Mr. Simmons, a gym teacher/basketball coach

Mr. Harold Simmons was the gym teacher and the boys’ basketball coach. He was in his late thirties and still in fairly decent shape. He ran daily after school, either around the track on nice days or around the gym when the weather was poor. He was married, but he divorced his wife when he found her cheating on him. That occurred a few years ago and they didn't have any kids so the memory was faded. He had tried dating, but eventually gave that up. The pool to choose from in such a small town was dismal at best. Anyone his age in town had a few kids already and was divorced. So he mostly focused on being the best basketball coach possible. Molding the players into the best they can be. Being the gym teacher helped. That meant he could look for potentials in class and have them try out for the team when the season came around. It also meant that he had extra time with his players so during the season they could get in two practices a day.

Simmons' office was in the boys locker room. It had a small window to the outside of the building and a door. Inside the office he had a desk, a few chairs, and a filing cabinet. He didn't need anything else. there was a white board on the wall to write up plays.

Simmons wasn't in his office right now. Right now, he had class. His class was supposed to be using the gym to play volleyball, but the net had been taken down and the bleachers pulled out for the assembly.

It was that stupid senior auction to raise money for prom, thought Simmons as he stood outside leaning against the wall of the building in the shade. Instead of using the gym, his class was running laps around the parking lot. He was timing them for a mile. He had figured that 20 laps around the parking lot equaled just over a mile.

"Stevens! Holt!" yelled Simmons at two male freshman as he placed a check beside their name to count their laps. "Come on! Pick up the pace!"

The two boys gave an attempt at speeding up, but slowed again after about a hundred feet. A group of three senior girls, Alice Higgins, Jena Paulin, and Amanda Carlisle, came past next. These three were trouble. They barely listened and when they did. They rarely cared what was being said. They were at a slow trot, barely more than a walk. He made a check beside each name.

"If you hurry, you might finish this mile before the assembly is over," called Simmons to them. These girls didn't care at all about gym. They just needed the credit to graduate. The girls ignored him and kept trotting at a pace that would rival a turtle's. Simmons, however, had to do a double take. Not a single one of them was wearing a bra. Their hard nipples were pressed against their tight t-shirts. Their breasts bounced freely with each step as they ran past. Alice had the largest breasts with what appeared to be C-cups. Jena and Amanda were definitely B's. As they ran by he caught himself looking at their asses. Each one was still young enough to have a shapely youthful ass. Simmons felt a stirring in his own shorts. His dick began to grow stiff.

"Jesus," muttered Simmons to himself and had to readjust his lean. He shook his head to get rid of those thoughts.

The next one coming through was another senior, Lacey Snider. Lacey was a true athlete. She played every sport the school offered to girls. She was running at almost a sprint. According to the checks she had lapped everyone else at least four times and only had two more laps to go.

"Looking good Lacey! Keep it up! Two more to go!" called Simmons. Lacey was looking good. She wore tight shorts and a tighter shirt if possible. Her lean muscle shown through the fabric. She had a dark tan. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Sweat dripped from her. She was coated in it. She was wearing a sports bra like an athlete should, thought Simmons. But she didn't need it. She was caught somewhere between an A-cup and a B-cup. Her constant exercising kept unwanted fat off her tight body. A side effect was a small butt and small breasts.

Simmons watched for too long as she ran by and felt that stirring in his pants again. He needed to get that shit under control, he thought.

"Alright, enough of that," said Simmons again to himself and studied the clipboard. Other students ran by and he placed ticks by the appropriate names. When the girls ran by, he made sure not to look at them. Only recognize who they were so he could mark their progress.

Lacey finished her mile first.

"Good job," said Simmons marking down her time. "Go get cleaned up. Class is almost over."

"Thanks, coach," said Lacey between breaths. She went inside the building and to the locker room.

"We got about 5 minutes left," yelled Simmons to the remaining students. He knew most weren't going to finish, but he couldn't do anything about that. The ones that did finish, he marked their time and sent them inside.

Soon the time was up and he blew his whistle. He said the rest of the class into the locker rooms and he sat on the bleachers waiting. Images of the girls running went through his mind. He knew those three did it on purpose just to mess with him. But damn, Lacey was in shape. She was already dressed and just sitting on the bleachers waiting too.