Of course

The door slides open and there’s Klowee, wearing snug black workout shorts, a pair of battered up black converse sneakers, and white wraps still around her hands. She isn’t wearing a top, leaving her torso bare.

“Sorry, Coach. I came straight from a training sesh,” she says, starting to unwind her hand wraps.

“No, leave them on,” you say, looking her over. She pauses and nods, dropping her hands to her sides.

Her tanned athletic body is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and her dark hair hangs damp and slightly matted to her face and neck. Almost faded bruises pepper the front of her body, overlaid by redness across her breasts and belly from some more recent .

“So you want to cum from getting messed up,” you say flatly.

“Umm... yeah. When it happened the other day, it was fucking amazing. I’ve tried to do it again, but I can’t! I dunno. Do you think it’s possible Coach?” she asks earnestly.

“Yep,” you respond quickly and simply, “it’s happened once before, it can definitely happen again.”

“But howwww?” she asks.