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From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <revcottonmather@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Playing the Game II: Playing to Win, Ch. 37 (mf rom)
Date: Tue,  4 Mar 2003 04:10:03 -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 2003, 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




- 37 -

HER TWO BEST FRIENDS



Coach scheduled a team meeting after our Thursday afternoon practice
to announce the starting lineups, and to hand out practice and game
schedules.

Paco Ochoa, Kristina Mendoza's boyfriend, was going to be the
starting midfielder on my side of the field.  I had been watching him
during tryouts, and he was a good ball-handler.  And he was fast,
maybe even faster than Eric.  It was a great choice for that position.

As I pretty much expected, Weasel was given the starting sweeper
position.  When Coach announced his name, he looked like he had been
hit with a brick.  He had already resigned himself to coming off the
bench again this year.  He looked around gratefully at Eric, Jorge
and me, but we stayed carefully neutral.  No use making a big thing
out of it.  Everybody knew, even the previous year, that he had the
skills to play at this level.  All he needed was a little tempering.

In Trent's spot, left forward, Coach assigned one of our solid bench
players from the previous season, a junior named Alex Spivak.  He was
a solid, if relatively unimaginative, player.  I thought he would do
a decent enough job with the ball, but I had the feeling most of the
scoring duties were going to shift to our midfielders, instead of our
forwards.  As long as the defense held, I didn't care if we didn't
have the offensive firepower we did the previous year.  Winning by
one or two goals, instead of by six or seven, still counted as a win
in my book.

The biggest surprise was the appointment of Hap Olson as our
offensive center midfielder.  Hap was a sophomore, one of the kids
from the J.V. team who had attended my summer clinic.  His skills had
improved a great deal over the summer, but it still took me by
surprise that our coaches thought enough of him to put him into a
starting position.

We had a 3-hour practice scheduled for Friday, and a marathon 5-hour
block scheduled for Saturday, beginning at 9:00 in the morning,
something we had never had before.  I asked Coach Neville about it,
as it seriously cut into my plans to sleep in every morning.  He gave
me a funny look.

"It's your own fault, you know," he said with a smile.

"Huh?  My fault?"  I didn't want the team thinking I was responsible
for this long practice session on a Saturday.

"Of course.  If you hadn't proved to be such an influential player
on the field, we would never have found ourselves in this position."

"Sorry, Coach," I said.  I was confused.  "I still don't understand."

He laughed out loud, deriving genuine pleasure from my confusion.
"Don't be sorry, Sean.  I'm just enjoying the moment.  Allow me to
explain.  We've gotten so many requests for interviews that we had to
schedule a media day.  We'll be just doing a fairly light practice,
two hours or so, and then the team will shower and change into their
game uniforms, and let the media do their interviews.  We'll take the
team picture for the yearbook then, too, since we'll have all sorts
of professional photographers on hand, and we'll have a catered
buffet lunch set up in the cafeteria."

"You're kidding.  A media day?"

"We'll have newspapers and magazines represented, and there will be
quite a few scouts and representatives from colleges and universities
here.  Most of those will be from the surrounding states, but our
preseason ranking has generated a lot of interest in the team.  And,
of course, your reputation has fueled a lot of that interest."

"I hope those scouts aren't coming to see me, Coach.  I've already
committed to Florida."

"Oh, they are well aware, Mr. Porter.  Many of them are coming to
see what they missed, and to take a look at some of our other
players.  Mr. Johnson, for instance, seems to be a hot commodity
right now, since he hasn't chosen a college as of yet."

I knew that Eric had been contacted by some schools, and I didn't
think he had decided on where, or even if, he was going to go to
school.  I was glad to hear he might be able to go on an athletic
scholarship, and the more exposure he could get, the better off he
would be.

"And, of course, it's not too early for Mr. Mendoza or Mr. Brooks to
start thinking about furthering their careers, either," Coach
continued.

That was right, both Jorge and Jimmy were juniors this year.  These
high-school years were flying by.  Is this what happens to grown-ups,
too?  The thought was startling.

So, on a sunny and hot Saturday morning, we went through our usual
warm-up laps and stretching, only this time we had an audience, and
we got to practice on the main field.  There were more than 100
people in the stands, and more were coming in as the morning
progressed.  The word had gotten out in town, and a lot of kids from
school were there, no doubt as curious about the festivities as we
were.  I could see Dr. Osgood, our school principal, working the
crowd, moving up and down the bleacher aisles and introducing himself
to the reporters and scouts.

