Message-ID: <41713asstr$1049796604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <RevCottonMather@verywarmpostalservice.com> From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" <RevCottonMather@verywarmpostalservice.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <vkj49vcvs4palkie19v6vlrhl8bdihe5l9@4ax.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-MIME-Autoconverted: from quoted-printable to 8bit by sara.asstr-mirror.org id h384PvGU022957 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 07 Apr 2003 23:25:41 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} -RP- Playing the Game, Ch. 21-25 by Rev. Cotton Mather Date: Tue, 8 Apr 2003 06:10:04 -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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/41713> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw Just a little something for those of you who have not yet met my good friend Sean Porter... --------------------------------------------------------------------- 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@hotmail.com Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- PLAYING THE GAME by Reverend Cotton Mather - 21 - THE LONGEST DAY OF SCHOOL EVER On Monday morning, the teams assembled in the gymnasium before school. Coach Neville stood in front of us, looking tired and worn. "You know, of course, what has happened," he began. "I do have more information now, and the news is not good. As many of you know, the accident was a hit-and-run. The police have now found the car that pushed Theo's car off the road and into the tree. Unfortunately, it belongs to another student here at the high school, Richard Del Toro." That set up quite a buzzing in the room. "Apparently, he and three of his friends were out joyriding, and for some reason they ran Theo and Skip off the road. Richard has been arrested and his car impounded, and they're still looking for Harold Barnes and Vincent Arilio, two of the boys who were in the car with him. The fourth young man, Joey Amonte, is also being held in jail on pending charges." Harold, Joey and Vinnie were all members of Del Toro's Bulls. I turned to Jorge, sitting next to me, and whispered that they had all been part of the group that had been hassling he and his sister that day. He just nodded. "Quiet, now," said Mr. Neville. "Dr. Osgood, our principal, will make an announcement during first period about the accident. He will also announce that school will be closed tomorrow in deference to Skip and his family, so that his friends and teammates can attend his funeral. I will expect to see you all there. As for the team, obviously we have some reorganizing to do, which the coaching staff will be working on today. In the meantime, I've got these to hand out." He reached down and pulled out a box from underneath the table and opened it up. He pulled out black armbands and started handing them out. "As a show of team solidarity, I would like you all to wear these today. This is a very difficult time for all of us, gentlemen. In light of the events of the weekend, I think we should consider dedicating the balance of this season to Skip and Theo." There was a murmur of assent from all of us. Nobody on the team even considered disagreeing with the sentiment. Coach Neville asked for a show of hands, and it was a unanimous decision that we would play the rest of our games for our two fallen players. "Thank you, gentlemen," said Coach. "I'll see you after school for a short practice session." We all slipped the armbands over our sleeves, and the team quietly shuffled out of the gym to their first period classes. "Mr. Porter, Mr. Johnson, could I see you two for a moment?" Coach tapped me on the shoulder, and caught Eric by the sleeve as we were about to leave. "Sure, Coach. What's up?" Eric asked after everybody else had left. Mr. Neville took off his glasses and started absent-mindedly wiping the lenses on his tie. "Despite the circumstances," he began, "I've still got to think about the team and how to salvage this season. I've lost my top two players, and I have to make some fast changes." He paused to collect his thoughts, and put his glasses back on. He looked hard at Eric and me. "You two have been in my thoughts lately. Eric, your speed on the field is exceptional, and we're going to need speed. But your ball handling could use some help. I would like you to work before school with a friend of mine, if you're willing. He might be able to jump- start your skills in a short amount of time." Eric didn't look too happy about the prospect of getting to school early just to learn how to juggle a soccer ball better, but he wisely kept his mouth shut for the moment. "In return," continued Coach, "I will be willing to offer you a starting position in the offense, to replace Theo. But," he added, before Eric could answer, "the one depends on the other. If you aren't willing to improve your soccer skills, you won't get the starting nod. Think about it for a moment," he said, and turned to me. "Sean, Skip and I have been grooming you to take his position after this season. Unfortunately, circumstances have forced me to throw you into the fire. I need you before I think you're ready. Can you play the right defensive spot, knowing you're going to be trying to fill some big shoes?" I didn't have to think twice about it. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best." "I know you will, Sean. I just wish you weren't playing under these conditions." He nodded, as if making up his mind about something. He walked us both to the door of the gym just as the first bell of the day started ringing. "I'll see you both after school for practice," he said. He put an arm around each of our shoulders, as if he was trying to protect us from the ravages of the real world. In retrospect, I guess that's exactly what he was trying to do, in his way. "Eric, let me know what you want to do by the start of practice today, please. Your decision affects what I will have to do on the whole left side of our team," he said as he opened the door for us. "I don't need to wait, Coach. I'll be here tomorrow morning to work on my game. You can count on me." Eric had that same determined look on his face I had seen during our last club game a month ago. It now felt like a lifetime ago. "Okay, good. Then I will let the rest of the team know about our realignment this afternoon. Thanks, boys. I knew I could rely on both of you. Just remember this. Play the game according to the rules, but play your own game. Both things are possible." He patted us both on the shoulder, then gently pushed us out into the hall and on our way to our first classes of the day. As I walked down the crowded halls toward my first period class, it was eerily quiet. Everyone was closed in on their own thoughts, and those few clusters of kids who were gathered together were talking in hushed tones, as if any undue noise would awaken the sleeping monsters. I got to my classroom just as the final bell rang and sat down at my desk next to Jake, who just nodded to me in greeting, sympathetic to the mood of everyone around him. The intercom speaker in the corner of the room crackled as the last dying reverberations of the bell were fading, and Dr. Osgood's voice came over the intercom. "May I have your attention please." He paused as usual, probably to wait for the hubbub in the classrooms to die down. Today that wasn't necessary. "As you are no doubt aware, a tragedy has visited us this weekend. Senior class members Charles 'Skip' Horvath and Theodore Jameson were involved in a traffic accident on Saturday evening. Theo Jameson is in the hospital in serious condition, but is improving. Sadly, Skip Horvath was pronounced dead on arrival. I have spoken to both families, and have extended the school's sympathies and best wishes. "I have arranged to have grief counselors available all day in the nurse's office. Any student who feels the need to talk to a counselor may do so at any time. Teachers have been instructed to write hall passes to any student who wishes to speak to a counselor during their classes. "Our school will be closed all day tomorrow so that students and faculty can attend Skip Horvath's funeral. Information concerning visitation hours and time and location of the services for Skip will be available by the fifth period, and may be picked up in any classroom. School will resume as scheduled on Wednesday morning. "I am truly sorry I had to interrupt your classes this morning with such terrible news. Thank you for your attention." For the first time I could recall, there was complete silence both during and after Dr. Osgood's announcement. Usually, announcements concerned only a small group of students or teachers, and everybody else took the opportunity to visit with friends sitting nearby, but today's broadcast was different. The silence was so out of place, a few kids were looking around bewilderedly, as if they were trying to figure out what was wrong. All day long, each class was the same. Teachers set aside their lesson plans for the day and tried to get their classes to talk about the accident. Richie Del Toro's involvement was well-known by lunchtime, and none of his Bulls were in attendance that day, probably a good idea from a self-preservation standpoint. By the end of the school day, everybody I saw looked the same way I felt. Ground down until there was nothing left, was how Josh put it. Even Toby Mueller, the school's practical joker, was subdued and distracted. At soccer practice after school, Mr. Neville made no mention of his lineup changes, in deference to the mood of the team. We sat around the locker room while he talked to us, individually and as a group, and he led us in an informal prayer before taking us out to the field. We ran a couple of laps, then did some desultory shooting drills just to stay loose and warm. Finally, after what seemed like about five hours, Coach blew his whistle to signal the end of practice. He gathered us all together and asked us to meet as a team at the church before the service, so we could all sit together. By the time I got home and sat down to a dinner I didn't want to eat, I felt like I had just lived through the longest day of school ever. (Continued in Chapter 22) --------------------------------------------------------------------- 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@hotmail.com Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- PLAYING