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The Coach’s Wife Ch. 01

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Disclaimer: The Coach’s Wife is a work of fiction. All characters are at least 18 years of age and any resemblance to individuals, either living or dead, is purely coincidental. If you are offended by stories containing sexual content please do not continue.

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Chapter 1 — A Young Shortstop’s Night to Remember

In the summer of ’77 Devon Daniels imagined himself a fraying rope being pulled apart by two opposing teams. Having just completed his high school years and fully intent on attending university, his parents had other plans. After nearly 30 years of marriage they had decided to part ways. Amicably? Well, if shouting, swearing, and threatening were terms that described benevolence — then yes, but otherwise a hard no.

Devon’s father, a self-loving narcissist, had tasted more pussy than Fritz the Cat and his mother had finally grown weary of his antics. Barring murder as a possible alternative, Miriam Daniels had decided to cut her losses and her ties with the small community where they lived. She could no longer tolerate the glaring, judgmental stares that greeted her everywhere she went. Apparently, she was the last to discover her husband had dropped his drawers all over town — even her best friend had fallen prey to his charms and had been banged in their very own front room.

So, the bottom line for Devon was they were moving; Miriam and the kids would stay with her parents for a short time until they could make other arrangements. This meant Devon and his two brothers sharing a small den, while Miriam made use of a guest bedroom. The problem was not so much the space, or leaving his dad, or saying goodbye to friends — the problem was baseball.

Devon had one more year of eligibility to play the game he loved in a league that was competitive, and a possible stepping stone to the majors. He knew it was a far-fetched dream, but it was his and it gave him something to hang onto. The impending move would take his family and his dreams across state lines, no longer allowing him to play with the Rockets. Besides, his mother couldn’t afford to drive him the 350 miles, three times a week, that would keep him on the roster.

Eventually his coach, Bruce Albright, suggested an alternative that would allow Devon to play, at least for one more season. Devon could live with them for the summer. They had plenty of room. Their older boy was away working, leaving an extra room that would easily accommodate Devon’s needs. The offer was a God send, and one that Devon quickly accepted. It was not quite as easy for Miriam to come to terms with the offer, but she eventually relented, knowing Devon was like a dog with a bone and wouldn’t let her have any peace until she said ‘yes’.

Mr. Albright was not only the Rocket’s head-coach but he was the father of Devon’s best friend, Jeff. The two boys had been fastened at the hip since middle school and had played baseball together for six years, sometimes on opposing teams but most often together. Jeff was a blond haired, thick-chested third baseman, who could throw the ball harder than anyone around, as well he was a slugger — racking up more home runs in a single season than any other player. Devon, on the other hand, was a whopping 130 lbs, but wiry, agile and quick, making him an ideal shortstop. Together the pair made hitting to the left side of a ball diamond almost certain death.

Devon had a great deal of respect for his coach. He appeared to be a good man, who sacrificed much of his own time, talents, and resources for the game he loved. Unlike Devon’s father, he was not a carouser, and loved his wife and family. However, he was not a perfect man, and he had his dark side. One that Devon would not understand until he was a man himself, with his own set of frailties and compulsions. Bruce Albright was addicted to pornography. As teens, Jeff and Devon, didn’t understand the underlying implications of such an addiction, but they found themselves the welcome recipients of a never ending supply of smut from which to choose.

Boys will be boys, and it didn’t seem to matter where Bruce would hide his collection. Soon enough Jeff would locate the stash and they would binge on Playboy, Penthouse, Qui and Chic until their eyes were as sore as their pricks.

Anyway, on the first day of the summer season, Devon showed up at practice with the usual: ball glove, uniform, and hat, but in addition he toted a medium sized suitcase packed to the hilt with his personal belongings. The team was more than happy to see their star shortstop and welcomed him with great adulation. He was where he longed to be with those he cherished the most.

Following the first of many gruelling practices, Ella Albright hustled Jeff and Devon to her car for a ride home. She was a little thing, standing all of 5′ 1″ tall. Comparatively speaking, she was younger than most of the parents and had done well to retain her youthful exuberance and striking figure. Bruce, at 24, had taken her as his wife when she was quite young, which had required illegal bahis written consent from her parents. Her brown hair was often cropped to her shoulders and cut to frame her pretty, dimpled cheeks. It was hard to believe she’d given birth two times, as her tiny waist and narrow hips would have never suggested such. Yet, it was her bust that seemed to defy all explanation…and gravity for that matter. With her short stature and petite frame, Ella’s boobs could not be hidden, minimized, downplayed, or ignored. They were simply huge — not in a grotesque way but in a Playmate of the Month sort of way, which Devon found oddly enticing, given she treated him like one of her own and even insisted he call her ‘mom’.

