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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather.  This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded 
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   (Copyright 2002, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

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PLAYING THE GAME

A Novel

by R.C. Mather




- 17 -

THE HOT LAZY SATURDAY



Saturday morning dawned hot and sunny. Molly and I met Lori at Kip
and Davey's soccer game just before ten o'clock at the park where the
boys and I had drilled. We all sat together on the sidelines and
watched as the boys tried out some of their newly learned skills. We
cheered and hollered every time one of them touched the ball,
shouting out encouragement. Kids that age tend to drift back into the
habits of the group, and Davey and Kip were no exception. It was
swarmball at its ugliest, but everybody on both teams was having a
ball, so it was all okay.

At halftime, the boys came over carrying offerings of orange slices
from the team's halftime treat supply. Davey crawled up onto Molly's
lap, and Kip, following his brother's lead, jumped into mine.

"Ow!" I complained good-naturedly. "No bouncing, okay?"

"Okay, Sean," he grinned. He gave me one last, small bounce for good
measure anyway.

"Do you guys know what you're supposed to be doing out there?" I
asked.

"Playing soccer?" replied Kip.

"Sure, playing soccer, and having a good time. But how are you
supposed to be playing soccer?"

"Oh, yeah," said Davey. "Move to where nobody else is, call for the
ball, one-potato-look and two-potato-pass."

"There you go," said Molly. "Just remember what Sean has been
teaching you, and you'll have even more fun out there."

At that point, the boys' coach called his team over to give them
second-half instructions. He read off his starting lineup to the
players, and as their names were called, they left the sidelines and
took their positions on the field. Davey was playing center
midfielder, and Kip was right forward.

Just that little reminder at halftime was enough for them to recall
their lessons. They stayed at their positions for the rest of their
playing time that day, instead of rushing to the ball wherever it
might be on the field. It paid off for them toward the end of the
third quarter, when the ball squirted out of the pile of players into
Davey's area. He scooped up the ball, dribbled down the field for
about three steps, then passed it up to Kip. Kip tried to take the
ball in to the net, but was caught up in traffic when he fumbled a
little on his trap, and he lost it in the scramble around him. Even
so, I was happy to see them work on their positioning and their
passes during a game. I hoped that they would be able to see the
worth of their drills, even at their young age.

After the game ended, the boys each grabbed a hand and dragged me
over to meet their coach, a man they only knew as "Coach Bill".

"I'm glad to meet you, Sean," said Coach Bill. "Davey and Kip have
been bragging about you almost nonstop."

"Well," I said, somewhat embarrassed, "I've been trying to help..."

"No, no, don't get me wrong," Coach Bill interrupted. "I really am
glad to meet you. You couldn't see it very well today in the game
because none of the other boys have caught up to them yet, but both
Davey and Kip are light years better than they were in the spring.
Some of that improvement can be attributed to being a little older
and a little bigger, but it's obvious that the time you've spent with
them this summer has been beneficial to them. I especially liked that
play down by the goal, when Davey passed the ball over to Kip. Very
neat."

"Yeah, I saw that, too. Too bad it didn't work out to be a score," I
said.

"Well, yes and no," he replied. "At this age, the score of the game
doesn't really matter to these kids. The parents care more about wins
and losses than the kids do, I'm afraid. All the boys know is they're
out there on the field, running and having a good time. A goal is
just that: a goal to aim for. Scoring gives them a good feeling right
then at the time, but by the time they restart the game afterwards,
they've practically forgotten about it. In a couple of years, it
might start to matter to them, but for right now, it's just one more
thing for them to worry about. And I'm all for giving them less to
worry about. I'm happier when they execute a good pass, or can clear
the ball out of the pack, or make a good interception. That's enough
for them to worry about at this point in their soccer lives."

"That's true, Coach," I said. "I've officiated games at this level,
and a lot of the time the kids are more interested in what the
halftime treat is going to be than in what is happening on the 
field."

Coach Bill laughed. "Yes, and this team is no exception. I just wish
the parents could have the same attitude. Some of them get so
competitive through their kids!"

