During the initial cross-country meet of my senior year in high school, we achieved a decisive victory. I secured first place in the three-mile race, and afterward, a stunning woman with shoulder-length wavy blonde hair approached me to offer her congratulations. She then walked away, leaving me speechless. My teammates soon gathered around, eager to know the identity of that captivating individual, but I admitted I had no clue.
She attended every meet, consistently coming over to me. By the time the state competition arrived, she had effortlessly initiated some subtle flirting, which I was more than willing to reciprocate. After finishing in second place, just five seconds behind the leader, she approached me following my cool-down.
“Congratulations on an exceptional season, Mark. You compete in the eight hundred meters during the track season, correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“If you finish first at both the indoor and outdoor conference meets and qualify for state, I will take you out for lunch.”
“I still don’t know your name,” I replied, feeling somewhat anxious for reasons I could not quite understand.
“I’ll reveal it at lunch. See you in February at the first indoor meet. Oh, and take care of those sexy legs,” she said with a smile as she walked away.
I watched her depart; even her jacket did little to hide her generous curves. Her jeans seemed painted onto her figure. She has been, and will undoubtedly continue to be, the inspiration for my most vivid dreams. However, the wait until the first track meet in February will be challenging. Fortunately, I have my studies, my role as sports editor for the school newspaper, and my involvement with the yearbook staff to keep me occupied.
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There is only one week remaining until the district track meet, which serves as a qualifier for the state competition. I secured victories in both the indoor and outdoor eight hundred meters. The pressure is mounting, as I have not qualified for the state in the past three years. The bet made by my admirer was the least of my worries. Did I mention admirer? I refer to this beautiful woman who has attended every meet and has subtly shown interest in me; I would classify her as a groupie.
With exams, the newspaper, and the yearbook off my plate, I finally had the time to focus on the task ahead. On the day of the district meet, I was completely focused on my objectives. Although my personal best was only 2:02 at the time, the coach still managed to get me in the fastest heat.
At the starting line, I found myself next to the athlete who held the fastest time of 1:56. When the starter fired the gun, we all surged forward. I did not hear any footsteps behind me, and as I neared the start/finish line, I reminded myself to remain calm upon hearing the time for the first lap. As I ran past the timers, I heard, “56 seconds.” That was my quickest split by eight seconds.
With two hundred meters remaining to the finish line, other runners began to overtake me. I needed to secure a fifth-place finish with a time of 1:59 to qualify for state. Ten yards from the finish, I was neck and neck for fifth place. I leaned forward just before crossing the finish line and collapsed to the ground, completely exhausted.
Two teammates rushed over, exclaiming that I had finished in fifth place. They assisted me to my feet, and between heavy breaths, I inquired, “What was the time?”
Jerry hurried over to the timers and waited to hear the results as the officials reported the times from their stopwatches. After about a minute, Jerry returned and announced, “You made it, Mark, with a new school record of 1:58.2.”
I finished my cool down and headed straight for the shade of the bleachers, where the team had placed their belongings. While I was drinking my bottle of Gatorade, she approached me.
“Congratulations on a spectacular year, Mark. I owe you lunch at your favorite place. Here’s my number, call me after graduation and we’ll set the date. Until then,” she glanced around and seeing there was no one nearby, she kissed my cheek. Before I could react, she was gone.
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At the state meet, I did not qualify for the finals in the eight-hundred-meter event. I clocked a 2:02, securing eighth place among sixteen competitors in my heat. After graduation, I waited for two weeks. It was during the second week of June that I contacted my mystery woman/groupie. We made plans for that Friday, and I told her it was my eighteenth birthday. She asked why I wasn’t celebrating with my parents, and I told her that they were out of town. She then provided me with directions to her residence.
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I arrived precisely at noon, parked in the driveway, and walked up to the front door. There was a note…
Mark
Go to the side gate, enter the backyard, and lock the gate.
M
I went around to the side, entered through the gate, and secured it. When I turned around, there she was, standing on the patio. Her blonde hair hung loosely on her slender shoulders. She wore a very short pink satin robe and matching stilettoes. Her deep cleavage was visible where the two nipples stared against the fabric.
“Follow me, Mark,” she said seductively as she turned and walked toward the daybed.
I followed, and as we stood by the side of the bed, her hands traced patterns through the soft denim of my jeans, her fingers deftly undoing my belt before the sharp snap of the buckle. The zipper zippppp-ed down, revealing my erection, gripping me tightly.
She lay back, pulling me along. She interlaced her ankles, her grip filled with yearning as I penetrated her completely. She let out a gentle sigh in my ear as she arched her back, embracing my entry. The aroma of Chanel No. 5, combined with the allure emanating from her skin, was captivating.
“Mark, oh my God,” she breathed out, a muffled sound laced with delight. Her fingers gripped my hair harder, pushing me further in, compelling me to come even nearer.
I rode the wave of heat surging within me, pressing into her insistently, striving to envelop every part of her. I felt her muscles tighten around me as I moved, slick and constricted, yearning for more. Her breasts pressed against my chest, warm and full beneath my quivering fingertips. I savored the sensation, her soft warmth radiating through the fabric of her robe. I traced kisses down her shoulder, sucking on the sensitive skin where it met her collarbone.
Once again, she gasped, “Oh, Mark,” her tone filled with tension and urgency.
I submitted, engaging with her with renewed passion as I poured more of myself into her. She possessed a taste that evoked cherries and a yearning as she tilted her head back, matching my every thrust with an intensity that mirrored my own.
I sensed it drawing closer at that moment – the all – consuming wave that appeared poised to overwhelm me. I propelled myself into her with greater fervor and speed, finding my place against her hips as I yielded within her, my essence warm and fluid in the muted ambiance surrounding us. She breathed my name in astonishment, her hand sliding down to press against the dampness on my thigh.
“Oh my God,” she exhaled, a tremor rippling through her body that mirrored the quakes within me. “Mark… so exquisite… so exquisite.”
We remained intertwined for an extended time, our breathing synchronized as we battled the unyielding warmth that enveloped us. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of sweat, combined with an unmistakable rawness – the aroma of our mutual surrender.
She rested her head on my shoulder, exhaling softly as her breath momentarily caught again. “Wow,” she said quietly, “that was… everything.”
I looked down at her, smiling, savoring the heat of her body pressed against mine. I yearned to appreciate every part of her – her figure, her fragrance, the subtle line of her spine beneath my hand as she nestled against my chest.
For an extended moment, we embraced, relishing the satisfaction of our shared desire, our bodies finally united as one.
“Mark, was this your first time?”
“Yes,” I answered with a bit of embarrassment.
“Happy birthday, Mark,” she said seductively, then kissed me.
“No reason to be embarrassed, you were wonderful. I’m happy that I was your first. Now let’s go shower, dress, and go for a bite to eat at your favorite restaurant.”
Walking toward the house, she said, “By the way, my name is Melissa Hawkins.”
I froze in my tracks, “Please tell me you’re not Coach Hawkins wife.” My voice sounded shaky and scared.
“Guilty as charged, you and I are going to have a wonderful summer. Don’t concern yourself with him. We have an open marriage and keep no secrets.”
She took my hand, pulled me in, and gave me a passionate kiss that had the desired effect. We never did make it to lunch and ended up ordering out.
That was the start of my summer.
I hope you enjoyed reading My Groupie. Click on the heart if you liked the story. The star if you really liked it! Please leave a comment and I will respond to all.
Regards,
Banes1
The above story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination and are used as fantasy. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright ©2026 All Rights Reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, Banes1
