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One afternoon, following a particularly hard practice session the coach stopped me as I left the locker room. Rae tugged at my belt, making short work of the simple buckle, then popped the snap and slid the zipper down. “Wow, you got a hair trigger, don’t you?” she exclaimed with mock seriousness. By the end of the season, I was a starter on the Jr. When it was all the way down, she gently pressed me back. When she didn’t resist, I began to slide my hands up until I was groping her tits. I just assumed it was a hole, kind of like my ass hole, but here were all kinds of things that I had never imagined.
