Making Amends

I was sitting in my office and quietly fuming. We'd had the first game of the season and we'd won it. I'd expected the team to win it and they had managed a very nice win, a real confidence booster for a start to the season.

So with a good win under our belt why was I fuming? Because the team had actually put on a pathetic display. They hadn't won the game; the other team had lost it. Our opponents had played so badly that that a team from a girl's primary school would have beaten them. And my boys were celebrating as though they'd won a major tournament.

I was going to have to bring them down to earth, and bring them down hard. Fortunately I'd filmed most of the game and with a bit of editing I'd give them a first class view of all the errors that they'd made. They wouldn't be walking quite that tall after watching their bloopers, especially when they heard I was thinking of putting it on Youtube as a demonstration of how not to play football.

I worked hard on my masterpiece, not even noticing that it was getting dark outside. The team, the cheerleaders, and their adherents, were all partying out on the ground, and I worked, preparing my little hand grenade to toss at them before the next practice.

I finally noticed that it had gotten dark when I switched off the PC and found myself sitting in it. I just sat there for a moment, just letting all the tensions of the day drain away, relaxing and ready to go home.

I was just about to leave when I heard someone enter the gym. Several someone's, it turned out, as I could hear them talking. While my office was dark the gym was only gloomy, there being enough light coming through the windows to let you see what was what.

In this case what was what was two young lads hustling a young lady into the gym, even though she seemed a might reluctant, and was pointedly telling them so. They were just laughing and teasing her, ignoring her objections.

They hustled her across to where a couple of tumbling mats were lying on the floor, and I made a mental note to mention that to someone. All equipment was supposed to be put away properly after use. Once they reached the mats these two fine young specimens pushed the young lady down onto the mats, sinking down onto the mats beside her.

She was getting a lot more determined in her protests, threatening to scream if they didn't cut it out. A waste of time as one of the lads pointed out that that was OK by them as there wasn't anyone around to hear her.

There was enough light shining through a window that I could see what was happening quite well. One gentleman was seated just above her head, holding her arms up above her head, while the other young man was seated next to her at around her waist.

Their intentions were obvious, becoming more so all the time. Her top was pulled loose from her skirt and pushed up high, finishing up rucked up over the top of her breasts. The lad thoughtfully pushed her bra up to join her top.

Both boys passed some comments on her breasts, rather crudely in my opinion, but sincere for all their crudity. The lad who'd pushed her top up also demonstrated some tactile appreciation of those breasts. I guessed that the other lad would do the same once he figured it was safe to release her hands.

After a bit of tactile appreciation, and some rather atrocious language from the young lady, lover boy decided to extend his explorations. Her skirt was pushed up and bunched around her waist while her panties went downwards, finishing up being dropped on the floor next to her.

From the shocked squeal that followed moments later I could guess where the young man's hands had moved to. Reluctant as I was to spoil a young man's fun I thought that I'd better step in at this stage.

There was a light switch just outside my door that turned on a number of the gym lights. I flicked it on to some surprised consternation.

The two boys were on their feet and belting for the door just as fast as they could go, covering their faces as they ran. Why couldn't they move like that on the field? In case you wondered I'd recognised them both before I even bother to turn on the light. I let then go. I'd have a word with them later and neither of them would enjoy that word.

I strolled over to where Darnelle was lying. Her I hadn't recognised until the lights went on. Darnelle was one of the senior cheerleaders. As you might expect from a cheerleader she was fit, lovely, and smart. Dumb blondes don't make it to the cheerleader ranks because generally they're too dumb to learn the routines. A cheerleader needs smarts as well as a decent figure and some serious dedication.

"Good evening, Darnelle," I said politely, admiring her figure which was on full display. She hadn't yet thought to either cover her charms with her hands or to try to straighten out her clothing. She was still lying in the position the boys had been holding her, legs nicely parted and her arms above her head, showing all. With the improved lighting I probably had a much better view than either of the boys had got.

She just stared at me, looking slightly shocked. It wasn't until I sank down onto the mats next to her that she had a reaction. She made a sound that I can only describe as a horrified yelp, her hands darting down to cover her treasures.

"Don't be silly," I told her, catching her wrists and casually pushing them to either side, not wanting my view interrupted. "It seems to me that you're feeling a little violated by that oaf's crude touch. If you'll excuse me for a moment I'll kiss it all better."

I meant that literally, too. I leaned over and kissed first one breast and then the other, starting with each nipple in turn and then dropping little butterfly kisses over the rest of her breasts.

"Mr Gordon," she exclaimed in a most scandalised tone.

"Glad that you recognise me," I murmured, lifting my head. "Now if I remember correctly it seemed to me that he was also touching you here."

I dropped my hand down, sliding it over her mons and between her legs, noting in passing that her mons was freshly shaved. Not even the faintest prickle of stubble. Or maybe she'd had depilatory treatment.

"Mr Gordon," came another scandalised cry.

"Are you saying he didn't touch you here?" I asked, gently rubbing her mound.

"No, yes, I mean you're touching me there," she blathered.