Around 10:00, as the coaches were setting us up for 3-on-3
scrimmages, there was a sudden commotion outside the gate.  We
stopped and watched in amazement as a television crew from one of the
local stations pulled up and began to unwind spools of cable and
snake it under and around the bleachers.  Coach Neville must have
really put out the word, I thought.

By the end of the day, I was all talked out.  I had interviews with
all of the local papers, including the Metro Times, and
representatives from American High School Soccer Association and its
magazine, "Youth Soccer Today".  I talked to a bunch of recruiters
and scouts, and pointed them toward Eric, Jorge, and Jimmy.  Right
after practice, and then again during the luncheon, I did a
television interview, and I saw Dr. Osgood and Coach Neville also
being interviewed.  I was told it was for an upcoming prep soccer
program, one of their weekly high-school sports shows that they
broadcast on Sunday mornings.

At one point, I had about four scouts surrounding me, talking to me
about their schools.  I tried to get them to go talk to one of the
other guys, but they didn't seem to take the hint.  Another man came
up to our group, and his voice cut through the buzz around me.

"Mr. Sean Porter, I presume?"

We all turned to look at the newcomer.  He was about 30, slim and
clean-cut, balding a little, but looking pretty fit.  He looked like
a soccer player to me.

"Yes, sir," I replied.  The other scouts backed off just a little,
apparently recognizing him.

He stuck out his hand and smiled.  "I just thought I'd stop by and
introduce myself," he said.  He glanced around, nodding to a couple
of the others, as if he knew them.  "I'm Stan Harvard from the
University of Florida, Sean.  Pick Cropper wanted me to stop by and
say hello."

I leapt up and pumped his hand.  "Well, Mr. Harvard, I'm very glad
to finally make your acquaintance," I said.

"It's great to meet you, too, Sean," he said, moving in next to me.

He managed to maneuver us away from the crowd with a polite but
quite firm "Will you excuse us for a few minutes, gentlemen?", and we
stepped over to a quiet corner.

He chuckled, glancing over to where the four others were shuffling
around, unsure whether to wait for us to return or to go off in
search of some other potential player.

"They weren't about to give up easily, were they?" he said, shaking
his head.

"No, they weren't," I said.  "I tried to tell them I was already
committed, Mr. Harvard..."

"Oh, I know that, Sean.  And call me Stan, please.  I know those
guys, and they know you've already signed your letter.  They just
were picking your brain a little, probably seeing how set you were on
becoming a Gator."

"I thought once a letter of intent was signed, I couldn't change my
mind," I said.

He looked a little scared when I said that.  "Why, Sean?  Were you
thinking of changing your mind?"

"Oh, no, sir," I hastily assured him.  "I'm Florida bound, and happy
about it.  I just thought you couldn't back out of it, once it's been
signed, that's all."

He relaxed a little.  "Oh, nothing's irreversible," he said.
"You're right, it's a legal contract, but there are always provisions
for voiding it.  Both sides agreeable, and all that.  But it's rare,
even so."

We chatted for a few more minutes, as the time allowed for the media
interviews wound down.  Finally, Stan and I strolled toward the
gymnasium door.

"Well, so long, Sean.  I'll see you next fall, in sunny Florida," he
said, shaking my hand.

"I'm looking forward to playing there," I said.

"By the way," he said softly, looking around a little
conspiratorially.  "I've got a bit of news for you.  It's still
pretty premature, but you might like to know."

"What's that?"

"See those people over there?"  He pointed toward a group of three
men and two women who were talking to Coach Neville.

"Sure, I talked to all of them at one time or another," I said.
"They're from AHSSA."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled.  "Yup," he confirmed.  "And what do
you suppose they're talking to your coach about?"

I shrugged.  "Your guess is as good as mine," I said.

His smile grew even bigger.  "I don't have to guess," he said.
"They're talking to him about their short list."

I must have had a blank look on my face, because he laughed out
loud.  "See you later, Sean," he said, and he left me there, confused
as usual.  What did I care about what they were talking to Coach
Neville about?





Coach had given us Sunday off, but we were back on the field on
Monday, our last day of freedom.  The first day of school was
Tuesday.  Fortunately, it was only scheduled to be a half-day, just
long enough for us to find our classrooms and collect books.  We were
scheduled for a full three-hour practice, beginning at 1:00.

