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The coach on the busthis story is part of the FanClub (fm:masturbation, 4262 words)
Author: The Tall Man Picture in profileAdded: Aug 10 2013Views/Reads: 4439/3530 [80%]Story vote: 9.03 (30 votes)
Surprises on the bus for some members of the athletics team when one of the coaches gets left behind - and his wife doesn't realise.
 


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THE COACH ON THE BUS 

by The Tall Man 

It all began with what seemed like a harmless jerk off competition
between the lads, a spontaneous lark to relieve (ha ha) the boredom on 
the journey home to Newcastle after this year's 18 to 21 age group 
inter-counties athletics championship at Crystal Palace, London; it was 
June and pretty hot weather, for a change. 

What we didn't know immediately was that the athletics coach, Peter, had
been left behind; nobody noticed, not even his wife Carol until we had 
been rolling for almost an hour. By then we were just onto the M1 
motorway going north after our team bus had weaved its way across 
London through very difficult traffic congestion. Carol had got a call 
on her mobile phone from Peter and as she talked, she began looking 
around her, as though she could hardly believe he wasn't on the bus 
with us. We heard later from those sitting near Carol that Peter was 
hopping mad; but he finally told her not to have the driver worry about 
turning back at that late stage. He had been running around in ever 
decreasing circles (ageing 400 metres runner that he was), and had been 
fortunate enough to find another team bus in the car park of Crystal 
Palace which was also travelling roughly north but not to Newcastle; 
knowing at some point he would have to change modes of transport, he 
took the only available solution right then to being stranded a long 
way from home. He was mad, but thinking straight, so we were instructed 
to continue our trajectory. Poor Peter. Lucky us, as it turned out. 

Carol looked vaguely upset and wide-eyed guilty at first - I suppose for
not noticing that her husband of the last seven years was not visible. 
But shortly afterwards a distracted smile came back to her pretty face 
and she started to busy herself with her usual homeward bound, on-board 
club duties. This was a part we all loved. Everything about Carol, we 
loved. 

All of us - or most of us who stayed awake, anyway - had been ogling
Carol at every chance on the way down to the track and field meeting 
very early that morning. For the next couple of hours, Carol would be 
again the centre of male club athletes' attraction, as she always had 
been for as long as I remember; on the track, in the clubhouse, 

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