Message-ID: <25062asstr$963123072@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: Mr Slot X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 X-MIME-Autoconverted: from 8bit to quoted-printable by news01.syd.optusnet.com.au id MAA06100 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id WAA30147 Subject: {ASSM} Twins 7 The Coach Strikes Back {Mr Slot} (mf fM oral drugged humour) Date: Sun, 9 Jul 2000 02:11:14 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw The following is a work of fiction consisting of adult concepts and possibly sex. Do not read if you are not legally permitted. I don't want the police on my front doorstep. You are welcome to read but please don't distribute without my permission. Feel free to make any comments to the author. Send E-Mail to dalech33@hotmail.com Twins 7 The Coach Strikes Back (mf fM oral drugged humour) ====================================================================== This is Episode 7 in the Twins saga. I'm sorry for taking so long to get this one out, but sometimes real life gets in the way. Thanks go to Ruthie, for her expert guiding hand. If I ever become a successful writer, it will be because of her. Thanks also to Rui for continually badgering me to write this story. Are you happy now Rui? And a big thanks to all the Twins fans out there who waited patiently for me to get my arse back to work. Authors Note: This part of an ongoing series. While you could read this particular episode on it's own, you would get a lot more out of it if you read the first six episodes first. ====================================================================== Into each life a little rain must fall. Sometimes things just don't go the way you would like them to. You try and you try but things just seem to go wrong, no matter what. It's an interesting little fact of life, one that Coach Baxter knew all about. It all started the other night when he was having a few quiet drinks in his favourite bar. He was minding his own business when this little blonde piece of oh-so-sweet arse slid onto the stool next to his. In a matter of minutes she was suggesting that they go back to her boyfriend's place and engage in some serious fucking. She even offered her boyfriend to him, not that he would ever fuck some guy. He was not some arse pumping fag. Nope, no way, that was not for him. But that young guy sure had a sweet arse, if you went in for that sort of thing. Which he didn't because he was definitely 100% straight, right down the line, no deviation whatsoever. The three of them had gotten into a cab and... well that's where things got a little hazy. He recalled some sort of sexual act in the back of the cab, but he couldn't remember what exactly happened. And then he must of passed out because he dreamed of getting it on with Principal Pendergrast, but that was just a dream because he didn't go in for that sort of thing. The last thing he remembered was staggering in through the front door of his home and hearing his wife yell at him for coming in late. No big deal, she often yelled at him or cried or did some other stupid female thing. It was like she was on the rag twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. But it always blew over. Well, usually. Three days later she was waving some photographs in his face and screaming about divorce. He had finally calmed her down enough to get a look at the photos. What he saw was a fake, it had to be, because he was 100% straight, right down the line, no deviation whatsoever. That couldn't possibly be him sucking cock, getting pumped in the arse, and other things too disgusting to even think about. The other man's face was covered with a leather hood, but Coach Baxter's face was easy to recognise. He tried to explain this to his wife but she wanted nothing to do with him. The next day she was out of there, packed her bags and gone to her sister's for God knows how long. And now he was sitting in his favourite bar, drinking his favourite beer, and wondering just how the hell things had gotten so fucked up. He finished his beer and put his hand in his pocket to get some change for the cigarette machine. As he was rummaging around his fingers brushed against what felt like a postcard. He pulled it out and found it was one of the fake photos, the one where he was sucking some fag's cock. He looked at it, trying to see where the cut lines were, and then he saw something in the background. A mirror. And in that mirror a reflection of the person who took the photo. About 5'8", long blonde hair, and wearing a leather bondage outfit. The girl who had met him in this very bar on the night his problems started. "Son