Tuesday, however, was a dark and rainy day, with thunderstorms
rolling through the area.  Coach called us together before we changed
out of our school clothes.

"The practice fields are soaked," he informed us.  "The
groundskeepers won't allow us to practice out on the game field, so
our practice today will be in the gymnasium.  Change into your gym
clothes, with shin guards, but wear your gym shoes."

There was a collective groan.  Indoor practice meant running,
especially numbing inside.  As we filed out, Coach Neville announced,
"Mr. Porter, Mr. Mendoza, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Oldman, Mr. Perez, and Mr.
Rogers, please wait a moment."

The names he called were all the juniors and seniors who had started
last year.  We waited until the rest of the team left, exchanging
puzzled glances.

"Please sit for a moment," requested Coach.  "Do the six of you feel
like you need to run laps for conditioning?"

We all looked at each other, shaking our heads.

He smiled tightly.  "I thought not," he said.  "I have confidence in
your abilities on the field, gentlemen.  Instead of running in the
gym, I would like you to spend an hour or so in the weight room.
When you are finished, you may leave."  He scowled at us.  "No
shirking, now," he warned.

Our little group was in a much lighter mood walking out of that
classroom than our 15 teammates had been, just a few minutes before.

About 90 minutes later, freshly showered and feeling loose and free,
I was driving home through the downpour, when it occurred to me that
I had a free afternoon.  More importantly, so did Luscious.  Maybe I
should surprise her.

There was a strip shopping center not too far from school, so I
turned in that direction.  There was a florist's shop there, so I
wheeled into a parking spot and sprinted from my car to the overhang,
and opened the door.

The sweet nectar smell was so strong, it was almost an assault.  I
stopped just inside the door for a moment, acclimating myself to the
bright lights and the odors.  I ended up buying one large red rose,
and the salesgirl put a little bulb of water on the stem and wrapped
it carefully in tissue paper to help protect it for me.  I ran back
out to my car, and headed toward heaven, which was, in this case,
Kayla's house.

I parked on the street, and ran up to the front door.  I knocked on
the door and waited for a moment, and then rang the doorbell.
Finally, I saw my Luscious peek out the window to see who was there,
and she smiled and opened the door for me.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, smiling.

I whipped the rose out from behind my back and presented it to her.

"What's this for?" she asked, breathlessly surprised.

"Just because," I said as she stepped aside to let me in.

"Because?  Because why?"

"Because I love you," I said.  It must have been the right thing to
say, because her eyes filled with tears of happiness, and she melted
into my arms and kissed me.

Still holding me tight, she whispered, "What happened to practice
today?"

I told her about Coach sending us to the weight room.

"Lucky me," she said with a smile.  She took my hand and pulled me
into the family room, where she had set herself up to do some
studying.

"Did you get homework assigned today?" I asked.  I hadn't, wonder of
wonders.

"Just a little," she said.  We're supposed to read this book, 'To
Kill a Mockingbird', and I thought I'd get an early start on it."

"Wow, you're ambitious," I said, flopping down on the couch.  "I
don't read anything until it's assigned."

She looked at me in amusement.  "I know you don't," she said.  "But
it helps me."  She held her rose up to her nose and inhaled.  "Yum."
She smiled at me.  "I need to find a vase for this.  Be right back."

I watched her walk toward the kitchen.  Did she put a little extra
hitch in her walk for my benefit?  Maybe.

The rain picked up in intensity, running in sheets down the big
picture window.  There was a flash of lightning, and a few seconds
later a deep rumble of thunder rattled the house.  The light in the
kitchen flickered for just a moment as the power grid seemed to
tremble, and then it flicked off.  Kayla stepped into the doorway,
holding two glasses of soda.  She had stripped down to her bra and
panties, and struck a pose there, one knee bent, holding one glass to
her lips as she stared at me.

My throat was dry, but I wasn't thinking about sodas just then.  I
sat there on the couch, staring at her and lusting for her, unmoving.

She came over and set the drinks down on the coffee table, and then
leaned over me and kissed me softly.  I put my arms around her and
worked at the hooks of her bra as we kissed, and the straps slid down
off her shoulders once I got it loose.  She lifted her arms off the
couch and let it drop, her breasts dangling enticingly near me.

She broke our kiss and whispered, "We have this unexpected
afternoon.  What shall we do to keep from getting too bored?"

