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From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <RevCottonMather@excite.able.boy.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 02 Dec 2001 13:41:39 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} Playing the Game  2/30 (mf, rom)
Date: Sun,  2 Dec 2001 15:10:03 -0500
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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This
story is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or
downloaded for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for
anyone to download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as
long as there is no intent to charge money or barter for the
privilege of acquiring this material.

(copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@excite.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.
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PLAYING THE GAME
by Reverend Cotton Mather



- 2 -

FIRST AID


It was a couple of weeks before school was supposed to start, and my 
friends and I were not looking forward to the end of summer vacation. 
I rode my bike over to my buddy Jake Lehigh's house, hoping to scare 
up enough guys for a pickup baseball game, and knocked at the door. 
There was no answer, but as I was walking back down the sidewalk to my
bike, I heard some noise from the field behind his house. I walked 
around the side of the house, and saw Jake's little sister, Kayla,
and two of her friends playing around with a soccer ball. Kayla was
13, and was just learning how to play soccer. She had been on one of
the teams playing the previous Saturday that I had worked as a
referee, as had her two friends.

I was about to turn around and continue my search when Kayla looked 
over and saw me. She began waving and calling out to me.

"Sean! Can you help us?"

I sighed, and began walking back to the field. As I was approaching 
them, I looked again at the three girls. Kayla was about 5'4", slender
and athletic, with long blonde, almost white, hair that reached the 
middle of her back, tied back in a ponytail. She was dressed in a 
loose-fitting tank top and short shorts that looked like they were 
tight enough to inhibit her circulation. I knew her fairly well, since
she was the sister of one of my best friends, but it was like I was 
seeing her for the first time. "Damn," I thought to myself, "this 
isn't the little kid I used to see hanging around." 

With her were Jaimie, who was 14, and Jaimie's 12-year-old sister
Tara, her next door neighbors. Jaimie was shorter, barely 5 feet
tall, but she had a more grown-up shape to her. Her hips were not
boy-slim like Kayla's, and her boobs were much more pronounced. She
had dark brown slightly curly hair, cut just to her shoulders, with
thick bangs brushing her eyebrows. Tara was even shorter yet, but
much thinner than her sister. She was just developing, but hadn't
blossomed to Jaimie's proportions as yet. She had always kept her
dark hair cut very short, but was in the process of letting it grow
out, giving her a bit of a wild look. Of the two of them, Tara was
the more athletic, having played soccer since she was in kindergarten.

Kayla was trying to juggle the soccer ball, bouncing it on her knee, 
and not having much success that I could see. After it bounced away 
from her one more time, she turned to me and said, "Can you please
show me how to do this? Jaimie and I are really having a tough time 
learning this."

Tara puffed up a little and said, "Yeah, these klutzes can't do 
anything. We were trying to pass the ball to each other without 
letting it hit the ground, and Jaimie and Kayla kept on missing it."

"Well," I said to her, "You've been practicing for a lot longer than 
they have, Tara. Just because they can't pass the ball in the air 
doesn't mean they can't pass the ball on the ground, does it?"

"No, not really, I guess," she replied. "But juggling skills are still
important, according to my coaches."

"Sure," I said. "Juggling is good for your hand-eye coordination. Or 
should I say foot-eye coordination?" All three of them giggled at 
that. "But," I added, "I know lots of really good players who have a 
tough time juggling. It still comes down to different skills required 
to juggle compared to running and dribbling and shooting the ball."

At that, I lashed out with my right foot and kicked the ball out of
the air as Kayla was attempting to juggle, then trapped it and
dribbled away a few yards. Tara yelped as I kicked out, and ran
after me to try to take the ball away. I called out to Kayla to get
open, keeping my back between the ball and Tara, and whipped a pass
across the field to Kayla as she ran past a startled Jaimie. Jaimie
ran after her, and the game was on. It was 2 on 2 keep-away, a
common soccer drill among many of the coaches in our area, me and
Kayla versus Jaimie and her sister Tara.

All of a sudden, just as I was about to pass the ball off, I heard 
Kayla cry out, followed by a thud. We all stopped and looked over to 
see her rolling over onto her back, holding her leg, and grimacing in 
pain.

