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March Madness

By: Lucifers Tongue



I was at the UK basketball senior day in the student section with a bunch of other rowdy fans rooting the cats on against Florida. To my delight, Ashley Judd ends up right beside me. If you know anything about UK basketball, you know that Ashley is a huge UK fan and an alumnist of the university, so she gets pretty good treatment at these games. For some of the games she sits with Tubby's wife and for other games she sits in the student section. This game she had chosen to sit in the student section and luck would have it, she ended up right beside me. 

Most of the game we chatted and cheered together. It was an exciting game and UK played really well so it put everyone in the stands in a great mood. Ashley was great. At one point they put the camera on us and we were screaming for the camera, then Ashley leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek just for the camera.

At half time we were talking about her visits back to Lexington for games and how most of her old friends were gone..anyway, so I ask her if she wants to go to a bar after the game with myself and a bunch of fans and she says she'd like that. So after the 20 point blowout by UK we headed off to this campus bar. 

There were about seven of us and we were having a great time, joking, drinking and telling stories. Ashley was so incredibly real and sexy; I couldn't get over it. She was flirting with me most of the night and I was eating it up. Then at one point I feel something brush against my leg and then up to my crotch. I look down and see a bare foot in my lap. Ashley Judd has her foot in my lap and is rubbing my crotch. (see, I told you you wouldn't believe it). And just for the record, this was during the time when Ashley had a cast on her left foot, and she wasn't wearing a shoe on her right foot, just a sandal which she could slip in and out of easily. 

When I realized what was happening I looked up at Ashley and she was looking back at me with a big grin on her face. I looked around to make sure no one else had noticed. While I was trying to look inconspicuous, Ashley is rubbing her foot firmly against my package trying to get a rise out of my pants. And it didn't take her long to get one either. It took me a minute or two to get over the shock of having a famous chick playing footsie with me, but once I recovered I was all into it. She found the position of my cock in my pants with her foot and went to work caressing it with her foot until I was hard. Then she just kept rubbing and rubbing it harder then softer and I was loving every second of it.

It was dark in the bar, dark enough that no one noticed our shenanigans, but I was afraid as we got closer to my orgasm I might have trouble acting normal, but I couldn't stop. I let one of my hands go down to my lap and take hold of Ashley's foot. I caressed her foot as she pressed it firmly against my crotch. Then I guided her foot along the length of my cock to the head and rubbed the ball of her foot against my helmet. She laughed and then tried to pretend it was a joke that she just thought of for the benefit of the others at the table, but I knew better.

So you're probably thinking the same thing I was thinking that night...this is all some big joke to her, she's going to rub me until I cream my pants and then she'll be done with me. Nope. She finally pulls her foot from my grasp and away from my lap. She says she's got to make a call and she gets up pulling her cell phone out and starts to walk off. She pauses as she passes my chair and whispers in my ear, "When I come back your pants better be unzipped." And then off she goes.

Now if it weren't for the fact that she left her purse on the table, I might have suspected she would just leave me there with my dick hanging out. But I knew she would be back to get her purse, so I did as she told me. I unzipped my pants as inconspicuously as possible and waited for Ashley to return.

When she got back she returned to her chair and after a brief agonizing moment when she was talking to someone else at the table and ignoring me, her foot returned to my crotch. She smiled when she found my pants unzipped. She rubbed my semi-hard cock thru the fabric of my boxers for a minute, then she used her toes to wriggle her foot into my boxers and I felt the flesh of her soft litle foot rubbing against the flesh of my dick. Before long she has managed to free my cock from my boxers and it's standing at attention as she rubs my shaft up and down with her foot. She lets her toes wriggle against the head of my cock and soon there is a bit of pre-cum on the tip which she then uses as lubrication so she can rub my whole cock more easily.

Again, I reach down and take hold of her foot and guide it gently against my erection, this time as much to slow her down as anything. I know I'm going to come very soon if she doesn't stop, and I don't really want to come in such a public way. I guess Ashley either figured out why I was resisting or just got fed up with it because she finally pulled her foot away from me. When she saw no one else looking she mouthed "Zip Up" to me. I did, thinking the good times were over. 

Ashley started to get up, "My foot is bothering me can you help me to the restroom," she asked me. I said sure and off we went, her left arm around my shoulders so I could support her. The bathrooms were in the back but so were the stairs that led up to the private rooms and the stairs that led down to the storage in the basement. Ashley guided me in the direction of the stairs. I think she was wanting to go upstairs to find some privacy, but unfortunately there was plenty of noise coming from upstairs, too much to expect any privacy. Instead we made our way slowly downstairs into the storage area. She took her arm from my shoulders, the pretense no longer necessary and instead took my hand and silently lead me to a darkened corner behind some shelves of liquor.

She turned me and pushed me against the wall and gave me a smile as she leaned in and kissed me. "If you liked that little footjob, you're gonna love having me suck your dick," and with that she went down to her knees. Because of her cast it took her a second to get comfortable, but once she was she wasted no time unzipping my pants and pulling my pants down to my ankles. Ashley gently pressed her face against the front of my boxers and rubbed my crotch. Then she found my semi-erect cock with her hand and rubbed it firmly thru the fabric of my boxers. Next, she pulled my boxers down to my knees letting my swollen but not quite erect cock spring out at her. I'm about ten inches when fully erect so Ashley now had about eight inches hanging in her face and I could tell she was happy with what she saw. My dick was not completely hard so it was curving down when she first took hold of it with her right hand. She guided it slowly into her mouth. It felt so incredible and all I could think was how badly I just wanted to shout, "Ashley Judd is sucking my dick!" Her hair was in pigtails with little blue wildcat ribbons and she looked younger than she really was. She closed her eyes as she began to suck my cock. As she began to bob her head on my dick, taking four or five inches in and then slowly letting it out again, she released her hands and let her mouth and head do all of the work. She placed her hands on the wall to either side of my hips and quickened her pace.

My cock quickly stiffened in Ashley's wet mouth. Occasionally she would put a hand on the shaft of my cock and jerk it for a few seconds, then it would return to the wall. Then one time she took hold of my cock with her left hand and lifted it up so that the head was practically against my belly and she lowered her head and licked my nutsack. Ashley Judd licked my nutsack, people. Then she caressed the top of my cock with her tongue and sucked on just the head of my cock before returning to deepthroating me, with her hands on the wall.

Normally when I'm getting head I like to put my hand on the girl's head or in her hair or something, but so far I had refrained in fear that Ashley would get mad, but I couldn't resist any longer. I took a pigtail in each hand and gently guided her forward and backward. She didn't seem to mind, nor did she mind when I put my hand on top of her head and guided her that way either. She just kept sucking cock. And, God damn, was she good at it.

In fact she was so good, I was reaching the point of no return when I heard someone come down the stairs. Someone flipped the light on but luckily it was not the brightest of lights and we were still shielded by the shelves. But my fear was that whoever it was was going to come back to the shelves to get something. Ashley didn't seem too worried she kept blowing me. Here I am trying to be as quiet as possible and crouch low, and Ashley's shoving every inch of my cock into her mouth. She actually managed to get all ten inches into her mouth and throat for a couple of seconds before she had to release or gag. It sounded like whoever was in the room with us was right on top of us and I was just about to push Ashley away when I heard them move back towards the stairs. Ashley isn't phased and is in fact going at me more ferociously than before, her head moving back and forth, my dick in and out of her mouth faster than ever. And now I can feel the orgasm coming back.

Finally the light goes off and the door closes and we're alone again and that's like a flood gate opening for me. As I rush to whisper,"I'm going to come" I fill Ashley Judd's mouth with a massive load of white hot cum. Instinctively I grab for her head and force my dick deep into her mouth and let the second load hit the back of her throat. And I hold her head there letting her receive every drop I have to give. She doesn't resist and in fact she uses her hand to jack my cock and milk every last drop. She keeps bobbing her head until I have to stop her because I can't take anymore. She licks my cock one last time and then I help her to her feet.

"Taste like you enjoyed that?" she joked with a smile. "Yeah, that was the most incredible thing ever," I replied not really sure what to say. This was Ashley Judd who had just swallowed my cum shot. I still find it hard to believe. But it wasn't over.

"I want that big dick of your's in me...I want you to fuck me so bad," she whispered into my ear as she reached down and fondled my limp cock. "My panties are soaking wet just thinking about it." She kissed me on the neck and lips as she continued to try to wake my spent dick with her hand. After a few minutes I started to respond slowly.

She turned her back to me and bent over pushing her ass into my crotch and against my cock. She rubbed my crotch with her ass for a minute before telling me to take her skirt off. I unzipped her light blue skirt and pulled it down and off. To my delight Ashley was wearing a Kentucky Blue g-string and her ass looked incredible. I work her g-string down and off and in the process I notice that they are indeed very wet. Now all she's wearing is her white shirt and bra.

Before I can make another move she pushes me back against one of the shelves and then, propping her injured leg up on one of the shelves she reaches down and slides my semi-hard cock into her wet but tight pussy. She's not completely shaved, but has a small little strip of pubic hair. I start thrusting into her as her mouth finds mine for a sloppy kiss. Then I slide my left hand down to her ass and my right hand to her left breast. I fondle and squeeze her breast thru the fabric of her shirt and bra and feel her nipple harden under my touch. My other hand squeezes her ass firmly and lifts her up slightly so that I can slide my cock into her easier.

I plunge into her a few times, but unfortunately, she's just not tall enough for this position to be comfortable so I just grab a butt cheek in each hand and pick her up off the ground. Ashley grabs the top of the shelf to help support herself. Now, holding her up, I can fuck her smoothely and easily. My thrusts start to speed up until I'm just slamming into her wet little cunt. She's not even trying to be quiet, she's moaning and grunting and beging for more, screaming and cussing. My arms start to get tired so I set her down on a freezer that is the perfect height so I can stand and fuck her while she sits. I fuck her hard and fast for a minute then she pushes me back and she stands up and turns her back to me and bends over the freezer. I slap her ass one time before plunging back into her juicy pussy from behind.

I bang her over the freezer for several more minutes before she tells me to lay down on the floor. She straddles me and lowers herself down onto my erect cock. She rides me strong and I pull her shirt up and her bra down in front so I can get my nouth on her nipples. I'm sucking on her nipples, slapping and rubbing her ass and Ashley is just riding my dick for all it's worth. She had to have ridden me for ten mintues straight before I pushed her off and told her I wanted to fuck her doggystyle. She had no objections and before I knew it, I was fucking Ashley Judd doggystyle on the floor, holding onto her little pigtails from behind. She was moaning louder than ever now and I continued to fuck her harder and harder at her urging. 

Then finally I flipped her over and mounted her missionary on the floor. She raised both legs straight up in the air as I banged her box wildly. I was going at it with a vengeance when she said, "Don't cum inside me,". So when the time came I told her I was going to come, she told me to stand up, and I did. She sat up her face now in front of my crotch. She took hold of my throbbing cock and jerked me off until my load began to spew across her face. I watched in delight as my hot cum shot across Ashley Judd's cheeks, her mouth, her eyes, her chin, her hair, and down her neck. When I was done her face was covered in cum. She couldn't open her eyes, but she didn't stop. She took my still throbbing cock into her mouth and sucked it dry before finally releasing it. She grabbed a paper towel from a nearby shelf and used it to wipe her face clean.

Afterwards we had another beer together and I gave her a ride to her hotel where she gave me a kiss and got my number so that next time she was in town we could get together. She even made me a little promise, "If the cats make the final four this year, you can fuck me in the ass."

I'm looking forward to March Madness like never before.

March Madness



Thanks to Mikothebaby for editing this story with her usual panache even though she wemt through hell this week. Thanks also to those of you who read last week's story. 

* * * * * *

Every year at about this time, the entire country goes just a little bit basketball crazy. Okay maybe I'm understating it a tad, but it's pretty harmless isn't it? For just a little while, we concentrate on something other than which politicians are robbing us and which countries around the world want to destroy us. It's one of those rare things that can bring us all together as we all cheer on our favorite teams.

At least that's the way I always thought of it. I guess I should know a bit more about it than the average person does since I'm a basketball coach and this year I got to see it from the inside. I'm sure there are lots of you who've already heard the story I'm about to tell you. Most of you think you know something about what really happened. A very few of you actually might really know at least parts of it. 

The story has been big news for a while. It even pushed the actual winners off of the front pages with everyone and his brother wondering why the hell I did what I did. I have reporters and TV people from all of the major networks camping out on my doorstep trying to interview me. Unfortunately for them, I'm not there. After the whole thing ended, I sat down in the office of the university's president with him and the athletic director to discuss how we'd handle things and then I came up here to think.

Here, of course, is Crystal Lake. It's a place I remembered from my childhood. There used to be a camp on the other side of the lake as I recall it. But years after I grew up, there was some kind of incident there. They ended up tearing the whole camp down to try to erase the memories of whatever happened there.

I don't think they were successful anymore than I'll be successful at trying to forget what just happened to me.

My name is Jim Turner. I am, at least for the moment, the head basketball coach for Pineland University. See, I knew that as soon as I told you that you'd start looking at me funny. You're wondering why I did it too aren't you? Maybe you or someone you know lost money on that game huh? Well all I can say is never bet money that you can't afford to lose. Or maybe there are no sure things. Never count your chickens before they hatch. Hopefully one of those make you feel a little better. Of course they don't work for me, but then I lost so much more than money.

Fifteen years ago I was the starting point guard for my own college team. I was pretty good and even as a sophomore was beginning to get some interest from NBA teams. But it was never to be. In my last game of my sophomore season I went up for a jumper and the guy guarding me bumped me in mid air. It didn't help. I still scored. But when I came down, I landed awkwardly and there was this little popping sound from my knee. It didn't really hurt that badly, it was just a burning sensation. Two days later I couldn't walk on the leg at all. 