of a bitch," he muttered. *** Tracy Murdoch was close to orgasm. She and Clifford were in bed (which seemed to happen a lot lately) and they were, to put it bluntly, going at it like rabbits. "Oh God yes, Clifford, make me cum," she groaned as she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips and dug her fingernails into his chest. "Uh," replied Clifford as he thrust into her as deeply as he could, the muscles in his upper arms and chest tightening with exertion. He was not one for conversation when he was close to orgasm. Just then the bedroom door swung open with a bang, and a 5'8" bundle of blonde haired fury named Stacy stormed into the room. "I don't fucking believe this," she yelled. "Cliffy, take your dick out of my sister and listen to me for a second." She ducked easily under the pillows and assorted stuffed animals that came flying through the air towards her, and plopped herself down on the bed. "Jeez, don't you guys do anything but screw?" "I wouldn't know," fumed her sister, "every time we try to, someone interrupts us." "That's a shame," said Stacy, flicking her long hair back over her shoulder. "You two should put a lock on the door or something." "I think it would be easier to just kill you." Tracy gently but firmly pushed Clifford off and sat up to face her sister. "Wow, look at you," marvelled Tracy, "you're all flushed. Were you about to cum or something?" "Was there something you wanted before I kill you?" "Oh stop it, you wouldn't kill me, I'm your twin sister, you love me. Now help me with this." She held out a sheet of paper to her sister so she could read it. "It's a report card," said Tracy, giving it a cursory glance. "Oh very good. I can see how you get all those A's. I, however, am failing chemistry. I don't want to fail chemistry. If I fail, Daddy will take away my new Beetle car. I love my Beetle." Stacy sat on the bed and pouted. "So what do you want me to do about it? You don't want me to take your test for you again, do you? I know we're identical twins but I don't think they'll believe you suddenly knew what you were doing in lab." Tracy recalled the one time the twins had swapped places in class. Tracy had taken a history exam for Stacy while Stacy had taken Tracy's place in physical education. Tracy had passed the exam but Stacy had done something during Phys Ed, something that had given Tracy a reputation for liking girls in more than a friendly way. Stacy was openly bisexual, while Tracy preferred men. She had slept with girls before, she even had sex with Stacy, but that was under duress. When it came down to it, Tracy couldn't pass up a good dick. But that one time when they had swapped, Stacy had been caught having sex with four girls in the middle of class. It just goes to show what will happen when the teacher turns her back for five minutes. There was no way in the wide world of sports that Tracy was going to let that happen again. "Well actually," said Stacy, wandering what Tracy was so upset about, "I was wondering if I could borrow Clifford. For tutoring purposes only." Tracy wasn't too keen on that idea. She liked Clifford more than she cared to admit, and she knew what Stacy was like around guys, especially ones who were hung like Cliff. But she couldn't show him that he meant something to her, it would give him the upper hand. So she decided to play it cool. "It's up to Clifford, not me." "Yay," responded Stacy, clapping her hands. "What about it, Cliffy? Want to help me out? I promise I'll make it worth your while." She dropped him a wink full of the promises of carnal delights. "I don't know." Clifford wasn't sure if this was such a good idea. He desperately wanted to know if Tracy loved him as much as he loved her. If he did this for Stacy, would Tracy be upset? "Are you okay with this, Tracy?" "Sure, makes no difference to me. Go ahead and tutor her," said Tracy, pretending it meant nothing to her. She knew Stacy would try to seduce him. The little cow would screw anything with a heartbeat. "Okay, I'll do it then." Clifford recoiled slightly as Stacy leapt onto him smothering his cheeks with kisses. He glanced over at Tracy to see if there was any reaction. "Well I guess you two better get on with it then," said Tracy, quietly fuming. "Good idea," agreed Stacy, taking Clifford by the hand and dragging him out of bed. "Come on, Cliffy, we have to get going. Do you still have the keys to the lab?" "Umm yes, but do you mind if I get dressed first?" Clifford was standing almost completely naked in the middle of the bedroom. "What are you talking about? You're wearing something," said Stacy, pointing at the one thing he was