"What happened, Kay?" Tara cried out as she ran over to her friend.

"I don't know," she said through gritted teeth. "I think I tripped 
over a rock and pulled a muscle in my leg."

"Let me see," I said as I ran up to her. Being the oldest, and having 
taken first aid as part of my referee training, I was naturally going 
to take charge of the situation. I knelt down beside her, and asked 
her what muscle she hurt.

She hesitated, then, almost embarrassed, said, "My...thigh muscle, I 
think."

I held her leg at her knee with both hands, and tried to straighten
out her leg. She grimaced with pain, still holding on to her upper
thigh.  She could bend her leg without any discomfort in her knee,
for which we were all grateful, though we could see that she was in
some pain from her pull.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

"I don't know, but I'll try," she replied. I held out my hands for her
to grab, while Jaimie and Tara each grabbed an arm to help her to her 
feet.

"Oof!" She nearly collapsed against me when she tried to put some 
weight on her leg. I grabbed her around her waist and held her up.

"Here, Kayla, just hold onto me. I'll help you into the house," I 
told her.

"You're going to have to help me walk," she said to me as she leaned 
against me. "I hope I'm not too heavy," she added.

"A little pipsqueak like you?" I teased her. "C'mon, squirt, I've got 
you." I moved over to her bad side and grabbed her around her waist, 
then helped guide her as she hobbled toward her house. Because we had 
been running around, we were both a little sweaty, so my grip kept on 
slipping on my hand at her waist, and she would slowly slide down a 
little at a time. The first time it happened, my hand just naturally 
found a convenient spot to grip, until it suddenly occurred to me
that I was holding onto her small breast. I stopped, flustered, and 
readjusted my hold on her. My mind was aswirl with conflicting 
feelings. This was Kayla, after all, the kid sister of my pal Jake. 
What was I doing copping a feel? And by the way, why didn't I feel a 
bra on her? Uh-oh, what if she noticed? What will she say? Will she 
tell Jake what I did while she was helpless? Christ, what a dilemma. 
I wanted to help, but I didn't want to get into trouble here.

But then I felt her slip down again, and when she did, her breast
slid once again right into my palm. I stopped again, pretending I was 
getting tired, and readjusted my hold on her once more. After I did, 
I thought I heard - or felt - her giggle softly, but I could have
been mistaken.

We made our way into their family room, and I set her down on the
couch and tucked some pillows behind her so she could sit up more
comfortably. I went into the kitchen and got us both big glasses of
water.

"Where is everybody?" I asked her.

"Dad's at work, Mom and Jake went shopping for school clothes," she 
said. "Sean? Could you please massage this leg for me?" She looked 
so hurt and vulnerable, I just couldn't refuse. I knelt down by her 
and started massaging her leg just above her knee. Her shorts were
very tight, and they ended just an inch or so from the junction of her
legs.  Her skin was incredibly soft and smooth, and the big thigh
muscles under the skin were pliant.

"Ooohh, that feels good," she sighed. "Go a little higher, please?"

Her head was back against the pillow, and her eyes were closed. I 
worked my way up her leg, from her knee up to mid-thigh.

"Where does it hurt the most, Kayla?" I asked.

"Up higher. I think I might just have cramped up, though. Do me a 
favor, Sean? In the upstairs bathroom, the one off the hall, there is 
a bottle of liniment. Could you go up and get it, and rub it into my 
leg for me?"

"Sure thing," I said. I ran up the stairs to the bathroom, and 
rummaged around in the closet until I found the liniment. I also 
grabbed a couple of towels and washcloths. I soaked one washcloth in 
cold water, and carried everything downstairs.