THE GAME by Reverend Cotton Mather - 22 - AFFIRMATION OF LIFE Skip's funeral was scheduled for 11:00 on Tuesday morning. My brother Mike, who was living at home while he was attending our local junior college as a freshman, took the day off from his classes to attend the services, since he knew a lot of the seniors. He drove me to the church, and we got there a few minutes early so I could meet up with the team. Coach Neville was gathering everybody just outside, and I walked over to join my teammates. I saw Molly, Heather and Evan go into the church with a large group of seniors, and I gave her a quick, small wave. "Is everybody here?" asked Coach. "Okay, good. Kevin, John, and Sean, I have a request." He looked for the three of us. Kevin Soranno was the senior midfielder who played directly in front of Skip on the field, and John Pennington was our starting keeper, also a senior. "The Horvath family has requested that you three teammates serve as pallbearers today. Unless you have a strenuous objection, I have accepted already on your behalf." Coach looked from one to the other of us, receiving each assent in turn. I was surprised and humbled to be included in this group. "All right, good. Someone will signal you when it is time for you to perform your duties. Shall we go in, gentlemen?" With that, he led us all in to the sanctuary for the beginning of the service. The next couple of hours were some of the saddest I have ever experienced. Skip's family was nearly inconsolable, and Maggie Wiggins, Skip's girlfriend, was a wreck. Most of the girls, and many of the boys, were sniffling and blowing their noses all during the service. Suddenly we were not nearly so invulnerable as we were just a few days ago. Toward the end of the church service, a representative from the funeral home quietly motioned the pallbearers forward, and the three of us, along with Dr. Osgood and two of Skip's cousins, took our positions by the closed casket. At a signal from the funeral director, we grasped the shiny brass handles and wheeled Skip slowly down the center aisle of the church. When we reached the front steps, we were instructed to lift the casket up and carry it down the steps to the hearse. I have never lifted anything quite so heavy as that casket and its contents. Later, at the cemetery, we lifted the casket back out of the hearse and onto a wheeled cart, and it was not nearly so heavy. That first experience with such a burden was very surprising, and startlingly difficult. After the brief graveside service, the funeral director announced that the family had reserved a banquet hall in town for the afternoon, and invited everyone to join them in a celebration of Skip's life. Lots of kids from school, and many of the faculty I saw there, were opting not to attend the luncheon, but the entire soccer team was planning on going. Michael agreed to drop me off at the banquet hall, and I said I would call him if I needed a ride home. The mood at the banquet hall was noticeably lighter. It was crowded with Skip's extended family, with family friends and co-workers of his parents, and with the kids and teachers from school who were closest to Skip. There was a large buffet set up against one wall, and there were lots of tables to seat from 4 to 12 people. Coach Neville commandeered a couple of large tables for the team, and there was plenty of room for everybody. We all got in line for the buffet. Skip's family had set up bulletin boards on tripods by the first table of salads, and had pinned pictures of Skip, baby pictures and more recent ones all jumbled up, for people to look at while they were in line. We recognized a lot of us in the pictures, and spent a good deal of time chatting with friends, pointing out pictures, and remembering good times that had been recorded by somebody's camera. Molly came over to be with me in the line, and we grabbed plates as we got up to the first table. We made our way through the salad and bread table, to the entrees and vegetables, filling our plates. There was a dessert table also set up, with separate plates, so we opted to go back to sample the desserts later. We carried our plates over to one of the team tables and sat down next to Eric and Keisha, Jorge and Kristina, and some of the other players. The banquet hall had been reserved for the afternoon and evening, and since there was no real hurry to leave, we didn't. After everyone had eaten their fill, Coach Neville called an impromptu team meeting, inviting anybody in the room to sit in if they wished. Skip's parents were in a corner with consoling relatives, but his sister Ashley, a freshman at school and a good soccer player in her own right, sat in with us, looking for a comfortable place to feel like she belonged. Kevin and John scooted over and made room for her between them, and she pulled her chair in close to listen in on the meeting. "Can I have everybody's attention, please," called Coach Neville. He waited a moment for the tables around him to quiet down. "Thank you. Okay, as you know, we have dedicated the rest of this season to Skip and to Theo. We still have some unfinished business, however. First thing, we need to elect a co-captain to serve in Skip's absence. I would like to suggest that we consider Mr. Pennington, currently serving the team as defensive captain, for the position." "So moved!" called out Kevin, sitting at the same table as John. "Okay, I have a motion. Do I have a second?" asked Coach. There was a general shout of "Seconded!" from the whole team, and John Pennington was elected Team Co-Captain. "All right, next on the agenda is our new lineup. Trent," he said, turning to Trent Abbott, a junior who started as our left midfielder, "I would like you to start in Theo's forward spot." Trent nodded, pleased to be moving into more of a scorer's position. "Starting in Trent's midfield position will be Mr. Eric Johnson." The team's collective eyes turned to our table and to Eric, who seemed to be blushing under his dark skin. Keisha was smiling broadly, patting him on the back. There was a smattering of congratulations from all around toward him, and then everybody quieted down. There was still one position, Skip's, to be covered. "Starting at the right defensive position," announced Coach, "will be Sean Porter." There was a smattering of applause, mostly led by Eric and Molly, and I felt a lot of hands patting me on the back and shoulder. The announcement was not a real big surprise to anybody on the team, but it kind of cemented the fact that we didn't have Skip to rely on in the backfield anymore. "Ladies and gentlemen, please," called out Coach one more time. The shuffling of chairs and the clatter of glasses and cups stopped once again. "I would like to remind you all that we still have half our regular season to go. And, if we are very fortunate, we will advance into the sectionals and the playoffs. We have a lot of hard work ahead of us, and there will be a lot of adjustments in our game that we will need to work hard on, but I know that you all will pull together to make this team work." He lifted his glass of water and held it out in front of him. "To Skip, and to Theo." We all raised our water glasses. "To Skip. To Theo." We all took a sip and sealed our bargain. Coach Neville closed our team meeting, put on his coat, and stopped by to pay his respects to the Horvath family before leaving. A few others left, but a lot of Skip's friends decided to stay, taking advantage of a homework-free, practice-free day. A little later, small triangles of sandwiches, snacks, and cookies were brought out and set up on the buffet tables for those of us who had stayed. There was a small garden area out the back of the banquet hall, with a gazebo tucked in a corner, half hidden from the sliding doors of the patio area. Molly and I grabbed a plateful of food and slipped through the door to watch the sun go down from the patio. We brought out our jackets, since it cooled off quite a bit as soon as the sun started getting low in the afternoon sky. As we were sitting at one of the garden tables on the patio, I thought I heard voices coming from the area of the gazebo, though in the gloom I couldn't see anyone back there. I got up and tiptoed down toward the back, trying to be quiet and careful in the dark. As I got closer, the sounds separated into two voices. Eric and Keisha were sitting on a bench inside the gazebo, away from the glare of the lights from the patio door. They had their arms wrapped around each other as they talked softly, their hands busy moving under their unbuttoned coats. I ducked back behind a tree and made my way back to the patio, where Molly was waiting. I put my finger to my lips and motioned for her to follow me. "What?" she said a little impatiently. "Shhhh!" I whispered. I motioned for her to follow me down toward the gazebo. She sighed dramatically, but came down behind me, back to behind the tree. As we got closer, we could hear the tiny movements betraying the couple. I exaggeratedly tiptoed forward, so Molly would get the idea to be very quiet, and pointed toward the dark area where Eric and Keisha could just be seen. Molly placed her hands on my shoulder and peered around me as I crouched down. There was no talking going on now. Eric had Keisha wrapped up and pulled to him, his arms inside her coat. They were engaged in a hard, open-mouthed kiss. From the movement of their mouths and cheeks, it was plain that their tongues were fully engaged with each other. Eric pulled her over more, and Keisha knelt with one knee on the bench, and the other between Eric's legs. She scrunched down on him without breaking the contact of their kiss, until her crotch was pressing firmly on his thigh. I saw Eric's hands slide down out of the bottom of Keisha's coat to grab a round globe of her butt in each palm. He squeezed her cheeks and pulled her forward and back, with her help, creating friction along her pussy against his leg. She humped his leg in rhythm with Eric's clenching of her ass, until she could take no more. She lifted her mouth off of Eric's and arched her back in pleasure, throwing her head back and moaning. Eric reached down and lightly bit the tip of her breast as she was arched back, causing her to hump even harder on his leg. Finally, I heard a breathy moan escape from her, and she held herself against him tightly, her hips