My voice was a croak.  "Well, we could read 'To Kill a Mockingbird'
to each other," I said.

She rained soft and feathery kisses down on me.  "Yes," she
whispered in between kisses, "we could do that..."

"Or... um... we could work on our geometry..."

"That's a possibility," she whispered.

"Or... Physics?  Biology?  Sex Ed?"

"That would be... nice..."  She lifted up just a little, and put her
rosy nipple just out of reach of my lips.  I tried using my tongue to
coax her lower, but she stayed tantalizingly out of my range.  As she
teased me she continued, "I've heard that making love is a good
aerobic exercise."

"Really?"  I tried lunging up to capture her bud with my lips, but
she was too quick, sitting up just enough to pull her breast out of
my reach.  She was kneeling on the couch by now, straddling me, so I
couldn't move very much.  I found I liked being Kayla's captive
audience.

She backed off and kissed me lightly again, on my lips, my cheeks,
my nose, and my chin.  "But I forgot.  You just got done in the
weight room, didn't you?  So you probably don't want any exercise..."

"But it wasn't an aerobic workout," I reminded her.

"Good point," she conceded, and she kissed my lips, mashing herself
against me.  I had my arms around her, and I lay there and enjoyed
the feeling of her breasts pressing against my chest and her lips
moving on mine.

I felt the tip of her tongue against my mouth, and I opened and
accepted her, my own tongue darting out to meet hers in a teasing,
tasting frenzy.  As we kissed, I reached up and pulled the elastic
keeper out of her hair, and ran my fingers through her soft mane,
letting the strands flow through my fingers like silken water.

She was practically humming with happiness, little sounds of delight
escaping her and vibrating within me.  She started kissing and
licking my neck and the tender and very sensitive spot behind my
ears, heating me up quickly.  She sat up and reached for the bottom
edge of my shirt, and pulled it roughly up my body.  I struggled to
sit up enough so that she could pull it off over my head, while still
trying to reach for her delectable breasts, but I was hindering her,
so she slapped my hands away long enough to complete her task.  Once
she had my shirt off, she took my wrists and placed my hands back on
her boobs for a moment, smiling at me lovingly.  I rubbed both
nipples with my thumbs, encouraging the blood flow into them so I
would feel them expand to capacity, and she moaned softly at the
signals being sent through her from my manipulations.  She dropped
down to kiss and nibble at my neck, slowly lowering herself until I
lost contact with her soft fleshy mounds, and her lips found my
nipples and began teasing them, licking and biting them, teasing me
just like I loved to tease her.

She moved lower on my body, until she found my belly button.  My
stomach muscles were quivering in anticipation as she explored my
navel and the arrow of hair that pointed down my stomach.  She used
her hands to open the snap of my cut-offs, and slowly pulled the
zipper down.  My hard cock was putting an extra strain on the
material, which made that task a little more difficult, but she
managed, her fingertips rubbing lightly along my length as she
lowered the zipper.  There was a wet spot on my underwear from
leaking pre-cum, and she let her fingertips explore that area just a
little before grasping the elastic of my briefs and pulling them
down.  I lifted up my butt a little to assist her, and she shucked my
shorts and underwear off my legs before kneeling back down on the
couch, straddling me at my knees, bent over so she could examine my
throbbing cock and aching balls.

She ran just her fingernail up the underside of my thick rod,
tickling me nearly to distraction.  She did the same thing to my
scrotum, teasing me by her soft touch until I thought I would cry out
in frustration.  She rubbed very lightly along the sensitive skin
encasing my balls, along the sides of my legs, and around the base of
my throbbing cock.

Finally, she took some sort of pity on me, and she grasped my stalk
at the base and squeezed it just a little, and another bubble of
moisture escaped the end.  She stuck her tongue out and lapped at it,
spreading the moisture around the sensitive tip of my cock.  With her
other hand, she hefted my balls, her fingers spread and gently
massaging them.  The fist around my cock began to pump me, and her
tongue explored my length, from the leaking tip, around the sensitive
ridge of the helmet, and down the shaft to her fingers.

She held my cock straight up and pressed the head against her closed
lips, and pressed her head against my cock, slowly forcing me between
her clenched lips until the head popped in.  She paused and sucked
hard on me, her tongue working around on my flesh, and then she
slowly dropped down on me, taking me as deeply into her hot mouth as
she could.