"It only gets worse as the kids get older," I said. "I've got
friends on my rec team who are already getting pressure from their
parents about playing well so they have a chance for scholarship
money for college, and these kids are only thirteen or fourteen years
old."

"Well, Sean," he replied, "play the game for fun. If you're good,
the rest will find its way to you." He shook my hand, and then walked
over to talk to some of the parents.



* * * * * * * * * *



Heather dropped Molly and me at Skip's house that afternoon. We
could hear sounds of the party wafting over the neighborhood as we
got out of the car and found our way to the back yard. There was a
large wooden deck attached to the house off the kitchen, and Skip was
there, his girlfriend Maggie Wiggins by his side, holding court among
some of the members of the team and their girlfriends. I knew all the
guys, and most of the girls I knew at least by sight. I stopped to
say hello and introduced Molly to the group.

"I know you," said Skip. "You're Heather's sister, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, but I prefer to think of her as the sister, not the
other way around," shot back Molly with a smile.

"Watch out, Sean," Skip said as he turned to me. "You've got a
firecracker here."

"Don't I know it," I said. I dropped our pack of sodas in a corner.

Most athletes tend to date athletic types, and soccer players are no
exception. Most of the girls at the party played on one team or
another at school, or were members of the coveted groups such as
cheerleaders, student council, or poms. The surprising exception to
this was the girl hanging onto the arm of Theo Jameson, a senior
forward on the team and one of Skip's best friends. Her name was
Allison Moseley, and her main claim to fame was her voluptuous
figure, along with the way she flaunted it. Even here, at a pool
party with lots of skin showing on lots of fit bodies, Allison
managed to draw attention to herself. She wore a startlingly bright
orange bikini, maybe two sizes too small, so that her fleshy breasts
practically spilled out over the top. To accentuate the effect, she
had grabbed on to Theo's arm and was squeezing her boobs against him,
creating an impressive amount of cleavage, and reveling in the stares
from many of the boys on the deck.

Molly yanked on my arm and guided me toward the stairs leading down
from the deck. 

"You're going to start drooling in a minute," she said quietly. We
headed for the coolest spot in the yard, the swimming pool. We jumped
into the shallow end and waded over to where Jorge Mendoza was
lounging. Surprisingly, he had brought his sister, Kristina, along to
the party. Kristina was wearing a black one-piece suit that really
showed off her trim form, and made her darkly tanned skin shine.
Beads of water seemed to glisten off the shoulders and arms of both
Jorge and Kristina. We said our hellos, casually splashing water on
our shoulders to cool off. I looked up at the crowd on the deck, just
in time to see Eric come out from the kitchen with Keisha Prescott.
Eric's eyes practically popped out of his head when he almost bumped
into Allison, who giggled and squeezed even harder against poor Theo.
Keisha grabbed Eric's arm and pulled him away. He stumbled a little,
then spotted us watching him from the pool, and stopped to say
something to Keisha. She glanced over, and they both stepped off the
deck and jumped into the pool by us.

"So, Eric, did you get an eyeful?" I asked.

"Oh, he got an eyeful, all right. And pretty soon he's gonna get an
earful," said Keisha.

We all laughed. Molly stood in front of me, about six inches away,
and said, "I noticed that you paid particular attention to her chest,
too, Mr. Porter. What do you have to say for yourself?" 

There was a glint in her eye that warned me to be cautious, or I
could be expecting some pain. I craned my neck around her to glance
up at the deck, then deliberately looked down at her lightly freckled
chest. "You know, Molly, you are much more tanned than Allison is. In
my eyes, that means that she pales in comparison to you."

Molly smiled, a look of delight on her face, as she gave me a light
tap on the chest with her forearm.

"Nice save," murmured Jorge, next to me.