rubbing back and forth just a fraction to prolong the pleasure she was generating from her middle. She held his head to her throat, eyes closed, as she slid down from her sexual high. Finally, she collapsed against him, resting with her head on his shoulder. Eric whispered something, and I heard a low, throaty giggle come from Keisha. Molly and I backed out of view silently, back to behind the tree. We stayed off to the side of the garden area, out of sight of the gazebo. Molly held my arm close to her as we huddled together in the cold. "Wow," she whispered. "That was really something." "Yeah," I answered quietly. "They were really getting into it." "That's kind of taking a chance on getting caught, though," she said. "Maybe it adds to the thrill," I suggested. She looked at me for a moment. In the dim light, I couldn't read the expression on her face. Just then, we heard Eric and Keisha walking back toward the banquet hall, arm in arm, talking quietly to each other. Just before they slid the door back and stepped through, I heard Keisha's tinkling laughter as Eric teased her about something. A moment later, Molly was dragging me by the arm toward the gazebo. "Come on," she whispered. "It's our turn." Those words were enough to get my blood racing, and I stumbled after her, suddenly aware of a tightness in my dress pants. She dragged me by the hand up the three steps into the gazebo, and into the corner so recently occupied by our friends. She pushed me down onto the bench and sat on my lap, grabbing the sides of my head and pulling herself down to kiss me. Her mouth immediately opened, her tongue darting out to challenge and joust, and she wrapped her arms around my neck. Our tongues and lips did battle for a time, reveling in the simulation of another act in a warm and wet environment. Molly reached down and fumbled with my belt, suddenly in a hurry. She practically ripped the snap off my pants in her eagerness to get to what lay inside, grasping the corners and yanking them apart to lower the zipper. Her hand was cold as it reached into my underwear to pull out her treasure. She pumped on me a few times, just to make sure I was awake and paying attention, and then she let go momentarily to reach up beneath her skirt to pull her panties to the side. She was more than ready. She knelt over me and settled her skirt around us, hiding the actions of her hands as one hand grasped my stalk and the other kept the crotch of her panties out of the way. She crouched down, settling the tip of my rigid pole against her open lips, and let her weight carry her down and onto my cock. In an action reminiscent of Eric's, I slid my hands under her skirt to grasp her straining buttocks, lifting her up and down upon me. Her hands were on my shoulders, riding along with her rising and falling. I longed to taste of the reddened tips of her breasts, but it was not to be on this occasion, so I concentrated, instead, on trying to angle myself just right so that her pleasure points were properly stimulated. The elastic of my underwear was chafing and binding around my balls, which helped to stave off my release. Molly, on the other hand, must have been energized by the sight of Eric and Keisha, for it didn't take her long before she started panting and moaning, straining toward her orgasm. She bounced down on me, hard, three or four times, then ground down so that her engorged clit was mashed against the base of my cock. That was enough to send her over the edge. She cried out softly into the night, the steam from her breath warming my face. I could feel the increased flow of lubrication from her seeping down around my rock-hard cock, still imbedded in her, keeping her passageway slick and warm for me. After she had recovered a bit, I started moving her again. Slowly at first, just slightly up and then back down again, on each pumping of the piston stroking just a little longer, until she rediscovered the rhythm and began to adjust herself so that she was using all of her to stimulate all of me. Up, until just the tip was still imbedded in her, then down, until I was fully encased in her sheath. Each time I was completely inside her, she would sit for a split second, and then twist in my lap before ascending once again. It only took a dozen or so of these strokes and twists before my own climax was impending. It was I, now, who was panting and staring at nothing, concentrating instead on the intense pleasures being generated by our joining. "M...M...Molly..." I managed, just as I felt the first contractions signaling my discharge. I lifted her up by her clenching ass, and she popped up and off me before I could squirt off inside her. She crouched down in a catcher's stance and grabbed my red and swollen cock in her hand, and bent down to take me in her mouth. She pumped me, still slippery with her juices, and took the helmet between her lips, and sucked on me hard, her hand working to drain me. I came. I came as hard as I'd ever come in my life. It was only the second time she had ever taken me into her mouth, and it thrilled me to know she was tasting me, just as I had tasted her. She swallowed the mouthful I gave her without losing the seal around the head of my spasming cock. Each time I felt her tongue work my juice to the back of her throat, each time I felt her hand jerk on me, I contracted and pumped again in sympathy, until, finally, there was no more to give. When she felt me soften slightly, she stopped her ministrations and lifted her head up off me, my overworked cock popping softly out from between her lips. She kissed the tip once more, then looked up at me, her eyes shining and happy, a smile on her lovely face. How'd I do? she seemed to be asking, already knowing the answer. I reached down gently with both hands, wrapping them in the soft curls of her reddish-blonde hair, and pulled her up to me. I kissed her softly, a sincere thank-you for her efforts on my behalf. It was cold out, so we took a moment to tuck and rearrange before settling back down on the bench, arms around each other, silent and comfortable in the dark together. Her head was resting on my shoulder, and I never wanted the moment to end. At the time I thought it was kind of weird, that we were so intense in our lovemaking on such an occasion and in such a place. The advantage of time has since given me, however, a more proper sense of the motivations behind not only our actions, but the directions we observed Eric and Keisha traveling. It was, of course, the affirmation of life, even in the shadow of the certainty of death in which we had so recently walked. (Continued in Chapter 23) --------------------------------------------------------------------- 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@hotmail.com Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- PLAYING THE GAME by Reverend Cotton Mather - 23 - BUSTED The next day our teachers really made up for two lost days of school by piling on the homework. It was about 6:30, and I was upstairs in my room trying to comprehend my algebra, without much success. My mom was in the kitchen getting dinner ready, when I heard her calling up the stairs to me. "Sean!" I opened the door to my room and called out. "Yeah?" "Sean, I've got to run to the grocery store for a moment. Your dad should be home in just a few minutes, so we'll plan on eating around 7:00. Okay?" "Okay, Mom. I'll just be up here studying until then." I closed the door and sat back down on the floor. I was never going to understand these formulas! A few minutes later I heard footsteps on the stairs, but didn't think anything of it until the door to my room opened. I was surprised when I looked up to see Molly standing there. She was still wearing her sweats from cheerleading practice, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. "Hey, Mol. What are you doing here?" She closed the door and sat down beside me. "I just saw your mom leaving in the car. Isn't anybody else home?" she asked. "Nope, just me. And now you." "Good," she growled as she jumped up and wrestled me to the floor. "What are you doing?" I asked, taken by surprise. I was pretty much caught. She had my wrists trapped beside my head, and her weight was pressed onto her hands as they held my arms down. I probably could have bucked her off, but I had the feeling that would have spoiled the fun for her. "Oh, I just thought I'd come over and jump on you this afternoon," she said. "I missed you today. I was thinking about you last night and all day today in class, and I got all itchy and stuff, so I decided to come over to see if you knew how to scratch my itch." "Mol, it's really not a good time..." She got a dangerous gleam in her eye when I said that, so I decided not to continue with that train of reasoning. "I'm going to let go of your left arm," she said. "Don't try anything funny. Just reach into my jacket pocket and get your present out." "A present? What for?" Uh-oh, did I miss a special day or something? Now I was worried. "For just because. Go ahead, Sean." She let go of my left arm. I slowly reached up and wiggled my hand into the pocket of her jacket. There was a paper bag with something in it in there. I pulled it out. "Here," she said, reaching for the bag. "I'll hold the sack, you reach in and get your present." I reached in and pulled out a familiar box. "Condoms!" I exclaimed. "Molly, you are full of surprises sometimes. Where did you get these?" She let go of me altogether and grabbed the box. "I stopped at the drug store on my way here. I knew you had to be just about out of them, and I need to replace the ones I stole from Josh. So I bought them. No big deal. Besides, I want you to always have one with you. We can't afford to be caught without one when we might need one, like last night, you know?" She ripped open the box and pulled out a handful of packets and stuffed them into the paper bag. She wadded up the top of the bag and shoved it into her jacket pocket. "You take the rest of these and keep them safe." She stood up to let me get up and stash my supply. When she saw where I was keeping them, she laughed. "Your sock drawer? You, too? Not very original, Porter." "Hey, when I see a good idea, I'm not afraid to rip it off," I retorted. "Hmmmm....speaking of ripping it off," she said quietly as she moved up behind me and put her arms around my waist. She hooked her thumbs in my belt and drummed her fingers lightly, setting