Message-ID: <51273asstr$1117480203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <bingain@yahoo.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Comment: DomainKeys? See http://antispam.yahoo.com/domainkeys DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; q=dns; c=nofws; s=s1024; d=yahoo.com; b=FnJP17uU0BK+y+PvnmP+3K0LrBHxxoChdVQOLc2DeZ0gez/8O19G66t213nuRCw1n7sT52FYk4jmo8jKRqXC2V4/LlEBspXkdB2DyOT/IfjcllYLXSh/QWlTM2JgnPD4yHmhAqkghx5yWUN7PdoCHgOgCUri4jdhDt820qJcMRg= ; X-Original-Message-ID: <20050530175204.17451.qmail@web54701.mail.yahoo.com> From: Bingain <bingain@yahoo.com> Reply-To: bingain@yahoo.com MIME-Version: 1.0 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 30 May 2005 10:52:03 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} Girl's Soccer Coach by Bingain 1/5 (Mf, 1st, cons, rom, slow) Lines: 1018 Date: Mon, 30 May 2005 15:10:03 -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/Year2005/51273> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, hoisingr Girl's Soccer Coach approx 30,000 words Codes: Mf, first, cons, rom, slow This story is about the relationships of some female youth soccer players and their coach, a young man who goes into girls' soccer coaching involuntarily. Some of the relationships began as pure sexual attractions, but there is also a romance driven one. The situation gets more and more complex as the characters and the relationships develop. Bingain http://storiesonline.net http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/bingain/www --------------------------------------------------------------------- Girls' Soccer Coach An Olexander Skripnik Adventure Story Copyright (C) 2005, Bingain (Mf, 1st, cons, romance, slow) Disclaimer: This story is a fiction. It does not relate to any real incidences or real persons. This work contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity. Anyone who may be offended by such contents, or persons forbidden by law or any regulations, should not read, hear, touch, smell, or download this story. Re-distribution, posting, and anything other than personal enjoyment are subject to explicit authorization of the author. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Preface This story is about the relationships (note the plural) of some female youth soccer players and their coach, a young man who goes into girls' soccer coaching involuntarily. Some of the relationships began as pure sexual attractions, but there is also a romance driven one. The situation gets more and more complex as the characters and the relationships develop. Readers should bear in mind that no matter how innocent this young man is, he is legally a criminal for having sex with young girls. Actually, undisclosed sources claim that there will be a possible new congressional bill requiring all male soccer coaches dealing with female youth players be castrated before taking on the job;-) Anyway, I hope what this young man does will mitigate his guilt somehow. Unlike my previous story 'Impossible Dreams', this is a story using some sports merely as background. It is not about sports, and therefore it doesn't matter if you know any sports at all. Many thanks to jhasty658 for his effort in editing this story for me. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 1 Chelsea made a pass to Diana. The ball bounced off Diana's feet. She sprinted forward to regain control of the ball, and was immediately surrounded by two opponents. Diana tried to get through the defenders but the bigger girls eventually fended her off. It was a match between two varsity high school girls' soccer teams. I was an assistant coach of the home team, Peterson High School, in which Diana and Chelsea were playing for. It was a close match between these two teams of enthusiastic teen girls. Our teams had better chances but the opponent team did a good job in the defense after they made a leading goal. Nevertheless, our girls kept on trying and pushing. Diana had the ball again. She pushed it to her left and spun around a defender, then sent a pass into the defending team's penalty box. Barbara just arrived in time to slide tackle the ball, pitching it towards the far end of the goal. I watched anxiously as the ball approached the goal. It missed by a few inches and went out into the baseline. I heard grunts from my own throat and the people around me. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The picture of me missing my own score, many years ago, in the exact same way, came back into my mind. I was playing in a crucial match and I missed the best chance of the game, leaving my team defeated by just one goal. Despite being consoled by parents, friends, and coaches, I was still very upset for many weeks that followed. It was a very important game. It was my last chance to attempt playing in the territorial youth championship game. In hindsight, it was also my last competition soccer game. Shortly after that devastating game, my family moved to the United States. I spent my thirteenth birthday in a congested apartment in Paterson, New Jersey, that accommodated three families. We moved out of that overcrowded flat and into our own apartment a few weeks later when my dad found a job working for a moving company. It was a downgrade of job for my dad, as he was a senior supervisor at a chemical factory back in Siberia, Russia. Mom used to be a high school teacher in her home country, but she had to settle for a clerical job with below-minimum pay. None of us could speak decent English. It took us a long while to settle down in the new environment. The hardship also began to cripple the relationship between my parents. My mom began complaining how life in the new country was much tougher than in their homeland, how my dad had made a terrible decision to come over here, and how he had not listen to her opinion before making the decision. They began quarrelling day and night. They did not get separated or divorced, but became hostile housemates instead of loving spouses. What hurt most