As I came back into the room, Kayla was sitting up, taking off her 
shoes and socks. Her loose tank top gapped at her arms, and I could 
clearly see her breast and her slightly swollen nipple as she untied 
her shoe. She looked up at me and smiled, causing me to blush and 
quickly look away. She got both shoes and socks off her feet, then 
settled back, taking her hair out of her ponytail and giving her
head a small shake. I couldn't help but notice how her boobs pushed
out her top like two small volcanic cinder cones. Her nipples were
quite noticeable, accentuating the absence of her bra. The sight of
this very pretty, if young, blonde girl lying there began to have its
effect on me. I could feel the heat of my blood rushing to my
crotch, causing me to stiffen. I quickly knelt back down, dropping
my supplies on the floor beside me. I handed her the damp washcloth,
and she gratefully wiped off her face and the back of her neck.

"Okay," she said, "I'm ready for you." She smiled, pretending not to 
notice my discomfort.

I poured a small amount of liniment into my hand, and started rubbing 
it into her skin. It seemed like her shorts were pulled up even higher
than they were before. They were pulled up so tight I could almost 
detect her slit, and her entire leg, from toes to the cheeks of her 
tight butt, were bare.

She had her left leg bent at the knee, and her right leg, the hurt
one, was straight on the couch, so I could rub the liniment around
on the top, the outside, and the inside of her thigh. As I started
to massage her leg slowly, trying to push the heat from the liniment
into her muscle tissues, she spread her legs apart slightly. I
slowly worked my way up from her knee once again, moving up to about
mid-thigh, then back down again. Each time I moved up, my hands
crept higher on the top of her thigh, then I worked them around to
the sides, then down again. Once again, her head rested on the
pillows, and her eyes were closed. I glanced up at her, and her
tongue was slightly sticking out of her mouth, and there was a small
sheen of perspiration on her upper lip. I thought she might have been
breathing a little heavily, and every once in a while she let out a
big sigh, never once opening her eyes.

My eyes, however, were wide open, and probably bugging out just a 
little bit. I had never been this close to a real live girl who was 
actually letting me touch her thigh before, and even though I was
still thinking of this as a medical exercise, I was still a bit
nervous - and curious.

I massaged the oil into her skin hard, but then I couldn't resist 
lightly drawing my hand back down toward her knee, almost caressing 
her. I had never felt such smooth, supple skin before, and I couldn't 
get enough of the feel of her against my fingertips. I could feel her 
leg quiver very slightly as I did this.

She, too, apparently couldn't get enough of the feel, either, for I 
heard her whisper to me, "Higher. Higher, Sean." I looked up at her, 
but her eyes were still closed. She may not have even realized that 
she had spoken to me.

I allowed my hands to travel all the way up her leg along the long 
quadriceps muscle, activating the heat of the liniment. As I got to 
the edge of her shorts, I rubbed down along the outside of her leg
with my left hand, and along her inner thigh with my right. As I did
this, a slight moan escaped her lips, and her legs parted even more.
I stroked down her thigh to her knee, and began kneading her muscle
back up again. When I got up to her shorts this time, I again moved
my hands to the sides, but this time I could not help but lightly,
slowly, run my palm and my fingers gently down her leg. As I began
this movement, her hips lifted slightly, again seemingly
subconsciously, as if to draw even more feeling from my touch.

I was in turmoil. My dick was as hard as stone, sticking straight up 
in my shorts, and I too was sweating, and my breathing was shallow. I 
didn't dare even blink my eyes, for fear that I would break this
spell, and our session would end.

I needn't have worried. As I caressed her inner thigh from her crotch 
to her knee, she whispered a single word that held my attention and 
caused my cock to jerk: "More."

As softly and gently as I could, I slowly ran my hands back up her
leg.  This time, I continued up onto the leg of her shorts before
caressing down the sides. As I moved my hands down along the leg
band of her shorts, my left hand caressed the cheek of her ass, then
passed down off the material back onto her skin. My right hand
brushed along the edge of her pubic mound, then down between her
legs. As my fingertips passed down across her shorts over her slit,
she jerked slightly, then pushed her hips up sharply into my
fingertips, while moving her legs a little further apart. I pressed
the material of her shorts into her pussy, feeling the heat she was
generating radiating through her clothes. My right hand then slowly
descended, down onto her skin. I spread out my fingers so that I was
brushing against both legs for a brief time, then dragged my
fingertips slowly back down.