up a sudden throbbing in my head. My mom's voice came floating up the stairs. I didn't even hear her come home, I was so distracted. "Sean! Dinnertime!" "Sean! Dinnertime!" Molly echoed softly in my ear, her fingers keeping up their insistent drumming. "Okay, Mom, be right down!" I shouted out. I turned around, still encased in her arms. "I've got to get downstairs, Molly. What are you going to do?" "Oh," she said nonchalantly, "they don't know I'm here, so I guess I'll just stay up here in your room until you're done eating." "Okay," I said, a little flustered. "I'll try to hurry." "You do that, Sean Porter," she said. She grabbed my hand and guided it up under her sweatshirt to her bare breast. "You hurry back," she said. Now I was a complete wreck. I stumbled to the door, dimly aware that I was walking a little funny due to the sudden pressure of my inflating member in my tight jeans. What the hell was going on here? Molly sat on the edge of my bed. "Go on, dinner's waiting," she said with a smile. She made a little shooing motion with one hand. I went out into the hall and closed the door. I was tempted to turn back and make sure she was really there, and not just a product of my fevered imagination, but I didn't. Willing my half-hard cock to deflate, I started down the stairs to the kitchen. Everyone was just sitting down at the table when I walked in. Mom had all the food out, Dad was just reaching for the platter of vegetables, my brother Michael and my younger brother Stephen were already digging in. I sat down in a kind of a daze. "Hiya, Sean. Studying hard?" Stephen said innocently. I looked over at him, but he already had his head back down, shoveling in food as fast as he could. He was 12 years old, and just starting to really grow fast. I grabbed a piece of fried chicken and started eating it distractedly. "Uh...will you excuse me for just a moment?" I didn't wait for an answer, but instead got up from the table and ran upstairs to my room and opened the door. No Molly. Maybe I did imagine it. Just as I was turning to go back downstairs, I heard a slight noise from my closet. I walked over and peered in. Molly was there. She had taken off her sweatshirt and taken one of my dress shirts off a hanger and put it on. She had the tails tied around her bare waist, and the shirt was unbuttoned, showing a healthy gap of bare skin from her throat almost to her belly button. She just looked at me quizzically, one eyebrow raised, not saying a word. I just shook my head, turned around, and went back downstairs. I wasn't imagining it. "Is everything all right, Sean?" My mother sounded concerned. "Everything's fine," I said. "I...I just wanted to make sure I turned off my tape player." I made it through dinner in nearly record time, and excused myself from the table. "The teachers really loaded it on me today, I'm afraid. I'll be up doing homework the rest of the night," I told my dad. I walked upstairs and knocked softly on my door before opening it. Molly was back in the closet, and peeked out when she heard the door close. She still had on my shirt, but had taken off her shoes and socks and her sweat pants, leaving only her panties on. When she saw I was alone, she jumped up into my arms. I automatically caught her when she jumped, and she put her arms around my neck and kissed me as I held her. I backed up until my knees hit the bed, and I sat down, with Molly still in my lap. She reached down and undid the knot holding the shirt together, and the two halves parted, revealing her body in its glory to me. Again she took one of my hands and placed it on her breast, pressing it there before dropping her hands down to my lap to work at my belt. I felt her nipple expand as I held her boob, and almost without volition I squeezed and kneaded the pliant flesh. In the meantime, she put both her hands to work on undoing my jeans, and managed to loosen the belt and unsnap them before standing up, breaking our kiss, and pushing me onto my back. I reluctantly let go of her soft tit as I lay back, lifting my ass up off the bed so she could pull my jeans and underwear down and off. She bent over me to examine what she had unwrapped, and it occurred to me that she really hadn't ever seen a naked boy in the light before, as far as I knew. She held my swollen cock in her small hand, pulling it toward her and looking it over. She squeezed it, eliciting a moan from me, and brushed the fingertips of her other hand across the sensitive skin of my balls. I jerked involuntarily under her ministrations, closing my eyes and surrendering myself to the pleasures she was imparting. I felt a warm wetness against the underside of my throbbing cock, and opened my eyes to see my Molly savoring the taste she had transferred to her tongue from my skin. She looked up at me, eyes smiling, and licked me again, never breaking eye contact. My cock jumped at the contact, and she looked down at what she was doing, still holding my stalk in her hand. She ran her tongue around the tip, licking up some of the leaking pre-cum that was drooling out, and a strand stretched itself from the tip to her tongue as she backed away. She bent back to her task, this time taking the tip of my painfully hard cock between her lips. Her hand dropped from the base of my cock onto my balls, which she held and played with gently while she was using her mouth on me. She sucked hard on the helmet, rubbing her tongue around the ridge, and then dropped, ever so slowly, until her mouth was full of me, and I could feel the back of her tongue on the tip of my cock. She exhaled through her nose, and the movement of the air tickled my pubic hair. She backed off my cock slowly, keeping the suction as much as she could, until just the tip was still encased between her lips. She opened her mouth to take a deep breath, resting her teeth on me, and then sucked back down on me hard. She started working her head up and down on me, alternately sucking and loosening, running her tongue around and then up and down, adding saliva to help to lubricate, creating friction with her lips and tongue. She was relentless in her attack, and I could only collapse back, eyes closed, and suffer the consequences. The consequences were not long in coming. I could feel the start of the sequence deep in my loins. My hips were rising as she was dropping onto me, unconsciously trying to bury more of me into her mouth as I prepared to distribute my seed. "Uh...uh...M...M...Molly..." I tried to warn her of the impending explosion, but she was still caught by surprise when I bumped up, pushing my cock a little further into her mouth than she was expecting, and shot off my first salvo. She choked and coughed, eyes watering, then managed to cover me with her mouth once more to catch the last spurts of my jetting spunk, swallowing it down as it squirted into her mouth. At last, the well was dry. My dick began to slowly lose its rigidity, even as she tried drawing one last spurt out of me. But there was nothing left to give her, despite her efforts. She scooted up to lie by me, tucking herself in next to me. The shirt she was wearing fluttered open as she lay down, teasing me with a momentary vision of her small, perfectly formed breasts and lightly freckled chest. I couldn't resist the temptation, and reached around and slipped my hand beneath the shirt to hold her soft boob. She, in turn, kept her hand down in my crotch, alternately cradling my balls and fingering my shrunken cock. We lay like that for several minutes, not talking, until the recuperative powers of youth and the persuasive powers of a luscious young girl combined to send a rush of blood back down into my dick. She held me gently in her hand, feeling me expand and fill her palm. I squeezed and played with her breasts, alternating from one to the other, as my internal temperature climbed once again. "That's really amazing, how it does that," she whispered to me, marveling at how quickly my cock went from shriveled to stiff. "I love holding it when it does that." "We need to get off the bed so it doesn't make noise," I suggested. She didn't want to let go of me, so I slid down and off the edge, all the while staying on my back so that she could keep her hand on my cock. I slipped down to the floor, and Molly knelt next to me, holding her prize. I ran my hand down her side to the elastic of her panties, gripping the waistband in an effort to get them off her. She reluctantly let go of me long enough to shimmy out of them and reach under the bed for one of the foil packets she had hidden there earlier, anticipating this very moment. My fingers found her drooling pussy while she was reaching under the bed, and she knelt back up and spread her knees out for me as she tore open the packet. I parted her folds and released a flood of her moisture, coating my fingers and spreading down the inside of her thighs. She got suddenly anxious to complete her task, and her fingers shook a little as she positioned the rolled-up condom over my steely dick. She rolled the latex down smoothly, and then leaned on her arms, allowing me to continue with my manipulations in her center. I had two fingers plunging into her, and my thumb was rubbing across her engorged clit, and her hips and thighs started quivering to the rhythm I was playing on her. Finally, she lifted her leg, my fingers still buried in her, and straddled me. I slowly removed the two fingers that were deep in her twat, reached down for my cock, and positioned it against her. She dropped down onto me, and in one smooth, slow motion sank me completely into her. She collapsed down on me for a moment, savoring the feeling of fullness and completeness, and then sat up and went to work. I reached up with both hands and held my palms flat against her upthrust boobs, letting the movement of her body rub her swollen nipples against my hands. She pressed her body closer, increasing the contact against her breasts, threw back her head, and lost herself in the pursuit of her pleasures. Since I had already come once, I was able to hold off the crisis until Molly was ready. It didn't take her long. She tensed, ground herself against me, and stepped onto the road to completion. She bounced on me, and the tip of my covered cock hit her cervix. She leaned forward and scraped her swollen clit against me, and that took her over the cliff. She shivered, the spasms traveling from her thighs up through