was that back then nobody played soccer here. The opulent professional soccer league had collapsed. It would take more than a decade to rebuild a more practical league. The only major ball sports that the Americans were involved in were American football, baseball, basketball, and ice hockey. Most of my schoolmates had no idea what soccer was. I was very lonesome as I never was able to get along well with my older brother Miloslav. Eventually the staff in my school persuaded me to play on the football team, as I was a very fast runner with excellent sprint speed and quick reactions. It turned out this decision was a turning point of my life. I was not lonely anymore. I began to have peers and girlfriends. My English began to improve much better than when I was staying home watching soccer games on Spanish channels. What was more important was that later on I was offered a sports scholarship to attend college. Miloslav never got to go to college. He became a construction worker after his high school. But he was a smart guy. He worked as a freelance handyman in the evenings, often using materials from his daytime job. Then he began hiring his newly immigrated countrymen at pitiful pay to help him expand his night-time business. Before I finished my high school, he was already operating his own construction and remodeling business. We moved to Englewood Cliffs before I packed for college. I went to New Jersey's state university, Rutgers, and began my quasi professional years with the college's football team, Scarlet Knights. It did not turn out very well. I was injured in a game during my sophomore year and suffered severe Colles' wrist fracture. I had to have surgery requiring a plate and screws which sidelined me for the entire season. While I was recovering, I learned that my dad was killed in a car accident. I went home for his funeral. It looked like mom had grown a decade older since I saw her a few months ago. I didn't know the loss of a hostile housemate could also hurt that much. The only good news was that my sister-in-law was pregnant, and in a few months' time my mom would have a grand-child to keep her company. I was injured again in the first game I played after my rehabilitation, lateral collateral ligament this time. It wasn't as serious as my previous injury, but I knew my NCAA career, as well as the hope of any professional sports career, was over. I was still in school, and I had no other choice than to finish my degree, so I began hitting the books. It wasn't easy, as being an athlete student, I actually spent very little time on books. I was enrolled in Exercise Science major when I started my college and I had a hard time deciding if I should switch major. Finally I decided to finish the curriculum. It was the easiest route because I didn't have to practically start all over. I worked part-time in the football team's support training program while I continued with my study. After graduation, my former coach put me in an assistant football athletic trainer job at Rutgers. I stayed there for two years until my mentor was replaced, and the new coach wanted his own guys for the coaching staff positions. I began looking for new employment. I took up an athletic trainer job at the Morris County Community College. Nothing offered by the new job was comparable to the one at Rutgers, but it was still much better than waiting to be fired. Before I went to Randolph to look for accommodation, I had a phone chat with my former quarterback teammate, Simon O'Carroll. I told him the new development at his alma mater, and he told me his agonizing struggle dealing with being released from the NFL. When he knew I was going to work at Randolph, he suggested me to call his grandmamma, who lived in Lake Hopatcong, 20 minutes away from the community college, and was a realtor before she retired. I thought I was calling a former realtor for information. I didn't know I was calling a matron looking for a cohabitant to help taking care of her husband, who was recovering from prostate cancer, as well as heavy duty housework like shoveling snow on her driveway. Nevertheless, I agreed to her offer of free room and board for the occasional services I would render. I wasn't in a very good financial situation and would appreciate any cost saving arrangement. I knew I had made the right decision when I had dinner with them for the first time. Mrs. O'Carroll was a terrific cook. After six years living on my own surviving on junk food, I really appreciated those marvelous meals. It was there where I first met Chelsea Boswell. Chelsea's family lived next door to the O'Carroll's. Chelsea was having her fourteenth birthday party in her backyard when Mrs. O'Carroll introduced me to her parents. Chelsea was a rather skinny girl with shoulder length brown curly hair and brown eyes glistened with cunning sparks. I didn't pay attention to Chelsea at our first acquaintance. It was also a long time afterward that I knew her best friend Barbara Enzi was there as well. The person I was paying attention to at that occasion was Chelsea's older cousin Sheila, who was on summer vacation from her study at Rutgers. Being a Scarlet Knights' starting wide receiver, I never lacked the opportunity with pretty and sexy girls while in college, even after I had to quit from playing. However, Sheila was still very appealing to me. She wasn't exactly beautiful, but you can use the word 'sexy' to describe every part of her face and body. I began dating Sheila that evening. Actually we had sex in my jeep during our first date. I began to appreciate the boarding offer of Mrs. O'Carroll even more, but I also hated the lack of privacy and lack of opportunity my residence provided for this function. Sheila lived with her parents while in town, so we couldn't use her place. I had to pay for motel room or use my jeep in roadside parking for our near-daily sexual activities. I called up my mom and told her I wouldn't be going home for the summer. My relationship with Sheila didn't last long, which