My knee had grown to the size of a Cantaloupe and I was scheduled for surgery. It turned out to be the last game I ever played. Even after multiple surgeries, by some of the best doctors in the state, there was simply nothing they could do. I am, of course, glad that I can walk without pain, but my knee will never allow me to run faster than a light jog. And even then I have to wear a knee brace, run on soft surfaces and be very careful changing directions. Any attempt at leaping or jumping brings me off the scale pain and days of recovery.

After a few years of bitterness, during which I had to actually study some, I went back to basketball; this time as a volunteer assistant coach. It was very different from being a player. At first, I was nothing more than a glorified water boy. I made sure all of the practice equipment and balls were stored and set up for each practice. I monitored practice time since there were rules against working the players for longer than a certain amount of time each day or each week. I also had to make sure that the players kept their grades at a certain level. That sometimes meant speaking to professors or even picking classes that were not only easy but where the instructor was aware of the big picture.

Before too long, I was also the fundamentals coach. It was my job to work with the incoming freshmen and make sure that they were ready for the college game. It was a big step up from playing in high school. The game is faster and more dynamic. Some of our most highly touted prospects just couldn't make the transition. There was also a period of time where they had to get their heads around the fact that literally thousands of people came to every game and millions watched on TV.

Some of those kids couldn't actually even dribble. Others were so used to the fact that their height advantage over most of the people they played against in high school meant that they barely had to jump. So they had never actually developed a good shot. Of course, there were also the ones who felt that since they had such a good shot, there was no need for them to develop any kind of skills as a defender. My job was to determine their weaknesses and strengths and to make them stronger where they were weak and stronger still at their specialties.

Perhaps the biggest difference in the position was that it actually gave me both a true status on the coaching staff and a paycheck. Our head coach, Jerry Atrick, seemed to be taking me under his wing. He asked for my opinion on all sorts of things and started taking me along with him on his recruiting trips. Of course, we were never able to go after the top recruits. Even in our area, our school was simply too small to interest them. The top kids all wanted to go to Michigan State or Michigan. But we did okay in our conference and dreamed of someday making it to the big dance. 

I wish that I could even pretend that my life was wonderful and that I'd come to terms with things. The truth is that I hadn't. On the court and on the job I was thoroughly professional, but away from the school I was one messed up individual. It wasn't unusual for me to spend the majority of my nights in seedy bars downtown drinking away a large chunk of my small salary while I bemoaned how unfair it was for God to have taken my knee and my career away from me while giving it to a bunch of kids who neither appreciated or deserved what they had.

When I think back on it, I guess I was lucky because my life could have changed in any one of several different ways. First off, the amount of alcohol I was drinking could have destroyed my liver and killed me. Or one of the university's boosters or alumni or even a relative of a current student or player could have heard me whining and reported me. That might have ended my career. Or while I was drunk someone could have robbed and killed me. Or even one of the women I ended up going home with all too often could have had a terrible disease and just loaded me up with it. When I was drunk, every woman I spoke to was a ten.

If you're thinking that this is one of those stories where the hero picks himself up by his bootstraps and gets on with his life due to his awesome ethics, morals and determination to do the right thing, you're going to be sadly disappointed. Left to my own devices, I'd have ruined my life. My carefully crafted façade of professionalism was just beginning to crack around the edges when it happened.

I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was two years past graduating and in my third year of coaching. It was three days after my twenty-fourth birthday. We'd just defied the odds and beaten the hell out of East Virginia Tech. It was the eighth straight game we'd won at home and everyone was feeling really good. The problem we had was that we couldn't beat ranked teams and we just couldn't win on the road. I'd taken notes on everything we'd done that was successful during the game and was still sitting on the bench as the stands emptied. It was my habit to sit there and go over every play long after the pats on the back from well-wishers and fans were over.

I liked the solitude of the empty gym. The quiet just resonated with echoes of cheers and the ever present sound of the ball on the floor even though they were long past over. Most of the players and even the coaches were out somewhere celebrating our victory while I went over my list of things for each player to work on before our next game.

She never made a sound. I don't know what caused me to look up from my notebook and into the clearest prettiest bluest eyes I'd ever seen, but I did. She smiled and I waved. I guess to her that was the signal that it was okay to approach me.

I was ready for her though. 

"Hi..." she began. She smiled again and hesitated as if she was unsure of what to say next. She was so pretty that I decided to make things easier on her.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But most...well probably all of the guys are gone. But if you write down your name, your phone number and the name or number of the guy you're interested in. I'll pass it on to him the next time I see him. If you have an envelope on you, you could just put his number or name on the outside and that way even I won't be able to read it."

Her smile changed then. In a face that pretty it was remarkable that her entire expression could change so seamlessly even though for all intents and purposes she was still smiling. The corners of her beautiful lips softened very subtly. I don't think you could have measured the difference with a micrometer. Her eyes lost just a tiny bit of their incandescence. Again, the degree of difference was so small that most people wouldn't have noticed it but for me it was vast. 

"So is that how your life is?" she asked. "You put people into little boxes like the ones on that sheet you're looking at? Every person you meet is instantly measured, assessed and put into a position in a little box like some basketball play?"

Now I was the one confused. I looked at her again. She was still just as pretty as she was only seconds ago, but now I'd begun to question her sanity.

I covered my notebook unconsciously. I guess I'd hoped that it would seem like a natural movement not as if I were accusing her of something.

She stepped even closer to me. "So you think I'm a whore, huh?" she asked. "Or worse yet, I've come to steal your precious play book and notes?"

She sat down on the bench a little bit away from me. "How can you sit on this thing?" she asked. "My ass already hurts."

I looked at her and smiled. She smiled back and then frowned. "Don't try to change the subject," she said. "I'm still trying to get my point across."

"Uhm you might be able to get it across easier, if I knew what your point was," I said.

"Oh yeah," she said. "You have your mind all made up that I'm just some whore who came down here to meet one of your players. You think I'm going to just become another notch on some guy's belt because he, while possibly a God damned moron, can jump up in the air and drop a ball through a hoop."

I tried to fight it, but my facial muscles were out of my control. I never said a word. I never uttered a single syllable or made a sound, but suddenly she was pissed.

"If that's what you think then fuck you," she yelled. Her voice was amplified at least several times in the silent gym. Her last two syllables echoed into infinity, reverberating off of the walls with each iteration becoming slightly less audible. "FUCK YOU... UCK you...uck you...k you...you...u."

Her beautiful smiling confident face morphed into a mask of rage and pain. I saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

She turned and tried to leave but I grabbed her arm. "Look, I'm not judging you," I said. "I know how it is. You're young and you should be able to experience things. You never know what can happen. You're certainly pretty enough. Maybe he'll see you and feel the same way."

Her face got even redder and she looked like she was about to split open. Why is it that the prettiest girls get the ugliest when they're upset?

"No, you don't know shit about how it is," she snapped.

"Of course I do," I hissed. "I used to be one of them." Now it was my turn to be angry. "Of course, it was a while ago but there used to be girls staying after the games to try to meet me too."

"But you never took any of them up on it," she hissed right back. Our faces were so close together that we could have kissed.

"How do you know what I..." I began. 

"James Turner. Number fifty six," she said. "Your jumper was your best shot. You preferred the right side of the court. You had trouble shooting on the left side, which was your weakness. You could barely make a layup on the left side of the basket. Your free throw percentage your last season was almost 90 percent. Most teams hated to foul you because you were money in the bank from the line. Some of the teams were starting to figure you out though. They'd double team you when you went to the right side of the court or try to squeeze you over to the left."

My mouth dropped open.

"If you'd played for your last two years, you'd probably have been a first round draft choice. That is, if you had taken those two years to develop your skill on the other side of the court."

"Ancient history," I said. "But thanks for the trip down memory lane. Is that why you came? You stayed after the game and waited all of this time to remind me that I was a great half assed player on one side of the court a few years ago? Thanks so much, it's not like I don't think about what could have been every day."

"You're pretty bitter aren't you?" she asked. "I've heard that being bitter can make you stupid. I couldn't figure that out. It just didn't seem to make sense. Now it does. Have a nice life."

She got up and walked away. This time she looked back at me and there was something different in her eyes. Over the past five minutes or less I'd seen her happy and confident. I'd seen her confused and angry and now I saw something in her eyes that looked like pity.

"Wait a minute," I said. "Why did you actually come down here?"

She stopped but didn't turn around. It looked as if she was debating whether or not she should even bother to speak to me again. I guess speaking won the debate though because she turned and walked back over to me.

"I'm at all of your games," she said. "I have been for the whole season."

"I don't get it," I said. 

"And you probably never will with that attitude," she said. "Jim, have you ever considered the possibility that maybe I like you? And that I like you for reasons that have nothing to do with basketball? Maybe I saw you around the school and found you attractive and wanted to meet you. Believe it or not you really are a very nice looking man. But like most men, you see yourself in some weird one dimensional way. Most men see themselves as some extension of their jobs. Women only see the guy they care about. So I don't care if you're a basketball player or a coach or a plumber. I just wanted a chance to get to know you before I graduate and figure out what my life will be."

My mouth dropped open again.

"This is the part where you ask me my name and ask me to go out with you," she said. "And it's the part where I say, "Gloria and yes."

Over the next few months, Gloria changed me. She both stopped me from drinking myself into an early grave and made me appreciate my situation. Sure, I couldn't play basketball anymore, but if I truly loved the game, being a coach was almost as good and my career would last a lot longer.

There was also the fact that on a college level, the teams had so much turn-over that the programs were more clearly identified with the coaches than any member of the teams. When you think of Michigan State's basketball team who do you think of? Though there have been many legendary players there, you think of Tom Izzo more than any of them. That got me thinking that maybe she was right. It was time for me to put what might have been behind me and concentrate on what could be.

Of course, I also fell hard and fast for Gloria. Before a year was out we were married. I quickly ascended the ranks of the coaching staff and before long was in line for Atrick's job. I'd had a couple of offers from other small colleges and even a few offers as an assistant coach at several larger schools.

I didn't want to make those kinds of decisions without Gloria's input. I was very surprised when she told me that she thought that we should stay put.

"You know this program better than anyone else does," she said. "Jerry himself wants you to take over for him when he's ready to step down. Plus our house is here. Our lives are here. This is the perfect place for us to start our family."

I loved Gloria so much that I'd have done anything she said anyway. You know all of those stories you hear about player and cheerleaders getting caught or almost caught under the bleachers? I think that Gloria and I were the reason that so many rumors about coaches and women got started at our university. We fucked like bunnies whenever and wherever we got the chance to.

We had a very vigorous and spontaneous sex life but it had built up over the years. Gloria was ashamed the first time we did it because she wasn't a virgin. I was actually the second man that she'd had sex with. The first guy had been some guy she'd met when she was twenty. He'd literally charmed the pants off of her. He taken her cherry and she'd never heard from him again. Of course, she'd heard about it from everyone else she knew and even some people that she didn't know. The experience had been painful and unfulfilling for her. So she'd decided that the next time she did it she'd have to be really in love with the man or it simply wouldn't be worth it.

She'd told me all of that through tear filled eyes after one of our really intense sessions of kissing and making out before we actually had sex.

"Glo, why are you telling me this?" I asked her. 

"Because, I didn't want you to be disappointed that you weren't the first man to have me," she sniffled. "But I still wanted you to know that in my heart, I'm all yours and I always will be."

"Glo, honey," I said. "I love you. And not being the first won't change that. The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese. All he got to give you was pain and bad memories. I'm the one who'll get to be with you for the rest of your life. I get the cheese, Glo."

And we're still as much in love now after being married for ten years as we were then. Of course, a few years ago we discovered that if we were going to have kids we'd have to go with one of those alternative methods or have someone carry the baby to term for us. Gloria had some abnormalities in her womb that wouldn't allow attachment. She was devastated and I took her away on a long vacation to remind her just how much I loved her. I told her that the best possible thing for us to do would be to take a couple of years and figure out what we wanted to do and how we wanted to do it. Everything from surrogacy to adoption was still on the table for us so we could have kids, we'd just have to be more deliberate about it.

We found out, of course, that both hiring a surrogate and the medical procedures associated with doing it are way beyond an associate coach's salary. We stuck that in the back of our minds and realized that Jerry wouldn't be around forever, maybe a year or two more at the most. Gloria started planning.

I guess things got a bit hectic about that time and maybe since things were going okay with Gloria and me, it just slipped my mind. My life changed again then too because one night in the middle of a game, Jerry had a heart attack. While the other coaches were looking around trying to decide what to do I just picked up Jerry's notes and started telling the players what to do. I also started yelling at the refs. We were behind by 8 points. Jerry recovered from his heart attack and we won the game.




March Madness



The AD and the Dean were both there. There was no question of who should coach the team for the rest of that season and for the future.

I got a bump in salary. I still wasn't making anywhere near what the big guys made, but Gloria and I were more than comfortable. There was also the case that I was now free to pursue my own agenda. I started staking out the high schools and the play grounds in some of the more crime ridden and lower parts of the state. Places like Flint and Highland Park, were kids were more likely to go to jail than they were to college.

I spoke to a few parents and for the chance to get their kids not necessarily to the NBA but just for a chance at college and a decent future, transfers to different schools were made. My track record was terrible. Out of eight kids that I thought were promising, three joined gangs and went to prison before high-school ended. Another two dropped out of school before their senior year. One got his girlfriend pregnant and got a job. One more OD'd on drugs and the last one...He became my starting point guard. Jamal Johnson was as smooth as ice cream on a stick. He was totally unselfish as a player and also totally unflappable. 

Jamal kept his nose clean, his grades up and enjoyed his first year in college. He made friends and did well in his studies. The only problem was he didn't fit in with the other players on our team. He had great leadership abilities but unfortunately, he was the only player on the team with the potential to go beyond the box we found ourselves in. 

By the end of his first season, there were other schools trying to steal him away from me. That gave me an idea. If other schools could try to poach my players why couldn't I? I, of course, would stay within the rules. I wouldn't go after any team's active roster but what about their castoff kids?