wearing. Clifford reached down and pulled it off. "Condoms don't count." He dropped it into a plastic bag and pulled on his clothes. After lacing up his Nikes (blatant plug because the author needs new shoes) he picked up the bag and walked out to the kitchen to put it in the rubbish bin. Stacy watched him go, then turned to her twin sister. "By the way, I have cheerleader practice now. You won't mind taking that for me, will you?" She ran from the room, one of Tracy's pillows in hot pursuit. *** Coach Baxter sat in his office at school, several items sitting on his desk in front of him. He had found out easily enough from school records who the twin girls were. He even found the name of the boyfriend. Then it was a simple matter of going through some lockers. Aside from a box-load of sexual aids (just how many dildos and vibrators do teenage girls need anyway?) he found the camera used to take the incriminating photos, an interesting leather bondage outfit, and a coke bottle of brownish liquid. The bottle had a label that read "Spanish Fly, use sparingly." Coach Baxter remembered a rumour about the kids who ran the school newspaper, about how they were drugged with something that drove them into a sexual fervour. He picked up the bottle and inspected it. Was this the stuff that caused those kids to lose all control? Was it possible that this brown liquid could cause a sexual fugue impossible to resist? A smile surfaced on his lips, a smile that quickly turned into an evil grin. *** Stacy dragged Clifford all the way from her house to the school, chattering about how good it would be to pass chemistry, and then telling her teacher, Mrs. Wigglebottom, to take her class and shove it up that cobweb-laden hole of hers. Clifford was always amused at how much energy Stacy seemed to have. She threw herself into anything she set her mind to with a determination that was astounding. He thought to himself that they wouldn't be here now if she had shown that sort of enthusiasm for her schoolwork. Come to think of it, Stacy was never keen about any sort of schoolwork. They arrived at the school lab and Clifford used his keys to let them in. He was an honour student at Piedmont High and was trusted with keys to most of the school. He walked inside and turned on the lights. As the last of the fluorescents came to life he turned to Stacy. "Okay, suppose you tell me what we're really doing here?" "Whatever do you mean, Cliffy?" asked Stacy sweetly. She opened her blue eyes wide in a mock picture of youthful innocence. "I have never seen you keen to do any sort of schoolwork, not since I first saw you in third grade." Clifford put his hands on his hips and tried to look stern. "Now tell me why you dragged me down here. Stacy placed her hands behind her back and thrust out her breasts, then casually twisted her lithe body from side to side like a little girl who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Well Cliffy, I thought you might like to have a bit of fun with me." She smiled coyly, for emphasis. "Stacy, you know I love Tracy." He started to sweat as Stacy stepped towards him and started to stroke his arm. "I mean, you're very attractive and all but..." his words were cut off as Stacy reached up and kissed him, her tongue darting between his lips before he could react. He pushed her back, breaking their kiss. "I need a coke," he said nervously, "you want one?" He eased past her and out the door into the hallway, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was outside he sighed and leaned against the wall. "Christ," he thought to himself, "that was close. Dammit, why does she have to be so sexy?" He pushed away from the wall and made his way down the hallway. There was a coke machine just around the corner and that was where he was headed. He rounded the corner to see a dark figure next to the machine. "Shit," said the figure, looking at a can of soft drink. Clifford froze in his tracks. It was Coach Baxter. If he saw Clifford here he was in the shit for sure, after what he and the Murdoch twins had done to the coach the other night. He thought that maybe the effect of the drug would mean that Coach would not remember their part in it, but he couldn't be sure. He was just about to turn around and go back to the lab when Coach Baxter spied him. "Hey, you want a coke?" The coach offered the can to him. "I just bought this damn thing, even opened it before I realised it wasn't a Dr Pepper. I'm just gonna throw it out, unless you want it." Clifford studied the coach for a few seconds, but couldn't see any recognition in Baxter's eyes. "Sure," he replied, reaching for the can. A free coke was