THE CONSIDERATE COACH

“Come in,” Mathilda Brimstone spoke aloud, hearing the knock on the door of her office. It opened slightly and the earnest face of Jeff Lawson appeared in the doorway.

“May I, Mrs. Brimstone?”

She waved him in.

“You called for me, Mrs. Brimstone.”

“Sure, I did. Have a seat, please.”

He settled down on a chair across her table.

“I will come to the point,” she started, peering at his formal attire from over the half-moon spectacles that rested upon the bridge of her nose. She liked the way he listened, attentive and respectful.

“As the Head of the Physiology department, it has come to my notice that you are not preparing adequately for your thesis, The...” she paused and lowered her head to refer to the sheet in her hand, before continuing, “Impact of Sexual Stimuli on Female Genitalia. I had chosen you to represent us at the annual Rockefeller seminar.”

“It would indeed be an honor, Mrs. Brimstone. But I sincerely can’t.”

“But why?” She appeared crestfallen.

Jeff couldn’t help it. From the very first day he had seen her, her luscious curves, blonde hair and green eyes had captured his imagination. He adored everything about her, her affectionate and matronly nature, her pleasant smile, her kind voice and her stylish, body-hugging clothes. Every night he would jerk himself, fantasizing about her buxom body.

“I do not have the practical knowledge required for that topic. I am a virgin.” He modulated his voice carefully.

The kid is right. She thought, staring at her family photo with her husband and two teenage daughters. Without Jeff’s brilliance, her department would not win the annual grant from the Rockefeller Institute that funded their research. Evaluating her options, she arrived at a quick decision.

“Is that all?” She broke the silence.

He nodded his head. Getting up, she walked to the door and locked it from inside.

“Can we start?” She arched her eyebrows.

“I don't understand," he pretended, his heart pounding against his chest.

“Your coaching.”

“How, Mrs. Brimstone?” He had not envisaged her swift capitulation in the face of his diabolical plan.

She didn’t reply, instead began to strip her clothes in slow, deliberate steps. Ever since her husband’s cardiac attack, their sex life had been non-existent. She felt horny and Jeff looked so cute in his starched, white shirt.

She unclasped her skirt. It puddled around her ankles and she stepped out of it. Next, she unbuttoned her blouse and cast it away. Inside, she wore a tube top which exposed the upper swell of her breasts. His arousal hardened at the sight of her milky, white skin and voluptuous form. He wanted to kiss her slingback shoes.

She sat at the edge of her table, her mound a mere inches from his eager face.

“Get to work. We don’t have much time,” she reminded.

She arched her hips. Taking the cue, he slid her satin panties down her long legs. She placed her feet on the table, granting him an unhindered view of her shaved pussy.

“Teach me, Mrs. Brimstone,” he asked, amazed at the awesome sight.

“Smell it.”

She felt his hot breath on her inner thighs. He inhaled her musky scent.

“Here, touch my clitoris. It's a woman's love bud."

He did, and her body tingled with want.

“Lick it.”

He lashed his tongue against it, eliciting throaty moans.

“This is the labia. And this is where the male enters.” She pointed to her love canal.

"You may slide your tongue inside," she cajoled. He complied, making her sigh.

Suddenly, she got down on her knees, unzipped him and pulled out his rock, hard shaft. Caressing it, she buried it inside her warm throat. The sight of her cheeks caved around his cock almost drove him over the edge.

Not wanting him to cum yet, she released him and rose to her feet. She pulled the tube top over her head, exposing her shapely, white breasts to his lustful eyes. She settled down on the edge of the table and beckoned him.

“Feel them.”

He gingerly placed each hand on either breast, and squeezed and fondled them, making her moan gently. She clamped her legs around his hips and pulled him closer. Taking his throbbing masculinity in her hand, she eased its crown into her wet folds. Pushing slowly, he claimed her inch by inch, till he was fully buried inside her creamy depths. She screamed with pleasure. It had been a long time that anyone had filled and stretched her like this. With a primordial urge, he began to rock his pelvis.

“You’re so tight, Mrs. Brimstone,” he grunted, feeling her pussy clamp around him like a vise.

Moaning softly, he soon spilled his virgin sperm inside her married body. But like a good lover, he continued thrusting till she touched an explosive peak.

“You’ve two weeks to submit your dissertation. See me every day.”

‘Thanks, Mrs. Brimstone”

“Call me Mathilda. When we're alone.”

“You're so hot, Mathilda.”

"If your thesis wins, you can have me as long as you want."

"Forever, Mathilda."

Their mouths locked, as she reached out for his cock.

They both knew that he would win.

Word Count: 866