index


Message-ID: <38897asstr$1035353404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} NEW Playing the Game II: Playing to Win Ch. 7 (mf rom)
Date: Wed, 23 Oct 2002 02:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


And the story continues.  Many thanks to The Purvv for his proofreading 
expertise.  Any mistakes you might find are mine, probably because I ignored 
his advice.

Enjoy.






---------------------------------------------------------------------

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 2002, Rev. Cotton Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@hotmail.com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.
---------------------------------------------------------------------



PLAYING TO WIN:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK II


by Reverend Cotton Mather




- 7 -

FIREFLOWERS AND SCREAMERS



Every year, the town we live in throws a big party for the 4th of
July.  When the holiday falls on a weekend, like it did in 1981, the
community puts together enough events to fill the entire weekend.  A
traveling amusement park sets up, the firehouses have water hose
fights, there is live music and a food fest, and, of course,
fireworks.  Almost everybody in town attends something in the park by
the lake over the weekend, and the place is always packed for the
fireworks.

That year, walking around the park, I could see that all the little
kids were being carted around by their parents, riding the merry-go-
round and the kiddie cars, watching the magicians and the clowns, and
eating gallons of ice cream.  The teenagers tended to clump together
at the faster rides, sometimes hanging around the beer tent, hoping
for a chance to sneak inside.

On Friday, Jake and I were supposed to meet a bunch of our friends
at the carnival.  Jake's parents had been kind of lulled into
thinking that Jake and Jaimie were no longer meeting up, even though,
as determined and sneaky kids will tend to do, they had managed to
get together occasionally over the past several months.  Jaimie was
going to the carnival with Kayla and a bunch of their friends, too,
so I fully expected to see her there, looking for Jake.  It was a hot
day, and the principal of our school, Dr. Osgood, was going to be
sitting in the dunk tank, part of a fundraiser for the foundation
that Skip Horvath's family had set up in his memory.  So, of course,
about half the school was there, taking a turn at trying to dunk Dr.
Osgood, at a dollar a throw.

We got bored watching, and the line was way too long for a chance at
the booth, so we all just started hitting the other rides.  Jake,
Jaimie, Josh, Andrea, Becky Steinman, and I kind of stayed together
as a group.  Others joined us for a ride or two, then split off;
sometimes, there were as many as 15 friends of ours in line,
particularly for the Gravity Drop.  This was a ride where everybody
stood up inside a big cylinder.  Once the ride was full, the cylinder
started spinning you around, acting like a centrifuge, until you were
pinned to the metal wall.  At that point, the floor dropped out, and
you were literally stuck to the wall.  It was a fun ride, especially
when I got to be opposite a cute girl, because their tops would be
plastered to their bodies, and sometimes would even creep up,
revealing a wonderful width of bare skin at their stomachs.  One
lucky time, a girl's t-shirt literally flew up into her face, showing
her pink bra to everyone on the ride.  It was half the thrill of the
ride, wondering what would be revealed, each time you rode on it.

Just before dark, we headed toward the food concession stands, and
pigged out on corn on the cob dipped in a big vat of melted butter,
and hot dogs, and cheeseburgers, and pizza, and french fries, and
onion rings, and sodas, and ice cream bars for dessert.  We all
moaned and groaned, too full to move from the picnic tables we had
commandeered for our feast.  Finally, we tired of doing nothing, so
we wandered off again, in search of more carnie thrills.

One time, we were waiting for the Ferris Wheel, and Jorge and
Kristina came over by us.  They were taking their four younger
brothers and sisters around the carnival, so they all got in line
with us.  Since the Ferris Wheel could sit two adults and one child,
Kristina divvied up her younger siblings among us, so all of them
would be accompanied by someone they knew.  As we were getting ready
to board the ride, Jorge suddenly stepped aside, effectively
positioning me in line to get in the seat with Kristina and her
younger sister, Lina.  I was a little embarrassed by Jorge's
maneuvering, and Kristina looked a little uncomfortable, but she
accepted graciously when I gestured for her to get on ahead of me.
We sat down, Lina between us, our hands in our laps, as the wheel
lurched and moved so that the next seat could be loaded.