During the summer I looked at nearly every team in existence. And I found what I was looking for. I found other players to put around Jamal. From Ohshiticantstandit Tech I found my shooting guard. Okay he wasn't much of a guard. He couldn't even dribble. But Timmy Turner could shoot the lights out from any place on the court. He'd already been cut from his small West Virginia technical school and was about to lose his basketball scholarship. He had two choices. Move to Michigan or move into the coal mines. It was a tough choice but he picked Michigan. My associate coaches looked at me as if I was crazy. "Have you seen any film on this guy?" they asked. I nodded.

"Can you prove to me that he can move?" some of them asked. I just smiled because I had a plan. Timmy reminded me of someone else.

My two forwards I found in two equally unlikely places. I found Igor Wastichevski in a Hamtramck bakery. He was on a break from making paczkis and I saw him playing against a bunch of black kids in the neighborhood. For a white guy he sounded like them. He kind of looked like a taller version of the rapper Eminem. 

Joel Grissom I found in prison, of course. He been caught stealing everything in his neighborhood that wasn't nailed down. The judge had given him a choice. Go to the army, go to college or go to jail. Joel thought that if he went into the army he'd get killed. He tried his ass off but he couldn't get into a college to save his life.

After pulling a few strings and getting a judge to review his case, I managed to get Joel out of jail. His release was contingent on him getting into school. There was also the condition that he stayed clean and away from any type of criminal behavior. If his name was even linked with any type of wrong doing he'd be sent back to jail. The judge also had him fitted with a very sophisticated tether. It was different from the ones the guys on work release wore. Besides giving us his location at any given time, it would store everywhere he'd been. Joel was so tired of getting his asshole plugged in jail that he was ready to try anything to get out.

That second season we won a lot more games, even though my team hadn't really had a chance to gel yet. The only thing I was really missing was a big presence in the center. Even some of the major schools in our area were impressed with my team. They called them the best three and a half man team they'd ever seen.

That summer I found my missing piece. Surprisingly enough he was already right there under my nose. Billy Bathgate was a student at my own school. He was a wrestler of all things, from Boston. He was almost seven feet tall and still growing. He'd been kicked off of the wrestling team for being too aggressive and was about to lose his scholarship. I spent the summer teaching Billy the fundamentals of basketball. Unfortunately, his shots were hit and miss. Over the course of the summer I was able to impart a few basic skills to him. I taught him to pass, to dunk and to elbow. 

Billy's job would be mostly to keep the opposing teams players out of the paint. Jamal would handle everything else.

Going into Jamal's junior year was scary. I felt sure that we were on the verge of greatness, but my staff looked at my team like they were all from the island of misfit toys. Our offense was simple but devastating. The pick and roll had been employed by NBA teams and college teams since time began. It was all based on Jamal's reads and situation awareness. 

Jamal was my unquestioned floor leader. He was the second coming of Jordan. He spread the ball around the floor so no one could ever tell who'd be the one in scoring position. He learned to use the weaknesses of the other players to our advantage. 

Igor and Joel were both ball hogs who liked to score. Jamal had no problem drawing the attention to him-self and then passing to whichever one of them was in scoring position. That made the two of them deadlier. And since Jamal did most of the ball handling, it left the two of them free to get into scoring position. They ran around like track stars, getting free of defenders and waiting for the ball.

Billy had a tendency to foul out. And putting him on the foul line was a nightmare. We may as well as just put down zeros. His free throw percentage was in the low teens. We were all actually surprised when he made one. Surprisingly though, very few teams tried fouling him as a strategy. Billy had clotheslined a few players early in the season and most of our opponents wanted no part of him.

On the good side though, as Billy got more games under his belt he became a rebounding machine. It was a normal sight on both ends of the court to see him leap high in the air snatch the ball out of midair or an opponent's hand and deliver it to Jamal. If Jamal was covered, then the deadly elbows kept defenders at a distance until Jamal got clear. 

That left only the immovable Timmy Turner. Timmy's job was not to run plays or even to try to defend overly hard. Timmy was as clumsy as the day is long. He had a habit of tripping over not only his own two feet but anyone he tried to defend. Timmy's job was to post up somewhere out in the boonies of three point land and get comfortable.

Most teams double teamed Jamal and or Billy, so if Jamal was double teamed and couldn't get free. He just chucked the ball out to the deadly accurate Timmy Turner in three point land and made the opposition pay.

If Jamal was my bargain basement Michael Jordan, then Billy was Bill Laimbeer and Timmy was Steve Kerr. During their junior year we rolled to the undisputed top spot in our conference and right into the NCAA tournament. It was the school's first time ever in the big dance. We would have made it a lot further than the first round, but my guys had no experience playing at that level. We also had no bench and no reserves. So If Bill fouled out, which wasn't uncommon or was thrown out of the game like he was against our first round opponent, things went downhill fast.

That brings us to this year. Over the summer I had a chance to develop every aspect of the player's game and even bring some of my supporting players' standards up as well. I brought them up at least to the level where if I had to take one of my Fab five out for a rest the whole game wouldn't collapse and we could at least stay close. 

Billy actually developed a short distance hook shot and a very effective short distance jumper. He also developed acting skills. I sent him to improv classes in our performing arts department. The goal was to have him get some of those close calls by flopping and pretending to be hurt.

Over the season he was able to parlay his acting talents into possessions. Several times he'd actually run roughshod over opposing players, knock the shit out of them and make it seem like he had been the one who was fouled.

Everyone was taking notice of us. Not only around our own school but Sports Illustrated and ESPN were often at our games and on our campus. The AD and the Dean, both friends of mine, were ecstatic. Since during the course of the season we'd beaten many of the perennial big time champions, Las Vegas odds makers were calling us a certainty to be this year's Cinderella story. 

All of the experts were predicting that we were an upset in the making and might possibly go as far as the final four or beyond.

Gloria seemed to be behind the team as much as I was. She did her brackets just like all of the guys around campus did and even asked me for help doing it. I was sure that she was making two and three dollar bets with the ladies from her club like everyone else on campus.

I'd been interviewed by so many magazines and sports shows that I couldn't keep them straight. Our first round opponents were beaten badly this year. We beat them by twenty points. We also broke their spirit in the process and did it with style. At our end of the court, Igor missed an easy jumper, but Billy got the offensive glass for a second chance. He fed the ball out to Jamal who immediately passed it across the court to Joel. Two defenders headed for Joel who immediately threw the ball upwards towards the basket in perfect position to Alley oop Jamal who slammed the ball into the net with unbridled ferocity. 

The slam sent the entire backboard shaking and vibrating so loudly that the crowd was stunned into silence. We rolled onto fifteen more unanswered points and any question of us being a one and done team like last year were put to rest.

My team, my staff and my entire university celebrated the victory and looked forward to our next game. My starting five were on the cover of that week's Sports Illustrated with a small inset picture of me cheering them on.

It got to the point where I couldn't drive through the streets. Anywhere my Torch red Mustang was seen a riot ensued. My car's Magnaflow exhaust system was loud enough that it could be heard before I got to wherever I was going. I'd thought several times about getting a less noticeable car. But that car was the first thing I'd given myself and I loved it. 

After two more victories against good teams, we were not only in the elite eight, but our path seemed clear. The next opponent we had to face was UNLV and we'd beaten them twice during the regular season. We'd beaten them both at home and on the road in front of their home crowd. ESPN thought that we were a shoe in for our first final four appearance.

That night I was so happy I didn't know what to do. I wanted to go out and celebrate after the game. I called Gloria but her phone went straight to voicemail. I figured she was out grabbing a drink with the girls the way she did after most games this season. The girls were the dean's wife Harriet and the AD's wife Millicent.

Over the past ten years that we'd been married, the years had been kind both to me and to Gloria. She'd picked up a few pounds, mostly around her breasts and her ass, but she was still beautiful. The slight curve to her tummy only served to enhance her femininity. She was just as sexy to me now as she'd been the day we met.

Harriet and Millicent were slightly older and though I couldn't exactly call them sexy, they were fun girls. We all got together for barbecues and had even taken a few trips together during the summers. I didn't begrudge Gloria a little bit of fun with her friends. God knew she deserved it for putting up with my obsession with the team during the season. The term basketball wives had been coined just for women like Gloria, Harriet and Millicent.

Since I couldn't find my wife, I decided to celebrate with my team. I figured a chance to bond would do us good. Especially since Jamal would be graduating this year. The other guys had another year of eligibility and I had a few recruits who might be able to fill a part of Jamal's shoes. I also had a few other players in mind. I was sure that next year's team might not be quite as good, but we had a good chance of making the tournament yet again. I was also beginning to get better quality recruits.

After making the tournament two years in a row, players were beginning to take our little school seriously. I'd gotten offers as well to coach at a couple of much bigger schools that bore looking at. I figured that after the tournament was over, Gloria and I would decide our future together the way we always had.

I walked out of the gym and dodged several reporters who wanted to interview me. Good Lord, we had a press conference scheduled for early tomorrow morning and another for the morning before the game in two days. Wasn't that enough? What more could I say that I hadn't said when they interviewed me before the game. 

As I snuck into my Mustang, my cell phone rang. I started to ignore it. I looked to see if it was Gloria and it wasn't. But I recognized the area code and the number and answered it immediately.

"Hi Sheila," I said. 

"Hi Jim," she replied. "I just called to thank you and to let you know that you made his last years, happy ones with what you did to the team. He always said that since we only had daughters, you were like the son he never had. He respected you both as a player and as a coach. He always said that you were the finest player he'd ever seen and that your knowledge of the game that you got on the floor was what made you the coach you became."

"Sheila, why are you talking in the past tense?" I asked.

"Jim, Jerry passed away an hour ago," she said. "He died cheering his team on and watching you lead them further into the tournament than he ever dreamed they'd go. If it makes a difference, he was happy. He died with a smile on his face. He'd just been telling some of our friends about the way that you always came to him for advice during the season and during the summer to plan next year's strategy. He'd just gotten quiet after bragging to some of them that he was going to be on the bench with you next year in the tournament if his health let him. He just got quiet and slipped away right after that."

I had no words. I just sat there in my car crying like a baby. Finally, I got myself together and started speaking to her again.

"Sheila, he'll be there with me wherever I go not only for next season but for all the ones that follow. Please call me with the arrangements so I can attend the ceremony."

I started my car and the Mustang's normal aggressive growl was a little bit more subdued than normal. I'm sure that most of you think that it was me. That maybe I'd changed my driving style because of my own personal sadness. I really believed that that car sensed my pain and responded accordingly.

I drove to the motel that my players were staying at. There seemed to be a party going on. God damn it, I thought at first. Those guys should know better. But then I thought about it again and decided that life was too short; especially for young guys like them. There was simply too much uncertainty. You were riding high one day and the next day it was all taken away from you. My case had been a perfect example of that. I went up for a shot as the best player on my team, with a bright future ahead of me and came down a coach. 

There was no way I could begrudge them something as simple as a party. As I drew closer to their room, the alarm bells went off in my head. Oh shit, they had girls in there with them. That was a huge violation of both the university's and the conference's rules. Sure they were rules that most of the time got glossed over, everyone knew that healthy young kids were going to pursue their fun. But the policies had been set up to make sure that any abuses or orgies or things of that nature didn't reflect back on the member universities or the conference.

That kept me from going in. But I did look in the window. I wish to hell I hadn't though, and to this day it's still the worst memory I'll ever have.

I saw Igor, all six foot six of him ramming his long thin dick into some chubby blonde girl. She was pushing her hips back at him and matching every stroke he made. Billy was shoving his dick down her throat and she was bobbing her head up and down on it like there was no tomorrow. 

Joel was fucking another woman. I called her a woman because she looked older to me. She was bent over the arm of the sofa and he was slapping her ass while he fucked her. Timmy was next to the woman Joel was pumping, he was sitting on the sofa that she was bent over. He was licking one of her huge saggy breasts while yet another woman sucked his dick.

Suddenly recognition sank in. The woman sucking Timmy's dick was Millicent, The Athletic Director's wife. She was at least fifty if she was a day.

The woman Joel was fucking turned towards me and I saw that it was Harriet. I looked back to the other side of the room and there was no doubt that the younger woman being double teamed was my own wife, Gloria.

The pain that flashed through me at that moment is incomprehensible to anyone who hasn't personally experienced it. It was like death. Gloria was more than my wife, she was my partner in life, my best friend my confidante and my lover all rolled into one being. 

Gloria, more than anyone else, was responsible for giving me my second chance. Without her, I'd probably be dead or rotting away in some dive bar right now. I wouldn't have the lease on life that I have now or any of the success. I felt like screaming or doing something but I did nothing. I just stood there. I did pull out my iPhone and take a few seconds of video but I didn't go into the room and confront them. I didn't know what I'd say. 

I felt betrayed. Not only by the woman who had just that morning swore to me again that she loved me more than anyone or anything on earth, but by the team of misfits who I'd given a second chance at success as surely as Gloria had given me mine.

As I turned to go, I noticed a couple walking towards me. It was Jamal of course. He had his arms around a woman...no this one was a girl; a really pretty Asian girl. Oh shit. I recognized her too. One of my assistant coaches was Jin Shu. The girl was his daughter and she was all over Jamal. I knew that her father didn't want her dating. He was very old school and had also intended for her to marry an Asian man. As they got closer to me Jamal noticed me and stiffened. He very gently grabbed her hand and stopped her from rubbing the front of his pants. There was no doubt where they were headed.

Obviously, when the orgy started Jamal went out to get his woman too.

"Coach, none of this is her fault," he said. "I forced her."

I just shook my head and looked at him. It was obvious that there had been no force used. It was also obvious that he loved her. The way he'd tried to stand up for her and lie for her when only seconds before he'd had to move her hand off of his dick allowed no other interpretation of the facts.

I just rushed past them and didn't say anything. I got back in my car and started driving. I pulled into the parking lot of the first bar I found. I ordered a drink and just kept drinking them until I didn't remember why I was doing it. 




