Coach Brandi

Carter’s jump shot is a mess. Every ball clangs off the rim until Coach Brandi steps in and straightens her follow-through. After a few sessions Carter’s arc smooths out, the ball drops clean. She tells herself that’s enough. Instead she knocks on the coach’s office door, steps inside, and admits the drills were never the point. The words are barely spoken before Brandi has her on the desk, lips crushing hers, hands already under the jersey. Carter’s natural tits spill free, nipples pink and pierced with tiny silver bars that catch the light. Brandi’s mouth closes over one, tongue flicking the metal while her fingers slide past waistband and panties. She finds Carter slick and open, two fingers easing in, palm grinding the swollen clit with each steady thrust. Carter’s breath breaks. She arches, blonde hair fanned across the desk, and takes everything Coach gives her, hips rolling down to meet every stroke until her legs shake and the room fills with the wet sound of her coming undone.