Fucking Teagan

Fucking Teagan –Part 1

This story is inspired by and partly based on actual events. It is my first attempt at an actual story. Most of my writing is technical. There are literary enhancements and liberties taken to help the continuity of the story. Names, places and such have been changed to protect those who need to be. That said, this is a fictional story with fictional characters. Any resemblance to any actual living individuals is purely coincidental. Please note: this is a long story with details about coaching, life, softball, as well as sex. If you are looking for a short story that is 80% sex, this is not going to be your cup of tea….Details however, are needed to set up the scenarios. The action in this multi part story takes place over many years.

My name is Michael. I have coached girls fast pitch select softball for about ten years, mostly in the 12-14 year old age bracket. I am 37 years old, 6’1” tall and about 205 pounds. I have been told I’m pretty easy on the eyes, though I’m not sure I would agree… I work out regularly, have a muscular build, and generally take care of myself. Recently, I was contacted and asked to assist with the formation of a new 16 and under (16U) team. A coach I had worked with several years ago (Travis) had gathered together a group of five exceptionally talented girls and asked myself and one other mutual friend (Mitch) to assist in putting together a team of superstars
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One of the reasons Travis brought the three of us together is that we are all practitioners of a particular thought process about coaching girls. It goes something like this:
Do not coach your own daughter and never allow any parent, with a daughter on the team, to coach on your team. Daddy ball is a lie and is destructive to morale. Girls have a primal need to please the men in their lives. Little girls love their daddy’s. Teen girls love their boyfriends, teachers and, yes, coaches. Teen girls will work hard to please their coaches. It is what nature has pre programmed them to do. Let them. Be there for them, don’t fight them, and above all, make sure they know you have their back no matter what the subject or situation. As corny as it sounds, the code is fundamental to success with teen girls. Our goal was to be one of the “ace” teams in the 16u age bracket nationally.

I have to admit, part of the reason I continued to coach after the death of my wife two years ago, is that coaching gave me the opportunity to take my mind off the tragedy and remain focused on something other than self pity. My daughter, Tory, took Wendy’s death hard. So did I. When Wendy was killed in the wreck, Tory and I were devastated. All we had was each other. No one else truly understood what we were going through. Tory and I leaned on each other, softball, and friends to help us heal and remain active parts of the human race.

The other part of the reason I coach, is that I’m a horn dog. I love sex and sexy women. I love most all women generally, but especially athletic teens. There is just something about young, cute, firm bodies that I find virtually irresistible. And since fast pitch softball is a teen girls sport, I can think of no better place to immerse myself in the deep end of the estrogen pool. Over the last two years since Wendy passed away, I had focused my sexual drive, on occasionally screwing one of my player’s moms. Bored lonely MILF’s were easy. Most of the girls at the 12u level were between 11 and 13, and I had never considered messing with them. As the saying goes, “12 will get you 20”. But now, the girls were going to be older, wiser, sexier and more mature…..this was going to be much more interesting. The story begins in early June 2010, with an open tryout to fill in the missing players on the new team….

“Damn, it’s hot” I thought to myself. “10:15 am and already 90 degrees.” “Well, this should guarantee some sweaty hotties before we’re done”. I smirked to myself as tried to commit to memory names and positions listed on the tryout roster.

More than 30 girls had signed up to try to become a part of the new team. Even though the official tryout start time was 10:45, already a couple of groups of girls had arrived and were stretching or throwing a ball around with the girls that we already had committed to the team. Most of the parents were sitting together on the bleachers talking amongst themselves.

“Hey man, s’up?” “How’s Tory doing?”

The voice shook me out of my semi erotic daydream. It was Mitch; a long time friend, fellow horn dog and coaching partner in crime. He was going to be the outfield and pitching coach for the new team. He also had a proven talent for finding “diamonds in the rough”. Girls who had more ability and potential than they were showing. That would be particularly helpful in this new challenge.

“Hey Mitch!” “Tory is doing great, thanks for asking. I think she has finally come to terms with her mom’s death”.

“Man that’s great.” “I know the last couple of years have been hard for you two.” “I really admire the way you two kept it together for each other.”

“Thanks Mitch, I appreciate it.” “Have you seen the tryout list yet?”

Mitch just shook his head
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“Here, check it out.” I said, passing the list to him. “Recognize any of the names?”

“Sweeeet, the twins are here.” Mitch said. “Very cool, they’re both awesome hitters.”

“Twins? Which two?” I asked, sort of stunned. “Not the two platinum blonds, they don’t look anything alike!”
“Yeah, that’s them, Ally and Aimee. They really are twins. To me they look more like cousins. Their family moved up here after hurricane Katrina; they just never went back.” Mitch had coached them as pickup players last season.