I watched, goggle-eyed, as her mouth spread open to accommodate my
girth, and her lips moved down my shaft until they met her fingers,
still holding me tightly.  She moved up on my rod, until just the
head was still encased in her mouth, and then she repeated the
action.  Her saliva provided lubrication, and she began bobbing her
head faster, her lips and tongue in constant motion against my
fevered flesh, her right hand working on the base and her left hand
flexing and hefting my balls.

She took her right hand away, and she dropped down as far as she
could on me, trying to get all of my cock into her mouth.  I felt the
tip against the back of her throat, and she gagged just a little, and
picked her head up.  My cock flopped out of her mouth and bounced
against my stomach as she gasped.

"Sorry," she whispered.  She bent back to her task, this time
perching up on her knees and bending down over me.  She bared her
teeth and held them for a moment against my cock, pretending to bite
me.  She glanced up at me, a playful look in her eye, and then,
making sure I was watching, she slowly closed her lips around me.  As
the heat from her mouth surrounded my cock again, and her lips sealed
around my flesh, I reached down and was able to just reach her boob
and its distended nipple.  I used my fingertips to play with her, and
she moaned her pleasure against me.  She worked on getting me deep
into her mouth again, and held me there, the head of my cock against
the back of her throat and her tongue working its magic on my length.
When I pinched her nipple, she began humming, her voice climbing the
register and then dropping, louder and then softer.  The vibrations
emanating from her throat, directly into me, were enough to send me
off, and my hips involuntarily bumped up, and the tip of my cock
slipped down her throat just a little.  That extra pressure on my
sensitive head, combined with her humming and the work of her tongue
and lips put the hydraulics in motion, and I squeezed my eyes shut as
I shot off, directly down her throat.

She coughed and backed off, but she never lost her seal around me as
she sucked out everything I had.  She put her hand back on the base
of my shaft and jacked me, working the pump and accepting my seed
into her hot and willing mouth.  I felt her swallow reflexively, and
that put even more pressure on my cock, and I squirted again, five
times, then six, until, finally, I was dribbling the last I could
give her.  Still she sucked on me, concentrating on coaxing every
last drop from my overtaxed system as I collapsed back, my tensed
muscles finally easing.

She didn't give me any respite, but continued to suck on my cock.  I
felt it soften just a little, relaxing its tension, and then it
filled back up again, regaining nearly all of its previous hardness.

She felt it, too, and finally released me from the pressure cooker
of her mouth once I had regained my full rigidity.

"It went down, and then got hard again," she said in wonder.  She
still had a firm grasp of me, and she was bending back down to lick
at my cock some more.  I took her by her shoulders and coaxed her up
to be by me, and she came willingly.  I kissed her softly on her
salty lips, and then flipped her over, so that I was on top of her,
and she was lying back on the couch.  I took one of her nipples
between my lips and nibbled on it, setting her hips in motion as I
lay between her legs, my knee nestled up against her leaking pussy.
I sucked in as much of her breast as I could, working my tongue over
her nipple the way she had worked her tongue along my cock just a few
minutes before.  She moaned in pleasure again, and held my head to
her breast with both hands.  I played with other her soft mound with
one hand while I sucked on her, reveling in tasting the distended nub
of her nipple against my tongue as I drew in her flesh.  I felt
inexplicably grateful that two of her hot spots were the breasts I
loved so much.

Finally, I relinquished her left breast, and gave equal treatment to
the right one, sucking and biting on it until it, too, was flushed
and swollen.  I licked and kissed my way down her body, until I
reached the waistband of her bikini panties.  I could smell her
emanations, and the blood surged within me as the signals sent by her
drooling pussy were received by my receptors.

Her hand was on the top of my head as I chewed and sucked on the
cotton panel of her bikini panties.  I pressed the material against
her, letting it soak up more of her lubrication.  I ran my tongue
along the seams of the legs of her panties, teasing her, while at the
same time I used my fingertips to lightly run up and down her covered
slit.  Her hips had set up a fluid, rhythmic motion, and her hand was
coaxing me to do something more, but I was content to tease her just
a little.  I kissed and licked my way down her inner thigh, nearly to
her knee, as my hand doodled with the hot and damp area around the
elastic near her crotch, sliding underneath the leg band to feel her
moisture and the short, sparse hair, but never settling into her
center.