There were a few kids trying to get up a volleyball game out in the
yard, but it was just too hot, and the pool was too refreshing.
Eventually, we worked up enough enthusiasm to set up the net across
the pool so we could play water volleyball. Even that deconstructed
into a free-for-all after a couple of games. Some of the guys were
diving down, ostensibly to chase after the ball. What they were doing
underwater, though, was swimming close to the girls, sometimes
swimming between their legs. A few of the older, braver boys went so
far as to lightly brush up against a bikini-clad bottom with a hand
or a foot, furtively copping a quick feel as they swam by. Molly was
the unhappy recipient of one of these touches by one of the guys. She
jerked and jumped in my direction, glancing over her shoulder to see
who might have swum by.

"That's rude," she complained as she grabbed my arm.

"Come on," I said as I waded toward the side. "Let's just go down by
the shallow end and sit on the edge for awhile."

Eric, Keisha, Jorge, and Kristina all joined us, and for the rest of
the afternoon, and into the evening, the six of us lounged near the
shallow end of the pool.

Skip and Theo fired up the grill and threw hot dogs, bratwursts, and
burgers on to cook. Maggie and Allison shuttled back and forth from
the kitchen with bags of chips, plates of sliced tomatoes, onions,
mustard and ketchup, and bowls of potato salad. A real production
line got going as everyone suddenly realized how hungry they were.
Skip and Theo were kept pretty busy for the next hour or so, cooking
up grub for the rest of us. Every so often, either Allison or Maggie
would hand them cold cans of soda, and one time Maggie stuffed a hot
dog in a bun into Theo's mouth as he was flipping burgers with one
hand, and turning brats with the other. He hardly missed a beat,
chewing and flipping hamburgers at the same time.

Just as we were leaning back in satisfaction, having downed an
impressive amount of food, the girls came out with a huge pan of
homemade brownies and a five-gallon tub of ice cream.

It was an effort, but we all managed to clean all that up, too. By
the time everyone was done, there were just a few brownie crumbs
left, and the bottom of the tub was barely covered with the last
melting remnants of ice cream.

It was starting to get dark out by the time we finished eating. Skip
lit some torches that were placed around the yard, and turned on the
lights in the pool while turning off all the other lights in the back
of the house. The swimming pool, now empty of activity, was a calm,
iridescent rectangle of blue-green liquid floating in the middle of
the yard. The flickering light from the few torches, along with the
reflected light from the water, cast shadows everywhere, dancing and
playing across the furniture and bodies in repose around the property.

Skip and Maggie, their duties as cook and scullery maid done, made
their way around the deck and pool, stopping to talk for a few
moments with each group of kids. When they got around to the six of
us, still grouped around a table by the end of the pool, Skip plopped
down in an empty chair in mock exhaustion. Maggie stood behind him,
casually rubbing his shoulders.

"So, Porter, did you get enough to eat?" he asked.

Eric snorted in amusement, and Molly and Kristina laughed out loud.

"This boy eats more than I ever thought was possible," Molly said.

"Well, don't eat so much you're going to get fat, Porter. Don't
forget you're riding the pines this season, not running your ass off
in the games," he said with a grin.

"Don't worry about me," I shot back. "That's only true if you stay
in shape. Don't forget who's gunning for your position."

"Hey, do I look scared? You're good, Porter, I'll give you that.
You're just not good enough yet." Skip stood up, stretched, and
draped his arm around Maggie's shoulder. "Come on, babe, let's 
mosey."

The two of them wandered to the next group, and Eric muttered,
"'Let's mosey'? Since when did we land in the Wild fucking West?"

Keisha laughed derisively. "Yeah, what an arrogant prick. And he's
gonna be captain of the team, right?"

"Aw, Skip's not so bad," I objected. "He's just had a lot of press
lately about how good he's going to be this year. I think he's
operating under a lot of pressure, much more than he's showing."

"Yeah, well," said Eric, "it's all right if you want to defend him,
since you've got to live with him during practices and all. If it's
all the same, I'll just not be his best friend, okay?" With that, he
reached behind him and pulled another soda out of the cooler.