was no surprise to me. When Sheila went back to school, she began dating, or resumed dating, her schoolmates. It was nevertheless a very enjoyable and pleasing relationship, with only good memories and no sad feelings. --------------------------------------------------------------------- The ball hitting me in the chest brought me back from my daydreaming to the reality. I picked up the ball and gave it to an opponent player when she asked me for it. The game went on. My girls were so desperate to level the game they missed many chances. When the referee whistled the end of game, I saw a bunch of devastated girls tottering slowly towards us. Some of them had tears in their eyes. We distributed bottles of water to the girls. The coaching staff was also comforting the girls. Finally, parents and students, as well as the players started to leave the field. Chelsea and Barbara were whining and blaming each other for not being able to tie the game while I gathered the discarded drink bottles and tossed them into the garbage bin. The duo was riding with me. Normally it was only Chelsea riding with me. Barbara used to drive her own car after she got her driver's license and her own car. She crashed her car last week, so she was riding with us. I took Barbara home, and then Chelsea. She told me to take my jeep into a quiet cul-de-sac and gave me a 'friendly' kiss before I took her home. I then went back to my place to enjoy the dinner I picked up on the way. After dinner, I turned on the TV to watch a NCAA football game. I normally wouldn't go to the weekday games, but I had the afternoon off that day and had nowhere to go. I had broken off with my girlfriend, and my best friend Nakhval who was supposed to go out with me was out of town to attend some family business. A commercial on the TV during a break reminded me of some moments I had when I was living with Mrs. O'Carroll. My mind went back into the past again. --------------------------------------------------------------------- When I learned that Mrs. O'Carroll's eldest granddaughter, Tammy, was going to move in for a not-yet-determined period of time after her divorce, I suggested to my landlady that I would go look for my own place. Mrs. O'Carroll declined, and told me she believed I would be more needed and appreciated by the new family members moving in. Tammy & I never really hit it off, but I was God's gift to her seven year old daughter Julie when she found out I was a soccer player some twelve years ago. Julie had started playing soccer not too long ago. I was playing with her in the backyard even before our first dinner together was finished. The first thing she did when she went to school was to enroll in U8 soccer team and made me take her to the practices and games whenever possible. It became obvious why I was appreciated; Tammy and I often went out of the door together, I took her daughter to the games, and she went for her dates. Often parents had to get involved in coaching the chaotic gaggle of little boys and girls. I wasn't Julie's parent, but she considered me her personal trainer, and I was her guardian at the practices and games. So naturally I became a part of the volunteer helping hands. I could play soccer pretty well myself, but I had no clue how to teach them. The guys I trained at college knew what they were doing, these kids didn't. The coach of the team suggested me to read some books and attend some courses designed for parents. I read the books, but I never went to those courses. Since I was a professional athletic trainer, he also suggested me to join the youth soccer coach association for more resources. An additional license never hurt, so I did it. Chelsea found out I was playing with Julie in the backyard one day, and she insisted she be invited. It was then I realized she was also playing soccer. She was a JV player at school and was about to move on to varsity level. Very soon she was fighting with Julie for my time. She managed to grab a bigger piece of me by offering the little girl some of her own time when I was not around. Chelsea also insisted she had the same treatment as Julie, that I would take her to her games and practices. I couldn't afford the time, and actually I didn't want to. I needed a life beside my job and the kids, and for God's sake they were not my kids. But after Chelsea made everyone from the two neighboring households to petition to me for a fair treatment, I gave in and agreed to do it sparingly, if I had the time. Not long later, I also became a part of the volunteer helping hands for a group of older girls. Of course I was the most qualified one among them. I was a professional trainer myself, I knew the game very well, I was the most skillful one on the field, players, parents, and coaches included, and I was the only 'parent' who had a soccer coach license. Since I was such a rare commodity, the head coach of Chelsea's team began asking me to take a bigger role in helping these eager girls. I would have if he had asked me to play, but I believed I had enough in training others. I took a rain check on his invitation every time he asked. It soon became a continuing nuisance when the girls knew of their coach's intention and started an endless effort to talk me into it. I began telling them I had a girlfriend, then a few girlfriends, then a harem full of concubines, and so I had no time for them. The bad news came one day when Tammy announced that she and Julie were moving in with her new boyfriend in Newark. Before Tammy's boyfriend had pulled the rental truck off our driveway, I already had a few of Chelsea's friends gathering at our front yard ready to start a new round of lobbying. I didn't give in to their claptrap. I gave in that evening when Chelsea's mom knocked on our door, with an awfully looking cake in her hands, and giggling at me, telling me the young girls had baked me a cake, and also telling me that she and her husband would be very grateful if I could give a little more help to the girl next door, and her