Page 5 of Stalked By the Coach

"Coach, did I do something wrong?" Her voice is soft and sweet, like silk against my skin.

My fingers dig into my palms as I struggle for control. "Just keep running, Lydia."

She gives me a quizzical look, but she obeys.

I think of all the other ways I'd like to make her obey and curse myself.

* * *

As the sun sets and darkness envelop my thoughts, I find myself alone in my bedroom, my mind consumed by thoughts of Lydia.

The fantasy plays on a loop—her gasp, her lips parting beneath mine, the taste of her desire. I can imagine the warmth of her body, the rhythm of her racing pulse.

My chest tightens as I shed my clothes, the familiar ache returning. Fuck, what I would do to kiss her. Insteadd, I'm haunted by the knowledge of what we could have, what I so desperately want.

My hands tremble as I undress, my heart pounding with anticipation and guilt, knowing the forbidden nature of my desires.

Naked, I sink onto the edge of the bed, gripping the sheets to anchor myself against the storm of emotions raging within. I shouldn't want this. I shouldn't need her the way I do. But my resolve is crumbling, my willpower shattered by the force of my obsession.

With a ragged breath, I lie back on the bed, closing my eyes as forbidden images flash through my mind. Lydia's lips, swollen from my kiss. Her body arching into mine. The soft moan that escapes her as I caress her skin.

Heat coils in my belly, tension building as I imagine the feel of her touch, the taste of her arousal. I know it's wrong, but I can't stop myself from sliding my hand down my body, my fingers closing around my rigid length.

A groan rumbles in my chest as I stroke myself, chasing the release I so desperately crave. Release from the hunger, the guilt, the loneliness. For this moment, I allow myself to pretend that she's here with me, that I can have what I want. What we both want.

The fantasy that Lydia might want me too makes my breath come quicker.

My movements quicken as pleasure overwhelms me, her name a whisper on my lips.Lydia.

I'm drowning in sensation, my mind flooded with images of Lydia. The feel of her body pressed to mine, her nimble fingers stroking my cock as I thrust into the welcoming heat between her thighs. The taste of her kiss, intoxicating and sweet. The sound of her ragged moans in my ear as I drive her to the edge again and again.

My hand moves faster, slick with sweat and precum. So close, I'msoclose. Just a little more.

I dig my heels into the mattress, tension coiling in my belly as my release approaches.

"Lydia," I gasp, her name both a prayer and a curse.

Ecstasy crashes over me in waves, my back arching off the bed as I climax. For a fleeting moment, I feel whole again.

But as the last tremors fade, shame washes over me, cold and unrelenting. I've crossed a line I swore I never would.

I stare at the mess on my hands, the evidence of my weakness and the depravity of my desire for Lydia. Bile rises in my throat, a visceral reminder of how far I've fallen.

With a groan, I drag myself from the bed on unsteady legs and scrub a hand over my face. I can't keep doing this. I have to stop indulging these sick fantasies. I can't keep jacking off to my student this way.

I can't think about her like this anymore. I have to lock these thoughts in a box and bury them deep within me, along with my feelings for her.

Feelings that can never see the light of day.

I trudge to the bathroom and turn on the faucet. I wash the remnants of my release down the drain, scrubbing at my skin as if I can wash away my sins.

But no amount of soap and scalding water can purge the sickness inside me. I'm rotten to the core, corrupted by a longing I have no right to feel.

I quickly clean myself up, my movements mechanical and devoid of the passion that consumed me moments ago, as I grapple with the consequences of my actions.

With a heavy sigh, I slide between cool sheets and close my eyes. The sheets feel coarse against my skin, a reminder of the harsh truth I can't escape.

My thoughts are a maelstrom of self-loathing and longing, desire warring with decency until I'm not sure which way is up. The lines have blurred, rationality eclipsed by obsession.

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