"So did he or not?" I insisted.

"Yes, yes, yes, now please stop."

"Ah, ok. I just wanted to check if I needed to kiss it better," I told her, moving so that I was between her legs, head already bending down so that I could get to work.

I pressed my mouth against her, my tongue starting to explore. This cause her to give another shocked, "Mr Gordon," but I ignored it. She knew my name. She didn't need to keep repeating it.

Seeing my mouth was engaged at soothing the trespasses of unwanted attentions my hands had nothing to do. I resolved this by letting them close over her breast, stroking them and teasing her nipples, which responded quite nicely. (Another "Mr Gordon" which I ignored.)

Darnelle finally showed some life, grabbing my wrists and trying to move my hands away from her breasts and, when this failed, clutching at my head. At first I assumed that she was going to try to move my head away from where I was easing her pain but no, she just clutched at my head, bleating Mr Gordon. What on earth was her obsession with my name?

I assume that you know that a lady's parts have some areas that are quite a bit more sensitive than others. I guess I must have touched upon one of these areas as she made a peculiarly muffled sound. Muffled because she'd snatched her hand away from my head and jammed it against her mouth.

In the interests of scientific investigation I touched that same area again with exactly the same result. A muffled squawk and her other hand flew up resulting in both hands being jammed against her mouth.

I soothed her hurt feeling for a little longer and then I raised my head, confident that I'd done my duty. Ever had that lowering feeling that you've made a mistake? That's the feeling I got when I looked at Darnelle. Her face was flushed, she was breathing hard, her breast was heaving (and it was very nice to watch it heave, I might add) and, now that I thought about it she had been hot and wet down below.

It was obvious to me that my remedial administrations, designed to let her get over the boys' crude attentions, had gone slightly awry, leaving poor Darnelle was aroused. Seeing it was my fault I just naturally had to make amends.

I pushed down my tracksuit pants and jocks, and my cock leapt into prominence. Darnelle's eyes seemed to open wider as she looked at my equipment and her mouth opened and closed a couple of times without her actually saying anything. Seeing she wasn't going to tell me no I proceeded to proceed.

I pushed her legs a little further apart, spread her lips with a couple of fingers and eased the tip of my cock into position. Darnelle had hoisted herself up on her elbows and was watching what I was doing, eyes and mouth wide open, looking as though she wasn't sure what was going on. How she could fail to be sure, seeing my cock was already starting to push into her, I do not know.

My cock slipped smoothly into position, sinking deep into her, finding that Darnelle was lifting her hips and pushing to meet me. Not a virgin, I noticed, which was a plus. It meant she'd know what to do once we got started properly.

I was fully engaged, my hairy groin grinding against her smooth one, when Darnelle finally found her voice.

"Mr Gordon," she exclaimed, all her original scandalised feeling appearing in her voice again. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You're kidding," I said, giving her a startled look. "You genuinely don't know?"

She blushed at that. She knew all right.

"I mean why are you doing this to me?" she clarified.

"It seemed the right thing to do," I pointed out. "It's not as though you tried to stop me."

That said I started moving, pulling smoothly back and returning quite firmly, Darnelle once again pushing to meet me. As a distraction it worked well. A couple of times she opened her mouth to say something only to change what she wanted to say to a gasp when I gave a slightly harder thrust. It didn't take long for her to get the message and pay proper attention to what my cock was doing to her. (And what she was doing to my cock, to be fair.)

I've always been a believer in doing your best at all times and that's what I did now, doing my best for Darnelle, my hands and mouth also coming into play, kissing and touching, while all the time I drove repeatedly into her. From her response I'd have to say that she was doing her best as well, and a very good best it was.

I dragged things out as long as I could but I was finally at a point where it was do or die. Still, it seemed to me that from Darnelle's responses she was pretty well at the same spot. The only way to find out for sure was to go for broke and see what happened.

I picked up the pace, hands rubbing her breasts as I piled on the pressure. She was gasping and I was working hard, and then I was exploding and Darnelle gave another of those strangled screams she'd given when I was using my tongue, her hands jammed in her mouth again as she climaxed. I'd have said climaxed noisily but those hands served as an excellent muffler.

We both sort of relaxed down on the mats afterwards. Well, I did, anyway. I'm not sure how relaxed Darlene was as she started in on me, suggesting that she might have been unwilling.

"Really, girl," I reprimanded. "If you were unwilling then why didn't you say so? God knows I'd never inflict myself on an unwilling partner. Are you sure that you're not upset because it all went too quickly? If so, don't worry. I can make our second try last a lot longer."

Even as I was speaking I was picking up her panties and hauling her to her feet.

"What do you mean, second time?" she asked, sounding all suspicious.

"Just that," I told her, steering her over and into my office. "Just bend forward over the desk, there's a good girl, and I'll show you what I mean. Second time always takes more effort and lasts longer. That's right, just stay like that."

I'm not sure if she fully understood what I was going to do at that point but she learnt fast enough. I was driving firmly home again, and it was far too late for her to say no to seconds. With the edge worn off I figured I could keep her on edge for quite a while.