friends as well. Mrs. O'Carroll's dog ate the cake that night, while I ran through their schedules to see how often I could go to their practices. I called their head coach the next day telling him my available schedules. Even though I was listed as an assistant coach on their publication, our understanding was that I was a trainer. I helped to train the girls in the physical and skill areas. The game play aspects belonged to Glenn and the occasional assistants the school assigned to the team. Of course there were always enthusiastic or unwilling parents to help in all areas. Friday was a no-no for me to go to the field. I always had a girlfriend waiting for me on Friday nights, whether it was a real one or an imaginary one. I admit it was somehow enjoyable to watch the girls in competition games, even though the excitement was far less than watching professional games, especially the European games. I never went to weekday games, because it would be very late in the game when I could get there. In fact, in the beginning, I didn't even go to their weekend games. I had been successful in using excuses to turn down invitations from my girls to go watch their weekend games, until Chelsea figured out a way to break my defense. Chelsea managed to convince my guardians why it was so important for her to come into my room and pull me out of my bed to take her to her games. Very soon Mrs. O'Carroll and her husband would simply left the door open for Chelsea and they went about their own business. I knew the days I could always sleep with just my underwear on were over. I bought myself pajamas for the weekends. The player I talked to the most was of course Chelsea. She was a very pleasant, outgoing, outspoken, witty, and artful girl. She was also, undoubtedly, a very dangerous person to deal with. She had the gifted ability to make you say yes a million times for no good reason and the outcome was going to be death penalty. Chelsea's mom was a customer services supervisor for the local utility company, and her dad worked for an appliance outlet. I didn't see her dad much, and I didn't hear Chelsea talked much about her dad. Mrs. O'Carroll, however, had told me Chelsea's parents had been on the brink of separation a couple times in the past. I also didn't see Chelsea's older brother Mark very much, but it was very easy to know when Mark came home after his night-time activities. He rode a bike with extremely loud tailpipes. Barbara Enzi was Chelsea's best friend and classmate at school. She played center position in the team. She had a strange physical development process. I believe she remained the same height throughout the years I had known her. However, every time she would give me a slightly different figure about her height, ranging from the more convincing 5'9 to my height of 6'1. Barbara had also maintained her finely chiseled features and long light brown hair going to the middle of her back since I first noticed her existence. Barbara's dad was a successful realtor and they lived by the lake. I also knew her older sister was going to Princeton the following year. It was one of the first things her mom told me the first time we were introduced at the field. Barbara's problem about playing the center position was that she was a little bony. One of her typical behaviors after a game was to show me the bruises on her thighs and legs, complaining how the defenders had treated her. I didn't notice we had a girl called Diana Fiore until after a while. The first time I paid attention to her was when I found out she could use both feet to pass the ball or strike. This was unusual among players of her age. As a matter of fact, most professional players can not do it well. Diana and Chelsea both played midfield positions in the team, but she was a year behind Chelsea at school. She was an Italian with an average build and had very long and thick eyelashes as well as dimples on both cheeks. Diana is the kind of girl you can not resist the craving to hold her in your arms when she gives you a sweet smile. I knew it because I had seen her smile that way once, just once. According to Chelsea, a second sweet smile from Diana would only occur when someone gave her dad an unclaimed jack pot lottery ticket. Diana was also a rather reticent person. Again, according to Chelsea, if Diana would talk to a guy for more than five minutes, that would be an undeniable proof that she was deeply in love with the guy. Diana lived with her divorced dad. I learned from Diana that her dad was a die-hard Italian soccer fan and a carpenter working for the township Public Works. I had never seen her dad, although I had seen his pickup truck once when he came to pick up Diana on his way home. His pickup truck was the dirtiest vehicle I had ever seen. Diana usually rode the school bus or with another teammate, Ely, who lived a few blocks from her. Glenn Harrison, the head coach of the girl's soccer team, was a PE teacher at school. One of his consistent remarks to me was to tone down my enthusiasm a little. He told me that Peterson High School wasn't a big high school, and had never had talented soccer players, either boys or girls. We had never been able to reach the second round in area tournaments, not to mention a state championship race. He told me unless a miracle happened, we were not going to see a player to get a college sports scholarship. The girls we were to coach were going to enjoy the game and the activities, not take it as a professional career. Actually that had been the change in style of training I had been trying to adapt to for a while. Back at Rutgers, I dealt with motivated NCAA players aiming for a pro career. At Morris Community College, I dealt with rather matured players looking to get into senior years of colleges or just for fun. Here on the soccer field, I was dealing with riotous girls who could be serious about the game one minute and typical goofy teenagers the next minute. But as time passed, it became also satisfying to see the young girls grow