, Stacy was never keen about any sort of schoolwork.

They arrived at the school lab and Clifford used his keys to let them in. He was an honour student at Piedmont High and was trusted with keys to most of the school. He walked inside and turned on the lights. As the last of the fluorescents came to life he turned to Stacy.

"Okay, suppose you tell me what we're really doing here?"

"Whatever do you mean, Cliffy?" asked Stacy sweetly. She opened her blue eyes wide in a mock picture of youthful innocence.

"I have never seen you keen to do any sort of schoolwork, not since I first saw you in third grade." Clifford put his hands on his hips and tried to look stern. "Now tell me why you dragged me down here.

Stacy placed her hands behind her back and thrust out her breasts, then casually twisted her lithe body from side to side like a little girl who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Well Cliffy, I thought you might like to have a bit of fun with me." She smiled coyly, for emphasis.

"Stacy, you know I love Tracy." He started to sweat as Stacy stepped towards him and started to stroke his arm. "I mean, you're very attractive and all but..." his words were cut off as Stacy reached up and kissed him, her tongue darting between his lips before he could react. He pushed her back, breaking their kiss.

"I need a coke," he said nervously, "you want one?" He eased past her and out the door into the hallway, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was outside he sighed and leaned against the wall.

"Christ," he thought to himself, "that was close. Dammit, why does she have to be so sexy?" He pushed away from the wall and made his way down the hallway. There was a coke machine just around the corner and that was where he was headed. He rounded the corner to see a dark figure next to the machine.

"Shit," said the figure, looking at a can of soft drink.

Clifford froze in his tracks. It was Coach Baxter. If he saw Clifford here he was in the shit for sure, after what he and the Murdoch twins had done to the coach the other night. He thought that maybe the effect of the drug would mean that Coach would not remember their part in it, but he couldn't be sure. He was just about to turn around and go back to the lab when Coach Baxter spied him.

"Hey, you want a coke?" The coach offered the can to him. "I just bought this damn thing, even opened it before I realised it wasn't a Dr Pepper. I'm just gonna throw it out, unless you want it."

Clifford studied the coach for a few seconds, but couldn't see any recognition in Baxter's eyes. "Sure," he replied, reaching for the can. A free coke was too good to pass up, plus it helped set his mind at ease about Coach Baxter. Obviously he didn't recognise Clifford from the other night. He took the coke, thanked the coach, and made his way back to the lab.

Now if only he could deal with Stacy. He took a sip of coke and opened the lab door. All but one of the lights had been turned off. The one that remained lit up one of the lab benches - and the naked blonde girl lying on it.

"I've been waiting for you. It's been so long since I've had a decent fuck, Cliffy." She circled one delicate finger around a rapidly hardening nipple.

"You slept with Angus just two days ago," replied Clifford.

"I said a decent fuck, Cliffy. Angus lasted all of thirty seconds. Plus, he has a dick like a cocktail frank. I want something substantial, like yours." She gave him her best come hither look, but was mildly annoyed to see him just stand there and take another sip of his damn coke.

"But don't you want to pass chemistry?" asked Clifford, trying his best to stall the inevitable. "I thought your father was going to take away your car if you failed."

"Oh don't worry about that, Cliffy," replied Stacy as she slid sensually from the bench and padded over to him. "I'll just sleep with Mrs. Wigglebottom again. How do you think I've managed to pass for this long?"

"Is there anyone on the teaching staff you haven't slept with?" inquired Clifford as he watched this beautiful young woman walk towards him.

Stacy took the can from Clifford and drank deeply from it, before throwing it into the void behind her. "Does the janitor count?" she asked as she draped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, finding him responding at last. In fact he seemed to be quite eager. She found herself being lifted up off her feet and carried back to the bench.

"Oh Cliffy," she cooed, "I knew you had it in you."

"And pretty soon it's gonna be in you." He placed her on the bench then pulled back, just long enough to strip his clothes off.

Stacy looked down at his crotch and saw he was hard. Really hard. Monstrously hard. She could see a vein pulsing along the shaft. Looking up again she saw something even harder in his eyes. "Um, Cliffy? Are you okay?"

"I'm gonna fuck your brains out Stacy, gonna fuck you till you scream. Then I'm gonna fuck you some more." He moved toward her again, grabbing her by the thighs and burying himself deep into her.

"Oh God Cliffy, do me," sighed Stacy.

Neither of them saw the shadow under the door to the lab. It stayed for a while, until their groans of lust grew loud, and then moved away into the night.

Tracy considered the benefits of being an only child. No more bickering, no more of her clothes mysteriously disappearing, only to reappear with strange stains on them, and no more cleaning up after her sister.

She half-heartedly shook her pom-poms and wondered how many years she would get for killing Stacy.