I worked my way back up her other leg, taking my time to make sure I
tasted the entire expanse of skin before me.  I could feel the big
muscles of her thighs tensing and loosening as her hips kept up their
movement, a layer of soft, incredibly smooth skin overlaying strong,
flexing musculature that helped to give her those graceful lines I
had come to love so much.

I could hear her moaning and whispering to herself as I played with
her.  Her hands went to the waistband of her panties and started
pushing them down.  I put my hands on hers to stop her.

"Sean?  Please..."  She sounded almost as if she was in pain.

"Please what, Kay?"

"Oh, God... take them off... take them off... I need you to..."

I held her hands and put my mouth directly on the soaked cotton
panel and chewed on it.  She started thrashing around at the
onslaught, still trying to remove the intruding barrier of her
underwear.

"Please... please... please..." she chanted, trying without success
to climb that mountain and throw herself off the precipice.

She pulled her hands out from underneath mine and ran them up her
body to pinch and squeeze her breasts and nipples.  I used my
fingertips to slide the edge of her panties over, exposing her
swollen lips, and I used the tip of my tongue to separate her folds
and release the well of moisture that had been trapped, feeling the
hot oils bathe my tongue as I delved into her flooded hole.  I then
allowed it to travel up, through the sensitive tissues, to find and
circle her distended little clit.

Her movement and her breathing got ragged.  I took the opportunity
of her impending orgasm to pull her panties off, and she readily
complied, still concentrating on the signals being generated by her
overheated pussy.  I tossed the soaked garment to the floor, and
gently pressed against the insides of her thighs with my hands, to
spread her legs so that I could be between them again.

I began to lick up her juices again, resuming my task, spreading her
lubrication all around, and used my fingers to spread open her folds
so I could have better access to her most sensitive tissues.  I took
my middle finger and plunged it roughly into her.  It was unexpected,
and she gasped and her hips jerked upward at the intrusion, wanting
more, so I pulled out of her and used two fingers on her, plunging
back in ruthlessly.  At the same time, I tried to capture her clit
between my lips, my mouth pressed against her, sucking up her juices.
I twisted my fingers as I worked them in and out of her, and after a
few times working her in this way, the combination was enough to
finish her off.  She breathlessly screeched, her eyes open wide but
unseeing, and her hips began humping up against my face and my hand
as she gave herself over to her orgasm.  I kept at her through her
climax, my fingers acting as pistons for her engine, and my tongue
lapping up the overflow.  As she came, her cunt gave me that special
lotion that she exuded during her climaxes, and I felt the tangy
fluid flow across my tongue as I continued to work her.

Her body gave her no respite.  Just as she started to relax from her
orgasm, the signals being sent from her core revved her up again, and
in just a few moments she was bumping her pussy against me again,
already fast approaching a second climax.

She held her breath, her entire body tensed in anticipation, and I
lifted up my head so I could watch her.  My thumb found her
oversensitized clitoris, and rubbed it as my fingers continued their
work, and she squeezed her legs together tightly, trapping my hand,
as she came for a second time.

My hand was trapped in her pussy, unable to do anything.  She
reached down, her legs still clenched together, and grasped my wrist
to pull my hand away from her.

"No more... I can't... no more, Sean..."  It took a real effort just
to squeeze those few words out as she gave herself over to the tidal
wave washing through her.  She clutched my hand with both of hers,
pulling my arm up so that she could hold herself together, pressing
my hand and hers to her chest.

As the sensations slowed, she rolled onto her side into a fetal
position, her eyes closed as the fireworks inside her slowly faded to
occasional random firings, and I scooted up behind her and held her
to me, molding my body to her.  My hard cock nestled itself between
the cheeks of her ass quite comfortably, and I put my arm around her.
She quite naturally took my hand and pressed it to her breast, her
swollen nipple dimpling my palm delightfully.

"Mmmmm," she hummed contentedly.  "That was very nice..."  Her voice
trailed off, almost as if she was falling asleep, but I didn't think
that was happening.

After a few minutes, I squirmed a little, trying to work myself into
a more comfortable position with my rod sticking out in front.  She
squirmed back at me and pressed my hand a little more firmly to her.

"My two best friends," she murmured.  "Sean Porter, and Sean Junior."

"Sean Junior?" I asked, puzzled.

She lifted up her top leg just enough to reach down between her
legs, and grabbed my hard cock.  She hunched herself forward enough
so that she could point it straight out, and then she moved back
against me again, with my cock nestled between her legs, against her
pussy.