up. The soccer games didn't last all year long, which was a great relief for me. They typically started when the school semester started, and ended towards mid November when weather started becoming bad and snow would pose problem for soccer fields without cover and prowling equipment. Games at a more competitive level would resume in April, but normally not for the Peterson girls. They might get together in summer just for fun and practice. As the girls began growing up, I started patting them on their heads instead of any other parts of their bodies, or hugging them all the time. I also began to ignore Barbara's complaints about her bruises on her thighs and legs. She was beginning to have a pair of legs that could drive a guy nuts just by thinking about them. Besides, I also realized Chelsea was no longer that skinny girl she once was. She had become an attractive girl with well proportioned figure. The girls also started shifting attentions to other areas. Most of them, including Barbara and Chelsea, were dating. When asked if Diana was dating as well, Chelsea said nobody knew, and there were some rumors about Diana being gay spreading around. --------------------------------------------------------------------- My reminiscence was interrupted by a phone ring. I picked up the phone. It was Chelsea. "What are you doing?" she said. "Watching football. You?" "Calling you," she said, giggling. "Hey, Operation True Blue suspended. Operation Rosebud filling in. And, wait..." "What?" "Hey," she said, lowering her voice. "Mom's back. See you Sunday." She hung up. I had no clue what she was talking about. I stared at the TV for a while before I realized what True-Blue was. The soccer club Chelsea in England was sometimes nicknamed the True Blue. So it must mean Chelsea was going to skip something. I couldn't figure out what Operation Rosebud was. She couldn't have meant my ex-girlfriend Rosemary, who broke off with me a few months ago and went back to her former boyfriend in New York. I went to the fridge for a beer, and realized the painting Mrs. O'Carroll gave me was still on the floor. I went over to the coffee table and picked up some picture hanging nails I bought a few days ago. I snapped a nail into the drywall and hung up the picture. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went back to the couch to continue watching TV. The football match was over, so I flipped channels. I stopped when I saw a movie shown on the screen, Bruce Willis was groaning and struggling in the bed to answer a phone call. I tried very hard to forget it. Well, once tried hard, but not anymore. What happened on a sunny and humid Sunday three months ago seemed like it happened a few hours ago. --------------------------------------------------------------------- I had gotten so used to Chelsea pulling my arm and dragging me out of my bed in weekend mornings that I normally wouldn't be resistant at all. But this time it was different. I had a long night out with a few Rutgers alumni the previous night at New York City. Two of them had business expeditions at the Big Apple, and since it was such a rare occasion, we gathered everyone who lived nearby for a fun night out. It was already dawn when I came home. Even though my mind was completely blank, I still knew we didn't have a game that day. I grunted as I tried to shove her off. I must have shoved her in the chest as it kind of felt good, and Chelsea loosened her grip. I might have been awakened by the touch if I had half dozen less Tom Collins the previous night. I pulled my arm back and slipped it underneath the pillow as my face flopped down onto the pillow again. I was free from further harassment for like two seconds. Chelsea began shaking my shoulder. I turned my face and opened an eye to look at her. Her face was a little flushed, but her intention was apparently to get me out of bed. She started pulling my elbow. When it didn't work she flipped the blanket off me and tried to roll me over. I let out a long sigh and turned my face up. I knew I wasn't going to be allowed to go back to sleep until I found out what she wanted. Chelsea was giggling while I was still trying to clear my throat. "What?" I struggled to say, still with only one eye opened. Chelsea's face was a little pink. "Are you always like this?" she said, with a sly smile on her face. "What?" Chelsea giggled again. She perched on the edge of my bed, with a knee on the bedside. "This," she said, as I felt a soft pat on my hard-on. Not even a thunderous alarm clock could wake me up better. I nearly jumped off my bed. I didn't normally have a morning hard-on after my puberty years. I didn't know if it was because of the excessive alcohol I had a few hours ago or the lack of rest I had. I also realized that I wasn't in my pajamas but was in my underwear. Chelsea giggled again, and her smile became more wicked. Before I could do anything, I felt soft fingers on my thigh, very close to my groin. I jolted again. Well, I didn't really jolt, but my hard-on did. I also must be out of my mind, because the next rational move should be to pull her over, but I started searching for my blanket. My search for blanket was halted when Chelsea's fingers had moved to the bulge on my brief. I actually jolted this time, and I instinctively turned to look at her. Chelsea had a very strange expression on her face, which I had not seen before. She was half giggling, half flushing, half smiling teasingly, and half winking artfully. She also was still running her fingers over the tent on my brief. "Do you want me to give you a hand?" Chelsea asked teasingly, while still smiling. I was once again out of my mind. "No," I said. My voice was a little dry. Chelsea put a finger over her lips. "Ssh," she said, lowering her voice. "They're still downstairs." Now that she reminded me, it was an even bigger reason for me to get out of this situation. "What're you doing here?" I said, also lowered my voice. I paused, and wanted to tell her to get her fingers off my bulge. I