too good to pass up, plus it helped set his mind at ease about Coach Baxter. Obviously he didn't recognise Clifford from the other night. He took the coke, thanked the coach, and made his way back to the lab. Now if only he could deal with Stacy. He took a sip of coke and opened the lab door. All but one of the lights had been turned off. The one that remained lit up one of the lab benches - and the naked blonde girl lying on it. "I've been waiting for you. It's been so long since I've had a decent fuck, Cliffy." She circled one delicate finger around a rapidly hardening nipple. "You slept with Angus just two days ago," replied Clifford. "I said a decent fuck, Cliffy. Angus lasted all of thirty seconds. Plus, he has a dick like a cocktail frank. I want something substantial, like yours." She gave him her best come hither look, but was mildly annoyed to see him just stand there and take another sip of his damn coke. "But don't you want to pass chemistry?" asked Clifford, trying his best to stall the inevitable. "I thought your father was going to take away your car if you failed." "Oh don't worry about that, Cliffy," replied Stacy as she slid sensually from the bench and padded over to him. "I'll just sleep with Mrs. Wigglebottom again. How do you think I've managed to pass for this long?" "Is there anyone on the teaching staff you haven't slept with?" inquired Clifford as he watched this beautiful young woman walk towards him. Stacy took the can from Clifford and drank deeply from it, before throwing it into the void behind her. "Does the janitor count?" she asked as she draped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, finding him responding at last. In fact he seemed to be quite eager. She found herself being lifted up off her feet and carried back to the bench. "Oh Cliffy," she cooed, "I knew you had it in you." "And pretty soon it's gonna be in you." He placed her on the bench then pulled back, just long enough to strip his clothes off. Stacy looked down at his crotch and saw he was hard. Really hard. Monstrously hard. She could see a vein pulsing along the shaft. Looking up again she saw something even harder in his eyes. "Um, Cliffy? Are you okay?" "I'm gonna fuck your brains out Stacy, gonna fuck you till you scream. Then I'm gonna fuck you some more." He moved toward her again, grabbing her by the thighs and burying himself deep into her. "Oh God Cliffy, do me," sighed Stacy. Neither of them saw the shadow under the door to the lab. It stayed for a while, until their groans of lust grew loud, and then moved away into the night. *** Tracy considered the benefits of being an only child. No more bickering, no more of her clothes mysteriously disappearing, only to reappear with strange stains on them, and no more cleaning up after her sister. She half-heartedly shook her pom-poms and wondered how many years she would get for killing Stacy. "Stacy, please try to be a little more enthusiastic," chided Ms. Spencer, the cheerleader coach. "Maybe you could think of something that excites you." "Maybe you could kiss my arse," muttered Tracy under her breath. "What was that, dear?" "I said I don't feel well. I think I'll go home." Tracy grabbed her pom-poms and headed for the locker rooms to change. As she walked across the field some football players who were training whistled after her. Stacy might have liked that sort of attention but Tracy couldn't stand it. She gave them death stares as she passed. "Damn Neanderthals," she thought to herself, "they've got nothing on Clifford." And then it hit her. She was falling in love with Clifford. "Shit," she muttered, "I can't be falling in love with him. I'm too young to tie myself down to one guy. I need to get laid by someone else." She thought about the last time she had sex with a guy who wasn't Clifford, and shocked herself by realising she couldn't remember how long it had been. "My God, I haven't slept with another guy since I met Clifford." She was still mulling this development over in her mind when she finally entered the locker rooms. She failed to see the dark shadow in the corner as she stripped off her top and skirt. As she removed her sports bra the shadow moved into the light behind her. "Hello, bitch." Tracy spun around to see Coach Baxter standing before her. Her hands instinctively flew up to her breasts, hiding them from his gaze. "What do you want?" she asked. "Payback. You and your slut sister fucked up my marriage. I've already fixed her, now it's your turn." He moved closer, letting his eyes wander over her fit young body. "What did you do to her?" asked Tracy. Short of killing her she couldn't imagine the coach doing