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From: Bingain <bingain@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Girl's Soccer Coach by Bingain 1/5  (Mf, 1st, cons, rom, slow)
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Date: Mon, 30 May 2005 15:10:03 -0400
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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


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