Class Act: A Coach/Student Romance

“THAT’S PAPA! PAPA! DADDY, look Papa!” My two-and-a-half-year-old daughter bounced on my lap, her blond pigtails swinging from side to side as she clapped her hands and pointed at the man’s face that appeared on the screen.

I laughed at her enthusiasm. The camera focused on Abe talking to one of his players. Only ten minutes left in the game, but if his team maintained their stellar defense and didn’t allow the other team to score, they would win for sure. It was a tense, close game, so no one wanted to call it too soon.

The crowd went wild, as it should be for a championship game. And even I, who still didn’t get what the hoopla was, could channel my inner cheerleader and applaud. It was no secret that I found the most fascinating thing about football to be my husband and watching his intense focus as he coached his team.

His commanding presence still sent a shiver down my spine, and there was no other place—outside of our bedroom—where he exuded such command than on the field.

Abe was at the pinnacle of his career. After our doubts about what would happen after his accident eight years ago, the college he’d applied for had offered him the position of head coach. Tonight proved they had made the right decision. For the first time in the college’s history, they’d made it to the finals.

The camera shifted its focus from Abe, and Rory tilted her head back and looked at me in confusion. “Papa’s gone. Where’s Papa?”

Her little mouth turned down, and I plucked a sucker from the bag on the seat next to me and handed it to her. I tried not to bribe her with sweets, but desperate times and all that. I always had to distract her when we came to her father’s games because one glimpse of Abe and she wouldn’t stop crying until she was in his arms.

“Did I miss anything?” Mandy returned to our front-row seats with our five-year-old son.

“Look, Daddy.” He showed me his hot dog. “Sissy bought me a hot dog.”

“That looks yummy, Jameson. Didn’t you bring me back one?”

“You can have half, Daddy.”

“Thanks, love, but you eat. Daddy’s just joking.” I ran my hand through his dark curls and wiped a smudge of mustard from his glasses. “It’s still so close, but the time is almost up.”

“We have to win,” Mandy said. “Dad wants this.”

He really did, although he’d been acting all nonchalant, as if being in second place would be enough for him. Yes, he would have still made history for the college, but goddammit, he deserved to win that title.

And five minutes later, he got it.

I grinned so hard my cheeks hurt. Nobody deserved this more than Abe.

This is for everyone who ever doubted you.

After graduation, we’d gotten married at city hall, just the two of us, with Mandy, Lynn, Jimmy, and Pamela as our witnesses. Fortunately, I didn’t attend the same college as Abe, but we’d talked about it and kept our relationship private. We didn’t hide it, but we didn’t shout it from the rooftops either. Only our family and close friends knew about us.

When it finally got out that we were married and our wedding date had been only a couple of days after I graduated, Abe had lost a lot of so-called friends from the college. Some were downright homophobic, while others questioned whether he could be trusted to coach the athletes under his care. That had been a worrisome time in which Abe had even been pressured to resign. He hadn’t. He did what he did best—coaching—and let his professionalism speak for itself.

I never once doubted his love, never believed he would fool around with other students. Our lives were full with our two kids, his coaching, and my business. We didn’t have to look outside our marriage for anything. Whenever something was bothering us, we talked about and worked on it, strengthening our bond and the love we had for each other.

Abe would be tied up in postgame interviews and celebrations, which could take a couple of hours. Mandy and I took the kids back to the hotel where we were staying. She’d moved here to Florida two years ago to live with her girlfriend, only a thirty-minute drive from the football stadium. She’d come to spend the day with us and watch the game.

I washed up the kids, promising Rory that Papa would be there when she woke up. She always looked forward to Abe tucking her into bed at night, since he didn’t always get the chance. Football season was hectic with him flying with the team to wherever their games were.

“You’re so good with the kids.” Mandy laughed. “I wouldn’t have seen this coming from the Emery I knew in high school. But then, I didn’t see you and my dad happening either, but here we are, eight years later, and you’re making it work.”

“Hmm. Do you think that after ten years, the people who still doubt us will finally get it? That we’re committed to each other?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath. Besides, you’re after Dad’s money, or haven’t you heard?”

I snorted. “We were damn near poor our first year together, especially after Abe’s injury. If not for the modeling gigs I did, we would have been in trouble, so that can’t be it. Unless I’m a psychic and knew he would be making way more than I do one day.”

“What you make from your interior decor business is nothing to scoff at either. Heard you’re getting featured in Architectural Digest.”

“Yeah, our life’s not so bad.”

In fact, it was fucking fantastic. Our greatest joy, though, was our kids and Mandy and how much happiness they brought us.

“I should get going,” Mandy said. “I have to drive back to Miami Beach. If only you could stay a few days and come party with us.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Don’t you miss going to the club, Emery?”

I didn’t take her question to heart but herded her out of the hotel room. She always poked fun at me that I got married so quickly I never had as much fun as I could have. What she didn’t know was that Abe never tried to stop me from going out. During college, he’d insisted on me enjoying the experience, so I’d been to my fair share of parties.