anything to Stacy that she wouldn't take as a challenge. "I gave her and her dipshit boyfriend a nice healthy dose of that Spanish Fly of yours. They should be fucking each other to death right now." He gave her the most evil smile he could muster. Tracy's first thought was that Coach Baxter had mistaken her for Stacy. Her second thought was that Stacy had kept some of that damn Spanish Fly, even though she had specifically told her to get rid of it. The third was that Stacy was right at this minute screwing Clifford. She felt pain, but swallowed it as best she could. "So what do you plan to do to me?" "I plan to fuck you, bitch." "Okay." "What? Didn't you hear me? I said I was going to fuck you. Rape you in fact." Coach tried his best to look menacing. "I heard you. But it won't be rape because I want you to fuck me." Tracy dropped her hands to her sides, exposing the supple white flesh of her breasts. "Um, wait a minute. You're supposed to be scared." Coach Baxter was getting more confused by the minute. This was not the way things were supposed to go. "Come on Coach, get that big dick of yours out. I want it, right here, right now." Tracy reached down and started to unbuckle the coach's pants. *** Clifford pushed himself into Stacy, holding her by the hips as he took her from behind. They were both standing, with Stacy leaning forward against the lab bench. They had been fucking for an hour now and hadn't slowed down for a second. Every time Clifford came they took it as an opportunity to change positions. Stacy looked back over her shoulder. "Fuck me, Cliffy, fuck me hard," she urged. "I am, Stacy, I am," replied Clifford. He was getting tired from all the thrusting and pumping he had been doing. "Well do it faster, Cliffy," retorted Stacy, "I want to be fucked faster." "All right, all right, quit nagging me will you?" "And harder too. Slam your big, hard cock into my pussy as hard as you can." "For Christ's sake, will you shut up? I'm fucking you as hard and as fast as I can." Clifford kept up his pace, even though every muscle in his body was crying out for him to stop. "And deeper too, fuck me as deep as..." Her words were cut off as Clifford spun her around and pushed her down on her knees. She found his cock in front of her face and instantly swallowed it, sucking it into her mouth as far as she could. "Ah, that's better," sighed Clifford, "peace and quiet at last." He rested his hand on her head, feeling her long silky hair between his fingers. "Oh God, Tracy, you are so good at giving head." "Mmmf," replied the girl kneeling before him. "What was that?" he asked. Stacy took his cock out of her mouth. "I said Stacy, my name is Stacy. Tracy's sister, remember?" She went back to blowing him. "Oh yeah, that's right, Stacy. I'm screwing Stacy, not Tracy. I love Tracy but I'm screwing Stacy. Why am I screwing Stacy?" Clifford's head spun in confusion. "Mmmf mmm mmmf." "What?" Once again Stacy took his cock out of her mouth long enough to say, "I don't know, you just are." "Yes, but why am I screwing you? We don't do this anymore. I'm in love with Tracy." Stacy looked up at him. "You don't love me?" "It's not the same as with Tracy, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Now keep sucking." He gently guided Stacy's head back to work. But his mind felt fuzzy. He was doing something that he wouldn't normally do. Something sexual, with someone other than Tracy. It was the wrong thing to do, but he couldn't help himself. Then it hit him. "Holy shit!" he yelled. He pulled away from Stacy, letting her fall forward as she tried to go with him. "Hey! What are you doing?" protested Stacy from the floor. "I thought we were fucking." "I think we've been drugged," replied Clifford as he searched for the discarded Coke can. He spied it resting in a corner and scooped it up. Bringing it up to his nose he sniffed and detected a faint odour. The smell of Spanish Fly. "Damn," he muttered under his breath, "why didn't I smell it before we drank from it?" He felt hands around his waist and his body responded. He turned into the arms of Stacy and kissed her, his body reacting to the drug. "Wait," he protested, breaking away from her, "we can't give in. We have to take the antidote, otherwise the drug will drive us insane." "You have an antidote?" asked Stacy, just before licking his chest. "Mmm, yes. Oh, Stacy, that feels so good." Clifford shook his head, trying to clear the fogginess the drug was causing. "I have some here. It's in the cupboard where we keep the chemicals." "We better take some then," said Stacy as she ran her hand down Clifford's stomach before twining his pubic hair between