The women's coach?!

The woman standing there in an auburn tracksuit was unmistakable. With her blonde ponytail threaded through the back of a baseball cap and whistle hanging from her neck in front of her meager chest, Tom realized this was the women's coach! The school had two coaches, one for the boys' teams and one for the girls' teams.

"Stand up, both of you," she commanded.

The obedience drilled into her through four years of gym glasses, Whitney scrambled upright, Tom following her and moving to stand at attention next to the shortstack. She noticed her blouse had burst, revealing her bra and deep chocolate cleavage. A deep blush spread across her face, but Whitney didn't dare cover up her prodigious bust lest she incur Coach Lash's wrath.

Tom, similarly, made no attempt to cover his naked cock, even though it was hard as a rock, visibly throbbing between his legs, and actively oozing a slow trail of precum onto the grass.

Coach Lash stared at the two, arms on her hips in a clear pose to show her dominance. She wasn't saying anything, just looking between the two and waiting to let them sweat. Her moving gaze lingered for a moment and Tom followed it down to his painfully swollen penis, dripping copious amounts of precum into a pool forming at his bare feet.

"So... Tom, why was Whitney on top of you with her shirt torn open? And Whitney, why is Tom naked, boned, and dripping out here without his clothes in sight? I'll be blunt and unprofessional here... Was this sexual ****, a dare, a lost bet, a prank gone wrong, or is it some kind of kink play?"

Tom looked down towards his feet, seeing that his penis was now harder than ever, bobbing in time with his heartbeat and running a continuous thread of clear liquid that now joined him to the growing puddle in the grass. A slight gasp caused Tom to realize that Whitney had glanced and was staring at it now, too. He squeezed the muscles behind his cock in hopes of somehow clamping down on the flow. The effect was exactly the opposite of what he'd intended. His cock swelled even more, turning an angry shade of purple, twitching upwards so violently that Coach Lash smirked and Whitney let out a quiet, sexual moan. Worst of all, a big glob of gooey liquid slid down the rope of precum, landing with a barely-audible plop into the pool in the grass.

"At least I have something to look at while I wait for you two to explain. That goes for you too, titty monster."

"Eep!"