paused again because it really felt good. Then I remembered this was the little girl next door and not my girlfriend, she was a soccer player I coached, and she was an untouchable minor. "Take..." I struggled to say. "Huh?" Chelsea said, interjecting me. Her smile grew bigger. "You're bad, Alex." She giggled then went on. "Okay, just this time." She slid her hand from outside my brief to inside, and began running her fingers along my cock. I didn't know what Chelsea thought I was going to say. I didn't know if she really misunderstood me or otherwise. But this time the smarter side of me took over. It felt so good I would be really stupid to ask her to stop. I began procrastinating my protest as she stroked my cock inside my brief. The word "Stop" remained stuck to my teeth and never got out of my mouth. Even though I knew Chelsea was no longer a little girl, and I also knew she had been dating on and off for a while, what she was doing still stunned me, above all, doing it to me. I had not done this for quite a while since I broke off with Rosemary, actually a long time before that. Ever since high school, usually when my cock was freed from it's confinement, it would either go inside the body of a girl or her mouth. This was a very refreshing experience. I began to forget who was giving me the joyful helping hand, and focused my vision on the hand slithering in and out of my waistband. I heard my breath getting a little heavier, then I heard it from beside me. I turned to look at Chelsea, and yes, it was she who was also breathing rather rapidly. She glanced and noticed me looking at her, and she smiled. Then she slowly lowered her face to me, with her hair flowing down beside my face. I felt her lips on mine. She began gliding her soft lips against mine. She also began stroking my cock faster and faster. I didn't know how long it took. I squirted inside my brief, and apparently all over her hand. Chelsea jolted a bit when she felt me shooting. She lifted her face as she began pulling her hand out of my brief. She gave me another naughty smile before she looked around for tissue. She pulled some sheets out of the box on my night table, wiped her hand, and then bunched them up and stuffed the dollop into my brief. Chelsea turned to me again, still smiling with her tongue between her teeth. I didn't know what to say. "Feeling better?" she asked softly, winking. Of course I was feeling better, a lot better. But I was trying to say something more appropriate. Something that could reduce my guilt a little. "Like it?" Chelsea asked again. I nodded. Chelsea smiled again, with some sparks in her eyes. "What're you doing here?" I heard myself asking. "Oh," Chelsea said, giggling. "I nearly forgot." I also chuckled. "Well," Chelsea said, again lowering her voice. "Go clean up yourself first. I'll be in the backyard." She lowered her face down to give me a peck on my lips before she went out my room. It took me quite a long time to clean myself up in the bathroom, because I spent most of the time sitting on the toilet seat thinking what had happened. It wasn't alright, and I didn't know why Chelsea did it. I checked the time when I was back in my bedroom. It was almost eleven o'clock. The O'Carroll's were already on their way to the church by the time I went downstairs. I went into my backyard and saw Chelsea sitting on the edge of her porch and smiling at me. I went over to her. "What took you so long? She said. "Well," I said. "Not um, not really long." "Not long?" she said, raising an eyebrow. I laughed. "Okay," I said. "So, what's the matter?" "I think I will keep my cleats," she said. "Okay," I said. "So what do you want?" She had made me agree to buy her a pair of new cleats for her seventeenth birthday, which was a few days away. "Do I get to have the same value?" she said. "Sure." "Okay," Chelsea said, smiling. "Do you want to change?" "Why?" I said. I was wearing an old tee-shirt and workout shorts. Chelsea was wearing a camisole and jeans. "Well," Chelsea said. "I don't know. Do you go to the mall in workout shorts?" "You want me to go buy it with you?" "Of course," she said, giggling. "Otherwise who's going to feed me? Mom's working today." I laughed. "Okay," I said. "I'll go change." I rose and started going back to my house. Chelsea's dad always worked on Sunday as he was in retail business. Her older brother Mark was studying college in Long Island, and had to retake a course in summer which he flunked in Spring. "Don't take too long," Chelsea said from behind me. I didn't see Chelsea in the backyard when I went there a little later, but I heard a banging sound in the front. Chelsea was kicking the fender of my jeep to let me know where she was. I went around to the front. "When is the closing?" Chelsea said as I walked toward her, pointing at a realtor sign standing in my front yard, with a smaller 'Sold' sign hanging over it. "In about six weeks," I said. The O'Carroll's were going to move to Northern Florida. They had enough of the cold winter, and had decided to move south when the old man had recovered from his various health problems. I had been looking for my own place for a short while as well. "Nike Cleats, one hundred and twenty two," Chelsea said, as we went out of a shop in the mall. "Layering halter, seventeen bucks. Happiness, priceless." I laughed. Chelsea turned to look at me, smiling slyly. "Why are you laughing, Alex?" "Because you're funny." "What is one hundred and twenty two minus twenty seven?" I drew the rows and numbers in my mind, did the subtraction, then said. "Ninety Five." "Striped frayed denim mini, forty dollars," she said, winking at me. "Pull-over sport bra, forty dollars. What else should I buy?" "Oh," I said, as I realized it was not over yet. "Alright, what else do you want?" "Let's get these first," she said, and started looking around. "Hey, what color should I pick?" I grinned. "I'm not good at picking colors," I said. I halted, then continued uneasily. "You shouldn't ask me that." Her smile started