March Madness



I remember something buzzing off and on during the night. But when I woke up the next morning my head hurt like I couldn't remember. It felt like someone had taken an axe and just split my skull open and all of my thoughts were leaking out.

I was on a bed and the comforter on it was pink. My shoes were on the floor next to it but I was still fully dressed. As I tried to sit up I groaned. The room was spinning and my head hurt even worse.

The sound of my groans must have alerted someone because the door opened. A young woman who must've been very close to six feet tall herself came into the room. A shock of inky black hair was caught up in a pony tail that hung to one side. Long thins arms and very sexy though thin legs peeked from openings in her shirt and shorts respectively.

I looked around the room wondering what the hell I'd done and why. My phone rang again. That was the buzzing I'd been hearing all night.

"It's probably GLO, whoever that is," she offered. "You got calls from them all night. They must've called you a hundred times."

"What happened?" I asked. "How'd I get here?"

"Oh, that's easy," she said. "Last night after you tried to drain the bar I work at, you passed out. I brought you home with me."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's not what you're thinking," she said quickly.

"What am I thinking?" I asked. "I don't think that I am thinking. I don't think my brain still works."

"Well you made some pretty big claims last night," she smirked.

"Oh lord," I said.

"So you do remember some of it," she said.

"No, that's an expression," I said.

"You told me that you were going to lick my pussy until I thought I was in heaven," she said.

"I was drunk," I told her.

"I don't know coach," she said. "You seemed pretty lucid. You told me it was a promise and you wanted me to remind you."

I looked at my feet. "I'm married," I said. "Or at least I was until last night." Maybe it was the despair in my voice or the expression on my face but all of the sass and sarcasm melted from her voice. She went back out to her kitchen and came back with a banana, a jug of Gatorade and a cup of coffee. 

"Your toast will be ready in a few. I made you some fake bacon too," she said. "I'm a pretty good listener if you want to tell someone about it."

I looked at her. "They always say it really helps to unburden your-self to a stranger," I said. "That way you get it off of your chest and the other person doesn't care at all since your problems are no skin off their ass."

"Then you probably shouldn't tell me anything..." she said. "...Because I'm not a stranger. My name is Molly Anderson. I'm a psychology major. I'm majoring in sports psychology. You let me interview several of your players before and after your games here. Remember you made them treat me nicer. They kept calling me that tall skinny girl with no boobs."

"I think if they saw you now, you wouldn't have a problem with that," I said. My phone rang again. This time I picked it up and looked at the screen. It wasn't Gloria, it was Jamal. I didn't answer the phone for him either.

"Thanks Molly," I said, as I tried to stand up. "I won't forget your kindness. Who knows what could have happened to me."

"No problem," she said. "I needed a ride home anyway. That car of yours is a beast. When I launch my practice I'm getting one."

I started putting on my shoes. As I bent over to tie them I was sure my head was going to fall off.

"Coach, maybe you should see someone about the drinking," she said.

"Molly, last night I caught my wife cheating on me. Before that I hadn't had a drink in ten years," I told her.

"Coach, I'm so sorry," she said. I told her my sad story then and she really was a good listener, but I knew I had to get out of there. I'd intruded on her hospitality long enough. I also had things to do and decisions to make.

I tried again to tie the shoes and finally just said forget it and tucked the laces inside.

I walked outside of Molly's apartment and looked around for my car. I pressed the button on my key fob and heard my alarm. The car was parked in the lot behind the building. I walked around the building and found it.

I thought about going back to the hotel and confronting Gloria but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I went to the arena and the office they had assigned me and my staff. As I walked in, it was earlier than I'd normally show up, especially on a day that we weren't playing.

Jin Shu looked at me as I sat down. "Hey Jim, your wife wants you to call her," he said. "She told me to call her as soon as I gave you the message. I'm going to call her now to let her know that I called you and that she can expect for you to call her." 

"Don't," I said. He looked at me strangely. "Jin, can you check around town and try to get me a room somewhere?"

"But you've already got a beautiful suite in the same hotel as the rest of us," he said. "Shit your room is way better than the one I'm sharing with my wife and daughter. It's bigger too."

"Al," I said, moving on to the next guy. "Find me a room. I don't care what kind of room or where it is. Just get me another room."

"Okay boss," he said. 

"Jim, I would have gotten you the room. What the hell is going on?" asked Jin.

"Nothing," I said. "Call Gloria and tell her you gave me her message."

"But..." he started. 

"Look, I know it will bother you to break your promise to her. So do it. But maybe after that you should start trying to figure out who you work for." His face got paler as he realized that something was going on between Gloria and I and he had landed right in the middle of it. He'd actually landed closer to her side than he was to mine.

Before he could answer, Jamal walked into the office. Several of the coaches started trying to talk to him and cheer him on. He made a beeline straight for me.

"Reggie," I called. He looked over at me. He had the job I had when I first started and he reminded me a lot of myself. With the exception that he'd never actually played ball.

"I need you to call and track down all of our players except for the starting five. I want them all at the practice gym at two p.m. for practice. Tell them to be ready to be there for most of the afternoon and early evening."

"For those of you who don't know it," I said loudly. "Jerry Atrick passed away last night. I'd like someone to arrange some kind of tribute or something for him. Email me or call me with details when you get it sorted out. The funeral arrangements are still being made. I'm planning on attending the funeral."

As I turned to leave, Jamal caught up to me. "Coach, I called you about a hundred times last night," he said.

"You were only one of two people who did," I said sharply.

"You didn't tell Coach Shu," he said. 

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"Only the fact that he didn't strangle me when I walked by him," he said. "He gave me the same nod he always does. So he can't know anything about what you saw."

"Can you slow down?" he asked. "I really need to talk to you. I'm here as a representative of the team. Coach, you can't believe how sorry they all are."

I stopped and turned towards him. I looked at him and he looked me straight in the eye. "Why the fuck aren't YOU sorry?" I yelled at him.

"Look Coach, can we go somewhere that we won't be overheard," he asked quietly. "They asked me to come and talk to you for a number of reasons. One of which was because though we're all ashamed of what we did, I'm different from them."

"Why are you different?" I asked. "Is it because you're black Jamal? Or is it because you're from the inner city or any of those other clichés?"

"No Coach," he said. "You never treated me any different than you treated the other guys. The difference is because I never had sex with your wife. I'm sorry too though. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you when all of this shit started but you have to understand, they all blackmailed me. When it started, I remember asking them how they could even look you in the face after the way that they had betrayed you. I was already in love with Jennifer Shu by then. There's no way I'd ever cheat on her. None of the other guys have steady girlfriends so pussy is pussy to them. They very quickly let me know that if I opened up my mouth, her father would know it within minutes and I'd probably never ever see her again."

"Besides the way your wife explained it all of this was for the both of you anyway."

"What?" I asked. I didn't even want to talk to him anymore because my head hurt.

"Coach, you need to talk to her," he said. "If we keep winning she'll have all the money she needs and this whole thing can be over."

"Look Jamal," I said. "Just get away from me. None of this makes any sense."

"Coach, you have to talk to the guys and straighten this out before the game," he said. 

"No," I said. "I don't."

"Well, at least talk to your wife," he said. 

"No, Jamal, I don't have to do that either," I said and I walked away from him. As I stepped out the door, there was a throng of reporters waiting for me.

"Coach, you're one win away from your school's first ever trip to the final four. Can you give us...?"

"No comment," I said.

"Do you think that Billy Bathgate is on steroids?"

"No Comment," I said, walking briskly through them with my head down. It seemed that if I didn't make eye contact they didn't ask me any questions. For some reason basketball just seemed really unimportant since my entire life and marriage was falling apart. I made it to my car and got in. I started the motor. 

The sound of the big V8 caused most of them to scatter and the rest moved out of the way as I slowly moved forward. When they were clear, I rocketed away from there, hoping the rocks kicked up in my wake didn't injure anyone. I just needed to get away to think.

I drove away from the downtown area and through the city's streets. Every playground I passed had small or large groups of kids playing basketball. Watching some of them made me smile. That was the game at its purest form. No boosters or alumni to please. No NCAA committees or coaches. No university commitments or program expectations; just put the ball in the hoop and get points.

I drove even further away and came to a large park. I got out of my car and looked for a place to just relax and think. It was deserted and there was a chill in the air. We were still too far away from spring for the weather to be this warm but I guess I was thinking in Michigan terms. Here the weather was a chilly fifty degrees, but back home I was sure we'd be in the single digits. I sat down near where a group of older men were playing chess.

Chess is a fascinating game. It teaches strategy and helps a person learn to focus their thoughts and solve problems. My job taught me the same set of skills. I had to develop strategies for my team to help them win over teams who were stronger on paper. I had to learn how to maximize our strengths and downplay our weaknesses, while capitalizing on every weakness the opposition had. 

I needed to do the same type of thing here. The first thing I needed to do was to break the problem down into its component parts and decide how I felt about them and what to do. There were so many things to consider that I wished that I had my note pad to take notes.

First and foremost, were the pain and the emptiness that I felt at that moment. The pain I understood came from the betrayal. I'd been betrayed by the people who were closest to me, all at the same time. If Gloria had just had an affair, it would have been devastating but not this bad. I could have thrown myself into my work and concentrated on my team while we worked out the details and figured out what to do. 

Or if it were a case where the guys on the team had done something like gotten involved with gambling or point shaving, again I'd have felt betrayed but I could have concentrated on my life outside of basketball. Maybe Gloria and I could have gone away somewhere to just be us while I figured out what to do about the situation with the team.

In this case, I lost both of the two most important things in my life at the same time. Losing both at the same time was nearly more than I could stand. Last night I'd done something that was just crazy, I'd just gone into a bar that I didn't know and tried to drink myself to death. I got really lucky that I didn't get robbed or killed. Having that girl who I'd let interview the team working there had been a stroke of luck. I'd probably never get that lucky again in life.

Just as I was contemplating my situation the phone rang. It was Al.

"Boss, we have a problem," he said. "There are no empty hotel rooms in town. I even tried some of the seedy motels on the outskirts of the city. They're all booked up for the remainder of the tournament. Several of the hotels did tell me that they'd have POSSIBLE openings as teams were eliminated. But most of them have waiting lists because the closer we get to the championship game the more the demand increases."

"Thanks Al," I said. "I'll work something out. I'll probably just sleep in the office for two nights."

"Uhm Boss," he said. "Are they finding you another room after the game? There's no way we're going to lose this game. We've already beaten them both at home and on the road. And we're better now than we were when we played them last. They also have a couple of injuries so they're just not going to be able to put their best foot forward."

"I'll talk to you later Al," I said.

"It's been an incredible year hasn't it?" he asked. "Jerry would have loved to have a year like this just once."

"I only wish he'd been here with us to see it," I said. As I hung up the phone, I was sadder than I'd been when I picked it up.

My phone rang immediately and thinking it was Al again I answered it.

"Jim, Honey, it's not what you think. You've got to let..." I immediately pressed the end button and quit the call. That would teach me how not to look at the screen before answering. My phone was barely back in my pocket when it rang again.

It was a cell phone number and one from my home area code. I recognized Fred's number and answered the phone. 

"Yeah Fred," I said.

"Jim, it's not Fred. It's Millicent, I'm using Fred's phone hoping that you'd pick up. I figure it would be a safe bet since technically he's your boss," she said.

"What do you mean technically?" I asked.

"Well, you know how things work on the university level," she said. "It's all about dollars and students and keeping the boosters and alumni happy. Fred is in charge of our losing football team. They played ten games this year and lost eight of them. They're taking walk-ons now who end up starting. Our women's gymnastics team has barely enough members to field a squad and even at our home meets the stands are usually dominated so much by the visiting teams fans that we have to give them space to sit on our side of the floor as well as their own." She sighed.

"In terms of sports at our school, you're the big gun and we all know it. You can pretty much write your own ticket. You could probably have Fred's job if you wanted it. Anyway, that isn't what I called you about."

"I know what you called me about," I said coldly. "And I don't want to talk to you about it."

"Look Jim," she said. "You've always been a reasonable guy. Gloria has been crying her eyes out all night. She's going crazy and none of this was her fault. It was my fault."

"Bullshit," I said. "Gloria is thirty three years old. She's a grown woman and I didn't see anyone holding a gun to her head. Actually the only thing I saw near her head was dicks and she was just too eager to stick them into her mouth and suck them. You, on the other hand, were far too busy with your own activities to pay any attention to what Gloria was doing so I don't think this was your fault. Don't worry, I intend to keep this whole thing quiet until after the tournament. Tell Gloria that she can just keep doing what she wants to, I'll just file for a divorce and we can handle the whole thing over the summer."

"But..." she began before I hung up the phone. 

My phone rang again. I was getting angrier by the second. I always thought that the main purpose for having a cell phone was the convenience. It was also great in an emergency, but this was ridiculous.

"What?" I said when I took the call.

"Sorry, I was just calling to check on you," she said. "You know...see how you're handling the hangover?"

"No, I'm sorry Molly," I said. "You wouldn't believe the day I'm having. Between what happened to me last night, both before I got drunk and me getting drunk; yesterday was a nightmare. Today I'm trying to just keep moving to get free. But no matter where I turn there are people looking for a story or people who want to talk to me to explain why sticking a knife in my back or my heart wasn't really as bad as it seems. You know...Well gee, Jim we fucked you over but it's really not that bad."

She laughed and her laugh was musical. "It sounds like you're dealing with a bunch of diplomats," she said.

"Huh?" I asked. I thought I'd missed something.

"My daddy always told me that a diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell and have you actually look forward to the trip," she laughed. As I thought about it, I had to stifle a laugh as well.

"Molly, you're the only pleasant thing that's happened to me since the game ended," I said.

"Aren't you nice," she said. "That makes me feel even worse."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, I was calling to ask you for a favor," she said.

"Shoot," I said.

"I can't," she said right back. 

"Huh?" I replied.

