Johnny croaked a greeting.

"Wanna walk home with me?" she asked.

"Errr – yeah – sure," he stammered.

They moved off, side by side.

Her hip brushed against his. He gazed sideways at the thrust of her stiff-tipped tits, and she kept grinning. She had a sort of swaybacked way of walking, so that her tits thrust forward and her ass jutted out.

She turned to say something, and he never did catch the words, because the twisting motion swung her heavy tits against his arm.

So much blood rushed down into his hard prick that he damned near blacked out.

In a kind of daze, Johnny had only one wish. He hoped she wasn't just a cock-teaser.

Red Miller, the football coach, was looking out his office window and he saw Johnny and Sheena walk off together.

He had been looking before that, too. Coach Miller had also been staring up Sheena Stratton's skirt.

And he, too, had a booming hard-on. But Red Miller, who believed what he preached, had a different way of seeing things.

Dirty little tramp, he thought. The football team had not won a single game yet, and Red knew why. Sheena was responsible for his players' lack of prowess. How could a guy be expected to run and throw and catch when all of his vitality had been sapped away by self-abuse?

Miller knew it for a fact.

He felt certain that he could have been a pro football player, himself, if he hadn't jacked off so frequently in his own schooldays.

He had, single-handedly, so to say, wined his own athletic potential. He still beat off a lot, as a matter of fact.

It was a hard habit to break.

But he consoled himself now, reasoning that a coach didn't need stamina the way a player did, and could drain his balls with impunity.

He waited until Johnny and Sheena were out of sight, with mixed emotions. He glared and he grimaced. He loathed the nubile sexpot for arousing his players, yet he longed for her as much as any of them.