Mitch continued to talk about the Thibodeaux “twins”, but I had already undressed them mentally, comparing and contrasting the differences in their bodies. I had seen them walk by earlier and was struck by the stunning sexiness of the taller girl. Ally (short for Allyson) was the taller and the oldest, if only by a couple of minutes. She was about 5’8”, drop dead gorgeous and supermodel thin. Not in a sickly, anorexic way, but more like the body of a marathon runner or a tri-athlete. Just no body fat to speak of; smallish boobs too but under her sports bra actual size was hard to estimate. Her legs were long and sexy. Nicely muscled, tan and toned. Ally was wearing a pair of black “Sophie” shorts and a black skin tight New Orleans Saints T-shirt. Her most striking feature however was her nearly white, board straight, platinum blonde hair. She wore it in a long, thickly braided, pony tail that reached almost down to her tight, size 3 ass. It was quite possible the girl had never had her hair cut.

Her sister, on the other hand, was just another girl in the crowd. Except for her boobs. While Ally was a “34 nearly A”; I guessed Aimee to be at least a 36C. Even squished under her sports bra, Aimee had a full set of perky, bouncy tits. She also shared her sisters near white, platinum blonde hair. Although Aimee had it cut short so as not to interfere with her catcher’s mask. Standing by herself, Aimee was not unattractive. What with her full lips, big tits, her athletic, 5’6”tall frame, and her hourglass shaped size 6-8 figure. But stand her next to Ally, and it was not hard to wonder how nature could be so ironically cruel.

Mitch was still gushing about the talent of the twins when, out of nowhere, I was hit by a red headed cruise missile. It was Courtney Castineau, another escapee from south Louisiana. A catcher by training, and one of the five girls we had been working with for the last couple of months or so. She was barely 5’ tall and maybe weighed 95 pounds, dripping wet. Despite her pixie size, Courtney was an outstanding instinctive ball player, having started catching T-Ball when she was six. Now, having recently turned 16, she was by far, the best catcher I had ever worked with. There are three kinds of ball players. Those who know what’s about to happen, those who react to what just happened, and those who wonder what happened. Courtney was one from the first group. She just somehow always knew what she was going to do, and occasionally what was going to happen, before the play ever took shape. She was also a certified wild child, a chronic flirt, had an over energetic type A personality and was widely rumored to have a libido to match. All five foot nothing of her slammed into me at a near dead run.

“HI COACH MIIIIIIKE!” she cooed loudly “I MISSED YOU SOOOO MUCH THIS WEEK”. She gave me a full on frontal hug while looking up at me and batting her big bedroom eyes. She was just about the cutest red head I had ever come across. She had soft, natural, dark, orangey red hair, an angelic, roundish face with a dusting of freckles, pouty dick sucking lips and hauntingly pale grey- green eyes. She was long waisted; freakishly flexible from years of squatting to catch, and had the finest little bubble butt on the planet. Her tits stood perfectly at attention, with or without a bra, and were visually large on her small frame, about 32 C I’d guess. She was wearing tight fitting softball pants and a racer back T shirt that was just short enough to not tuck into her pants. Her hair was pulled back in a wispy pony tail.

“Hi Courtney” I wheezed, trying to re catch my breath.” “I missed you too beautiful.” I bent over and planted a quick kiss on top of her head. She stuck her bottom lip out in a faked pout and took a half step back. Her look said, “That kiss should have been on my lips…”

“Now what’s up with the lip?” I grinned, playing along. Courtney’s pout turned to a sexy evil smile, as she blew me a kiss, turned, gave Mitch a quick hug and then sprinted off to join the gathering group. “What a tease,” I thought to myself. Rumors abounded about Courtney’s sexual adventures. The over/under on the number of guys she had slept with was 20, and about half that many girls. The actual number was probably way less, but Courtney did nothing to stop the gossip. In fact, hanging out with a different guy nearly every weekend was not helping anything. I found it odd that Cindy, Courtney’s mom, seemed to deal with the rumors by ignoring them. But if even half of the rumors were true… “Damn,” I thought to myself “I bet she’d be hot fun in the shower….”

“So, what am I now? Just chopped liver to you? Cheating on me with Courtney already?” From behind me and to my left came the unmistakable voice of my sexy second base Teagan Ryan. Teagan is a Kiwi. A dusky, sultry beauty from New Zealand; just a few weeks past her 16th birthday. Her soft, breathy, alto voice, with a pronounced British-like accent, (kind of a mix of Hermione Grainger and Crocodile Dundee) made even the most mundane conversation feel like warm wet sex.

“No beautiful, you’re still my favorite” “And you always will be.”

I turned toward her and held out my arms. She stood with her hands on her hips for a couple of seconds, just staring at me; looking as sexy as any time I had ever seen her. She was wearing a white Under Armor sleeveless leotard with a high neck line, low back. She had on a pair of sophie shorts in purple, and was obviously not wearing a bra. Her mid back length, nearly jet black hair was pulled back in a low pony tail and she had on some yellow Oakley shades. I thought I could just make out her small dark nipples, barely visible through the white leotard. The effect of the white top against her flawless olive skin was stunning in the bright mid morning sun. She slowly sauntered over, pressed her body into me and wrapped me in her arms. I returned the hug and gave her a gentle kiss on the side of her cheek. She let out a soft low moan and hugged me tighter as my lips touched her.

“You OK girlie?” I asked, kind of taken back by her unexpected reaction.