"I'm terrible at basketball. I can't shoot to save my ass," she laughed. "Since I'm kind of tall every school I went to tried to get me to play basketball. I'm far better at volleyball." We both laughed.

"Okay Molly, now I owe you two favors," I said. "I owe you one favor for putting me up last night and one for cheering me up now."

"Uhm don't forget the other part," she smirked. "You know, that promise you made to me while you were drunk."

"I thought that I explained to you that I'm married," I said.

"I was perfectly willing to let you off, once you said that," she said. "Then you told me that...well you know what happened to you yesterday to cause you to fall off of the wagon. So, in my book, that means that you may be available soon. So if you get divorced, you owe me. If you patch things up you're off the hook."

"So since I owe you so much, what's the favor?" I asked. "Maybe I can work some of my debt down."

"Well, my Dad really wants to take my nephew to the game tomorrow night," she said. "But getting tickets is kind of impossible."

"Okay," I said. "I have some tickets left in the front row for family members of the players that weren't used. "I'll bring you three of them today. If you're not home I'll just slip them under your door."

"You're probably going to be busy today aren't you?" she asked. "I could pick them up at your office or somewhere and save you the trouble."

"Molly, I have no idea where I'm going to be most of the day," I said. "I don't even know where I'm going to sleep tonight." 

"Don't you have a swanky hotel room, like the other bigwigs?" she laughed.

"I have a deluxe luxury suite," I said.

"Ooh, I love chocolate," she said. "What kind of chocolate goes in a luxury sweet?"

"Molly, you know what I mean," I said. 

"Yeah I do," she said back. "You do know that if you need to, you could always stay in that same place you stayed last night. I'm working from six til two so you can stop by and get the keys either from the apartment or from the bar."

"Molly, that's way too much to ask," I said. "But thanks anyway. I promise I'll drop the tickets off though, so tell your Dad he's going."




March Madness



I got back in my car and headed back to the arena. It was nearly time for practice to start. Before I'd been interrupted, I'd figured out what the issues before me were, I just needed to figure out what I wanted to do about them.

I guess the biggest one was my marriage. Gloria and I had been together for ten years. They'd been very good years. I was lost without her. Even now, I felt like I was operating on automatic pilot. I felt hurt and betrayed but was that enough to simply throw away a good marriage?

How much of my pain was ego? Was I really angry or was I just jealous? Was I afraid of the competition? Was all of this because seeing my wife getting fucked by two younger men who were better physical specimens, made me feel inadequate?

What about my team? What did I want to do there? That part was easy. They'd betrayed me so they had to pay. And they would. I'd already worked out how.

I guess it all came down to basketball. It was a simple game with simple rules. If you broke the rules you got punished. If you were overly aggressive you got called for a foul. An extremely aggressive foul could get you thrown out of the game. The question was, did Gloria deserve to be thrown out of the game or just punished?

My daddy always told me that in most difficult situations, the right thing was usually the thing that was the hardest to do.

Every fiber of my being, told me to find some way to forgive Gloria AND my team. I've often said that I owe Gloria my life. And in a way, I owe my professional success and the life of my career to my team. But that didn't mean that I owed either of them my self-respect or my sanity.

I thought again about Jerry Atrick. He was a great coach. He'd spent his entire career without ever doing what I'd done this year. But he'd died happy and surrounded by friends and people who loved him. Right now I was a big success but did I have even one person that I could really count on and trust? I had to truthfully answer that I didn't. When the chips were down they'd all let me down.

The only thing I could do was to start all over again and find people that I could count on. Instead of preaching at my players and trying to find the best strategy to win at any cost, I had to start making sure they understood that the most important things were to just do the best you could with what you had. Sometimes an honest to goodness loss when you gave it your best was better than an underhanded win.

I made a couple of calls back to Michigan in the parking lot of the arena. The first person I called was Sheila. She was surprised to hear from me. I asked her when the funeral was. She told me it was Saturday and asked if I wanted her to say anything for me.

I told her that I'd say it myself because I'd be there.

"Jim, Saturday is the final four," she said.

"I'll be there," I said. "Whether we win this game or lose it, I'll be there. Jerry's funeral is far more important than any basketball game. If it was the championship game, I'd still be there to see Jerry off." There was silence over the phone for a few moments.

"Well then you need to write something to say, because you're doing the eulogy," she said. "We're having a party afterwards at our house to watch the game. That's what Jerry would have wanted," she said. "Maybe you and Gloria could come to that as well." 

"I'll be there for sure. But Gloria and I probably won't be together, Sheila. "I'll see you soon." I hung up and felt better. The next call was to my lawyer back home. I had him prepare the divorce papers and I told him that I'd need them done as quickly as possible. I also asked him to put notices in the newspapers both here and back in Michigan stating that I was not connected with nor was I responsible for any debts incurred by Gloria. After thinking again about what Jamal had said, I was sure that Gloria was mixed up in something.

I got out of my car and went into the arena through the back exit. As I got close to the doorway, I hear footsteps behind me. I looked up and saw Joel and Igor headed my way. I showed my pass and went past the guard. When I got to the practice area I told the guards there that it was a closed practice and no one was allowed in except for people on the list. He showed me the list and I immediately crossed off the names of my starting five. I slipped inside the door and watched as Igor and Joel were denied entry.

"But it's a team practice," said Joel. 

"Sorry, dude, you're not on the list," said the guard. "Can you autograph this shirt for my kid before you go?"

As I went in, several members of my staff were already there. There were about fifteen players there too. Not one of them had picked up a ball or was warming up."

"Get off of your asses and get ready to play," I yelled. They looked at me like I was crazy. A couple of them who were my substitutes jumped up and grabbed balls. The rest of them kept doing what they were doing.

I went over to Al and grabbed his whistle. I blew it loudly enough to scare the shit out of everyone in the room. The fat kid on the bleachers near me dropped his phone and broke it. I was sure I saw moisture creeping down his legs.

"Uhm, coach I need five minutes in the locker room," he said.

"Take ten," I said. "...The rest of you, line up for shooting drill."

"But...uhm why?" asked one of the guys. "It's not like we're going to play or anything."

"All of you will be playing in tomorrow's game. And when we win, you'll all be playing in the final four. Maybe even the championship game."

There was laughter all over the floor. Even my assistant coaches were looking at me like I was crazy.

"Oh, I get it," said Al. "You're going to rotate them all through the game with each one getting a minute or two. It's kind of a reward for the season we're having. And they'll all get to tape the game and have something to show their kids years from now when they're all bankers or cops or plumbers, right? That's a really nice thing to do Jim; especially for the seniors."

Everyone was nodding their heads in agreement. "That's why the starting five aren't here," said one player, whose name I didn't even know, much to my chagrin.

"Yeah," said another. "We're here for a special intensive camp so we can learn how to play so we don't look stupid on TV. We have to learn how to dribble and shoot and all of that shit."

I realized two things then. The first was that we were in trouble. And the second was that this practice was going to take far longer than I thought.

I had Al and Jin line them up and start dribbling drills. Once we got five of them who were semi decent and could at least bring the ball up the floor without traveling, I moved them into a second group where we started learning how to pass. It was awful we had to go over things that the kids learned how to do in high-school and on the playground in grade school. I couldn't believe I had these guys on my team. It only went to show how much I'd concentrated on my starting five and winning games to the detriment of the rest of my team. I'd never make that mistake again.

We started practicing different types of shots and one of the security guards came into the room. He came over and told me that my wife was outside and wanted to see me. At first, I thought about telling him to send her away, but then I had a better idea. I told him that we were in the middle of something. I told him to ask her if she could wait ten minutes until we had a break and then I'd see her.

As soon as he headed out the door, I left through the locker room door. I went out the back and got into my car and drove over to the hotel. I took the elevator up to our suite and waved at several people who all wanted to wish me well.

Inside the suite I went through all of Gloria's things. There was nothing unusual at first, and then I found it. Gloria had always been very detailed. Like me she didn't keep the important stuff on a computer. I found a small notebook in her jewelry box with a bank account number and password. I logged onto the account using the password and found out that Gloria had almost a hundred thousand dollars in the account. I also noticed where she'd been betting on basketball games. Every time the team won, her wealth increased. The odds against our opponents tomorrow were ten to one. The odds against us winning were only four to one. Looking at the notebook Gloria had a number there that was circled. The number was three hundred thousand dollars. That was probably how much money she figured she needed to get away from me and live her life in the style that she wanted.

According to her notes though, Gloria had bet more money than she had in the account. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a dangerous but relatively secure bet because we were clearly going to win this game. She'd planned on betting far more conservatively in the next game and had not even made a prediction towards the national championship game.

The fog was slowly lifting. Gloria was betting on the games and having sex with my players as an incentive to win. Some parts of it just made no sense though. How did all of this start? Why did all of it start? 

I knew that I would never win any prizes for being the perfect husband. For almost half of the year, I was dedicated to my team. The rest of the year though, I always made it up to her. We'd been on vacations to any and every place that she'd ever wanted to see over the past ten years. I'd bought her everything she'd ever asked for and I was sure that she knew that if our life ever got too bad for her to handle, I'd have stepped down and taken a less demanding position.

The thing that bothered me the most about it though, was that she'd always been the one who urged me to do the things I did. In fact, I was a coach when we first met so she knew going into our relationship what to expect. Maybe it was just the years of it that wore her down. Still, all she'd have needed to do was to let me know. If I'd had the chance to choose between my job and Gloria, I'd have picked Gloria in a second.

Look at me now. Forget basketball, I was a basket case. I was running around plotting my own career suicide just to ease the aching in my heart. I had no clue of what I'd do next or where I'd end up, only that I had to do something to stop the pain.

It is always so easy to discuss what's right and wrong, when someone else is the one with the problem. It's easy to say, "Hey she has the right to do whatever she wants with her body," or "The only thing we're looking at here is your fragile male ego." Things like that are easy to say when it's not your wife or girlfriend pushing her ass back onto some other guy's dick.

I had to make up my mind what would be right for me. I couldn't do something to try and save everyone. This situation simply wouldn't allow for that. Sure it could have, maybe if I was more mature. Maybe if I was a more complete being and I was above all of the petty concerns about whether Gloria loved me or not, or whether I was better in bed than some twenty two year old athlete. But unfortunately, I'm not. I'm just a normal guy who doesn't know shit about women and what motivates them. Stephen Hawking once said that he has the highest IQ in the world but he still hasn't figured out women. I'm nowhere near his league when it comes to intelligence so don't expect me to understand them either. All I can say is that I really gave her the best that I could. I gave her all of my heart and every ounce of love I had. If it wasn't enough, fuck her, because she wasn't getting shit from me from now on.

As far as my team went, fuck them too. I'd plucked those bastards from obscurity, drudgery and jail. I'd brought them to the brink of being signed by the NBA. They would all have become famous and millionaires. But since I made them, I could break them just as easily.

The cool thing about this was that none of it would take very much effort on my part. I put Gloria's notebook back where it was and left the room. I took the rest of my clothing and personal items with me. That way I wouldn't have to come back here for any reason.

I went back to the arena. Al and Jin cornered me and asked me right away, what was going on.

"You should have seen Gloria, Jim," said Al. "She's always been really pretty, but you almost can't tell that she's the same woman I remember sitting in the stands behind us watching the game last night. I know she's your wife man, but she looked like hell."

Jin nodded. "You're acting weird too. What did you do?"

"Her eyes were all red and bloodshot," continued Al. "Her hair was a mess. It was like she just didn't give a damn anymore."

"Okay, get me two teams of five guys. We've spent enough time on drills let's give them some battlefield experience. You two guys line up as refs. Use whistles, the whole nine yards. Let's make this as close to a game situation as possible." If either man was put off by my quick dismissal, they didn't let on.

I finally let the guys go home at around eight o'clock. I'm sure it was a violation of some NCAA rules concerning the amount of allowable practice time but I didn't give a damn, I had to make this game at least look plausible.

I went back to the office, only to have one of our assistants drop off a ton of messages for me. Only one of them was worth answering. Gloria had left me fifty messages today alone. I dumped the entire pile. Millicent had called me twice as had Harriet. There was another stack of messages from my starting five. Most of them were telling me how desperate each of them was to see me or talk to me. They were also wondering why they had been barred from practice. 

I got Al to handle the press conference and just give jovial but not serious answers to any and all questions. I called the Dean, Michael Martin back. It was an interesting conversation.

"Hi Jim," he said. "Thanks for returning my call. I know how busy you are. Let me get right to the point. You aren't planning on doing something stupid are you?"

"What are you asking me?" I said. 

"Well, I know that something is going on between you and your wife," he said. "I heard about it from my wife who claims that she's trying to act as a go between. She says that Gloria is distraught and you're being an asshole about it. She says she can't go into it but you're being a Neanderthal because the girls had a little party and you still expect Gloria to be at your beck and call. She said that when they asked some of the guys who was right, even your team, the team that you built had to side with Gloria, so you're angry at them now and freezing them out too. Is any of that true?"

"Dean Martin, with all due respect sir, when I took this job you told me that I'd have autonomy in matters regarding my team. I have a reason for everything I do. So I'd prefer it if you'd just stay out of this one. I got us this far and I still believe I can take us farther," I said. But seriously, at this point I didn't care.

"Jim, I've got all kinds of boosters asking me questions," he said. "For the first time in my life people are asking to donate money to the program. A lot of that money can go on to do other things for the school. Frankly, I'm between a rock and a hard place. Please don't do anything to fuck this up."

"If I do, don't worry," I said. "You can just fire me. I'm sure after this year, I'll be able to go somewhere else and get a job. I've had more than a few offers."

I decided to drop off the tickets at Molly's apartment. I was going to do that mostly because I really couldn't remember where the bar she worked at was. When I found it yesterday, I was so pissed off about what I'd just seen that I'd just stepped into the first bar I found. When I left there, I was in no condition to remember anything more difficult than breathing."

