Chapter 2: The Riverside Bus
The chartered bus growled to life, a diesel vibration rising through the floorboards. Sunlight sliced through the tinted windows, striping the worn vinyl seats. The air was close, thick with the smells of sunscreen, sweat, and the sharp, expensive cologne that clung to Coach Darren’s polo shirt.
He settled into the very back row, a king on his throne, and patted his thigh. “Alexa. Pre-tournament focus. You know the drill.”
“Sure, Coach!” Alexa chirped, her smile effortless. She dropped her racket bag and skipped down the aisle past the rows of her teammates. Their eyes tracked her—Ben’s jaw tight, Mark’s gaze lowered but darting up, Ethan’s stern face unreadable behind his glasses, Jordan’s simmering stare, Mikey’s look of guilty awe. The short white skirt flared with each step, giving fleeting glimpses of the shadow between her toned thighs.
She climbed into the back row, turning to face the front of the bus, and straddled Darren’s lap. Her skirt rode up, bunching around her waist, exposing the full, pale curves of her ass to the team. No one pretended to look away.
Darren’s hands went to her hips, his grip possessive. He didn’t bother unzipping his trousers himself; he just looked at her. Alexa understood. Her fingers worked his belt, then his zipper, freeing his thick, already-hard cock. She lifted herself slightly, guiding him to her entrance.
As the bus pulled out of the lot, merging into traffic, she sank down onto him.
A wet, gasping sigh escaped her lips as he filled her, a slow, inch-by-stretching-inch descent that made her eyelids flutter. He was so big, stretching her perfect, tight pussy to a breathtaking fullness. She bottomed out, his pelvis grinding against her ass.
“Fuck,” Darren breathed, his head lolling back against the seat. His hands kneaded her bare flesh, fingers digging in. “Always so fucking good. Like a glove.”
The bus hit a bump. The motion forced her to rise and sink again, a deeper, more sudden slide. She moaned, loud and unconcerned. Her hands braced on his shoulders.
“That’s it. Get a rhythm. Use the motion of the vehicle,” he instructed, his voice a low rumble only she could hear. But everyone could see. Everyone could hear the wet, sticky sounds each movement produced.
Alexa began to move, rising until just the head of him remained inside her, then sinking back down, taking him all. Her breasts bounced heavily under the flimsy white top, nipples visibly hard against the fabric. She bit her lip, pleasure radiating through her in warm, liquid waves.
Ben, three rows up, clenched his fist around the seatback in front of him, his knuckles white. He could see everything—the slick slide of Darren’s cock glistening each time she rose, the way her body clenched around him. He’d had her just two days ago, against the chain-link fence behind the courts. It had been rough, quick, a stress-relief session before his singles match. Now, watching the coach possess her so casually, so completely, a hot coal of jealousy burned in his gut.
Mark stared out the window, but his reflection in the glass was fixed on the scene behind him. He remembered the first time, in the equipment shed after practice. He’d been so nervous, fumbling. She’d guided him, smiled, told him it was okay. He’d been gentle. He always tried to be gentle. This looked nothing like gentle. This was a public claiming.
Ethan, the captain, adjusted his glasses, his expression icy. He didn’t enjoy the show. He monitored it. He saw the tension in Ben’s shoulders, the blankness on Jordan’s face, the way Mikey kept shifting in his seat. This was a team-management issue. Darren was destabilizing the unit with his blatant favoritism. But Ethan also remembered the feel of Alexa’s mouth, that incredible, deep, accepting heat, her lack of a gag reflex allowing her to take him to the root until he saw stars. He swallowed, pushing the memory down. It was a complicating factor.
“You’re all so quiet!” Alexa suddenly called out, her voice breathless but cheerful, bouncing in rhythm with the bus and the fucking. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder at the rows of boys. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. “Excited for Riverside?”
A stunned silence followed, broken only by the engine’s drone and the wet slap of skin.
“Yeah, Alexa,” Mikey finally croaked, his voice strangled.
“Good!” She turned back, leaning into Darren, her back arching. His hands slid around to cup her breasts, squeezing them roughly through the fabric. “Coach says… ah… my hip flexibility is… oh god… much better.”
Darren grunted, his thrusts becoming harder, more upwards, jolting her body. “Gonna come in this perfect cunt,” he muttered into her hair, his voice gritty. “Gonna seed you right here. Let them all see what you are.”
His pace lost all coaching pretense. It was just raw, grunting sex. He hammered up into her, the back of the seat slamming against the bus wall with each drive. Alexa cried out, a series of sharp, pleasured yelps, her fingers tangling in his hair. She was close, her inner muscles fluttering wildly around his shaft.
“Now,” he commanded.