“Mmmmm, I am more than OK now” she replied in that honey dripping voice. Teagan had gently slipped her left hand up under my shirt as we hugged, and as she turned away, she slowly, and deliberately, scratched her nails across my back and side. She looked directly into my eyes as she did so, searching for a reaction. I didn’t give her one, despite the fact that her sharp nails freaking hurt. We maintained unblinking eye contact for another moment or two. She smiled sweetly, turned and jogged off, knowing she had made her point.
Teagan emigrated to the US about 18 months ago, with her mom. Teagan is part Polynesian, most likely Maori, but no one knows for sure. Because of her mixed heritage, she has the dark hair, eyebrows, high cheek bones and very dark, almond shaped eyes of the Polynesian people. Her mom, on the other hand is Anglo. This racial mix gave her the best of both worlds. She is stunningly pretty and has amazingly flawless skin. She is 5’4” and about a size 3. She has a gymnastics background and is exquisitely toned; especially her legs, abs, and upper back. The line where the back of her thigh joins the curve of her ass is as perfect as I have ever seen, and her upper back is nicely “girl muscled” from years of gymnastics workouts in NZ. Teagan is as athletic as she is beautiful, with cat quick reflexes and a powerful upper body for her smallish size. She also oozes self confidence and is almost too comfortable with her sexuality. Growing up on New Zealand’s North Island, where nearly every town has a nude, or nude friendly beach, had shaped her attitudes, and destroyed any and all hang-ups she might have had about sex. She dealt with her personal sexuality very differently than your average 16 year old from the US.
This whole process of my interactions with Courtney and Teagan had taken maybe a couple of minutes total and Mitch was standing there taking it all in.

“DUDE!! What the hell was that all about?” Mitch asked in a tense voice that was low enough that no one else could hear.

“Oh nothing, that was just Courtney being Courtney” I said.

“I didn’t mean Courtney; I meant what’s up with you and Teagan?”

“Oh, that… well… actually, I don’t know. I’m not really sure what the hell just happened.” I replied, glancing at the four reddening scratches along my right side…. “She’s never acted like that before.” “I can’t tell if Teagan was just playing off what Courtney did, or if I just made up with a jealous girlfriend I didn’t even know I had.”

“Man, don’t bullshit me.” “Are you screwing her?” “Cause if you are, I need to know, so I can help cover your ass if the shit hits the fan some day.” “We already talked about this exact situation.”

“No, no, no.” “Nothing like that.” “Not that I don’t think about it, she has a banging little body.” “Hell, you saw her over at the pool party at the house a couple of weeks ago, wearing that yellow bikini. Showing off her tits and camel toe for all to see.” “Tell me you wouldn’t hit that given the chance”.

Mitch nodded in agreement and said. “OK, yeah I would, Teagan and a couple of others on this team too.” “Just remember, we swore to cover each other’s backs if either one or both of us start getting in too deep with the talent, OK?” “Oh, by the way, I was talking to Becca, Teagan’s mom the other day. You DO know that Teagan absolutely LOVES playing for you? That little beauty will do anything for you. Please tell me you are at least somewhat aware of how important this team, and you especially, are to Teagan.”

“I understand Mitch, I really do.” “I also think the same could be said about you and Sundee Marcum (aka Selene Twilight). So watch your own ball sack as well, OK? That chick and her mom are scary enough without the thought of you balls deep in Sundee’s pussy.”

Sundee was a tall, well built, outfielder. She looked like an Emo kid, but she was missing all of the loathing and self hatred. Her mom, Nikki, owned a tattoo and piercing shop, and so even at 16, Sundee had several beautifully intricate tats and a couple of nontraditional piercings. She was also the palest chick I had ever seen. For a girl that played out in the sun, she never had a tan. She almost looked like a ghost out in left field. A damn fast ghost however, and she had a powerful, accurate arm too. Since the pool party she had developed a strong attachment to Mitch, mostly, I think, because she thought his own tats were cool. Whatever the reason, she had become his shadow. Much like Teagan had become mine. Sundee was dressed in long, skin tight, softball pants and a long sleeve white cotton top about two sizes too big. You could see the straps of her lime green sports bra covering up her perfect 34 B boobs. The morning’s heat and humidity had already begun to melt her “raccoon” eye shadow; and her bra color just about matched her hair highlights. She was also wearing some orange colored Nike sports contacts. Those made her look like an extra off the set of Underworld. Sundee was just a sexy mess. Despite her outward strange appearance, she was still very pretty, in a “Suicide Girl” sort of way. There was a lot more going on with her than I had taken the time to figure out. That needed to change.

“Let’s go introduce ourselves to the parents, before we put these hotties through their paces shall we?” I suggested.
“Good idea, we need to get started here soon anyway”. And by the way, be careful with Teagan, and do your thinking with the big head OK?” Mitch replied.

“LADIES! EVERYBODY TO THE BLEACHERS!” Yelled Mitch. The whole herd of girls turned and jogged in unison over to the bleachers. Some choose to sit with their parental unit(s). Most just randomly dropped into the first open seat they came across. Sundee was the first of the existing five to make it over to the seats.
“Yo! Selene Twilight, get your coven and come up here with the coaches please.” Sundee shot me a look that said, “Kiss my ass, and don’t call me that in front of all these people”.