[story] just for kicks (part 3)

“I’m sorry, I just,” he said, touching his dewy forehead to mine. “I don’t know. I think I’ve wanted to do that since you walked in this morning.”

This installment of this ongoing story has been written as my third piece for #Smutathon2018. If you enjoy what you’ve been reading from me and my smut-mates today, consider leaving a donation for the Abortion Support Network (Don’t forget to include your email or Twitter handle to be entered in the sex toy raffle)!

If you haven’t read any of this story yet, you’re free to do as you please, but if you’re the type who likes a little more context, I might suggest you start at the beginning.


I miss having you…

Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched quietly as Darren readjusted his cap, which was already in place. The same way he did sometimes when he got anxious watching us in the middle of a fight.

Noticing his conflict only heightened my state as I brought myself to my feet. My mouth was so dry that I nearly choked on my cotton-ball tongue; I couldn’t find the words yet. So I bit down on my lip to keep any babble from spilling out until I could sort something out.

Despite the humidity of our sweat hanging all around, we were frozen in place, teetering on the tightrope of transformation.

I was still young, to be sure, but I’d grown significantly in the year since I retired from the ring. I had jumped through many hoops of adult progression and I looked the part too. As an overtraining athlete, I didn’t ever have much beyond sinew on my bones. Letting up on my training had allowed my natural curves to finally fall where they may. I knew that not only had I grown, but that I had matured, and that I had aged well. That I had reached the level of wisdom and sophistication that people achieve when they really know things about how the world works. After all, I was a twenty-something by then.

Anxiety and excitement clashed for dominion over my sympathetic nervous system. I still found myself caught somewhere between the memory of the shy teenager I’d been when I first met him and the wizened, more empowered young woman I now knew myself to be.

The tension was thicker than the foam mats we were standing on.

“I… miss… being around too,” I said. So slowly, it was as if I was guessing the meaning of every word as I said them, while Darren’s eyes continued to bore into me. But, in fact, I felt myself finding my footing and proceeded with calculated caution.

Darren, of course, was still ominously static. I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.

I took a step in toward him. Darren watched me a moment before he relaxed his arms and let his foot fall in a similar fashion. A new dance, but we didn’t know the steps to it yet.

Our eyes locked and my heart thumped harder in my throat than it had at the height of our drills. He was close enough to kick but just out of arms’ reach. I waited for his next advance to decide how I would react.

Hesitant, Darren reached out as he closed the gap between us. His hand caught the underside of my jaw and he stroked his thumb, slicked by the line of sweat still tracking from my temple, over my cheek.

“I…” he almost whispered, throat clicking on anxious saliva as he moved the stray tendrils of wet hair back off my forehead with his other hand. “Is this okay?”

The nervous act of asking my permission lit a fire inside me.

“Yes,” I said, nearly surprising myself by how unabashed and certain I sounded.

My hand whipped up and caught the back of his head to invite him in closer to me. Our lips touched in a gentle and cautious way, and we moved with near-adolescent innocence, but I felt strong and certain in my advance.

This moment was followed swiftly by near-adolescent thirst. Primal magnetism took over completely and we devoured each other in the kiss I never knew we’d been waiting to have. I kissed him so hard that his hat fell right off his head. He didn’t bend to retrieve it that time.

He did, however, let me lead him through more new steps. I edged him with me toward the support column a few paces behind us. When my back ran flush with the white wall of the pillar, he pressed his body into mine. Still damp, but I hardly noticed; I was distracted by the strength of his fingers weaving through my hair while we shared the deepest kiss yet.

With his palms planted into the column, he pushed away from me sudden, his breath ragged and uneven.

“I’m sorry, I just,” he said, touching his dewy forehead to mine. “I don’t know. I think I’ve wanted to do that since you walked in this morning.”

I bit my coquettish lip and look down at the floor before finding his gaze again. “Really?”

“Yes, really. And then, there was the new ways you move your body on the mats. And now…” he ran his hands along the sides of my torso and let his eyes follow suit as he let out a long whistle. “Wow, is all I’ve got right now.”

I rested my hands reassuringly on his hips.

“Aw, shucks, Coach,” I teased. “You’d make me blush if I wasn’t already so hot and sweaty.”

The tension subsided momentarily as he snickered and ruffled my hair affectionately until he scooped the back of my skull up in his hands to rub my scalp with his thumbs. My head melted into his generous touch; my chin titled up towards him.

“Still okay?” he asked. His voice was husky and had dropped at least half an octave since his professions.

My tone might have been just as deep as his and even more certain than it had been all day. “Yes, very much so. Don’t stop.”

He obeyed, though he did steal a blind kiss from me while he worked. This time, my knees wavered a little, but my confidence did not. I nipped at his lip more aggressively and felt a snarl sneak out as I did so.

I was waking up.

Darren breathed his admiration into my shoulder and I craned my head back to expose more of me to his touch. His hands moved down the sweaty length of my body. The backs of his fingers flirted with the flesh of my abdomen and started to slip past the elastic of my waistband.

I snatched his wrist in my palm before he could proceed any further; before I fully realized I had reacted to it.

an impassioned tango of tactical responses…

Darren stammered through a series of sentence starters without ever landing on one that could stick. “I’m… I… I didn’t mean…”

Something about this sudden bashfulness inflated a new sense of audacity in me. I knew that I wanted more of him, but I also felt suddenly overwhelmed by the need to alter the predictability of this course. To enhance my own pleasure by challenging both my patience and his devotion. And to take this perceived authority away from him so as to hold it as my own.

Still clasping his wrist firm in my grip, I teased him with the echo of a kiss on his straining, now almost subservient lips, and waited for him to look me in the eye.

“I’ll tell you where to touch me,” I said.

I commanded.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It wasn’t facetious that time. He was respecting my rank. Even that was a sign of the shift in how we were progressing together, and it felt good.

“I’ll tell you…” I purred as I stroked his chin and released my hold on him, “when I’m ready. To come back in on my terms.”

Darren almost stammered a “b-b-but” before I cut him off with a stern glare and walked away. I didn’t have to turn around to know his mouth was agape.

“See you next week. Coach.”

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