With a final, brutal upward slam, he held her down, shuddering. She felt the hot, pulsing rush deep inside her and it tipped her over the edge, her own climax rolling through her in silent, convulsing waves. She collapsed against his chest, panting.
For a full minute, the only sound was their labored breathing. Slowly, he softened inside her. She didn’t move. A trickle of their combined release seeped out, staining the inside of her thigh.
Darren gave her ass a firm, dismissive slap. “Good focus session. Back to your seat.”
“Okay!” She smiled, lifting herself off him with a soft, wet sound. She pulled her skirt down, not bothering to clean up, and gracefully made her way back up the aisle. The scent of sex followed her. She dropped into an empty seat next to Mark, leaning her head against the window with a contented sigh. “I’m kinda tired.”
Mark didn’t look at her. He just nodded, his throat tight.
The rest of the two-hour drive passed in a heavy, charged quiet. The tournament hotel was a bland, sprawling conference center near the courts. Darren barked instructions as they disembarked, handing out key cards. “Doubles partners, you’re together. Ethan, you’re solo. Alexa,” he said, pocketing the last two cards. “You’re with me. We’ll review game tape tonight.”
No one reacted. They’d expected it.
The team dispersed to their rooms. Ben watched Darren’s hand rest on the small of Alexa’s back, guiding her toward the elevator, and something in him snapped.
Later, after a tense team dinner in the hotel restaurant where Alexa chatted brightly about her draw and ate two desserts, the boys congregated in Ben and Jordan’s room. The air was stale with the smell of fast food and frustration.
“He’s going to fuck her all night,” Ben said, pacing. “He’s going to ruin her for tomorrow. She’s playing the fourth seed at nine a.m.”
“She’s always fine,” Mark said quietly, sitting on the edge of a bed. “She played a perfect match after you had her against the fence, Ben.”
“This is different,” Ben shot back. “This is ownership. Did you see him on the bus? He’s marking his territory. In front of all of us.”
Ethan, leaning against the dresser, cleared his throat. “Our job is to win matches. Her personal… regimen… is not our concern.”
“Bullshit,” Jordan spoke for the first time, his voice cold. He’d been silent since the locker room incident. “It’s everyone’s concern. He’s the coach. It’s abuse.”
The word hung in the air, ugly and foreign.
“She doesn’t see it that way,” Mikey whispered.
“She’s too fucking stupid to see it!” Jordan snapped, standing up. “She thinks we’re all just good friends helping each other out. Darren’s turned her into a team toy, and we’ve all gone along with it. Even you, Captain.” He levelled his gaze at Ethan.
Ethan didn’t flinch. “What do you propose, Jordan? We report him? Who do you think they’ll believe? A bunch of jealous college boys, or a decorated coach with a star athlete who will swear it’s all part of her training? We’ll get kicked off the team. She’ll get pulled. Everything ends.”
“So we do nothing?” Ben asked, his voice dangerous.
“We play tennis,” Ethan said, pushing his glasses up. “And we keep our mouths shut.”
Down the hall, in the coach’s suite, the game tape was playing on the muted television. Alexa was on her hands and knees on the king-sized bed, Darren behind her. The previous chapter was still wet inside her, providing a slick, easy passage as he pushed into her ass.
“Deep stretch, Alexa,” he grunted, his hands tight on her hips. “Open up for me.”
She buried her face in a pillow, muffling her moans as he fucked her ass with slow, penetrating thrusts. It was intense, a burning, full feeling she’d grown to crave. “Yes, Coach.”
He switched on the television’s sound, the commentary from an old Wimbledon match filling the room. “Listen to the strategy,” he commanded, picking up his pace. The slaps of his flesh against hers punctuated the commentator’s dull analysis.
He used her for a long time, switching holes, making her suck him hard again, bending her over the desk. He didn’t kiss her. He just took, and she gave, willingly, happily. To her, this was the sound of preparation. The smell of his cologne and their sweat was the smell of dedication.
When he finally finished, coming across her back with a groan, he tossed her a towel. “Shower. Big day tomorrow.”
She cleaned up and crawled into the other side of the bed, asleep in minutes, a smile on her face. She felt prepared. Cared for.
Darren lit a cigarette by the open window, looking down at the hotel pool, glimmering in the dark. His phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from his wife: Hope the team arrived safe. Call me tomorrow.
He deleted it without replying. He took a long drag, watching the ember glow. He had a champion in the making, a beautiful, pliable girl who belonged to him utterly. The perfect system. The thought of the boys’ seething jealousy downstairs only made it sweeter. They wanted what he had. They’d never even come close.
He stubbed out the cigarette and slid into bed, his hand resting on the curve of Alexa’s bare hip. She murmured in her sleep and snuggled back against him. He closed his eyes. The team’s silence was his victory.