Arriving at his new home away from home, Devon felt instantly comfortable. It was like most weekends, except instead of lasting a day or two he would be staying three months. Mrs. Albright had cleaned and prepared the room next to theirs on the main for Devon, leaving Jeff to occupy a small, add-on room in the basement. The boys found the arrangement acceptable, giving them an out-of-the-way place when they wanted their privacy to discuss girls, sneak the occasional beer, or consume girly magazines.

Stowing his things in an empty dresser, Devon laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He thought of his family, and the hopes he’d held onto for so long. They were now only vapors, slowly rising to be lost forever like so many of his dreams.

Just outside the bedroom door and down a short hallway, Mrs. Albright was preparing dinner. She had covered her soft, pastel colored sweater and hip-hugging jeans with an apron she’d made last spring. It was embossed with a host of tiny birds, arrayed in bright colors from top to bottom. The top was pushed to its limit, even though she’d made alterations twice, and the drawstrings were cinched up tightly around her slim waist making the thin fabric flare elegantly at her hips.

Devon was unaccustomed to much in the way of homemade meals. His mother worked two jobs to make ends meet, so dinners were often quick and easy, like cereal or TV dinners. It wasn’t that his mother didn’t care of didn’t know how, she was just so burned out from work, and life in general, that cooking was one more thing to get her down.

Drifting from one thought to the next, Devon was startled to hear a series of quick, abrupt knocks on his door.

“Devon…dude, quit playing with yourself and come eat.”

Mrs. Albright was not new to such language, having raised two boys, but it upset her, nonetheless. “Jeff, you know how that talk troubles me. You may talk that way around your friends but it will not happen in our home — at least when I’m here.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Jeff replied, trying to hide the smirk that crossed his face.

A second later Devon opened the door, his eyes still glazed from the few minutes of sleep he’d managed to grab. “Jerk,” he said, thrusting his elbow at Jeff.

“What were you doing in there, anyway?” Jeff inquired, spinning to avoid the elbow while placing his friend in a headlock.

“Alright, you two, enough of that. Go wash your hands and get ready for dinner,” Ella said, smacking the pair with a moist kitchen towel.

“Ok…ok…” the friends replied in unison.

“Mom, where’s dad? I thought he was on his way home after he cleaned up the diamond,” Jeff asked.

“I’m not sure, Hon. He said he had some errands to run and then he’d be home. He won’t mind if we go ahead without him.”

Devon remained silent, not wanting to disturb the dynamics of his temporary home. He was patient and waited to be invited to the table.

“Come on, D,” Jeff called, pointing to the chair across from him. Jeff was a carefree spirit but knew his friend well. “Listen Devon, you’re like a real member of our family now — right, Mom?” he beckoned.

“That he is, Jeff. Not that he hasn’t been for quite some time.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Albright,” Devon managed to say, somewhat embarrassed by their genuine kindness.

Ella walked behind her guest, placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned close to his ear, “Mom, Devon. You should call me mom. It makes me feel special.”

“Yeah, of course,” the boy replied. “Thanks, Mom.”

“That’s more like it,” she said, pivoting to slide into the seat next to Devon. As she did her breast brushed against the back of the boy’s head, sending a chill down her spine. The event was accidental but not forgotten.

Jeff reached for the serving spoon and began piling potatoes onto his plate while addressing his buddy. “D, this is going to be great — like one big holiday — baseball during the day, chasing girls in the evening, and hanging out all night eating crap and watching TV. I can’t wait…”

“Whoa…whoa…whoa…” his mother began, holding up a spoon that was covered with creamed corn. “It’s great that Devon is staying the summer, but it doesn’t mean there are no chores or responsibilities. We expect you both to help out around here. There will be mowing, illegal bahis siteleri room cleaning, irrigation, and a number of other things, so don’t anticipate three months of partying.”