Molly met me at the door, before I could slide the tickets under it. "So, how was your day?" she asked. "Wow, please don't tell me you're serious. These are tickets for not only your game but, all of the games left, including the championship game. Thank you so much, my dad will be pleased. This wipes out all of your debt to me. Well...except for that promise."

I looked at her sideways and she laughed. "So did you and the little woman make up?"

"Nope," I said sadly. "I found out some things that were going on that I had no idea about. I still don't know the whys about any of this but I just don't see us putting this back together. It hurt me too bad. There was simply no reason for it. We could have talked about anything that was bothering her. I mean think about it. All day every day, I have hot young cheerleaders shaking their asses in my face. I have reporters asking me questions and ball bunnies whether they're interested in the players or just tickets who are willing to do just about anything to get what they want. I have never even thought about taking any of them up on it because I thought I was in love. Shit, I was in love. And what did it get me? Not a God damned thing, that's what."

"Now, if I'd been going out there and tapping most of the ass that gets offered, I'd have been a dog or worse. Now I just feel like a sucker. I've got a good mind to just go out and screw the first woman that approaches me and send the video to Gloria to see how she feels," I said.

"Whoa," said Molly. "That won't make you feel better. It would probably make you feel worse. You'd just be trying to get into a fucking contest with a whore and she'd beat you with both experience and professionalism. She'd probably just do a gangbang with all of the sports teams from your school at the same time. Besides your first post-divorce sexual activity has already been spoken for, remember?"

From the way that she was smiling, I couldn't tell whether or not she was serious.

"Where are you staying tonight?" she asked. "I'll come by and check up on you to make sure you haven't gotten so drunk you couldn't get there?"

"Probably my office at the arena," I said.

"Okay that's settled," she said. "Give me your keys. I'm driving your car to work."

"Uhm, how will I get back to the arena?" I asked.

"You're not going back there," she said. "You're staying here with me."

"Molly you only have one bedroom. You stayed up all night last night. I couldn't expect you to do that again," I said. "It wouldn't be right."

"Who stayed up last night," she asked. "You and I slept in the same bed. I just got up before you did. Nobody got raped last night so it was fine. It'll be fine tonight too, keys."

I handed her my keys and she smiled. "I don't have any liquor here but you can eat anything you'd like. Well, there's something here that you're supposed to eat that I'm sure you'll like but I'm taking it to work with me." I could hear her laughing as she closed the door and left.

I looked around Molly's small but cozy apartment to get the lay of the land. An evening here was really just what the doctor ordered. It would give me time to think about my situation in depth. The first thing that struck me as funny was allowing Molly to just drive off in my car. I loved my Mustang, far too much to just let some girl I barely knew borrow it, yet I had. 

Maybe I'm just too trusting. That's probably what got me into the situation I'm in now. I trusted Gloria with my heart and my life and she betrayed me. I trusted the guys on my team and they did likewise. The most confusing thing to me was that the person after Gloria that I was the angriest at was Jamal. I really had to think about that one. Jamal not only hadn't fucked Gloria or so he claimed, but he'd been the one who explained at least what he knew of the situation to me. Was I pissed at him because he was the messenger or was there something deeper?

I guess in my mind, Jamal was almost like a son to me. I'd spent almost three years building a team around him and I trusted him more than anyone in the world other than Gloria. I guess I thought that we were close enough that he'd tell me something like that. I mean I understood what being in love was like. Shit, I still loved Gloria. That was what made this whole thing so hard. I would never have risked what I had with Glo for anything. So maybe I was being unfair to Jamal. Jenny was Jin's pride and joy. He'd even named the girl after himself. Jamal was doing well in school. He was the one guy on the team who hadn't wasted his college career. Besides excelling in the sport he was a good student as well. He was by almost any account a fine young man. I just couldn't see Jin not eventually welcoming him as a son. But then everyone is different.




March Madness



I also thought about my refusal to even speak to Gloria. Was it logical? Or was it just another reaction to the pain I was feeling? Was it ego again? Was I just some spoiled little boy who was reacting to things not going the way he wanted by refusing to participate? Was this just a grown up version of, "It's my ball so if I can't play, I'm going home?" Only instead of my ball, it was my wife's pussy. 

Did love really require selfishness? Maybe Glo had the right to share herself with anyone she wanted to. We do actually live in a free country. The laws in most states give monogamy only lip service. You can't be married to more than one person in most states but that has nothing to do with who you have sex with. If I called the police and told them that my wife had just fucked a bunch of college students, they'd probably have just laughed at me and told me that it must suck to be me. They'd snicker at me behind my back and tell all of their friends about me. But inside, they'd consider me a wimp of some kind for not beating the cowboy shit out of her and the guys too. After all that's what they'd do they told themselves. They'd beat that bitch until she was bloody; any real man would.

On the other hand, if I did that, if I did what they thought that any man should do, they'd be the ones telling me that what I did was illegal when they came back to arrest me. My career would be over and everyone would look down at me for doing what any real man would do.

So exactly what should I do? Should I call her and let her tell me a bunch of lies that I'm never going to believe? Should I PRETEND to forgive her and try to put what we had back together again?

What good would that do when it would never...could never be the same? There would never again be the level of unguarded, unlimited trust that we'd so effortlessly given each other before. I'd spend the rest of my life checking up on her and even then I'd always wonder if she was doing it again. This had literally blindsided me. People talk all the time about how they knew something was going on with their mate, but I had no clue. And since I had no idea this time, I'd probably never know it if she started again until I caught her. I had no intention of living my life like that. I'd rather be alone.

There's a huge difference between what's legal and what's right. There always has been, and there probably always will be. It's perfectly legal for a married woman to go out and fuck men other than her husband, but is it right? It isn't to me. Gloria and I loved each other so much that we wanted to spend the rest of our lives together. We made each other certain promises when we did that. So if she no longer feels that way, what she should have done was just told me so we could both move on legally and honorably. Having her fun behind my back breaks those promises and in my mind, it also breaks the matrimonial bond between us.

I know that some people would say, "Well you still have to talk to her about it." Why the fuck do I have to do that? She didn't talk to me when she decided to start fucking my team. Let her find out about our divorce when they serve the papers. At least I won't be sneaking around to do it. 

I'm sure that this seems too quick to some people. I can hear her dad now, telling me to talk to her and give it some time to let this sink in. Maybe in time I'll discover that it isn't that bad. I'd love to see how he'd handle this if he was the one it had happened to. It's always funny when some other guy's wife is the pincushion.

About then I noticed that I was really hungry. I couldn't believe where the time had gone while I sat there lost in my thoughts. Molly had told me that I could eat anything I liked. It was time to find out what I liked. Unfortunately, my phone caught me before I made it to the refrigerator.

"Dean, I thought we'd worked that whole thing out," I said as I answered.

"I'm not him," said Harriet. "Milli told me that the best way to get you to answer the phone was to use her husband's phone. So I thought that if it worked for her it would work for me too."

"Look Harriet, you are, at least I thought you were, a nice lady," I said. "But I just don't want to talk to you about any of this."

"Why not?" she asked. "I'm a part of this too. And except for you, Gloria and your players, I stand to lose the most here. You probably don't know this because Millicent didn't get a chance to tell you but she and her husband have kind of an open marriage. That's partially how this whole thing got started. Milli is not going to lose her marriage over this. Her hubby will be a little bit upset because he told her specifically to leave your players alone. Except for your team, both of them sample the students frequently. The only rule they have is that there aren't supposed to be any emotional entanglements. It's worked well for them for years."

"Well that's great for you guys," I said.

"It's not great for me," she interrupted. "The Dean and I don't have an agreement like that. This could end my marriage and I do love my husband."

"The way you were sucking on that kid's dick makes that really hard to believe," I smirked.

"That wasn't love it was only sex," she spat. "I have no emotional entanglements with that boy. The pleasure I got from his dick was the only thing I was interested in. And I'm sure he has no desire to settle down with a woman who's older than his mother. I'm just a pussy to him. In the short term, I'm better for him than some wide eyed college girl who thinks her pussy is a special place and wanted to have the guy fall in love with her. She's probably only been with one or two guys and doesn't even know how to use what she has. He has to spend all kinds of money on her and go out on a bunch of dates to places that he hasn't any interest in just to get between her legs and when he does, he's disappointed because she isn't any good in bed. With me, he gets to cut out all of the bullshit and fuck someone who really wants to be fucked and knows what she wants. It's like my contribution to his education and experience."

"Thank you Professor Poontang," I said sarcastically. I think she could sense that I was about to hang up in disgust.

"Wait Jim, don't hang up," she said. "Do you know what I just had to do?"

"Get an abortion, or a VD screening?" I asked in the same sarcastic tone.

"No, I had to give a very strong sleeping pill to a woman who'd spent the last twenty-four hours crying her eyes out and trying everything she can just to talk to you. She hasn't slept, she won't even eat. She just cries until someone comes up with an idea of where you might be or how she can get in touch with you. But you won't even talk to her long enough to let her apologize let alone explain," she said.

"There's nothing that I want or need to hear from her," I snapped. "My eyes told me everything I needed to know."

"But Jim, she loves you. This is tearing her apart," she said. "Don't you have any feelings? What would it cost you to talk to her? You always loved talking to her before all of this. Shit, you even called her in the middle of games while you were sitting on the bench and she was in the stands only ten feet behind you, just so you could tell her you loved her. Why can't you talk to her now?"

"I'm sure we'll talk in court," I said. "Or our lawyers will."

"You can't be serious," she said. "You have to talk to her before this goes that far."

"You should be more concerned with getting your own house in order," I said. 

"Why," she asked. "Are you planning on telling my husband? That would hurt him too, and needlessly. I thought you were his friend. I'm never going to do this again. I've learned my lesson."

"No," I said. "I'm the one who got the life experience. You just got to see things fall apart without actually experiencing it yet. You got the lesson without the pain. If you want to keep it that way you need to look out for yourself now and stop worrying about Gloria."

"What do you mean?" she asked. Her voice was beginning to show fear.

"If Gloria decides to fight the divorce and I have to use the video I shot of your little party, everyone will go down. The Dean will find out about you. To keep the board's confidence in him and thereby save his job, he'll have to get rid of you double damn quick, whether he wants to forgive you or not. Since there are students involved I'm sure the AD and his wife will be drawn into it too. When the nature of their uhm...open marriage comes out both of them will probably be mentioned. Think about it. While everyone is talking about what a whore the AD's wife is some female student will say, "Hell, he's just as bad. I had sex with him during...yada yada yada. Pretty soon nobody has a job anymore."

"But Jim, she doesn't want a divorce," whined Harriet. "I don't either."

"We don't have a choice," I said. "Your job is to convince her to just let me go or everyone goes."

"She'll never agree to it. Why can't you just forgive her, just this once?" she asked.

"Because, there's no point in it?" I said. "We had something that was magic. She messed it up. It can't be put back together. Even if we did, it just wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be as strong. It wouldn't be as pure. It would basically just be a shadow of what we started with. I'd be better off just walking away and just hoping that someday, if I'm lucky, I might come close to what we had with someone else."

"I just don't think I could look at myself in the mirror every morning if I let someone treat me like that," I said.

"But she isn't treating you badly," said Harriet. "When did she ever say no to you? She never denied you sex, as often as you wanted it. Hell, none of us did. In fact, that was how I got into this. Martin just didn't want it from me nearly as much as I needed it. In Gloria's case it's far more complicated."

"Right, she just needed someone who could do it better," I spat.

"Rein your ego in," she said. "It was never about the sex for her."

"The way she was screaming and pushing her ass into them, it really looked like she was having a terrible time," I said sarcastically.

"Jim, if you were fucking some woman and she just laid there like a rock and didn't say anything, would you want to fuck her again. Or would you just tell all of your friends how terrible she was and move on to someone better?"

"In the first place, no matter how hot she was, I'd never fuck a married woman. And especially not a married woman whose husband was supposed to be a person I knew and respected."

"But Jim, a lot of this has to do with you anyway," she said.

"How is any of this shit my fault?" I asked. "I've never cheated on Gloria once. I've never even thought about it. I loved her too much.

"I didn't say it was your fault," she said. "I just said I was blaming you."

"Harriet, you are no longer making sense, good bye," I said. Again, the conversation had taken far longer than I expected. When I switched my phone off there were keys rattling in the door and Molly came back in.

"Wow, who were you giving it to?" she asked.

"Just someone who thinks I should talk to Gloria," I replied.

"So are ya?" she asked.

"I don't see any point to it," I told her. "The marriage is over."

"Is this the first time she cheated on you?" she asked.

"I don't know how many times they've done this," I said. "It's probably been going on for years or at least months."

"Don't you love her?" she asked.

"Far more than I can say," I said. "...Which is why a broken down version of what we used to have, would just be a waste of my time. I'd always resent her for messing things up, no matter how much we tried to patch things together. We'd be doomed from the start. Instead of a sharp clean break, we'd end up just limping slowly towards the end of the trail. It would still end up in the same place it would just take longer. There's no use in prolonging the pain."

"That's why I don't have a boyfriend," she said. "I won't put up with someone who cheats on me. I won't put up with it even once. I keep trying to explain to people. If they decide to have sex with me, it's a contract. Once they get between my legs they're my property, God damn it. They no longer have the right to do it with anyone else."

"Even without a ring?" I said.

"You're never without a ring," she said. "When I wrap my legs around you, it's a ring. The opening in my vagina is a ring that goes around your dick. It's just as valid as a chunk of metal."

I'd never hear it expressed that way. This girl could do a lot of damage to the jewelry industry. She whipped up a quick snack for us both and we went to bed. Well...we got into bed. I was very afraid of this girl. I made sure I slept facing away from her and as far away from her as I could get without falling off of the bed. I was sure I heard her laughing softly as I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I was still hugging the edge of the bed and still facing away from her. Somehow I was still looking at her panty covered ass. She had on the tiniest thong underwear I'd ever seen. I was sure she'd put them on for my benefit.