her torso and back down to her middle, and gave herself up to her orgasm. She collapsed down on me, seemingly unable to catch her breath, as I pumped up at her and experienced the triggering of my own spasms, mindlessly sending my hot seed deep into her womb, only to be captured by the encasing latex. We were both completely spent. We were sweating and breathing hard as she rolled exhaustedly off me. Our bodies separated, hot liquids that had been there for our joining spread and cooled, and we relaxed against each other in post-coital languor. My brain, disconnected from rational thought long ago, tried to get back on track. "How did you manage to get here?" I asked. There was a vague thought that she had accomplished some sort of deviltry to show up at my house tonight. "I told my mom I would be studying and eating dinner at Tessa's tonight. Tessa said she'd cover for me." "Oh." That was about the limit of information I was able to handle for the moment. Something else occurred to me. "How are we going to get you out of here?" I asked, more talking to myself than to Molly. She sighed contentedly. "I didn't think that far ahead. It's so comfortable here, maybe I'll just stay." She snuggled closer to me. I sat up, suddenly aware of where we were, and the precarious position we were in. "Get up, Mol. We've got to get you out of here." She gave me a sour look, but got up and stumbled to the closet to gather up her clothes. I threw my shirt and jeans on and slowly cracked open the door to see what was going on in the world. I could hear the television on downstairs in the family room, my mother and father laughing at some antic being pulled on a comedy they were watching. There was no sign of either of my brothers. "Come on," I whispered, motioning to her to follow me. We snuck down the stairs and into the kitchen without being seen. I opened the back door and let her out, thinking that we had escaped. As I was closing the door, though, I heard the front doorbell ring. I walked to the sink and got a glass of water, wondering how I was ever going to get my homework done, when I heard some familiar voices from the living room. I headed toward the front of the house. Mr. and Mrs. Lehigh were there, talking to my parents. Standing between them was Jake, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach when I saw them. Jake looked up and saw me, and turned away sheepishly. A bad sign, I said to myself. A very bad sign. "Sean?" My dad called over to me. "Perhaps you should come over here and hear what Jake's parents have to say, son." Well, the short form was that Jake and Jaimie got caught with their pants down, literally speaking. In a panic, Jake blurted out to his parents that he had gotten condoms from me, which triggered a memory in Mr. Lehigh's brain, namely seeing me and Josh in his store, picking out rubbers with his help. "Is this true, Sean?" my mother asked. "Well...um...yeah, I guess it is," I admitted. "I did go there with Josh, but I was just trying to provide a little moral support for him. It's not like I'm needing them for myself," I bluffed. "Is that so?" asked my dad. "Maybe we should be calling the O'Tooles and asking them, too." I had a bad feeling that my bluff was about to be called. "I assume you still have that box somewhere in your room, Sean. Bring it down and let's see it." I was about to protest, about to pull out all the stops about trust, and constitutional rights, and why do you think I'm lying to you? But I saw by the look on his face that I wasn't going to win any of those arguments. Muttering under my breath a blue streak along the lines of what I was going to do to Jake once we both got out of our respective jails, I trudged upstairs to try to salvage the situation. Just as I opened my door, I remembered. Molly! She had left me with nearly a full box of condoms, just that evening. I yanked open my socks drawer and pulled apart my special pair of soccer socks. A dozen foil packets spilled to the floor. I was saved! I scooped them up and ran downstairs. I held out my cupped hands in triumph, showing the dozen condoms to the Lehighs and my parents. Accuse me, will you? I thought to myself. Mr. Lehigh bent down to look at what I held out. "Interesting. But these are two different types," he said, picking out two similar but definitely different condoms and holding them up for everyone to see. I looked at Jake. We're both busted, he seemed to say to me. Unfortunately, I could only silently agree with him. A half an hour later, the Lehighs were finally walking down the sidewalk to their car, and I was facing the music in front of my parents. "I'm very disappointed in you, Sean," said my mother. "I thought we had raised you better than this." I kept my mouth shut, hoping that my silence would be taken as contrition. "You've given us no choice, son," said my dad. "I think you've set a new record in this household tonight. None of your brothers has ever gotten anywhere near being grounded for life before. But you've managed it. From now on, until further notice, you are to come straight home from soccer practice. You will not leave the house except in the company of one of us, and you will not have any friends over without getting our permission first. And, especially, you will not be here with any girls, including Molly O'Toole. Am I clear?" "Yes, sir." I tried to sound as sincere as I could. At that point I fervently hoped Molly didn't try sneaking into our house again. My precious stash of condoms was confiscated, and I was sent to my room under threat of doom if I so much as sneezed wrong for the foreseeable future. I was under house arrest, and I had no idea how long my sentence was going to be. (Continued in Chapter 24) --------------------------------------------------------------------- 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@hotmail.com Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- PLAYING THE GAME by Reverend Cotton Mather - 24 - CONTAINED GRIEF AND ANGER The arrangement my parents worked out was that my dad was going to drop me off at school in the mornings, and my mom would be waiting for me at the end of soccer practice in the afternoons. I climbed out of my father's car the next morning and walked dejectedly into school about five minutes before my first class was to start. I sat down next to Jake and growled at him. "Thanks a lot, pal. 'I won't get caught. You can count on me,'" I mimicked him derisively. "I guess I know now what your word is worth," I added disgustedly. "Look, Sean, I'm really sorry. But we really got caught red-handed. When Jaimie's dad found out about it, he was really pissed, you know? Going on and on about how I stole his daughter's innocence, I could go to jail for rape, all sorts of shit like that. I panicked, okay?" "That's great to know, Jake. That makes me feel a whole lot better." "Yeah, well, you at least didn't have to face Mr. Jacks. I didn't think I was going to leave the room alive, he was so mad." He seemed to shiver at the memory. "You know, Jaimie's sister Tara has been spying on us, I think. She may have been the one who ratted on us." "Why would she do that, Jake?" "Ah, hell, I don't know. She's really been acting weird lately. Remember the picnic? She hasn't gotten any easier to be around." "That's just too freaky. Okay, Jake, maybe I can understand why it happened. But that doesn't make my situation any better." "Yeah, I know. All I can say is that I'm sorry, Sean. I really am." I quietly told Molly what happened when I saw her at lunch. She was very upset that she was only seconds away from being caught in my room, but that feeling passed very quickly. She got a bright look in her eyes. "You want to live dangerously, Sean Porter?" she whispered. "I might have another plan to come visit you one of these nights." I nearly choked on my soda. "Christ, no, Molly! Are you nuts?" She chuckled. "Maybe I am," she murmured. "Maybe I just am." True to her word, my mom was there to pick me up after soccer practice. It was a cold, silent ride home, and a cold and silent evening spent in my room, catching up on schoolwork. No radio, no stereo, no noise was allowed during my incarceration. I went to bed early, a little scared that I would hear the door creak open and see Molly standing there, but nothing of the kind happened. The rest of the week was more of the same. I talked to my friends at school, but had no contact with anyone after I got home. It helped that I was trying to work myself into exhaustion during soccer practice. Coach Neville had unknowingly put a lot of pressure on me as Skip's replacement, and I wanted to do the best I could do. I was messing up a lot during practice, which was making some of my teammates nervous and a little mad, but my attitude was that I could mess up during practice, as long as I played well in the game. And my goal was to play well when it counted, and not worry too much about how practices were going. The only truly bright spot to the week was on Thursday afternoon, when Coach Neville announced to the team that Theo had been brought successfully out of his coma, and was awake and alert. That news cheered everybody up considerably. Finally it was Friday, game day. This was to be our first game without Skip and Theo, and it was a home game. There was a general announcement at school in the morning, asking the student body to support the team, and we were expecting standing room only at the game. I was sitting in the locker room with my teammates, half listening while Coach was giving us some last-minute instructions. I was nervous as hell. "Now, remember, people, that this team will probably test our right side early on." Coach Neville looked over in my direction. "So, Sean and Kevin, be ready for anything. Sean, you're an unknown quantity to our opponents, so don't be afraid to show them what you're made of. Kevin should be able to head off some of their attacks, and our sweeper and keeper will be watching out, so just go out and play your game." I nodded, and looked over at Kevin. He was sitting with his head down, lost in his own thoughts. Thinking about Skip and Theo, no doubt. Finally, it was time to take the field. We trotted out and began our warm-ups. When the starting lineups were announced and my name was called, it still startled me. I was still half expecting Skip to show up and take his accustomed spot on the field. We took our positions, and