"This 'Sean Junior'," she whispered.  I could hear the smile in her
voice, even if I couldn't see it.

The tip was sticking out from between her legs.  I could tell she
was looking down at it, maybe imagining herself as a boy, and she
started playing with it with her small hand.  She held it in her
fist, coaxing out a little pre-cum, and she used her thumb to spread
the moisture around.

Her actions got my heart rate boosted up a little, and my cock began
to throb with my heartbeat, bobbing up and down just a little as she
watched.  She giggled at the sight, but she stopped when she felt my
hips start to bump against her involuntarily.  My hard cock began
rubbing back and forth across her sensitive pussy lips, and I could
feel her temperature rise in concert with my own.

We both started breathing a little harder, and her hips joined in
with mine, so that the sawing motion against her tender folds was
greater, more sustained.  I squeezed her breast as she continued to
hold my hand against her, my manipulations rougher, transmitting a
greater need.

I felt the head of my cock starting to plow through her furrows as
our hips flexed in time, her juices flowing once more, transferring
lubrication from her pussy to my cock.  I felt the tip find her
heated hole, nestling itself into its home, and both our hips stopped
their motion on that hot and wet contact.  I rested there for just a
moment, and then hunched up toward her, pushing my cock into her.
She felt me enter her, and she pushed back, wanting more.  She bent
forward at the waist just a little more, offering herself to me, and
I pushed against her, feeling my length being squeezed by her giving
walls.  She bent one leg up to facilitate our joining, and I pushed
toward her at the same time she pressed back against me until I was
fully inside her, the base of my cock against her ass.

"Oh, that's so wonderful," she groaned softly.  "I love feeling you
inside me."

We lay there on the couch together, content to move slowly with each
other, stroking easily, pausing occasionally, building a perfect fire
that would, we knew, eventually consume both of us.

I held her tight, sometimes resting my chin on her shoulder, other
times kissing her ear and the back of her neck.  Occasionally she
would turn her head in an effort to kiss me back, but the position
didn't allow for it very comfortably.  She accepted my kisses, and
promised to reciprocate with kisses of her own another time.

Our hips stayed in slow, fluid motion.  Sometimes I would shorten my
stroke a little, teasing her by refusing to plumb her depths; other
times, I stayed buried to the hilt, flexing my hips to try to drive
just a millimeter or two further.  Kayla, for her part, practiced
flexing her vaginal muscles against me, alternately squeezing me
until I could barely stand the heat and the pressure, other times
relenting and allowing me to slide within her, our contact
facilitated by our mixed lubrications.

Finally, I could hold back no longer.  I started shafting into her,
all the way in and all the way out on each stroke, setting up a
dedicated rhythm.  Kayla's skin was hot to the touch, and she was
huffing each time I bottomed out in her, exhaling in a rush before
drawing in another laboring breath.  Moisture was leaking out onto
both our legs as my pistoning action drew more lubrication out of her
pussy on each stroke.

At the last, I pushed into her as far as I could go, and I grabbed
onto her hips to hold her in place as the fuse lit and the machinery
engaged.  I could feel my cock trying to expand against her
constricting walls, the pump reacting, and I constricted reflexively,
and sent my seed to splash within her, spurt after spurt.

Whether she felt the warmth and the wetness of my semen as it
sprayed inside her, or her vagina felt the expansion of my cock, or
some other stimulus, Kayla was thrown into her own orgasm.  Her whole
body tightened, and a wave of heat started at her center and spread
throughout her as she slipped into ecstasy, her passions escalating
until they were spiraling out of control.  She wailed through
clenched teeth, her hands clutching my palm to her breast, and gave
over to her own orgasm.

I held her there as my own orgasm wound down, helping her through
her climax.  As she calmed down, I felt happy to be there for her,
happy to be buried deep within her.  My cock was softening, but I was
unwilling to pull out of the warm sheath, so I stayed as I was,
caressing my Luscious.

We stayed just like that for a time, each of us content to be in the
company of the other, my body possessing hers and her body accepting
mine, basking in the afterglow.

I lifted my eyes as another flash of lightning raced across the
stormy skies, and in the aftermath of the flash, just as the rumble
of the thunderbolt rolled across the sky, the image of a face was
imprinted on my retina, a face outside the pane of glass, between the
house and the bushes lining the front of the house.

Somebody was spying on us.





(Continued in Chapter 38)




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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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