She was dancing along to an exercise DVD. It looked like the twenty minute workout from back in the eighties. That was before this twenty two year old was even born. I guess everything old is new again eventually.

She went into a deep lunge and my dick let me know that it was awake too. At my sharp intake of breath, she turned around to face me. And there it was. What she'd been hinting that I should lick since I first woke up from the bender I'd gone on. The thong was so small from the front that it barely covered her lips down there. In fact I was sure that one of them was peeking out.

"See anything you like?" she asked.

"Uhm..." was all I could manage to say.

"I wore these just for you," she said smiling. My dick was so hard now that it was throbbing.

"Normally I do my little workout nude," she said. "But I didn't want to have my titties bouncing around and embarrassing you. And I also needed to put something on down there too. I was worried about your reputation. It just doesn't seem right to have a married man hanging around with a nude woman, ya know?"

I couldn't tell whether she was teasing me or not. I took a deep breath to calm myself down. In retrospect, that was probably not the smartest move I'd ever made. I caught a healthy whiff of her feminine fragrance mixed with a light amount of sweat that only added to its pungent aroma. My dick went from steel hard to diamond hard after the breath.

"Uhm can I use your shower?" I asked, trying to change the subject. 

"Cold or warm?" she asked.

I gulped loudly.

"I'm only asking because this is a small apartment with a very small water heater. If you want a warm shower, we should probably share. If you need a cold shower, you'd just be wasting water, because you'd probably just need another one when you came back out," she smirked.

"Molly, I thought you were a nice girl," I said. "Why are you teasing me?"

"Nice girls need sex too," she said. "In fact, one of the ways you can tell I'm a nice girl is that I haven't taken it already. You're so ready you're about to pop. And I'm not teasing you. If you want something all you have to do is take it."

"But we both know that I'm still a married guy," I whined. Even as I said it I'd begun to wonder if it even mattered any more.

"You're married in name only," she said. "You and I are alike, Jim. As soon as you saw her in the motel, her time was over and you were up for grabs. I really wish that I had the luxury of doing things the way my granny would have. You know, be friendly but distant with you until six months or a year after your divorce was final. Then arrange to "accidentally" run into you somewhere. We could have coffee maybe and then you might ask me to go out with you. I'd say, "no," with my mouth, because it isn't proper for a nice young lady to accept a date from an experienced, married man so easily."

"But even as my mouth was telling you "no", my pussy would be wet and my eyes would be saying ask me again. So after turning you down a few times to test your persistence and my resistance, I'd finally agree to go on a double date with you. That is if you could arrange for a friend to date one of my unattached friends or relatives. After a couple of group dates, we'd do something innocent and very public together. Then there'd be a few regular dates and finally a more private dinner at one of our residences. Maybe the second or third solo in house dinner, we'd do a little necking on the sofa and you'd ask me to marry you. I'd tell you that I couldn't possible agree to that without consulting my daddy. I'd arrange for you to meet him and you'd tell him your story and why you want to marry me. He'd do his God damnedest to scare the shit out of you and then he'd finally look at me and see how much I wanted you and agree."

"Then my mom and I would arrange the whole wedding. It might take six or even nine months for us to make all of the arrangements. By then, we'd have known each other for so long that we really would be in love. We'd have bonded so strongly that nothing would separate us, not even bad sex. That's the way it used to be done. But Jim, this is the twenty-first century. If the attraction is strong enough, girls fuck on the first date now-a-days."

My mouth dropped open in shock as she continued. "You're a good guy Jim. I liked you from the very first minute I walked into your gym and asked you if I could interview some of your brainless bean poles. I had my Suzie homemaker business suit on and tied my tits up to make them seem smaller. I put on some clear lens glasses because I was really interested in completing that assignment for my class, not in becoming a notch on some pogo stick's dipstick. The only guy who didn't try to hit on me even in my nerd get up was you. You did your best to try to help me and you treated me with respect."

"That's the mark of a really good guy. Even now that you know what I really look like, I can tell you're a good guy. Your dick is so hard I can see the veins on it through that blanket. I'm practically sticking my pussy against your lips and you're worrying about me. If you weren't a good guy you'd have been bottomed out in me from the first night I brought you home. But instead, you're here even as I increase the teasing, trying to stay faithful to a woman who cheated on you. That kind of loyalty is rare. I think I deserve it and since I'm the same kind of person and we're obviously attracted to each other. I need to put my bid in and let you know I'm interested before some whore gets her hooks into you while you're getting over your wife." What was even more amazing was that she said all of that without taking a breath.

"But we barely know each other and I'm..." I began.

"Thirteen years older than me," she said. "Who cares? I'm twenty-two years old and women...most women mature faster than men anyway. Your ex might be an exception to that. Anyway, I've got what, two or three days at most to make such an indelible impression on you that you want to keep coming all the way across the country to visit me?" She smiled.

"Wow," I said.

"Come on," she smiled. "You knew I was smart. You just didn't know that I was this single minded. But when I see something I want, I just go after it." I frowned as soon as she said it.

She looked at me and sensed what I was feeling.

"Jim, your wife and I are completely different types of weapons," she said. "She's a dick seeking missile. I don't know her but I'm judging by what you told me. I can see from watching you and interacting with you that you gave that woman all of the love you had. And that more than anything else is what I want. Just like her, I'm attracted to something so much that it can alter my preprogrammed course. But I'm a heart seeking missile. My targeting system will stay locked on that one man who loves me, forever." The look she gave me then started me to throbbing all over again.




March Madness



I'm not particularly a rabid sports fan, but I'm obsessed with the annual NCAA basketball tournament known as "March Madness." My friend Pierce and I are especially excited about this year's edition because each of our favorite teams received high seeds and have a great shot at making the Final Four. Little did I know how special this year's tournament would actually become.

My wife of 14 years, Barbara, doesn't understand why anyone would want to watch a sporting event in which none of their relatives or friends is participating. She can't fathom why someone would watch golf on TV for hours instead of actually playing golf. She gets it that there are some special events like the Super Bowl or the Olympics -- times when there is real drama or a social phenomenon. She is happy to tailgate with friends at a football game, but never wants to enter the stadium. Fortunately, I get a pass for March Madness with only a modicum of grumbling as I spend hours glued to the high quality images projected on the big screen in my theatre room (don't call it a man cave in front of Barbara).

Barbara's quirkiness about sports is not a big deal to me because she is a nearly perfect mate in every other respect. We are in our late thirties, childless by choice, and both of us have high-powered careers. We met in our mid-twenties - Barbara was already a rising star in client management at the largest ad agency in the region, and I was moving through the ranks of a national CPA firm. Barbara is now a VP and partner in her agency, while I eventually left the national firm to become a partner at a large regional accounting firm where I expect to soon become managing partner. We first met at a charity cocktail party hosted by a mutual acquaintance. She was not immediately impressed with me, but when I offered to help her with a tax issue, she was mine.

Neither of us would win any beauty contests, but we are both fit, intelligent, dress well and expensively and like-minded in many ways. Neither of us like it when someone tries to call us by anything other than our full first names (mine is Kendrick), and we shared an ambivalence over starting a family. We don't have any outstanding features, with the possible exception of my blue eyes and her legs, but we both have a "put together" look that is classy, stylish and garners respect from our peers. No one falls over themselves to stare at us, but I like to think that observers would admit that we are an attractive couple. 

Eventually, our future as a couple was sealed when we discovered that we were wildly compatible and mutually adventuresome in the sack, and that hasn't changed throughout our married life. Early on, we began collecting expensive lingerie, and Barbara always dresses for bed, often parading around ahead of time in high heels to tease me. Sometimes, I act uninterested just to see how far she will go - exposing herself for my benefit really ignites her juices. Several years ago, I bought our first "outfit" to role play with. It was a sexy maid's uniform with fishnet stockings and ridiculously high heels. Barbara tried it on, played the role to the fullest, and we both were enormously turned on, leading to a night of hot rocking sex (not lovemaking). As with the lingerie, our collection of role playing clothes -- outfits, garter belts, wigs, stockings, shoes, boots - grew exponentially. Eventually, we turned a room off our bedroom (the one that would have been the nursery for the children we decided not to have) into a huge closet devoted to our fetish. At least twice a month, we spend an entire night devoted to our games.

As the role playing expanded, "Barbie" (remember, I mentioned that Barbara disliked any diminutive of her name?) emerged in our role plays. She surprised me by referring to herself as Barbie, and I quickly discovered that this was her way of taking the role play to a level that allowed her to be different, a person who would have to do what I told her and be taken however I pleased. This was the normal pattern, but, sometimes, Barbie also demanded, and got, what she wanted from me. Whatever the intent, it's always special when Barbie comes out to play.

Just as the role playing began to flourish, Barbara made two decisions -- since we had decided to not start a family, she wanted her tubes tied, and, while she was under from that procedure, she wanted breast enhancement -- not gigantic bolt-ons, just a modest insert to "pick up the slack." I was all for the tubal ligation, but I had reservations about the enhancement. Barbara convinced me it was about her own self-image and how she looked in clothes, and, like it or not, she had to face up to gravity taking a toll. As it turned out, the enhancement was barely noticeable (in her clothes that is) since she replaced all of the "miracle bras," "wonder bras" and other support systems that pushed her breasts up and made them appear as large as they now were totally on their own. It was fun shopping for the replacements and enjoying the new look. An added bonus was that her nipples now protruded a little more with a slight upward rise that looked awesome in the shelf and demi-cup bras I bought for her by the boatload. Barbie also loved her new look and our closet grew. We even added a "tool section" that housed an impressive collection of sex toys and devices (but no movies -- not our thing). Life was, and is, very good. We still engaged in our regular lovemaking, but dress-up days were for experimentation and sex at a more primal level. All of our games have taken place in private, and, as far as I know, neither of us had discussed with anyone what we did in the privacy of our own home. This was soon going to change. 

Pierce's and my excitement about the basketball tournament resulted in an equal and opposite reaction in Barbara and in Pierce's wife, Mildred (as with Barbara and me, don't call her anything but her full name). They knew that they were to become basketball widows in a worse way than usual. Barbara enjoyed Mildred's company - they had become as good friends as Pierce and me, and she was glad they could talk to one another while Pierce and I obsessed over the games. The fact that they had given us a pass to watch the games could not prevent some resentment from bubbling up. The first round of games was on a Thursday, with winners moving on to games on Saturday. Pierce's favorite team, our local metro university, and my favorite team, the state university that is the local team's fiercest rival, were in different regions and could not play each other until the championship game, assuming both made it that far. By quirk of the draw, both of our teams played on the Thursday/Saturday schedule, making it easier to watch the games together, but also focusing our attention away from our wives. Starting late Thursday afternoon, we settled into my state-of-the-art theatre seats while our wives watched from a sofa that sat on a raised platform behind our seats. Barbara and Mildred tried to make small talk with us during the game and kept asking questions, but we gave short answers or ignored them. Then they tried making fun of our obsessive devotion by saying ridiculous things to see if we were paying any attention (we weren't) or trying to get a rise out of us by one telling the other something like "Pierce has a 4" penis" or "Kendrick can't get it up anymore" and then saying "Isn't that right darling?" They were like two-year olds acting out to get their parents' attention, so we ignored the banter, knowing that jumping in would only accomplish their purpose. I'm sure that they wanted our teams to lose, but that was not likely since our teams were playing low seeded teams that we easily beat, and both moved on to Saturday.

Saturday's games were again in the late afternoon, and, as it was now the weekend, Pierce and I expected to consume a large quantity of beer and buffalo wings as we watched. Thankfully, the girls let us watch the first game in peace, an easy victory for Pierce's team. Between games, we refreshed our food plates, grabbed a cold one and returned to watch the analyst's take on the keys to my team winning the next game. Our attention was jolted by shouts of "excusez-moi s'il vous plait," "excusez-moi s'il vous plait," as Barbara and Mildred entered in full French maid regalia. Mildred wore the original maid outfit that stared it all with Barbara and me -- a sleeveless, one piece, short black and lace dress with a deep V neck that was laced together to show generous cleavage, that was enhanced by a lacy demi-cup bra. The outfit included a lace choker, elbow length, fingerless gloves and a frilly maid's hat. Her black, thigh-high stockings were held up a black garter belt and featured lacy white bows at the top. The dress was short enough to show a healthy amount of her creamy thighs above the top of the stockings. Barbara had also outfitted her with a short, platinum blond wig with long bangs, and shiny pumps with 5" heels in which she tottered slightly. The picture was completed with false eyelashes, heavy make-up and cherry red lipstick drawn on to make her lips look more heart-shaped. She was a sight, and I almost didn't recognize her. Pierce's eyes bugged out of his head, and, unlike me, he had no clue where this was coming from. Barbara followed Mildred and was dressed in a more recent acquisition of a sexy maid outfit, a tight fitting halter dress with the mandatory lace apron that was almost backless. The tight bodice of the dress could barely contain her breasts and her nipples tented the filmy fabric within an inch of the top. Her long hair was piled on top of her head, with just a few wispy curls framing the side of her face. From behind, I really liked the combination of her bare graceful neck melding with her exposed back. Barbara's skirt was a little shorter than Mildred's, exhibiting nicely her back-seamed fishnet panty hose that led down to her own stiletto pumps. From behind, it appeared that she was wearing only a short skirt sandwiched by a toned back and beautiful long legs. The combination of the big hair and high heels made her appear 8-9 inches taller than her normal 5-8.

The girls flitted around randomly brushing objects with their feather duster, occasionally leaning over at the waist to give us a better view of their assets as our eyes roamed from one to the other. I saw that Pierce was about to say something and gave him the "hush" signal and mouthed the word "wait." Soon the girls grabbed some of our empties and wiggled out of the room giggling.