the partisan crowd in the stands gave us a standing ovation as the referee blew his whistle to start the game. It was a great show of support for the team, and we appreciated it. Just as Coach Neville had predicted, the Hamersville Lions did try our right side at the first opportunity. Now that the game was underway, my nervousness was gone, and I could see how their plays were designed. I've been in baseball games when the ball seemed like it was the size of a grapefruit, and I couldn't miss hitting it, and this game was like that. The soccer ball looked to be about the size and weight of a basketball, moving in slow motion across the field, and I seemed to have plenty of time to get into position to make a play on it without any interference from the Hamersville midfielders or forwards. I was trapping the ball and moving it up at will, dribbling forward or passing it up to Kevin whenever the Lions worked it over into my area. Three times, then four, they deliberately tested our defense on my side, and each time they were soundly rebuffed. Finally they gave up on the maneuver and tried our left side. They were no more successful there, either, and by the halftime whistle we were up 2-0. The first 45 minutes of the game went by so fast, I was still feeling incredibly energetic. I trotted over to the sidelines with the rest of the team, grabbed a paper glass of water, and poured it over my head. I reached for another glass to drink. Kevin was there, handing me a glass, a huge smile on his face. "You're playing great, Sean. I don't think they're going to be trying to get by you anymore this game." John Pennington chimed in. "That first steal was incredible, Sean. Way to go. I guess I don't have to worry about that side of the field after all, do I?" "Oh, yes, you do," I said. "It's probably just beginner's luck, so don't go falling asleep on me, okay?" "All right," said John with a laugh. "You just keep playing the way you're playing, though, and we'll be fine back there with nothing to do." I was jittery with all the adrenaline pumping through me, anxious to get back on the field. I hopped up and paced the sidelines, wishing the whistle would blow soon so I could start running again. I looked down the bench and saw Coach and Trent leaning over a dismayed Eric, both of them talking intently to him at the same time. Eric looked from one to the other, nodding at each of them in turn, a towel over his head and an untouched cup of water in his hand. I didn't notice anything in the first half that should have caused them to be yammering at him, but then again I was so intent on protecting my own turf that once the ball left my area, I just tracked it down the field, instead of paying attention to who was doing what with it. The ref blew his whistle to start the second half, and we all trotted out to take our positions. The full 45 minutes of the second half seemed to move in some sort of dreamlike state. On the one hand, the time flew by so quickly, it seemed like I was out on the field for about seven or eight minutes. On the other hand, it was like everything was moving in slow motion. I had plenty of time to get to the ball, and each time I would pass long, the ball would arc majestically through the crystal air, taking its sweet time to land just where I wanted it to. It was a magical, very scary evening, full of contained grief and anger. At the end of it all, we won the game by a score of 4-1. After the game, as I was sitting on the bench with the rest of the team, the adrenal glands finally ran out of production. I went into a severe case of the shivers, so bad that I could hardly stand. Eric and Jorge and Kevin helped me back to the locker rooms and sat me down on a bench. Eric ran out to get my father, who came in to find me almost comatose, shivering and exhausted from the emotions of the game. My dad took one arm, Eric took the other, and they guided me out into the parking lot and into the back seat of my dad's car, where I finally just collapsed and pretty much passed out. I vaguely remember the car doors slamming, the car starting up, and the tires crunching through the gravel of the back parking lot. My mom and my dad were talking about me on the way home, but it all sounded like a huge hive of bees in the car, buzzing and hovering around my ears. I couldn't make out a word they were saying, and I just didn't have the energy to care as I lay there, mostly unconscious and completely wasted. The next week was a very strange combination of sadness, euphoria, and grinding boredom. Our tiny local paper had covered the game, and their report was picked up by the Metro Times on Monday for their High School Sports section. The human interest side of the story, about our first game after Skip and Theo's accident, was the focus, but they did also have a write-up about the game itself. Eric Johnson was singled out as "the new speedster in the midfield" and praised for scoring a goal on his first start. They also painted an entirely too flattering picture of our defense in general, and Sean Porter specifically, bantering about phrases such as "playing exceptionally well under extraordinary circumstances", and "a surprisingly volatile defensive style", whatever that means. If they had seen me in my dad's car after the game, they probably wouldn't have been so complimentary, I thought. Coach Neville announced to the team that Theo was having difficulty coping with the results of the accident, and suggested that we make an effort to stop by the hospital and visit with him sometime this week to try to cheer him up. Poo-Poo was arraigned on manslaughter charges and was still in the local jail. The others who were with him were released on bond, and the rest of the Bulls had changed their ways, in light of the troubles facing their leader and friends. They were back in school, but they were making an effort to dress preppy, showing up in new clothes, with their hair cut and clean, and keep a very low profile. It didn't work very well. They were still hazed and harassed for their association with Del Toro. Another interesting factoid surfaced during that week. It seemed that Allison Moseley, the buxom ditz that was hanging on Theo at the pool party, was the object of Vinnie Arilio's affections. He was so enraged when he heard about Theo doing her that he may have convinced Richie to go out looking for Theo that Saturday night. I was still under house arrest myself. Dad dropped me off in the mornings, but by the end of the week he was getting pretty irritated with the routine. Mom picked me up in the afternoons, and I spent the rest of the time at home, either up in my room doing homework or watching TV with the rest of the family. Fortunately, Molly's better instincts kept her from trying to sneak into my house. I missed kissing her and holding her, though, and I know that she was missing me, too. On Wednesday at lunch, she told me just how much she was missing being with me. We were sitting together at one of the long tables in the cafeteria with a bunch of other kids, and it was noisy and boisterous in the large room. She was wearing a plaid wraparound skirt with a big brass safety pin as an accessory holding it together, and a fuzzy sweater that fit her very well. She leaned over to whisper say something in my ear. "I really miss you, Sean," she breathily said. "I miss you, too, Mol," I answered. "No, Sean," she said. "I really, really miss you." She flicked her tongue against my earlobe. I flinched back. "What are you doing, Molly?!?" God, not here in the lunch room, I thought. She grabbed my hand and pressed it to the inside of her thigh, under her skirt. She kept her hand on top of mine, to keep me from jerking it away. "Trying to let you know how much I miss you, silly." She tried to move my hand up further on her leg, but I was nearly frantic in my efforts to look calm while I tried to yank away from her. As it was, I wasn't going to be able to stand up anytime soon because of her. She nipped my earlobe between her teeth and bit down lightly, sending shivers through me. "What if I told you I wasn't wearing any panties?" she whispered. That sent even more shivers through me. She grabbed my wrist with both hands and pulled my hand up further on her leg. I felt the bottom seam of her underwear as my fingers brushed against her damp pussy. I sighed, whether in relief or in frustration I wasn't sure. She chuckled throatily as she let me go, her skirt falling back in place under the table. "You're just too easy to flip up, Porter," she said. She turned back to her lunch as if nothing had happened. "Molly, I can't help it if I'm grounded. I wish I wasn't too, you know." "Well, you'd better figure something out soon. I'm really getting...itchy." She wadded up her wrappers and stood up to leave. She gave me a wink and sauntered away, hips swishing her skirt from side to side, knowing I was watching her. I groaned in frustration. I was done with lunch, but I still couldn't stand up without embarrassing myself. Damn her, I thought to myself. She was really going to get me in hot water some day. Our game that Friday was an away game. We took a school bus to Rockton Heights High School, and a convoy of kids from school followed us to the game. This game was against our toughest rivals in our conference, and we were all worked up about coming away with a victory. There were only three more games in the regular season, and we wanted to be playing at our peak for the playoffs. This game would be a good test for our realigned left offense, as well as our right defense. Practice this past week had gone well, especially after our win the week before. We worked on plays, and made mistakes galore, knowing that it was all a learning process for us as a team. I hoped that the mistakes would be left on the practice field again. The game was surprisingly emotional. Rockton Heights asked their fans to give a moment of silence in honor of our fallen players, and the entire team came over to our bench and shook our hands before the starting lineups were announced. It brought a lump to my throat, and I don't think I was the only member of our team who suddenly had blurry vision. The game was every bit as tough as it was hyped to be. Their defense was strong, and they had one of the best forwards in the state on their team, playing in the middle. Their left forward, playing on my side of the field, was a cagey senior who