After the brutal heat of the day, the air felt very cool after the
sun went down. We all slipped on t-shirts and shorts, and started
gathering our stuff together. Mr. Mendoza had already picked up Jorge
and Kristina, and Eric and Keisha were leaving very soon. Molly went
into the house to use the phone to call Heather to pick us up, and
then came back and started helping Maggie clean off the remains of
the food from the table. I struggled up and started picking up empty
plates and soda cans and carrying them over to the trash cans. Keisha
came over to say goodbye, giving Molly a brief hug, while Eric
genuflected to Skip. They headed around the outside of the house
toward the front, giving us a wave as they disappeared around the
corner.

A few minutes later, we heard a car honking its horn. Evan and
Heather were there to pick us up, so we thanked Skip and Maggie, said
goodbye to the stragglers still lounging around the yard, and made
our way around to the front, where Heather and her boyfriend were
waiting impatiently.

As we threw our gear into the trunk and climbed into the back seat,
Molly said, "Don't give me that look, Heather. It's not like you
didn't volunteer to give us a ride."

"I know I volunteered," Heather said. "I thought you'd be ready to
come home a lot earlier, is all. We're going to miss the first part
of the movie."

"So what?" Molly spat back. "You probably weren't going to see the
last part, anyway, were you? I've heard about the back rows at the
movies, you know."

"Very funny, little sister. Very funny."

The rest of the ride took place in uncomfortable silence. When we
got to Molly's house, we clambered out of the car, popped open the
trunk, and grabbed our stuff. Evan and Heather took off without a
word as soon as they heard the trunk slam closed, and we were left
there in a blue-white cloud of exhaust. I looked at Molly. She just
shrugged, as if to say, I don't know what's wrong with her, and we
headed for the rear of the house.

We put our backpacks and the cooler down by the back door. Molly
slipped into the garage to grab a handful of blankets, just like
before. We walked toward the woods, hand in hand, not saying a word.
I could feel that her hand was a little sweaty. It was good to know
she was nervous too, since I had butterflies doing bodily damage to
themselves inside my stomach.

We got to the opening in the woods and spread out the blankets. I
lay down on my back, and Molly snuggled up in the crook of my arm,
her arm draped across my chest and her head nestled against my neck.
I languidly ran my hand up and down her body, from shoulder to waist,
as we relaxed together. Her hair smelled slightly of chlorine from
the pool.

I kissed the top of her head, and she lifted up to give me a soft
kiss on the mouth. Her lips were pliant and warm, slightly parted, as
we held the kiss. Without breaking contact, she twisted in my arms,
rolling over so she was lying partially on top of me, her leg
insinuating itself over my knee, and the kiss got harder and hotter.
She reached up with her hand and held the back of my neck, pulling me
harder to her as her lips parted and her tongue flicked out to touch
the tip of mine. I opened my mouth a little more, and she took
advantage of the breach and attacked all out, her tongue exploring
the recesses of my mouth, teeth to tongue, gums to palate.

This sudden onslaught had a real effect on other parts of me, as
well. She was running her leg up and down mine, pressing her knee
into my crotch, then stroking down, with her foot brushing down the
inside of my calf to my instep. Every time her knee made contact with
my balls, my cock gave a jump and got harder, and my hips did an
involuntary grind against her knee.

I reached down and ran my hand up under her t-shirt, up her back,
and under her bikini strap. Pressing the flat of my hand against the
middle of her upper back, I could feel the interplay of her muscles
and shoulder blades as she moved her arms and her leg. The hem of her
shirt was rucking up under her, so she broke our kiss momentarily,
lifted herself up, and pulled her shirt up around her. She dropped
back down onto my mouth right away, unwilling to be denied the heat
and moisture she was finding so entrancing there. I closed my eyes,
allowing her to take charge of the force of the kiss. My hand found
the clip that held together her bathing suit top, and I fumblingly
managed to slip the cloth from its clasp. The strap separated, and
Molly twisted her upper body around as my hand slipped around her,
giving me unobstructed access to her firm breast. I held her against
my hand, and felt her nipple warm and expand against my palm. I
flexed my fingers against her, marveling in the buoyancy of her
flesh. Her tongue, in sympathetic reaction, thrust itself into my
mouth, matching its thrusts to the actions of my hand on her breast.

