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Tom did a double-take when the gorgeous redhead stepped into the construction trailer that served as his camp office.  What had happened to little Katy Simpson? he asked himself as she greeted him. “It’s so nice to see you, Coach Beckett! I’m so happy to be doing this camp with you!” Katy said with a smile, awkwardly moving toward a hug before stretching out her hand for an adult, professional handshake. “Of course,” Tom replied, “I’m thrilled to have you. Please, take a seat. Let’s get caught up for a second.”   Katy had played for Coach Tom for three years in high school. She was a good player; good enough to land a partial college scholarship.  Now she was back for the summer, helping him coach a youth tennis program.  She was the same Katy, and yet not at all. Sure, the long red hair, pulled into a tight ponytail, the freckled face, pale blue eyes, thick lips, the shy pretty smile, were all the same.  As lovely as she was in high school, she had not been particularly, well, sexy.  She had been whisp thin, flat-chested, and very introverted.  As promising a player as she was, Tom spent a lot of time with her.  But, aside from maybe eyeing her little bubble butt from time to time, he never really thought of her sexually.  Which was a good thing for a coach.  But now.  Wow. The “freshman fifteen” had been very good to Katy. Toothpick legs were now shapely, muscled pinions.  That little bubble butt was a full, round power plant.  The flat board that had been her chest was now graced with c-cup breasts.  Tom tried to maintain eye contact but found his eyes drifting involuntarily as they talked.  The break of her firm cheeks revealed themselves at the edge of her white tennis shorts and her breasts jiggled when she talked excitedly, grabbing his gaze.  She didn’t seem to mind.  Indeed, she was quite flirty.  He put it all out of his mind as best he could.  Fooling around with an assistant coach, especially if she was just nineteen and a former student, kaçak iddaa was a really bad idea.  Not to mention the fact that he was married. Katy enjoyed her flirtations with Tom.  She’d had a mad crush on Coach since she was on Junior Varsity.  She would go to sleep thinking about his handsome dark face and deep brown eyes, his muscled hairy legs, and his rock-hard ass, nearly every night.  Other than the random movie or pop star, it was he who she thought of as she stroked her clit under the sheets, or put the shower nozzle to work, or humped her pillow.  Even when she went off to college, she thought of him.  Her changing body got her noticed, and she finally lost her cherry to an upper classman halfway through freshman year.  Later she had a steady boyfriend, a miler on the track team.  Those boys had been fine. She’d had fun and learned about sex, and her body.  But she found she still thought of Coach Tom.  When the opportunity to join his summer clinic came up, she applied with more than just thoughts of a little summer cash on her mind. Ten weeks on a nearly abandoned college campus with a bunch of tennis prospects, and Coach Tom. She imagined all kinds of scenarios that could fulfill her fantasies.   Katy left Tom’s office flush with excitement.  She could tell he was looking at her in a whole different way than in her high school days.  As she walked back to the dorm room that would be her home for the duration of the camp, she realized she was wet. She re-imagined the meeting.  She wondered how Tom would have reacted if she had suddenly pulled her top off.  Or spread her legs wide open and said something nasty.  Or dropped to her knees and unzipped his tennis shorts.  As soon as she got back to the room, Katy told her roommate that she needed to shower before dinner.  She stripped and practically ran to the shower room, bringing herself off with soapy fingers in record time.  Camp went in a twelve-day cycle. Kids arrived on Sunday kaçak bahis afternoon, stayed through the following weekend, and left on Friday morning. That left Friday afternoon and Saturday to turn everything over and set up for the next batch of players.  Saturday afternoon until the kids arrived on Sunday, was free time for the coaches.  Tom would host a coach’s BBQ Saturday night, and he’d look the other way if an underage coach snuck a beer or two. Other than that, he didn’t fraternize much, and he especially kept a distance from the female staff.  That hadn’t always the case.  Up until four years ago, before he was married and before he was appointed Program Director, he had behaved far less correctly.  There had been Angela, a gorgeous Latina from Miami, who despite her extremely wanton nature, desired to remain a virgin. She was fine with sodomy, though, and so he spent much of that camp season with his cock buried in her perfect ass.  There was Sophie, a super-hot California blonde who came with such frequency and ferocity he had to muffle her with a pillow, which seemed to make her cum even harder.  And Deshonda, a tall African American girl with a sexy Southern accent who liked to “play doubles” with Tom and one of the other male assistants.  And two or three other girls along the way whose names he had now forgotten.  But Tom had been on the straight and narrow for years now.  There was too much at risk for a little pussy.  Or so he told himself.  Katy was putting a test to that.  She always found an excuse to swing by his office during the day, and more dangerously, his room after mess hall in the evening.  She would be freshly showered, flipping her long, wet, glorious hair around.  There was something especially sexy about Katy’s awkwardly obvious efforts at seduction.  So innocent, so inexperienced, and yet so willing.  She asked if he was lonely without his wife.  She casually mentioned that she and her boyfriend were “on a break.”  illegal bahis And she dressed the part. Clearly proud of her new rack, she ditched the pale blue oversized polo shirt and shorts that comprised the camp uniform, in favor of tight midriff braless t-shirts or camisoles.  When she stepped from the hot, humid air of the outside into his cool air-conditioned room, her nipples inevitably tightened into rigid beacons of lust that pulled at his gaze.  Below, she favored micro-sized daisy duke cut-offs or pajama bottoms that hung tantalizingly low on her hips. The dimples in her lower back, alone, were enough to occupy his mind as he beat his meat to sleep.   Tom’s wife visited camp that first transition weekend, and he fucked her with an enthusiasm he hadn’t shown in a year. Unconsciously fearing his inevitable betrayal, he practically begged his wife to visit every weekend, but she insisted the plan for her to spend the summer at her family’s beach house was the far better choice for her.  As he waved goodbye when she drove off, Tom knew in his heart that he would be fucking Katy within the week.  Indeed, just a few days later, he broke protocol and invited the staff over to his place on a weeknight to watch a French Open match.  The nine or ten young coaches packed into his place.  Though he had to himself a three-room unit normally meant to accommodate four students, it was still quite small. He rationed everyone a single beer or seltzer, but acquiesced to double rations when the match went to five sets.  He did his best to ignore Katy without being rude about it, but failed miserably.  She had somehow managed to configure, with a single well-placed knot, a perfectly normal V-neck t-shirt into a plunging, midriff exposing, R-rated experience.  Her muscled cheeks fought their way out of yet another pair of micro-shorts. Wedge platform sandals showed off her sculpted legs. And her red hair, almost always pulled into a ponytail or braid, was set free, cascading like lava across her shoulders and down to her lower back. Every puppy-eyed boy assistant coach, and at least one of the girl coaches, had their tongues on the ground.  Tom did, too. 

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