“That sounds fair, Mrs…” Devon began, before he realized his mistake. “I mean, Mom. I don’t mind helping out and I’m sure Jeff’s in as well.”
“Of course,” Jeff piped in. “But we will have time to do what we want?”

“Sure…but I’ll bet your dad keeps the both of you busy with your ball playing. He’s expecting a state championship and I don’t think he’ll settle for anything less.”

“Ah…that’s in the bag. Ain’t it, D?” Jeff mumbled sarcastically through a mouthful of spuds.

“You bet. I think we’ve got what it takes and with your dad’s help we can…”

Suddenly, a warm hand, touching Devon’s thigh, surprised him and took his breath away. He was seated opposite his friend at a rectangular-shaped table. Ella had chosen to sit next to their guest and it was her hand on the boy’s thigh. She made no attempt to hide the motion, but simply squeezed his firm thigh gently to get his attention. “Enough baseball for tonight. Finish your meals and we’ll play some cards before Bruce gets home.” As soon as she had completed her invitation the hand was removed and nothing more was said.

For the balance of dinner, Devon was sure the woman’s hand had left a permanent impression on his thigh. It still felt warm and tingly. He quickly devoured his portions and excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once inside, he stood on top of an old step-stool that gave him enough height to reach the back of the uppermost shelf. It was there he knew some type of nudie magazine would most likely be found — and to his delight — it was there.

He pulled his pants down, sat on the toilet, and thumbed to a full color, glossy image of a brunette with pendulous breasts, nipples the size of saucers, and a bush covered deceptively by a narrow band of fine linen. In seconds the boy’s cock was erect. He considered his time and began pumping his fist along the swollen member. Each upward stroke pushed him closer to an orgasm and the release he so needed. Turning the page, the same woman was bent over, her breasts now appearing twice the size they had on the previous page. Bearing down, Devon was about to shoot his load when a series of knocks interrupted him.

“Devon, are you okay?” Mrs. Albright asked timidly.

“Yeah, fine…just a little…you know…constipated,” he said, lying. His penis now hung limply between his legs, with a long string of pre-cum reaching to the water in the bowl. “I’ll be out in a sec.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Take your time. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t sick.”

“No…” he said, flushing the toilet. He used the noise to replace the magazine, quickly washed his hands and exited the bathroom. Ella gave him a nervous smile when he rejoined them in the kitchen.

“Do you need anything?” she asked. “I’ve got some Pepto if you think that will help.”

“No…I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s likely just nerves,” Devon conveyed, hoping he’d not screwed up his stay by falling prey to his need to masturbate.

“I suspect you’re right,” Ella agreed, giving him a subtle, but welcoming, wink.
Jeff was ignoring the interaction, having stepped to the adjoining room where the TV was on and blaring. He held a 16 ounce bottle of coke with his left hand and was using his right to change the channel with the knob on the television. Three channels were all they had to choose from, none of which was offering anything that interested the teen at the moment.

“You ready for some cards?” Ella called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, might as well. There’s nothing on the tube,” Jeff confirmed.

“Okay, boys, what’s your pleasure?” the Albright mother asked, making sure to make eye contact with Devon.

“Oh, I don’t know. Can we play that game you taught us last month,” D asked. “What was it called?”

Ella was removing her apron when she turned to reply, “Pinochle? Is that the one you’re thinking of?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. It was fun and we can play it with three…right?” Devon loved playing games of all types but especially cards. He had spent countless hours playing poker and canasta with his mother and siblings from as far back as he could remember.

“Yup, we sure can,” Jeff’s mother responded, taking the same seat she had during dinner. The boys also assumed their prior positions and the game was on. “I’ll deal first and then we’ll rotate clockwise around the table. If you can’t remember how to play just speak up and I’ll remind you.”

“Great,” Jeff replied. “Okay D, we should gang up on mom…”

A sudden image flashed through Devon’s mind and his prick began to rise in his pants.
“Ooooo…don’t know if I like the sounds of that,” Mrs. Albright said, giving D a gentle elbow to the ribs. “No fair taking sides. This is every man…or woman…for themselves.”

“Yeah…yeah…” Jeff agreed.

The trio played canlı bahis siteleri for an hour. It was playful and fun, while still requiring concentration. In the end, Ella’s skill and years of experience had outmanoeuvred the boys dumb luck, and she was pronounced the champ for the night.