I felt her hand at my waist, searching for the hem of my t-shirt,
finding it at last, and stroking the skin of my belly, back and
forth, just above the waistband of my swimming trunks. My stomach
muscles started spasming, quivering at the touch, and my hips, still
in motion from the stroking of her leg, hunched up higher, trying to
coax her hand lower and her knee higher.

Finally, she took some pity on me, and slipped her hand beneath the
elastic waistband, her fingers brushing down to comb through my pubic
hair. The back of her hand rubbed against my upthrust dick, setting
off the first set of fireworks in my head. She continued to push her
hand down, her fingers separating into a V, the stem of my rigid cock
slipping between them, until she could go no further. She bent her
fingers, lightly brushing her fingertips across the sensitive skin of
my balls, driving me nearly insane with pleasure.

I broke our kiss and gasped, hardly able to navigate through the
sensations racing up and down my nervous system. Almost
unconsciously, I reached down and sucked on her tender throat, and
then kissed and licked my way down to her swollen nipple. I grasped
the turgid nub in my lips, and sucked as hard as I could, trying to
draw her entire breast into my mouth. I heard her sigh, and her hand
slid up to firmly grasp my stalk in her fist. She began a slow,
steady pumping motion, and I set up a tempo with my mouth on her
breast in time with her pumping: suckle and release, suckle and
release, as we prepared each other.

I ran my hand from her chest down to her hip, slipped beneath her
shorts, and felt the elastic waistband of her swimsuit bottoms. I let
my fingers crawl under the elastic, feeling the heat emanating from
her center as I descended, across the firm globes of her butt, to the
moist and heady delta that was my destination. Oily moisture was
oozing from her, soaking the crotch of her suit. I rubbed my
fingertips through her swollen lips, releasing a flood of her
lubrication. My fingers were quickly coated, and I carried that
moisture up through her flowered folds to the swollen nub at the top,
my fingertips circling, teasing, coaxing.

We were in a rhythm together, her hand on my cock and my mouth on
her breast, her hips surging against my fingers in her center, in
danger of sending each other over the precipice. I could sense the
impending explosion within me.

"Molly... wait..." I gasped. It was enough to make her pause. She
looked into my eyes, a questioning look on her face, as we both
stopped our manipulations.

She let go of me and sat up. She stripped off her shirt and bikini
top, and lay back down to shimmy out of her shorts and swimsuit
bottoms. She lay there, naked and beautiful, unashamed as she watched
me take off my shirt, rip off my shoes without untying them, and shed
my trunks. My handy little foil packet was in the zipper compartment
of my suit. My fingers felt fat and uncoordinated as I fumbled with
the packet, anxious to continue with our play. I glanced over at her
in consternation. She was watching me, a small, amused smile on her
lips and unconcealed passion in her eyes. Her chest was flushed, her
breasts and nipples swollen with desire, and she was breathing
deeply. My subconscious brain picked up the scent of her. The sun-
dried sweat of her body gave off a faint musky odor, and the
secretion from her drooling pussy was a tang that made my mouth 
water.

Finally, I managed to tear open the package and roll the condom on
my straining dick. I crawled over to her and leaned over her to kiss
her again, my balls and sheathed cock waving below me. Her small hand
wormed its way down my body to caress and fondle my balls, and I
groaned into her mouth in anticipation.

She pushed me back and over, so I was on my back, and swung her leg
over me to straddle me. Her hand moved from my balls to my cock,
grasping it and positioning it against the heated opening of her
vagina. She paused for a moment, just the tip of my straining cock
embedded within her, drawing out the anticipation, before she began
to crouch down on me. Slowly, slowly, she lowered herself onto me,
impaling herself on my blunt weapon. Inch by inch I felt the heat of
her cavern engulf my cock, surrounding and squeezing me. She pushed
herself lower, twisting occasionally to ease the accommodation. I
wanted more than anything to thrust completely into her in one
massive effort, but I gritted my teeth and let her take charge of the
initial penetration.