They just felt different. Insignificant. All my life I’d wanted a home to feel safe, and Abe was that. I hadn’t needed anything else.

With Mandy gone and the kids out, I took a shower and got ready for Abe.

Postgame adrenaline made the best sex.

***

Abe

The press conference took longer than expected, and then I had to appear at the celebration party afterward. I’d called Emery earlier to explain why I was delayed, and he’d told me to take my time and he’d be waiting for me.

With a surprise.

I’d been curious about that damn surprise all night. Not to mention I was on such a high after that epic game that I needed something—no, not something but Emery. Only he knew how to handle all my pent-up emotions.

We’d fucking won!

I let myself into the hotel suite and closed the door. First, I checked on the kids and found them fast asleep. I kissed their little foreheads and whispered that Papa loved them so much.

They were as different as night and day. Jameson was the serious one, whereas Rory was our little ray of sunshine, but they were both smart as a whip.

At first, Emery and I had worried we’d done something wrong because Jameson didn’t run off to play or get boisterous as other kids did, but we learned his unique personality and how to meet his needs. Behind his inquisitive mind was a kid who had a fascination with toy trains, enjoyed bubble baths, loved purple skittles—yes, we had to get rid of all the other colors in the pack—and had a sweet protectiveness of his little sister.

Rory was the opposite, and I saw a hell-raiser in her future. She was Emery’s spitting image, both in attitude and looks. They were adorable kids, and we couldn’t have asked for better children.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

I smiled. “Just had to see the kids before…” I turned and lost my train of thought. Emery had bunched his curls up in pigtails and was dressed in his cheerleading uniform from high school, although the sheer thigh highs hadn’t been a part of the outfit back then. Neither had been the heels.

“It’s so damn sexy that I can still make you speechless after eight years.” He crooked a finger at me as he walked backward out of the kids’ room. “Come on, Papa. Don’t keep me waiting.”

“Emery, you…” I followed him out of the room in a trance and closed the door.

“What are you thinking?”

“That I’m seriously trying not to pounce on you. How are you even sexier now than when I first laid eyes on you?”

“I think you’re hot too, Coach.” He went down on his knees and tilted his head. “I’ve watched you all night, and I kept thinking that I’d love to blow your whistle.”

“Which one?” My insides shook from his smoldering gaze.

“Come a little closer, and I’ll show you.”

For the press conference, I’d changed into a suit, as was expected. Emery opened my belt buckle, slid the belt through the loops, and dropped it to the floor. The pants followed, then my boxers. He hummed at the back of his throat, and those perfectly manicured nails of his scraped gently along the underside of my cock. A shiver ran up my spine.

“Emmy.”

“What do you want, Coach? I can’t give it to you unless you tell me.”

“Open your mouth and be good. I want to use your holes tonight.”

“What if someone finds out?” He stroked my cock with a tight flick of his wrist that had my toes curling. “That you like to put your cock in your student’s holes? Aren’t you afraid you’ll get in trouble?”

“They won’t find out.”

“But what if they do?”

“I don’t mind getting in trouble for this. You know you want it. Open up.”

“There’s one more thing.” He peered up at me from under his lashes. “No one can know. They’ll think I’m a shameless slut.”

“But you like being that for me don’t you,” I hissed. “Please, Emery.” I wasn’t beyond begging my husband for his mouth. “Get me wet.”

He cupped my balls and captured the head of my cock with his lips. I groaned when he sucked me all the way to the back of his throat over and over. He pulled back, spat on my cock, and spread the saliva down my length, then took me back into his mouth.

Snapping out of my trance caused by his hypnotic mouth, I slid my fingers into his hair. “Relax that throat for me, baby. Show me how deep you can swallow it.”

I gripped the back of his head and pushed his face forward while I fucked his throat. One thing the last eight years had taught me was how much he could take. He clutched my thighs, hands tightening each time I glided past his tonsils. Lips stretched around my girth, and his wet eyes tracked mascara down his cheeks.

He already looked wrecked, and I’d barely started.

“Fuck.” I pulled out of his mouth before I came. “On your feet.”

I helped him up and took his lips with mine, kissing him hard. He moaned and slipped his hands into my jacket. Together, our hands worked to divest me of the rest of my clothes.

“Coach,” he moaned. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

He ran his hands down my hard chest. With a husband who looked like Emery, I was motivated to keep fit. It took a little more effort than when I was younger, but seeing the genuine appreciation in his eyes made it worth it.

I turned him around so his back was to me and pushed him onto the bed. He squealed when he hit the mattress. I didn’t give him a second to recover but flipped his skirt up, showing the black thong that disappeared between his round ass.

I hissed a breath. “So perfect.” I hooked my finger at the top where the thong made a T and pulled the piece of cloth from between his cheeks. “Spread for me, baby. I want to see your hole. Did you prep for me?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

He reached back to spread his cheeks, baring the darker hue of his hole, all relaxed and ready for me. I leaned in and licked at him. Emery’s thighs twitched, and his moans grew louder at the thrusting of my tongue, opening him up and getting him wet.