to grow bigger. "I didn't ask you to pick that," she said. "You dirty rat. I asked the color of skirt." I started looking around. "Well," I said, switching away from the topic. "Let's go find an ATM. I will give you the money and you go buy them. I'll wait at the coffee shop.' "Nah," Chelsea said. "I like you go shopping with me. Remember? Happiness, priceless." She pulled my hand and went to another store for her mini skirt. I balked when she wanted to go inside a lingerie shop. "I thought you said sport bra," I said. "I've changed my mind," Chelsea said, smiling. "Who'd be so stupid to wear a sport bra inside a halter?" "Okay," I said, choking a little. "You go inside. I'll wait at the cashier." Chelsea came out a little later, urging me to go help her pick a choice. I refused outright. "Okay," Chelsea said. "I'll bring them out here for you to pick." I remembered a few months ago I went to help Rosemary pick lingerie and I almost had sex with her in front of all the customers and sales women. I decided I would never do it again. I pulled out my wallet, checked it briefly and knew I had enough cash, then gave Chelsea all my cash. "I'll wait for you at the ice cream shop. I walked away while Chelsea was laughing from behind. I was waiting in the line for ice cream when I remembered I had given Chelsea all my cash. I looked around and saw an ATM machine not far away. I went over and refilled my wallet. I then went back to the ice cream parlor. Chelsea found me in the ice cream shop about fifteen minutes later. I didn't know if she had bought anything. I didn't know how much cash I had given her, so when she gave me back seven dollars I simply pocked the change. We went to lunch, and then back home. I stopped my jeep at the curb in front of my house, and bid goodbye to Chelsea. "Where are you going?" Chelsea said. "Home." "Oh," she said. "I thought you were going out." "No," I said. "Why?" "Because you said goodbye." "You're not going back to your house?" I said, looking at her. "Where are they?" Chelsea said, and pointed at my house. I turned over to look at the driveway. Mrs. O'Carroll usually parked her car on the driveway during the day if she was going out later. Her car wasn't there. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe already at the gospel show, maybe inside." "Oh," Chelsea said. "Why don't you come over, then?" "Why?" "Don't you want to see how your gifts look on me?" she said, smiling. "Isn't Tom the one supposed to see?" "Which Tom?" "How many Tom's do you have?" "Oh," Chelsea said, rolling her eyes. "You mean Tom Zappa?" Hell if I knew her boyfriend's last name. "Tom your boyfriend," I said. "Why do you always forget everything I tell you?" she said, with an angry look I knew she made it up. "What did you tell me?" I said, suppressing my laugh. "I dumped him on the first day of the final exam," she said. "Well, maybe he had dumped me, I don't know." She giggled. I laughed. "Okay," I said. I wasn't sure if she had told me about it, but I still added. "Sorry, I forgot." "Okay," she said. "My house, then." She opened the door and got out of my jeep. "I'll wait on the porch," I said, as I got out of my jeep. After another round of negotiation, I found myself sitting on the couch in her sitting room, drinking a can of orange flavor soft drink, which I disliked, while she changed in her bedroom. "So," Chelsea said, when she came down the stairs, turning and posing in front of me. "How do I look?" "You're pretty," I said, looking up and down an attractive teen in a pale pink halter and a gray striped frayed denim mini skirt. "That's it?" Chelsea said, stopped her motion, and glared at me. I almost laughed. "Well," I said. "You're pretty, and attractive." "Looks like some crappy scripts," she said, pouting at me. "Well," I said. "Okay. You're pretty. You have killer eyes and smiles. You're attractive. Your clothes match you very well. How's that?" "Hmm," she said. "A little better. Am I sexy?" she struck a pose, extending a leg in front of her, and an arm behind her back. I again held my laugh. "Well," I said. "Yeah, you are sexy, too. You have a well proportion figure, even though a little slim. You also have slender legs, you know." "How come your voice doesn't sound dry?" she said, winking at me. I laughed. "Should I?" "Well," she said, smiling, while she came over to the couch and sat beside me. "That's how it sounded this morning. I like that voice." I had almost forgotten what happened that morning. I didn't feel comfortable when she mentioned it. I had hoped she had forgotten it, but apparently, and naturally, she had not. "Well?" she said, a little later, breaking the silence. She took the orange flavor soft drink from my hand, finished it in a gulp, and put it on the coffee table. She then shifted a little closer to me, and turned to look at my face. "Well," I said. I didn't know what to say. "That's better," Chelsea said, giggling. "Huh?" I said, turning over to looking at her. "That's a little dry," she said, smiling. "But a little more will be better." I grinned. My grin started to freeze as I saw her leaning her face over. I knew what she was going to do. I knew I should push her away. My brain sent the wrong instruction to my body. I leaned back, until my back was at the back of the couch. Chelsea followed. But since she was about six inches shorter than me, at lease there was a little distance between her face and mine now. Chelsea raised a knee onto the seat, tilted, and knelt towards me, with her knees straddling my leg, while supporting herself with her hands on my shoulder. I had wanted to push her off, but I knew my hand would definitely land on the wrong part of her body and get me deeper into trouble. I felt my mouth getting dry as I looked up at her face. Chelsea was smiling at me. She lowered her face and then her lips were on mine again. I lost my defense. I soon found my hands on her waist, and then I half intuitively opened my mouth a little, and felt she did the same. Moments later our tongues