The latex covering was deadening the sensations for me slightly, so
I was able to watch her as she took me into her body. She was
balancing herself by pressing her hands against my shoulders. Her
hair had half escaped from her ponytail, and was arched over her
forehead on one side, casting part of her face in darkness. Her eyes
were slitted open, there was a slight sheen of perspiration on her
nose and upper lip, and her tongue was just peeking out from between
her teeth as she concentrated on maximizing the sensation of seating
me within her. When she twisted her hips, her boobs would jiggle
slightly, swaying provocatively above me.

Finally, she gave a sigh as she felt her pubic bone meet mine, and
she slowly let herself collapse into my arms. The pebbled points of
her distended nipples brushed against my chest just before she
allowed her full weight to rest on me, her boobs flattening against
my ribcage. She rested there for a moment, reveling in the heat and
pressure of our connection, and then she began doing... something.
I'm not sure, even to this day, what it was that she was doing.
However, without any seeming effort, she was using her hips and legs,
her glutes and quads and lower back muscles, to slide her vagina up
my cock, nearly to the point where I was going to flop out of her,
then slowly slide back down upon me again. She accomplished this
without moving her upper body a bit, her eyes now closed as she bent
to the task at hand. I could just feel the bump of her engorged
clitoris rubbing against by cock as we moved. She continued to flex
and relax, flex and relax, occasionally giving her hips a little
twist when I was as fully inside her as I could get, giving her
overcharged clit another twinge. 

Finally, just when I thought I could not hold out against the
onslaught any longer, I felt her shudder. It started with a spasming
of her contracting vaginal muscles, fluttering against my cock, and
worked its way up through her solar plexus and into her core. She
started gasping, arching up off me to try to draw air from above us.
Her eyes were squeezed shut as she huffed and puffed and let the
walls come tumbling down upon her. I could feel a small flood of hot
oily moisture leak out of her, around my upthrust cock, trickling
into the tangled mess of our pubic hair.

That was all the trigger I needed. My hips bumped up against her,
trying in vain to drive my iron cock even deeper into her, and I
came. The pump contracted and pulsed, contracted and pulsed, filling
the end of the condom with my hot seed. I pressed my hands against
the small of her back, trying to get deeper into her than I had ever
been, as I let loose jet after jet.

As my contractions weakened, so did hers. She collapsed back on top
of me and let her head flop onto my shoulder as she tried to catch
her breath. For my part, I was luxuriating in the feeling of a warm,
naked girl completely covering me from crotch to neck, amazed still
by the contrast of soft feminine curves overlaying hard athletic
muscle.

Finally, she lifted her head tiredly, looked me in the eye, and gave
me a soft kiss, all buttery and warm, both a thank-you and a promise
of times to come. She rolled off me and we separated, my still mostly
hard cock plopping out of her. As soon as the warmth of her body was
removed, it began to shrivel. I reached down and pulled off the full
rubber and flung it into the woods. I chuckled at the thought of Jake
out there, dodging another missile.

"What's so funny, Sean?" Molly asked languidly. She was laying back
on the blanket, one knee bent, her arms resting behind her head.

"Nothing," I said. I flopped down on my stomach next to her. "I was
just remembering something somebody said once about finding stuff in
these woods."

"I'm glad our grove was empty tonight," she said. "I'm kind of
surprised that Josh hasn't thought of it yet."

"Maybe he and Shayna have their own little spot already picked out."

She sat up. "I don't think so," she said. "There's still the same
number of condoms in his room."

I frowned. "You go checking out his room? How smart is that, Mol? If
he finds out, he may just start checking out your room."

She laughed softly. "Oh, he's already tried that, and gotten caught.
When I was thirteen, and Heather was fifteen, Josh got curious about
girls, I think. Anyway, Heather found him in her room, pawing through
her underwear drawer. Mom and Dad never found out about it, but
Heather never let him forget it, either. He still breaks out in a
cold sweat if he even has to walk by her closed door, I think."

'Ah,' I thought to myself. 'More ammunition, just in case I need it.'
But I didn't say a word about that to Molly.





(Continued in Chapter 18)


  
PTG17