was not going to let a sophomore like me get the best of him. He was trash-talking at me through the first half, taunting and daring me to challenge him, both on and off the ball. Just before the end of the half, he took a give-and-go from his midfielder and tried to end-run me, but I slid down and managed to knock the ball out of bounds. On the throw- in, Rockton sent most of their players up, leaving only two defenders and the keeper back, trying to make the most of a scoring opportunity. I saw that they were going to throw across to the middle, so I signaled to Kevin to switch, and I raced over just as the throw was made. I got there in time to step in front of the intended receiver, trapped the ball, and headed upfield as fast as I could go. Their defensive midfielder angled over to cut me off, but I saw Eric streaking down the middle, wide open and calling for the ball. I passed it over to him and took off past the startled defender, into the open space on the side. Eric trapped the ball, took two steps with it, and rocketed it back over to me. The last defender was caught between us, undecided about who he should cover, and his momentary hesitation cost him. He ran toward me, leaving Eric unguarded, so I crossed the ball to him, and he powered it into the back of the net unobstructed. I ran over to him, yelling and screaming, and he jumped up into me, knocking us both to the ground. We got up just as the rest of the team got over to us to congratulate us on the goal. We trotted back over to our side for the kickoff, and a moment later the whistle ending the first half sounded. The second half didn't go quite so well. Rockton made some adjustments to their game, and scored two quick goals in succession before we could figure out their changes. The game see-sawed back and forth from then on, first Rockton on the offensive, and then us attacking, but no one scored until a hand ball was called inside the box on one of their defensemen. We scored on the penalty kick, and time ran out in regulation with the score tied, 2-2. We played a ten-minute overtime period scoreless, and had one more overtime period to play in sudden death. If nobody scored, we would have to go to a penalty-kick shoot-off to decide the game, something neither side wanted. We were on the bench trying to catch our breath before the start of the second overtime period. The batteries were just about drained on all of us starters. Coach was considering substituting some of his players in favor of fresh legs, but in the end opted for experience on the field at this crucial stage. In 20-20 hindsight, it was a mistake. Rockton did substitute, and their fresh players were able to control the ball, while we were always one step behind the ball because of our weariness. In the sixth minute, they had a corner kick against us, and they made the most of it. The kick came out to about 18 meters out. Kevin made a play on the ball, but stumbled as he went for it. The Rockton midfielder passed it back to the kicker on the side, angling out from the corner, who fired it in at the goal. He was mine to cover, and I didn't get to him in time. John tried diving for it, but was a fraction too late, and the ball hit the back of the net and made it flutter. Rockton had defeated us in the second overtime period, 3-2. We congratulated them, trudged over to the bench to pack up our gear, stripping off shoes and sodden socks and shinguards and stuffing them into our bags. We walked dejectedly to the bus and climbed on for the long ride back to our school. On the way back, as we were sucking down water from a big cooler set up in the back, Coach tried to put a positive spin on the game, congratulating us on our play, and admonishing us that one loss so far in the season was of little consequence. We were all too tired to do anything but sit there and listen to his words wash over us, each drawn in on our own thoughts about where we might have done better during the game. By the time we got back to the school, the caravan that had gone to support us at the game had already arrived. Instead of leaving to go home, nearly all the kids and parents had stayed in the school parking lot to wait for our bus. They were applauding and cheering us as we stumbled out and onto the blacktop of the parking lot, surprised and gratified at the show of support. I saw Molly, and Heather and Evan, and Toby and Jen and Sam, and Jake and Kayla, and Josh, and everybody else there, standing around us in a semicircle as we gathered our gear and moved off into the crowd. My parents were there, too, with my brother Stephen, and my dad grabbed my bag and carried it to the car as my mom put her arm around my shoulder, heedless of the grime and sweat, and held me close as we walked slowly through the parking lot. I crawled into the back seat and lay back, my head lolling against the rear cushion. As he started the car, my dad said, "You played a great game tonight, son. You know, you mother and I have been talking about you. We think you might have been grounded for long enough. We'll talk about lifting at least part of your sentence in the morning." "Okay," I mumbled, too tired to say more. (Continued in Chapter 25) --------------------------------------------------------------------- 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@hotmail.com Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- PLAYING THE GAME by Reverend Cotton Mather - 25 - TRICKS AND TREATS I was indeed paroled. I had a certain amount of my freedom back, but I had to call them and let them know where I was and what I was doing at all times. It was a pain, but it was better than it was. The next Monday, the Metro Times carried an even bigger story about our game, even though we had lost. I was embarrassed to read that I was being touted as "the defensive specialist who was also a scoring threat", after my assist in the first half. I didn't want all the attention I started getting. Hell, I was only 15 years old. I wanted to just go out and have fun playing the game. By the end of October, the Rockton game was our only loss. We would be seeded first in the conference playoffs. Rockton was seeded second, and we might have a chance to play them again for the conference finals, with luck. I still wasn't allowed to go out and hang out with just Molly, and we weren't able to wangle any time alone. Molly was complaining more and more about being unable to scratch her "itch", and I was beginning to think of her as being much more sexually driven than any other kids I knew, which was saying an awful lot. I was worried that the boyfriend-girlfriend relationship was suffering because of our inability to have any intimate time together. Besides that, I was getting pretty horny, too, and her complaints didn't help much. Around two weeks before the end of October, Molly and Tessa decided they would have a costume party at Molly's house on the Saturday before Halloween. I asked my parents if I could go. They called up Molly's parents to find out if the O'Tooles or the Navarrones were going to be there to chaperone. Since both sets of parents were planning on being at the house during the party, my parents reluctantly agreed to let me go. Now I had to come up with a good costume. In the end, laziness won out over creativity. My dad had a cowboy outfit, complete with holster and cap gun, tucked away in a closet, and I pulled it out and tried it on. It fit well enough, and with a cheap felt cowboy hat that I found scrunched up and stuck in a corner of the closet, I was set for the party. I got over to Molly's early to help Tessa and her get the basement decorated. The Navarrones and the O'Tooles were all there, except for Heather, busy getting sodas packed in ice, black lights hung up, streamers and fake spider webs strung. Mr. and Mrs. O'Toole were creating a mini haunted house in the laundry room, with a mannequin's head painted to look like it had been decapitated from a body, a bowl of peeled grapes for eyeballs, and rubber bats and spiders hanging all around. Lisbeth, Josh and Tessa were hanging streamers from walls and ceilings, and I helped Mr. Navarrone get the drinks and ice set up, along with paper cups, napkins, and garbage baskets placed in the corners of the large room. Molly was in the kitchen getting snacks ready, chips and popcorn and nuts in big bowls. Later on, they would be ordering pizzas to be delivered for everybody. We were just putting the last of the decorations up when kids started showing up for the party. There were mostly 9th and 10th graders who were invited, but these things had a way of expanding sometimes. Josh and Molly had run upstairs to their rooms to change into their costumes, and came down just as the doorbell was starting to ring. Josh was a monk of some sort, wearing a hooded robe with a rope for a belt, his bare feet in sandals. Molly was a hippie girl, complete with a huge afro-style wig and rose-colored glasses. They greeted kids at the door as they came up. The first to arrive were Jen and Sam, dressed like the American Gothic farmer and wife. They were both so thin and tall, it was a natural for them. Sam wore bib overalls and carried a pitchfork, and Jen had on a gingham dress that buttoned to her throat, her hair pulled back tight on her head. Toby, nearly the smallest kid in school, came in a Superman costume, complete with cape, which made us all laugh (which was, after all, the point for Toby). Eric was a priest, Keisha a nun. Jorge took the easy way out and came in his soccer uniform, but Kristina went all out, dressing up as Catwoman, a la Eartha Kitt. Jake was a pirate, with a hook for a hand and a stuffed parrot glued to his shoulder. Jake was still barred from seeing Jaimie, so Kayla came with him, looking absolutely amazing as Jeannie the Genie, complete with billowy balloon pants with elastic at the waist and ankles, a pink halter top, and a little cap with a wispy veil that fell behind her head. All in all, there were about 30 kids at the party, more girls than boys, when all was said and done. We had music playing loud, and there was a strobe light pulsing in a corner of the room. Some kids were dancing occasionally, mostly just standing in one place and jerking around, but some kids brought their disco moves with them and were working it out. Most of the lights were out, with just the strobe on one end and the black lights on the other, but either Molly's