her fingers. "Yes," sighed Clifford, "we better." "When?" asked Stacy, looking up into his eyes. "After," he replied and took her again. *** Things were not going too well for Coach Baxter. He had fully intended to denigrate this girl, make her do all sorts of disgusting, debasing things. But she beat him to it. Tracy had started by tearing his clothes off and pushing him down onto the floor. He had protested, but to no avail. In the blink of an eye she pounced on his dick, devouring it like a wild animal. Coach Baxter might not have been too keen, but his body was all for it. His cock was almost instantly rock hard and the young blonde was slurping on it like a young boy attacking a lollipop. "Hang on a second here, I'm in control, young lady." He tried to lift her head but his arms felt too weak, or maybe his body wasn't ready to give up what it had just yet. He lay back and moaned slightly. Tracy looked up at him, and smiled around his dick. She let him go and climbed on top, slowly easing herself down on him, shivering as she felt him enter her. Tracy leaned forward and started to rock her hips slowly back and forth. She looked down at the coach and noticed he was lying on something familiar. "Is that Sta... my leather bondage outfit you're lying on, Coach?" She leaned forward, running her hands over his hairy chest. "Umm, yes, I think it is." "Where did you get it from? I was looking for it the other day." "It was in your locker, along with twelve dildos, twenty-three vibrators, and an Antonio Banderas inflatable love doll," sighed Coach Baxter. He had decided to enjoy the ride, for now. "God, that Stacy is such a slut," muttered Tracy. "What was that?" asked Coach Baxter. "I said you make me want to be a total slut, you stud you." Tracy quickened her pace a little, feeling the coach's dick start to work on her body. She lay down on his torso and ran her hands up his arms to his wrists. "Oh Coach, your cock feels so good in my little pussy. Mmm, I'm cumming Coach, I'm cumming." She sat up quickly, her long hair arcing through the air like a blonde wave. She rammed her body down on top of Coach as she climaxed, her cries echoing off the steel lockers that surrounded them. At last her orgasm subsided and she looked down at the man beneath her. "That was great, Coach. Not as good as Clifford, but pretty good nonetheless." Coach Baxter tried to reach up and feel her body with his hands but he couldn't. Something was holding him back. He looked up at his hands and found they were tied to one of the benches behind him. Tracy had used the leather straps from the bondage outfit to tie his wrists to the legs of the bench, which was in turn bolted to the concrete floor. He struggled against the bonds, but found they were too strong for him. "Hey," he said. "What do you think you're doing? Let me up this instant, you little bitch." He was furious at the girl who was still mounted on top of him. "Tsk, tsk. Such nasty language. Is that any way to talk to someone who has your career in her hands? It would be terrible if copies of certain photos were leaked to the local press, especially if the person identified in those pictures was found engaging in some sort of twisted bondage stuff in the student locker room. That sort of thing could ruin a life you know." Tracy started to rock her hips again. The power she had over Coach Baxter was intoxicating, and it was making her very horny. She almost didn't hear the door behind her open. "See, Cliffy? I told you she would be okay." Stacy moved into view, dragging a shocked Clifford with her. "Are you okay, Tracy?" he asked, looking down at the couple on the floor. "Did he drug you too?" "No, Clifford, I'm fine," replied Tracy as she continued to fuck Coach. "But I thought Coach had drugged you two." "He had," replied Stacy, "but Cliffy had an antidote, so we're okay now." "I see," said Tracy. "Why don't you two go home, I'll be along when I'm finished here." "B-B-But..." stammered Clifford. "Go home, Clifford, I'll be okay." "That's right, boy, why don't you go home and let us adults get down to business," said Coach Baxter, never one to miss an opportunity to belittle someone. "Come on, Cliffy," said Stacy, grabbing him by the arm, " Tracy has everything under control here, let's go home." She slowly dragged him out the door. Tracy could see that Clifford felt hurt to see her with Coach, but she would make up for it when she got home. Right now she had other things to worry about. She turned back to the figure beneath her. "Okay Coach, I know you wouldn't just want to fuck me, you would have something else a lot more degrading than that to do to me. Fess