By the time we had stuttered our way to the top of the Ferris Wheel,
Lina had broken the ice for us.  She was so excited, to be so far
above the rest of the carnival and the park, that she could hardly
contain herself.  She started pointing out landmarks to us,
screeching and waving to friends she spotted far down on the ground,
and turning around to laugh with Jorge, Becky, and Emilio, another of
the Mendoza kids, in the bench behind us.  As the ride launched for
its prescribed time, Kristina finally smiled, and we took turns
searching for other people and places throughout the park to point
out to Lina, chatting and laughing like friends once again.  Kristina
even spotted my younger brother Stephen, running in a pack with a
bunch of his buddies, as they raced toward the Tilt-A-Whirl.  It was
an easy pattern to fall into, and I remembered with a rush just how
much fun Kristina and I had been having, just a few short weeks
prior.  Maybe our friendship could be salvaged, I thought.  I hoped
so.

The carnival stopped the rides at 11:00 PM, and by then, there were
just the high-school kids left.  The younger kids had all gone home,
and the older ones found someplace else to have their fun.  I was
pretty tired from being outside all day, eating junk and sloshing it
all around in my stomach from so many rides.  Jake was ready to pack
it in, as well, and Jaimie had already left to meet up with the
friends she came to the park with, so we waved goodbye to our friends
and headed back toward our neighborhood.

The next day, it was more of the same.  Most of us were pretty much
burned out on the rides at the carnival.  Besides, Saturday afternoon
the entire place was going to be overrun by all the little kids and
their parents, so a bunch of us decided to hit the beach at the park,
instead.  I met up with Eric, Keisha, Becky, Trent Abbott, and
Danielle Nickerson, who was Trent's new girlfriend, and we spent the
afternoon being slothful in the sand and in the water.  Keisha, of
course, looked sensational and exotic, with her glistening dark skin
and bright red bikini.  Danielle was kind of plain-looking, with
mousy brown hair she kept cut fairly short, and hips that were a
little wide, but she was one of the nicest people I knew, and I was
glad to see that she and Trent had found each other.

Becky and I had known each other since about the second grade.  She
was slender, with shoulder-length dark blonde hair that she nearly
always tied back.  She played recreational soccer, but wasn't
confident enough in her abilities to try out for the school team.
She normally dressed pretty conservatively, but I guess that didn't
carry over to beachwear, since she was wearing a very small purple
bikini today.  I couldn't keep my eyes off her.  This was a brand-new
Becky to me, and she was happy to hang out with me at the beach,
which was just fine with me.

After spending a couple of hours on the beach, we all grabbed t-
shirts and strolled up to the concession stand to get something to
eat.  We ordered greasy cheeseburgers and fries, all except for
Danielle, who got a limp and sorry-looking salad with a virulent
orange dressing.  We crowded in around a wooden picnic table in the
shade, and dug in.

"What IS that stuff?" asked Keisha, eyeing Danielle's salad warily
as she gingerly picked up a wilted shred of lettuce and dipped it
into the paper cup of dressing.

"It is disgusting, isn't it?" replied Danielle.  "It's really good
for my diet, though.  One look at it, and my appetite disappears."

"Well," said Trent between mouthfuls, "this burger hits the spot."

"Thass 'cause you never met a hamburger you didn't like," retorted
Eric.

"Hey, I can't help it if I'm a carnivore," replied Trent.

"Carnivore?" asked Danielle.  "How about omnivore?"

"Yeah, there's very few things I won't eat," said Trent, giving
Danielle his best Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle.

He had to duck as Danielle threw a shriveled radish at him.
"Pervert!" she said.  Meanwhile, Keisha, sitting next to him, started
pummeling him on his arm for the remark.

"Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?" derided Keisha as she
pounded him.

Ducking his head and tucking his elbows to his sides to cover up
against the assault, Trent replied, "Yeah, and she really likes it
when I do."

"Ewww.  That's completely disgusting!" cried Keisha as she renewed
her attack.  Trent had to finally slip down off the seat and slide
under the table to get away from the two girls, laughingly
apologizing from his hideaway.

Becky and I just watched the exchange with amusement.  Her bare
thigh was resting against mine, a warm and smooth, surprising
connection between us.

After lunch, we wandered back down to the beach, feeling full and
lazy.  Trent and Danielle decided to walk around the lake, so they
slipped their sandals on and strolled along the shoreline.  Eric and
Keisha sat down at the water's edge and drew doodles in the sand,
watching the waves lap up and erase their lines and drawings as they
lazily talked.

Becky and I flopped back down on our towels spread out on the hot
sand.  She had her sunglasses propped up in her hair as she rolled
over to lie on her stomach.  She reached up and flipped her
sunglasses down onto her nose as she turned to me.

"Put some lotion on my back, Sean?"

"Sure," I said, reaching for the sun block.  I squirted a dollop
across her shoulders.  The skin pebbled a little as she squirmed.