“Maybe next time, boys,” she said, smiling broadly. Standing from the table she returned the cards to the game cupboard and offered the boys a couple of cookies. “Go ahead and eat these up. I’ll make some more on the weekend. I don’t care if you stay up a bit longer but I’m tired and want to hit the hay. I’m not sure when your dad will be home,” she said specifically to Jeff, “but leave the door unlocked when you go to bed.”

“No problem, Mom, goodnight,” Jeff confirmed, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek and turning to plop in front of the TV. He was far enough around the corner that he could no longer see his mother and D, who remained in the kitchen.

Devon again expressed his appreciation for letting him stay and was about to join his buddy when Ella stepped close and said, “Forgetting something?”

“Ah…ah…” D stuttered.

“Well, Devon, if we’re truly adopting you for the summer, I’m going to have to insist on goodnight kisses.” As she spoke, she moved much closer to the boy, close enough that her cone-shaped bra was pressed firmly against his chest. She held his arms and turned her face just enough to present her smooth cheek to D.

It was a first for the boy. He didn’t even kiss his own mother goodnight, but he leaned down and kissed her very gently on the cheek. As he did his cock sprang forward in his pants and he wasn’t quite sure if he’d felt it bounce against her belly or not, but he instantly pulled away and said goodnight.

Ella giggled slightly and patted him on the arm. “Looking forward to more of those,” she said, in a whisper.

In the living room, the boys had just begun to watch an old western when the front door opened and Bruce stumbled in. He had obviously been drinking and was having trouble staying upright.

“Hey, boys,” he slurred, through rubbery lips. “Where’s yer mom?”

“She’s gone to bed, Dad,” Jeff said, quite embarrassed.

“Great. Now…now…you boys get to bed,” Bruce ordered.

This was the first time Devon had seen his mentor drunk. His own father didn’t even drink and it was a shock to see Mr. Albright in such a state. The middle aged man stumbled through the living room and slammed against the door jam leading into the kitchen. He grunted loudly, but said nothing more before opening his bedroom door and vanishing inside.

“Man…D, I’m sorry. He doesn’t do this very often. He must be upset about something,” Jeff grimaced.

“No sweat, Jeff. What do we do?”

“We do as he says and go to bed. He’ll sleep it off and be back to normal tomorrow.”

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you in the morning,” D concluded, before closing and locking the front door.

“Yeah. Don’t let it bother you,” Jeff said, consoling his friend. “He’s not a drunk or anything, but…”

“Goodnight, Jeff. See you in the morning.” Devon considered possibly finishing what he had started a few hours before, but when voices began to rise in the room to his right he decided against it. He quickly brushed his teeth, doused the lights and slipped into his new bedroom. He closed the door behind him and climbed into the double bed. It was much larger than he was used to, but the banter in the Albright’s bedroom sounded more than familiar.

The boy tried to shutout the pleadings from Mrs. Albright, as she tried in vain to convince Bruce to leave her alone. Through the paper-thin walls it was quite apparent Mr. Albright was expecting something more than a sweet kiss on the cheek as a goodnight sign of affection. “Suck it!” Devon heard him screech. When Ella refused, the volume increased and the demand became more incessant. “Damn it, Ella, suck my cock, you little whore.”

What is going on in there? What do I do if he starts to hurt her? Devon questioned. The teen could only imagine the scene that was playing out just beyond the narrow wall.

“Bruce, you’re drunk. You know how I hate it when you expect me to perform when you’ve been drinking. I won’t be one of your porno sluts…at least not like this,” she wailed, obviously not worried about who might hear.

Bruce’s tone suddenly changed and his testosterone fuelled assault softened and he began to cry. “Please, Baby. I need it. I just need you. You know I always need you,” he whimpered.

However, Ella’s tone only seemed to toughen, as she rejected his supplications. “Get your ass to the couch. We’ll talk about this in the morning and…”

Suddenly there was an awkward silence. Devon craned his neck to listen for any sign the squabble was ongoing. He heard nothing but the sound of something being shifted about in the adjacent room. Closing his eyes, D tried to forget what had happened and attempted to drift off to sleep. Yet, try as he might, sleep would not come, at least not until an hour had passed and his mind passed to the land of nothingness.

It was there that he imagined a woman, soft and warm cuddled up against him. She smelled of lavender perfume and purred sweet words of…

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