up Coach, tell me what you had planned." She was met by a stony silence from below. "Okay, I guess I better get going if I want to phone the newspaper before they close." She started to get up. "No wait, don't call them. Let's talk about this," pleaded the coach. "Tell me what you had planned and I'll think about it." Tracy enjoyed having the upper hand. "Did you intend drugging me too?" "No, the football team. I put the drug in their water bottles. I was going to tie you up and leave you here for them when they finished their training," gloated Baxter. It was a good plan, if it had worked. "I don't know if you've noticed coach, but this is the girls locker room. How were you going to get the boys in here?" "I put a notice on the door to the boys locker rooms, saying they were closed for renovations, and to use the girls locker room for now." "Oh dear. So they were going to come in here, all horny from the Spanish Fly, only to find me, trussed up and naked? Were you going to do that to little old me? That's terrible." She shook her finger at him in mock seriousness. "Okay, I told you. Can I get up now?" "Umm," said Tracy pretending to think about it. "Nope." She got up and started to get dressed. "Hey, what are you doing?" Coach Baxter was beginning to panic. "They'll be here in a minute." "Yes they will," agreed Tracy, "but instead of finding me all trussed up like a Christmas turkey, they'll find you." She finished dressing and stuffed her uniform into a gym bag. Throwing the bag over her shoulder she walked towards the door, then stopped and turned back. "Oh, and by the way. When that drug takes affect, you don't care who you're doing it with. Girls, guys, it makes no difference. Goodbye Coach. Don't ever fuck with us again." She slipped out the back door just as the sounds of the football team entering the change rooms reached Coach Baxter's ears. *** Tracy walked into her bedroom and threw her gym bag on the bed. She expected to see Clifford waiting there for her, but instead there was only her sister, Stacy. "So how did it go Tracy?" asked Stacy, "Did you get the coach to give you a good seeing to?" "I wasn't there to enjoy myself you know. He tried to screw us, but I screwed him instead. Right about now he should be enjoying the company of the school football team." She dropped a sly wink at Stacy. "Well from our position, it looked like you were having a bit of fun with the coach. Have you decided to ditch Cliffy?" Stacy was genuinely interested in what Tracy had to say, not because she wanted Cliffy for herself, but because she was sure there was something growing between him and her sister. "I thought about it," admitted Tracy. "Did you know that Clifford was the only guy I had slept with in ages? Before Coach that it is." "Yes, I noticed that. To be honest I thought that maybe you had feelings for Cliffy. But after watching you go at it with Coach Baxter, I guess I was wrong." "No, you're not wrong. I enjoyed doing Coach, but I realised that the one I really want is Clifford." She looked around. "Where is he anyway?" "Um, well that's just it you see. When you told him to go home, he thought you meant that it was over between you two." Stacy dropped her eyes to the floor. "I think you may have broken his heart." "What? No, that's not how it is. I didn't mean for him to leave, just to come here and wait for me. I had to find out what Coach was up to, and I couldn't do that with Clifford there." She looked worried to Stacy, almost scared. "I'm gonna call him at home, tell him what I really meant and not to be silly." Tracy reached for the phone, but her sister stopped her. "He didn't go home Tracy." "Where did he go?" "You remember Janet? The girl who tried to steal Cliffy at the party? The girl we drugged and fixed up with Free Willy?" "You don't mean..." "Yup, Cliffy went to Janet's." *** The End, for now. ====================================================================== Oh no. Clifford has run off to the waiting arms of Janet, the girl the Twins fixed up with Willy in Twins 3, The Party. Is this the end for Tracy and Clifford? If it were, then there wouldn't be a Twins 8. Well there would, but it wouldn't be called "Twins 8, The Quest for Clifford", coming soon to a news server near you. ====================================================================== Stories now available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_slot/ Web site at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_slot/www It's always funny till someone gets hurt... and then it's absolutely friggin hysterical --- Running with scissors. -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+