Hey Coach! (closed for Sasha)

[st_fornicate]

The fall high-school sports season was busy for Declan O'Hare. During the fall he was in charge of boy's soccer, and in the winter he was the boy's basketball coach. At 28, O'Hare was old enough to exert his authority as the phys-ed teacher, but still young enough to seem cool to the kids at school.

"Mister O'Hare" was tall and athletic, very physically fit. He wasn't a meat-head, by any stretch of the imagination; in fact, he often made a point of personally tutoring any of his athletes that needed help with school. He had a Master's Degree in Physical Therapy, but he chose to work in the public school system because he enjoyed coaching the sports. He'd been an athlete all his life, and still was.

It was time for his third period gym class; he'd just spent his free period with Tony Roberts, going over the Pythagorean Theorem several times. Some of these kids were doomed to be meat-heads, he knew, but he tried to help anyway. He sent Tony packing and headed out into the gym, and one of the more interesting classes: the almost-to-the-end-of-high-school Seniors.

The I-Don't-Give-A-Fuck crowd, to be more specific. He smiled as he entered the gym, his well built frame covered in simple mesh gym shorts and a tee-shirt, both with the school's mascot, a stylized eagle, emblazoned on them. He had short brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a SoCal tan from too much time on the beach playing doubles volleyball with his smoking hot wife.

Since fall is girl's volleyball season, it was often volleyball time in gym class as well, just because the nets were all in the way.

"Let's go, five laps jogging then we stretch," he shouted out, his voice big enough to fill the cavernous gymnasium, and the kids immediately sprang to action. Well, some of them. A good bunch of them were a bit sluggish, but a volleyball to the backside would fix that. He grabbed a volleyball off a rack and bounced it as he watched the students jog. "Let's go, let's go!" he called out.

 

[Sasha_Hardgrove]

Ugh, another day in history Sasha thought to herself as she learned more about the American Revolution. At least gym was next, then lunch. She definitely didn't mind gym class so much since Mr. O'Hare was the gym teacher. All the girls thought he was the absolute hottest thing on campus. High school boys are ridiculously awkward looking, and Coach O'Hare was a man. Muscular, gorgeous, an ex-Marine, and totally off limits.

Oh, but it was fine to look. Sasha could stay up all night fantasizing about him. He's married, and his wife is totally gorgeous. Once Sasha swore she caught him looking at her legs during stretches. She convinced herself that he was admiring her flexibility. She kept doodling on her notebook aimlessly waiting for the period to end. Finally her best friend Katie slammed her hand on Sasha's notebook and said, "Let's go. Time for Coach O'Hare,".

Sasha was dating Johnny, who was the most popular boy in school. He was tall, blond, blue-eyed, and on Coach O'Hare's soccer and basketball teams. Sasha loved going to Johnny's games since it meant she could admire Coach O'Hare for a little bit longer. Johnny only liked Sasha for her looks, which was fine. Sasha didn't really display her intellect around him since it was pretty useless. Johnny was very hot, but very dense.

Sasha stood at 5'4'', 117 lbs, brown high lighted hair and pretty green eyes. She was also really tan and very athletic. Sasha was on the cheer squad, and played volleyball. She loved prancing around in her little shorts, getting attention from her male classmates. Katie and Sasha finally made it to the locker room and changed. Their gym outfits matched; tight black short shorts from Victoria's Secret and white wifebeaters. Sasha thought she looked better because she was more lean and tan than her blond best friend who was captain of the cheer squad. Sasha threw her hair into a high ponytail as the girls make their way to the gym floor and waited for Coach O'Hare to come out and instruct them on what he wanted to see them do.

 

[st_fornicate]

Coach O'Hare saw the gym door open and two of the more popular girls walk in, late. He slappes the volleyball he was holding. "Let's go girls! Late students get windsprints at the end of class, you know that! Warm-up is important, let's go let's go!" He slapped the volleyball a couple more times, and the resultant boom filled the gym satisfactorily.

He watched as Sasha and Katie started their warm-up jog, falling in with the rest of the students. Katie was head cheerleader, and Sasha was on the squad, too, but also active in volleyball. Lord knows she looked damn good in those tight little shorts!

Coach had long ago, however, mastered the art of appreciating a good view without staring. He tossed the volleyball at Sasha as she jogged up towards him with the rest of the group.

 

[Sasha_Hardgrove]

Sasha grabbed the volleyball aggressively. "Sorry, Coach. Lost track of time," Sasha squeezed the volleyball waiting for directions on teams. She looked over at Katie who seemed indifferent about the threat to reprimand us.

Sasha looked around noticing how incredibly obvious all the girls were as they eyeball our gym teacher. Everyone lusted over Coach O'Hare, and nobody cared to hide it. He was probably used to women fantasizing him, he spent most of his days at the high school with teen girls who had no idea how to control their hormones.

Sasha was no exception. In fact, she kind of resented him for the amount of time she spent daydreaming about him, admiring his cut physique and gorgeous tan. How old could he possibly be? He says it's his policy not to share personal information such as age with the students. Sascha examined him and decided that 26, or 27 was his age. Certainly not over 30.

Sasha felt Katie nudge her as she shook her head falling out of the daydream. She realized Coach O'Hare was staring right at her.