"Oh, that's cold," she complained.

"Sorry," I mumbled.  I started spreading the lotion across her
shoulders and down her back.  I slipped my hand under the strap of
her bikini top, but she apparently decided that wasn't sufficient,
since she reached back with both hands and undid the strap, pulling
the ends out and off her back wordlessly.  I was now faced with an
expanse of naked skin that I was supposed to rub lotion into.  Didn't
she realize what the sight of so much skin did to a teenaged boy?  I
could feel blood being diverted into my crotch, making my trunks a
little tighter, but there was nothing to be done about that.  I bent
back to the task at hand, squirting a little more lotion out into my
palm, and rubbing it into her back and sides, trying to keep my
fingers from noticing the supple feel of her skin, the ridges of her
backbone from her neck all the way to where her bikini bottom covered
her, and the softer flesh of her squashed breasts as she lay there.
I finished by brushing my fingertips along the waistband of her
bikini bottoms, wanting to slip under the elastic a bit further, but
unwilling to take the chance.  I took my time replacing the cap on
the tube of sun block, kneeling on the towel and waiting for my
erection to subside before standing.

I thought her eyes might have been closed.  It was hard to tell
through the dark lenses of her sunglasses.  She seemed to know,
though, when I was getting ready to move over to my own towel.

"You didn't get the backs of my legs yet," she said softly.

Uh-oh.  Legs.  I knelt beside her knees, and reopened the lotion.  I
squeezed lotion into my hand and started on the left leg, at her
ankle.  Yeah, I was a chicken, but so what?  I was working my way up
that long length of smooth leg, making sure I got every square
millimeter protected with sun block.  Up her calf, to the crease of
her knee, and even further, feeling the big muscles of her thigh at
rest, smoothing the lotion into her skin.  I made it all the way up
to where her bathing suit covered her butt, and then started again at
the ankle of her right leg, trying to ignore the way her legs had
parted just slightly as I had worked on her thigh.

By the time I had worked my way up her right leg, I could just
detect a slight quiver in her muscles, and her legs had definitely
spread out a little more, allowing my fingers to work the lotion
along her inner thigh.  I made sure she was well covered, going over
and over the area, from her knee to just below her covered crotch.
Finally, breathing heavily, I collapsed down next to her.  My painful
erection was pushed into the sand, where it wouldn't be noticed, I
hoped.

Becky sighed and turned her head toward me.  "Want me to do you
now?" she asked.

My first reaction was probably what you would expect from the mind
of a hormonally charged teenaged male.  What, do I want you to do me,
right here and now?  Absolutely, do me now, and do me often.  But
then, I realized that she was talking about putting lotion on me.  I
looked over at her, and she had an uncharacteristic, knowing grin on
her face, seeming to be waiting for my reaction.  I was sure she had
read my mind, and found what little I keep in there to be
inconsequentially amusing.  I just nodded, afraid to open my mouth,
for fear I would only be able to croak something goofy.  Without
lifting her body up, she reached back and refastened her top, and
then knelt beside me and reached for the tube of suntan lotion, still
in my hand.  She tugged at it, trying to get me to let it go, but I
was unconsciously gripping it tightly.

"Sean?  The lotion?" she laughingly inquired as she finally pulled
it from my grasp.  She propped her sunglasses up onto the top of her
head again, so she could properly concentrate.

She squirted a dollop onto the middle of my back.  She was right.
It was temporarily cold on my skin.  But it warmed up fast, once she
started rubbing it into my skin.  She rubbed slowly, using a circular
motion that felt really good.  When I was a kid, my mom would just
slather the stuff on me, wiping me down in big, fast strokes to get
as much coverage as quickly as possible, leaving me covered with
white streaks of lotion.  This was much better, more like what I
thought a massage would feel like, as Becky methodically rubbed the
sun block into my skin.  I liked it a lot.  I liked it so much, in
fact, that if I hadn't been lying on my stomach, I probably would
have caused a sensation, there on a public beach and all.

It was even better, and even worse, when she got to my legs.  I had
no qualms at all about having my legs spread out a little, and Becky
took full advantage, making sure I was well covered by lotion, going
over and over my legs, from my ankles to the hem of my swim trunks.
By the time she finished, I was having trouble focusing, and I was
breathing hard, as if I had just run a sprint.  Finally, she flopped
down next to me on her towel, smiled at me, reached behind her to
once again unfasten her bikini top, and then nonchalantly closed her
eyes so she could feel the full effects of the sunshine beating down
on her, flipping her sunglasses back down onto her nose.  I couldn't
close my eyes.  I just lay there, watching her relax.  It was a
fascinating view.