“Oh god,” Emery gasped. “Feels so good. Oh god, your tongue feels so good.”

I bit inside his cheeks, and he yelped. “Want to feel something else right here?” I pressed my thumb into his hole. He thrust back against the finger.

“Yes.”

“Did you get lube?”

“On the nightstand.”

Hard to miss. I slapped his ass. “On the bed. I need you on your knees with your back arched. You know how I like you.”

That sexy little ass poised just at the right angle, waiting for me.

I worked the lube down my shaft and settled behind Emery. I caressed his slender back and around to his front, pushing my hands under the tight top and pinching his nipples through the bra he had on. The feel of that lace bra still turned me on so much. Everything about Emery did.

“Coach,” Emery moaned.

“Yes.”

“Show me how you you think of fucking me when I’m not here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I guided my cock between his cheeks and entered him slowly, making that first stroke last for as long as I could. Those precious seconds when my cock remembered where home was and how good it was to be back.

I grabbed Emery by the hair, the way that drove him wild, and pushed until he tilted his hips some more for me.

“Just like that, baby.” I pounded inside his ass long and deep. “Gotta work you a little bit looser.”

“So good.” Emery reached back and smacked his ass hard. He grasped the fleshy part of his cheek and pulled it to one side, opening himself up for me. “Fuck that ass, Coach. Fuck me deep.”

Sweet fuck. How was I still so insatiable after eight years of this? Yet he was like the water I needed to quench my thirst, but I never had enough. I always had to come back for more.

The bed rocked beneath us. Emery released his cheek and clutched the sheet. I pulled his skirt down to cover his ass, then fucked him like that, the hem brushing against my skin and turning me on even more.

I pulled out of Emery and slapped his ass. “On your back.”

He turned over and spread his legs. I caught them and caressed his slender ankles in the heels. He was one part feminine and one part masculine, and I loved them equally. I loved him whole.

“The part of my job I hate is when I have to be away from you,” I said, driving my cock in and out of his ass.

“Oh god, Abe.”

Emery wrapped a hand around his erection and stroked himself. His lips fell apart, and his breathing hitched. A tremor ripped through him, followed by a jerk and a gasp. His body went rigid, and “Oh my gods” rolled off his tongue in one syllable as he offloaded on his stomach.

I pumped my cock into his contracting channel, hitting his prostate and milking him. He opened his eyes and met mine. The dark brown depths pulled me right in, invited me to join him.

“Fuck, Emmmm.” My lips got stuck on the last letter as I came, filling him so much with my load that it seeped from the sides. “Oh my god.”

I fell over Emery, my arms braced on the bed on either side of his head as I fought to regulate my breathing.

He chuckled and circled my neck with his arms. “You stole my line.”

I kissed him softly. “What else is there to say?” Another slow kiss. “You blow my mind every single time.”

He opened up for me, and I sucked his tongue into my mouth and devoured him like a succulent fruit. I brushed at the mascara trail on his cheek.

“I’m glad, then. You were so brilliant tonight. I’m proud of you, Abe.”

“Thank you.” I kissed his nose. “My number one supporter. That’s you.”

“Always, though I think Rory is trying to compete with me for that spot. She loves her papa so much. As does Jameson and me of course. We love you, Abe.”

I shifted off Emery and rolled over to my side with him in my arms. “From the first day I met you, I had a feeling you would be trouble,” I said softly.

“And now?”

“Still a lot of trouble.” He wiggled against me in protest, and I held on to him tight, chuckling.

“Abe, your romantic skills are deteriorating.”

“Wait. I’m not done. I’d rather go through all the troubles in this world with you than go back to the way my life was before you. Thank you for helping me prove everyone was wrong about us.”

“Hmm, want to prove them wrong for another fifty years?”

“But then I’ll be—”

“Abe.”

Point taken. I kissed his shoulder and linked our fingers. “I have a better idea. How about we live for us?”

“Hmm. I love that. You’re right.”

For so many years, we’d felt the need to prove to others that we were really in love. That it wasn’t just lust keeping us together. That Emery wasn’t with me for my money. That I wasn’t with Emery because he was young and hot. Or that he was effeminate. That we hadn’t adopted our kids because we had nefarious ideas.

The world would always have its opinion. If we proved them wrong in one area, people would only find something else to criticize us about.

We weren’t exactly friends with Teresa, but we’d achieved a high level of cordiality over the years. She’d opened her own practice and taken the legal world by storm. She still focused mostly on her work but had an on-again, off-again relationship with another lawyer. In the end, she seemed happy with the way everything had turned out. She had her freedom to excel at what she loved and a man who shared her view on relationships.

Yes, it was high time we started living just for us.

And to be done with the class act.

We were two men in love with two beautiful kids we adored, and we would cherish that for as long as we could.