parents or Tessa's parents were circulating almost constantly, coming down from the kitchen with plates of snacks and chips, refilling the ice chest, checking on drinks, emptying filling trash containers, keeping a sharp eye on the proceedings. Mr. O'Toole stationed himself in the haunted house, where all the lights were off, guiding each kid around and through the spider webs, to the bowl of peeled eyes, and then to the severed head, where he switched on a spotlight to illuminate it in all its gruesome glory. Each time he did that, he got a very satisfying scream from every girl, and a few of the guys even jumped back at the sudden sight of it. He was very pleased with himself, I could tell. After all the partygoers had gone through the room, he closed the room and went upstairs to join the other adults, leaving just the spotlight on the head as a deterrent to mischief. After a couple of hours, it was apparent to the adults that we were reasonably well behaved, that we had not brought any alcohol or drugs, and that we were having a good time despite their presence, so they began coming down less and less to check on us. Molly and Tessa were still making occasional trips up to the kitchen for more snacks or sodas, so there was little reason for the parents to come down anymore. Besides, we were making enough noise, how much trouble could we get into? Somebody suggested a variation on the old spin-the-bottle game. Since it was a big basement, there were two doors leading to the utility area, one by the furnace and one in the laundry area. After some negotiation, it was decided that all the boys would sit in a circle by the laundry room door, all the girls would be at the other end of the large room, sitting on the floor by the furnace door. There was a soda bottle in the middle of each circle. It was decided that there would be two spins of each bottle. The first spin would determine who would meet at the laundry room end, where the haunted house had been set up. The second spin would determine who would meet at the furnace end, where there was virtually no light at all. There was a lot of squealing and giggling going on from the girls' end of the room as we guys gathered around in our circle, laughing and joking about who would end up with whom. When Molly gave the go- ahead, I grabbed our bottle and gave it a spin at the same time Tessa twirled the bottle by the girls. We weren't supposed to let the other circle know who was going to each area. Everybody wanted it to be a surprise. The bottle ended up pointing at Toby first. He got up and went in the door to await his partner. I spun the bottle a second time, and it ended up pointing at Eric. He went through the door at our end and headed toward the furnace side. We could hear more giggles and low talk coming from the other end of the room. The agreed-upon time was the length of the next full song on the album playing on the record player, which was loud enough to be heard anywhere in the basement (and probably the whole house). The rest of us spent the time refilling glasses and grabbing another piece of pizza while we waited for the song to end. At the end of their time, Toby and Eric came back out to our group. Eric had a smile on his face, but Toby looked absolutely shell- shocked. "Who were you back there with?" asked Josh. "Kendra," said Eric, grinning. Kendra was a sophomore at school, medium height with a plain face and mousy brown hair. She had, in Toby's words, "big bazooms", though, and she was, it was rumored, generous with her favors. She had come to the party in a tavern wench costume, with a fair amount of cleavage showing to spark the interest of us boys. "She told me she liked chocolate," he added with a smile. We whooped and hollered at that information, glad that the current activity had gotten off to such a good start. We turned to Toby and asked him about who he had ended up with. He hesitated before answering. "Ummm...it was Jen," he said sheepishly. Everybody else started laughing at the thought of tiny Toby alone with tall Jen Davies. He glanced at me with a sad look in his eye, though. I was the only one of his friends who really knew how he felt about Jen, and I knew it hurt him to be the butt of this particular joke. I wondered if Jen had said anything bad to him. Hey, it's nothing, he seemed to say to me as he shrugged and sat back down again in the circle. He grabbed the bottle and gave it a spin. This time, Jake was picked to go to the laundry room side, and I was on the furnace side. As I passed by him, I heard the door at the other end open, and Kayla was walking toward me, heading for the laundry room. She stopped and smiled at me, and then, making sure I was blocking Jake's view, she lifted her pink halter to flash me a glimpse of her small, delectable and completely naked breasts. She let her top drop back into place, and swished by me with a murmured "Excuse me, Sean." As she brushed by me, I turned to stare after her and almost fell down when I bumped up against a metal post. Embarrassed, I continued down toward the furnace, just as the door opened again, and Tessa walked in. We sat down and leaned against the plywood wall, my arm comfortably around her shoulder in a friendly manner. We chatted for a couple of minutes about nothing at all, until Tessa turned to me and said softly, "Molly says you're a good kisser." I was a little surprised, but I wasn't so dense that I couldn't pick up on the hint. I bent over and kissed her softly. Her hand sneaked up and wrapped itself around my neck while we kissed, her fingers tangling in my hair. It was a sweet, noncommittal, friendly and brief contact, and we stood up together and moved apart just as the song was ending. We each headed for our respective doors, and this time when I passed Kayla, she just smiled at me and continued on her way. "Okay, who were you guys with?" asked Eric. "My sister," replied Jake disgustedly. "I was with Tessa," I said. Nobody had much to say about either of those, so we sat back down and Jake spun the bottle. We kept on playing like that for about a half an hour, with some of the guys coming back with tales of kisses and hugs, others with no activity to report. Josh came back out one time looking very sheepish, saying only that he had been back there with the legendary Kendra. At the same time, I thought I heard an increased volume of whispers and giggles from the other side of the room. Finally, the bottle landed on me again, sending me back to the furnace side. Scott Taylor, costumed as a doctor in scrubs, was chosen for the laundry room side, and we walked through the door together. As I headed down the dark room, Molly was walking toward me. She stopped when she got to me, reached up and put her arms around my neck, and pulled herself up to give me a very wet kiss as she pressed her body against me. My internal connectors burned away as the heat she suddenly generated burst forth. "Just a little reminder of what you've been missing," she whispered as she backed away from me. She smiled, and continued on toward the other side of the room. I saw the far door open once again, but couldn't see who came in. I made my way down to the furnace area, until my foot bumped up against the leg of whoever was sitting, leaning back against the wall. "Who's there?" I whispered. There was no answer, but I did feel a small hand grasp mine and pull down, urging me to sit beside her. I sat, and the person still held my hand, but now pressed my palm up against her bare midriff. "Hi, Sean," Kayla whispered. I was still in a minor state of arousal from Molly's kiss, and Kayla's voice activated more burners, stoking the fire. I slipped my arm around her shoulder, and she naturally moved in and raised her face for our first kiss in months. I could make out the almost white radiance of her fine hair as she moved closer to me, and I closed my eyes as our lips met. She clutched both her hands to my wrist on her belly, pressing my hand harder into her stomach as we melted into each other, our first soft kiss followed by a much hungrier one, mouths open and tongues frantically searching. We were pretty much lost together, unaware that our song had ended until a small shaft of light fell across us as the door opened. We stopped kissing and looked up, startled, just as Molly was staring back at us, frozen in the act of opening the door as she saw Kayla and I, holding each other. Oh, shit on a stick, I thought to myself. I have just opened a large, economy sized can of worms. The game went on for a few more spins, but my heart really wasn't in it anymore. It really didn't matter, because the bottle never pointed at me again that night. The room had gotten noticeably quieter, even noticeable upstairs, so one or another of the parents started making quick trips down to see what was going on. They were ostensibly walking around checking on snacks and stuff, but they were also quietly counting heads, so the game stopped and kids began milling around again, sometimes dancing, sometimes just grouping and yakking. A slow song began playing, and Molly slipped her arm into mine and guided me out into the middle of the room so we could dance close. "What was that with you and Jake's little sister?" she asked quietly. Too quietly. "It was nothing, Mol. I was just playing the game, you know?" I whispered. I dropped her hand and put both arms around her waist. "It looked like you were enjoying playing the game a little too much, Sean." "Hey, come on, give me a break," I pleaded. "I kissed Tessa, too. I'm sure she told you about it. Besides, don't try to tell me you didn't give Scotty a little peck on the cheek." "Okay," she admitted. "I did kiss him. But I also heard the song end, which is more than you can say." "Hey, she's just a kid. It was probably her first time kissing a boy. I just wanted to give her something to remember, that's all." "I'll bet it wasn't her first time kissing a boy," Molly muttered. But she let it drop at that, for which I was silently grateful. I had the sinking feeling, though, that this was not the last time this subject would come up between us. Molly seemed a little distracted the rest of the evening, but I figured it was because we were at her house and all. Maybe that was it. Then again, maybe it wasn't. (Continued in Chapter 26) -- 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> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+