"What the hell," I thought to myself, "nothing to lose by trying 
again." So I ran my hand back up again, teasingly slow, fingertips 
softly playing along her skin. By now Kayla was breathing heavily, and
her nipples stood out sharply against the material of her top. Her 
chest was heaving, which caused me to nearly cum in my shorts without 
even touching myself. This time, when I reached the juncture of her 
legs, she reached down with both hands and pressed my fingers hard 
against her cunt through her shorts. She rubbed my hand hard up and 
down several times along her slit. I tried to use my other hand to 
reach under the leg of her shorts, but they were too tight, so I had
to content myself with moving my fingers along the leg band of the
shorts, back and forth, in time to her rubbing against her center.

Suddenly, she stopped rubbing and just pressed my fingers hard into
the center of her slit. She arched her back, and her hips bumped up 
several times. She softly cried out, eyes still closed, then collapsed
back against the couch. She still held my hand against her, but the 
insistence was gone. She softly rubbed her fingers against my wrist 
as my hand lay quietly against her cloth-covered mound. I continued 
to rub the outside of her leg with my left hand, marveling at the
soft, smooth skin.

Slowly her eyes opened as she released my wrist, and she looked shyly 
at me. She looked down, and then glanced up through her eyelashes at 
me. "Don't think badly of me," she seemed to be saying.

For my part, I was in such a painfully rigid state, I could not have 
stood if my life depended on it. I was also in a bit of a state of 
shock, realizing that this was my best friend's sister I had fooled 
around with. I was dreading seeing him next time, and I was dreading 
seeing Kayla next time, for fear of my reaction to either one of
them.  Even so, I desperately hoped that I would get another chance
to be alone with Kayla once again, despite our age difference.

Kayla sat up and threw her arms around me in a fierce hug, and
whispered in my ear, "Thank you, Sean. That's the nicest thing anybody
has ever done for me. Thank you."

Well, that sure surprised me. I figured that I was the one who should 
be doing the thanking, but who was I to not accept a little heartfelt 
gratitude? Especially when it came from a 13-year-old fox who was only
recently putty in my hands.

I hugged her back, enjoying the feel of her hard nipples and small
tits against my chest. She looked up at me then, and quickly, softly
kissed me. It was kind of a little-girl kiss, puffy lips and closed
mouth, but I didn't care. I knew that, given an opportunity, I would
teach her what a real kiss felt like.

She lay back down on the couch, turned onto her side, and watched me 
as I busied myself cleaning up with the towels and washcloths. I 
fumbled around for a few minutes, desperately waiting for my boner to 
deflate before I ran out of things to do. Finally, I felt comfortable 
enough to stand, so I gathered up the liniment and towels and stood
up to take everything back upstairs. As I was climbing the stairs, I 
heard a car in the driveway. Jake and his mom were home.

They were surprised to see me, until Kayla explained about her
accident.  Her mom was effusive in her thanks to me for helping her 
out. Jake, meanwhile, had run upstairs to change into more comfortable
clothes for baseball.

When I walked back into the family room, Kayla was watching TV while 
she was lying on the couch. I looked down at her and said, "Are you 
going to be all right, Kay?"

She looked up at me and said, "Yes, it feels pretty good now. Do you 
have to go?"

"Yes, I think I'd better. Jake will be down in a second."

She grabbed me around my leg as I was standing there, and pressed her 
cheek against my thigh. She looked shyly up at me and said, "I think 
everyone will be gone again tomorrow morning. My leg could use another
treatment, if you are willing to play doctor with me again." She 
blushed, and let go of me as we heard Jake running down the stairs.

"Okay, maybe I'll stop by tomorrow and see how you're doing," I
replied softly.

Jake ran into the room and grabbed my arm. "C'mon," he said, "let's 
find the guys and get a game in before it gets dark."

With that, he pulled me out the door and grabbed his bicycle and 
baseball glove from his garage, and we were off.


Late that night, I lay in bed thinking of Kayla. By the time my 
eyelids began to droop, I had practically worn blisters on my hand
and on my dick from visions of such a willing and lovely participant
in a young boy's inspired fantasies.



(Continued in Chapter 3)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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