were dancing together, and then she was sucking my tongue. Chelsea was panting a little when we parted. "Well?" she said softly. "Well," I said. I could hear my dry voice again. "Yeah," Chelsea said, smiling. "This is the sexy voice." I heard dry chuckles from myself. Chelsea slid her knee, which was in between my legs, a little closer, causing some chills from my thigh to my spine. "Do you know what I did when I came back from your room?" she crooned, with glistening in her eyes. I heard myself whispering. "What?" "I did it," she whispered. "But it didn't help." She began stroking my shoulder. It looked like my jeans were too tight for me, as I started feeling very uncomfortable in them. There was no ambiguity about what she wanted to do with me. The only question was, should we do it? I knew I still had a last chance to withdraw when I saw her face drawing close to me again. I missed the last chance and found me kissing her passionately. Since I had missed the opportunity, I began caressing her, on her waist first, then to her thighs, and eventually inside her skirt. I knew I wasn't going anywhere when I found out Chelsea wasn't wearing panties. I swear I had no idea how we got to her bed. I only knew it was an extremely huge relief when my jeans were stripped off my legs as I was already beginning to get blue balls. I started licking Chelsea's beasts while unzipping her skirt, and then pressing my cock against her smooth thighs when her skirt was being pushed down her legs. We rubbed our bodies against each other, with occasional moans coming out of Chelsea's mouth. We began adjusting positions. My tip was already at her wet opening when I remembered one thing. I instinctively reached for her night table, then I realized we weren't in my room. I halted, and then I heard Chelsea giggling. "Don't worry," Chelsea said. "Unless you have STD." I grinned, and returned my vision to her face. I felt soft touches from her fingers along my cock again. I slowly inserted myself into her, pausing when my glans were engulfed by her soft tissues. She smiled at me as she removed her hand and moved it on to my hip. I sank myself into her slowly, until our groins met and my cock was completely enveloped in a warm and silky environment. I let out a breath as she did the same. I ground my groin against her a little before I started withdrawing. Very soon I was shoving in and out of her as she bumped her hip into mine. I went faster and faster as she dug her finger nails deeper and deeper into my ass cheeks. Chelsea's face tensed up as she started trembling briefly. I slowed down as she heaved, and resumed the pace when she smiled at me again. I felt her trembling again just as I felt my balls convulsing. I didn't slow down this time. I went frantic, pounding myself into her as I began shooting inside her. "Am I sexy?" Chelsea said, still panting, as we lay in the bed recovering. I laughed weakly. "Do you still have to ask?" I said. Chelsea laughed too. "You know," she said softly. "I haven't had such an intense one in a very long time. Actually, I'm not sure if I ever had one quite like that." I turned to look at her. "You do it a lot?" I said. "No," she said, giggling. "Well, a little. Far from Sheila and you." I chuckled. "You know everything?" I said. "No," she said, smiling at me. "Not the details. Well, I think I do now." She giggled again, with a little pink on her face. I chuckled again. "That's why you did it?" I said. "And how's she now?" "No," Chelsea said, and giggled before going on. "Well, maybe a little. You know, I kind of like you." "I kind of like you too," I said. "But not like this." "If you were younger, would you have dated me?" "I don't know," I said. "Would you?" "Of course," Chelsea said, giggling. "Why do you think we are here?" I laughed. "Anyway," Chelsea said. "Sheila's moved to Boston. She's now engaged." "I see," I said. "Why are you still on pills?" "I began having Amenorrhea about three years ago. I'd been taking pills since then. You know what it is?" "Of course," I said, chuckling. "Female Athlete Triad. I'm a sport science professional." --------------------------------------------------------------------- I realized I was stroking myself while the TV was showing the Bruce Willis movie. I went to the bathroom to finish myself off. Then I went back to the couch and continued my recollection. I had some mental struggles after I had sex with Chelsea. I knew it was wrong. Actually it was illegal, and I felt guilty. I knew I wasn't in love with her. In fact, I rarely was in love when I went to bed with a girl in the past, including Sheila. It was more of a sexual attraction. I lost all my guilty feeling when Chelsea gave me another hand job the next weekend. I had sex with her again that afternoon. We had sex a couple times in my room when the O'Carroll's went to Florida for the closing of their new house there. We stopped during the last week of my landlady's stay in New Jersey, and resumed again after I moved into my own apartment, usually during the weekends. The soccer team came back together towards the end of August for practices. The new season started on the first day of school. We lost four players who finished high school before the summer, but had a few replacements. Chelsea, Barbara, and a couple others were now seniors, and the team would be losing them the next year. The girls who would replace them weren't as good, so I knew we would have some tougher years ahead. Actually, this season wasn't a good one either. Out of the eleven games we had played so far, we lost six of them, tied twice, and had only won three times. We had just another twelve games to go, and the chance of getting into the second round was slim. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- To Chapter 2 Written by Bingain Last Updated: 05/29/2005 __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around http://mail.yahoo.com -- 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> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+