"What the hell was that?" asked Pierce. I answered, "it looks like Barbara has introduced Mildred to the closet." I then blew Pierce away by briefly explaining the role play games and our extensive closet that has hitherto been private. Pierce said that he had never seen Mildred that hot and he was ready to jump her bones right then and there. Seeing Barbara like he'd never seen her stoked his fire even hotter. I asked him to follow my lead and promised that this could get much hotter for both our wives and us. He agreed to play it cool, and we started watching the basketball game again, feigning disinterest in the maids.

Soon, the hot maids returned, acting coquettish and wagging their rear ends like a bunny rabbit in heat. I got Barbara's attention and asked her name -- "Je m'appele Barbie," and then I pointed at Mildred -- "Je suis Millie." I immediately thought that Barbara must have let Mildred in on the fun of being a different persona, and concluded (correctly, I learned later) that it was time for the games to begin! I then shouted "Aha! I thought so -- you are just the ones we were looking for! I am Monsieur Kendrick, the owner of this establishment and this is Monsieur Pierce, the manager. We have had beaucoup complaints about you two, especially for your work in the VIP Theatre Room. We came here to evaluate you for ourselves." "Nous somnes desolee" [we are sorry] answered Barbie, "que devons-nous faire?" [What must we do?]. "For starters, this room is a mess -- remove the rubbish and bring us more food and wine, and do it tout suite!" Barbie and Millie grabbed our empty plates and bottles and exited quickly muttering "oui, oui" and "pardon moi" multiple times. After they left, Pierce grinned knowingly to me - he understood the game.

It wasn't long before our lovely maids returned, smiling brightly and carrying a tray of food and a bottle of wine. Setting them down carefully, they looked for our approval. I let a scowl come over my face and said "this is all well and good, but I just noticed that your uniforms are wrong -- that is not the proper attire for the VIP Theatre Room. Mademoiselle Barbie, the top of your uniform is sitting too high. It must be pulled down enough for your nipples to protrude over the top. And you, Mademoiselle Millie, where did you get the idea that drawstrings were permitted in the bodice of your uniform? These must be removed. Also, I suspect that you may be wearing panties, another forbidden item, and Pierce and I must inspect you. Bend over in front of us." When Barbie bent over, I rubbed my hand over her pubic mound and slipped a finger through one of the spaces in her fishnets to "inspect" for the panties I knew were not there. The crotch of her fishnets was soaked, and my finger soon located the source of the moisture, working it a little and then brushing her clit on the way out. Pierce acted similarly and reported he found a forbidden undergarment, a tiny g-string that he demanded Millie remove immediately. I was a little surprised to see how slowly and sultrily she removed it, and by the generous flash she gave us of her very moist sex. She smiled (was it a smirk?) and gently placed the soaked g-string into Pierce's outstretched palm as if it were a precious object, gently closing his hand over it. I told them to correct the uniform errors and return promptly for another inspection.

Pierce leaned over and told me I was a freaking genius. He had never seen "Millie" so turned on and his own dick could crack walnuts -- he needed some relief, and I said he would get it when they returned. I loved the games that Barbie and I played, but I had to admit that the effect was amplified by another couple joining in. I formulated a simple plan to take our game to its final level.

Barbie and Millie returned for their inspection and Pierce and I made sure it was very thorough. First, each of them twirled slowly at my command. Then, I began Barbie's inspection, noting that she had not only exposed her nipples, but had pulled the front of her dress down and tucked it below her breasts, showing all. She bent over at the waist to give me an up close view, and only superb self-control kept me from burying my face in them. I did pinch and pull on her already hard points, elongating them further while I involuntarily squirmed in my chair. Barbie then moved over to Pierce for another review while Millie stood proudly in front of me with her shoulders back and her hands on her waist. As I expected, the removal of the drawstrings resulted in her dress falling to the sides of the deep V neck, and exposed her breasts except for the slight coverage provided from her demi-cup bra. I ogled the first areolas and hard nipples that I had seen live in 14 years other then Barbara's. Millie sensed her advantage, leaned over and pushed her breasts within an inch of my face, almost daring me to touch them. She was a quick learner, and now I was anxious to check her other required uniform change - i.e. no panties. I motioned for her to show me the proof. Standing directly in front of me, she slowly raised her skirt and then took one of her legs and placed it on top of a coffee table beside her, causing her inner labia to part for my viewing pleasure. She then slowly rubbed her fingers over the slit expanding it further. Thank goodness she didn't lick her fingers or I may have come in my pants right then. 

I glanced over at Pierce's inspection of Barbie and was greeted with her bending over, grabbing her ankles, with her rear end pointing at Pierce. She then pulled down her panty hose enough to expose her crotch, proving to him that she had not added the forbidden panties. Barbie's shaved lips (which are always prominent, even when she is not turned on) were on display, and, while still bent over facing away from Pierce, she reached back between her legs, lewdly parted her lips, and then calmly replaced the fishnets to their original position.

Their obviously orchestrated display had swayed control over to the sexy maids. They joined arms in front of us and asked "avons-nous réussi votre examen?" [have we passed your test?] Since so much blood had drained from my brain to between my legs, I hesitated before saying "You have done well, tres bien. But your offenses are very serious, and we must be sure that you will never disappoint our establishment again. Therefore, I've decided that you must let Monsieur Pierce have his way with Mademoiselle Millie while I enjoy the pleasure of Mademoiselle Barbie. You must submit to us or your employment will be terminated. If you are good to us, you will receive raises and a bonus." Each of them slowly nodded their heads, with Barbie saying "s'il vous plaît soyez gentil avec nous" [please be gentle with us].

Pierce and I had the same idea -- we wanted to taste the juices now freely dripping down the sexy maids' thighs. Pierce guided Millie to her back on the theatre chair and raised her legs high over his shoulders as he knelt in front of her. He admired the view before him and gently licked his way up her thigh, enjoying the flavor. Before he plunged into her sex, he whispered to her "Millie, you are the most desirable and beautiful woman I've ever known and I can't wait to ravage you now and often." Millie moaned loudly as Pierce's tongue entered her.

Barbie's rear view was extremely enticing, so I bent her over at a 90 degree handle facing away from me, with her hands grasping a shelf for support. Like Pierce, I enjoyed the view, rubbing my hands up and down her beautiful legs and squeezing her ass roughly, making her shudder with anticipation. I brought my hands to her waist as if to pull down her fishnets, but I dropped my hands to her crotch, gripping both sides of the fishnets and ripping an opening to her engorged vagina. Barbie gasped and her head flew back in surprise. I wasted no time, pulling her now bare ass cheeks apart while greedily lapping at her slit and her rosebud, and lightly chewing and pulling on her inner lips. I inserted two fingers easily into her and alternately massaged her g-spot and clitoris while desperately trying to insert my tongue as deep as possible in both her openings. To get a better angle of attack, I reversed my position, now facing her gaping vagina where I could work her clit with my tongue while pulling her ass towards me. Whenever I hit the best spots, Barbie thrust her hips into my mouth, searching for more friction. As her thrusts became more frequent, I lubricated my forefinger with her juices and inserted it into her anus while placing my thumb into her sex, pushing them in and out while squeezing them together. I then concentrated on her clit as Barbie bucked her hips, driving my fingers into her as she rocked back and my tongue to her clit as she moved forward. As this rhythm continued, I sensed Barbie's breathing quicken and her movements became more erratic. Suddenly, she removed one of her hands from the shelf and pushed my head into her as she came with a groan that evolved into a scream as she continued to grind on my face. After a brief respite, I continued to lap at her clit while inserting several fingers and soon she was coming again, albeit milder this time.

Millie and Pierce were a little rougher as Millie aggressively pulled him to her snatch, grinding on him and saying nasty things that I never would have imagined coming from her. Pierce used his fingers as well as his tongue and nose to please her. When Barbie came, Millie could hold out no longer, loudly announcing her pleasure. 




March Madness



It was my turn to come, and I decided to enter Barbie from behind, easing into her very swollen opening. Since she was still coming down from her orgasm, I moved slowly, taking my entire length in and out of her. Although I had been hard for most of the last hour, I was in no hurry - I wanted to enjoy her as long as I could. Once Barbie began to push back on my thrusts, I maneuvered her to my chair where she could ride me with her feet planted on the floor and her arms braced on the sides of the chair. I wanted to see her face and feel her breasts while we rode and bucked together. Barbie began talking dirty, spacing out each word with every rise and fall. "Monsieur Kendrick, je t'aime ta bite [I love your cock]! Il est tres important [it is so big]! C'est magnifique! Baise-moi [fuck me]! Baise-moi! Baise-moi salaud [fuck me you bastard]! Plus dure [harder]!

I took a different track, telling her how beautiful and sexy she was, how hard she made me and that I wanted to look into her eyes while we came together. I didn't think I could hold out when Barbie quickened her pace and I responded with several quick powerful thrusts that rocked her body and brought her over the edge, with me tumbling right behind. I held her hips down in a stationary position while we savored our mutual, climactic spasms. I kept my promise and looked into Barbie's unfocused eyes, and the sight of her obvious pleasure sent me to a new crescendo. Barbie collapsed into my arms and I held her close, lightly kissing her neck and shoulders and caressing her hair while she became Barbara again. Quietly, we eased out of the room, seeing that Pierce and Mildred were now cuddled together, obviously having reached a similar release. 

After an intense role playing game, we usually needed some time to show our love for each other as husband and wife and not as the participants in the game. We gave Pierce and Mildred the same opportunity to ease back into the real world. About an hour later, after showering and cleaning up in our guest suite next to the theatre, they joined us upstairs and thanked us for the most erotic experience of their life.

Anticlimactically, my team also won, but I did not see a single minute of the game (yes, I did DVR it). It was now off to the Sweet Sixteen round on Thursday and, likely, the Elite Eight on Saturday. 

On Monday, Pierce and I received an email: "You are invited to Millie and Barbie's Elite Eight Party this Saturday, 5:00PM, in the VIP Theatre Room at Club Kendrick. Wear your team colors."

(To be continued)



March Madness (and Delight)



You weren't yet home from work so I let myself in and plopped down on the couch with a drink to see if any games were on. I don't guess there were and the next thing I know I wake with the taste of bourbon in my mouth and you crouched at my lap stroking and licking my cock. Slowly licking the shaft, starting from the sweet skin just at my balls, flowing up to the tip; then raising your head and sliding it back up your tongue into your open mouth and back out, slightly. You work in long slick strokes and leave the head throbbing in air while your pursed lips go down to start again.

You smile and take it warmer in your mouth, swirling your tongue. Sucking the head, you form that perfect O with your lips and run your breath up and down my length. Oh my, you are delighting me. Your hands toy with my balls and work my length in and out of your mouth. You look at me and your eyes tease with pleasure. My eyes close and my head drops into the cushions and colors dance in pleasure in my dark. You continue servicing my swelling cock till it glistens, the slit juicy and gaping, like it wants you to crawl inside and work me inside out. I don't think I've ever been more steely-hard.

Your movement away brings back my sight and I see you stand, your hands reaching down and gathering your skirt up to your waist, revealing those I legs I so love to run with my hands. You swagger closer and I before I notice the wet splotch of your panties, I smell the sex juices that have flooded your hole. My hands dance up your thighs and thumbs hook your thong and pull it down past your knees. This brings my nose to the rosy hairs of your mound and the aroma floods me. I kiss you there, gently.

You turn and kick the thong off one ankle and hike your skirt higher, backing toward me and I welcome your shapely bottom. You must be dripping. I can see your pussy shining and the lips are fat like a swelling bud.

I take my dick and push it down, pointed toward you and the spot between your legs that you are guiding back toward me. My left hands reaches your rear, I sway you a bit right and you simply slide your tight soaking pussy straight down my prick till you settle in my lap. O My God. I come all too close to shooting right there! You don't move.

Your wet pussy has swallowed my cock whole. I know you feel it roaring. My hands roam your hips and ass, your lower back; our breaths poised, then gently exhaled. 

Slowly you rise till just the head remains within the shroud of your heavy lips, then you sink down my length again. My hands wander your back, up to the softness at the nape of your neck and you lean back onto me. I nuzzle you there and lick. You are in control and I am in ecstasy. You gradually pick up the pace, leaning forward, rising and falling on my hard cock. I reach around you and grasp of your breasts and knead hard through your bra, your nipples swelling with my fingers. "Mmm, fuck me," I groan. You ride hard and I watch our flesh meet. 

I feel your pussy tightening. You are riding harder. My fingers pull your nipples. You writhe and I push up from the couch and stand, bending you forward till your hands rest on the ottoman, Now I am fucking you desperately, my hands on your ass, and you respond with your thrusts onto me. We go at this steady for a minute or so till we are dangling on the edge of falling over. Finally the rhythm pushes you over and you explode with a cry, singing with the thrill, my cock still ramming you in and out. I am grunting like a fool, wringing you with my deep thrusts. It is intense and almost beyond a dream. You swagger and look over your shoulder with a sexy leer that pulls the last string. Your smile still turns me over more than anything. With that you thrust back and grind your ass to my groin and one of your hands finds my balls, taking them in a sweet fist and tugging. With glee I erupt with three fast shots of spunk that must shoot through you they seem so like fire. Oh God, your cunt is so hot and sloppy I feel like I'm swimming in you.

Gasping, I hold you tight to me till the warm spasms subside. I fall back to the couch. You, on all fours, turn to face me. Your face is flushed and a there is a smoldering gleam in your eyes. You crawl between my sprawled legs and take my wet, shrinking dick into your mouth, gently sucking it in. You look up into my eyes like a queen on her throne while you lovingly swirl your tongue around my softening prick in slow lapping circles. I reach down with both arms and pull you up, drawing your face to my for a deep probing kiss. We taste our sex on each other's hot tongues. I suck on yours and my hands hold your face to mine as I kiss you hard again.

You pull back slightly, enough to speak but close enough that I still taste your sweet breath. Your smile tells me all I need to know: you are just getting warmed up. I chuckle and pull you onto my chest, holding your body close. My hands roam down through your hair, over your ears, along your neck, to your shoulders. I massage you there and you moan softly. 

This once I'm glad there were no games on.