Finally, Trent and Danielle returned from their walk, dropping down
to sit beside us.  Eric and Keisha came up from the water's edge to
see what was going on.  Becky reattached her top, and we sat up to
join in.

Everybody was tired of being in the sand, so we headed for the
changing booths up near the concession stand.  Both the men's and the
women's sides had shower stalls, and we all had brought a change of
clothes, so we took turns washing the sand off and getting into
clean, dry t-shirts and shorts.

The six of us headed back to the park, and spent the rest of the
afternoon and evening tossing balls at stacks of bowling pins,
shooting targets with b-b guns, munching on popcorn and letting
cotton candy disintegrate in our mouths, and listening to the live
music coming from the beer garden as we stood around outside the
fence.

By dusk, the entire town was starting to gather in the park,
families staking out their spots on the grass in anticipation of the
fireworks display.  We wandered around, looking for clumps of kids we
knew, stopping to shoot the breeze with friends.  We found Theo
Jameson among the crowd, a fellow soccer teammate who was involved in
a horrible car accident the previous fall, an accident that killed
his best friend and our star player, Skip Horvath, an accident caused
by Richie Del Toro, the leader of the gang of toughs at school known
as the Bulls.  Richie was still being held in the county jail, having
been convicted of vehicular manslaughter, but his lawyers were
attempting an appeal.  Theo survived the accident, but spent several
months in a wheelchair, and then underwent a grueling set of therapy
sessions, just so he could walk under his own power to receive his
high-school diploma in June.  He still walked very slowly, but I
could see he had made a lot of progress, even in just the last month
or so.

"Trent!  Sean!  Eric!  Man, it's good to see you guys!" he called
out.  He shuffled over in our direction as we veered over toward him.
He gave each of us a fierce hug in greeting.  "What are you guys up
to?"

"We're just cruising the park," said Trent.  "How about you?"

"I'm staying put right here," he said with a smile.  He indicated
his family, on blankets behind him, as he continued, "My folks wanted
us to watch the fireworks together, like we used to do when my
brothers and sisters and I were little.  Besides, I think they're
still nervous about how well I can move around, even though I'm back
on two feet again."

"You'll be back on the soccer field by the fall," said Trent
encouragingly.

He looked a little sad.  "I don't think so, Trent.  My playing days
might be over."  He brightened up then.  "But, I did get some pretty
good news this week.  Seems that the soccer coach over at Western had
been watching us play early in the season last year, and had been
considering offering me at least a partial scholarship, until I got
hurt.  Anyway, when he found out that's where I was going to go to
college anyway, he called me up the other day, and asked if I wanted
to work on the sidelines with him and his coaching staff.  He said he
could offer me part-time employment as a coaches' aide, if I wanted
it.  At least it's a way for me to stay in the game, you know?"

"That's really great," I said.  "You know, coaching just might be
the right fit for you, Theo."

"Yeah," he agreed, "if I can't play, maybe I can at least teach the
game to others.  It's worth a shot, anyway."

We chatted for a few minutes more, congratulating him about the
opportunity, and then headed off, so that Theo could spend this
evening with his family.  Trent and Danielle split off and went in
search of some of their other friends, and Eric, Keisha, Becky and I
continued strolling through the crowd, until just before the
fireworks were scheduled to begin.  We hooked up with Josh and
Andrea, Jorge, Kristina, Toby Mueller, and Ashley Horvath, and
plopped onto the ground beside them, just as the opening salvos were
set off.

I was watching the fireflowers and screamers flying into the dark
sky, leaning back on my hands as I oohhhed and ahhhed over the
colorful, fantastic display in the sky, when I felt Becky, on my
left, put her hand over mine as she leaned back, next to me, to enjoy
the fireworks.  It was not entirely unexpected, nor was it unwelcome,
especially after our afternoon on the sand.  It was a warm and quiet
invitation from a very good friend.

What was unexpected, however, was the warm body on my right, not
merely resting her hand on mine, but actually leaning on me, pressing
her side into my arm.  I could feel the warmth of Kristina's body up
and down my arm, her unspoken signal stabbing straight to my
midsection.



(Continued in Chapter 8)



_________________________________________________________________
Unlimited Internet access -- and 2 months free!� Try MSN. 
http://resourcecenter.msn.com/access/plans/2monthsfree.asp

-- 
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: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+