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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather.  This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded 
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to 
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as 
there is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of 
acquiring this material.

   (Copyright 2002, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather at hotmail dot com
Don't be shy!  I enjoy hearing from you.

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PLAYING THE GAME

A Novel

by R.C. Mather




- 22 -

AFFIRMATION OF LIFE



Skip's funeral was scheduled for eleven o'clock on Tuesday morning.
My brother Mike, who was living at home while he was attending our
local junior college as a freshman, took the day off from his classes
to attend the services, since he knew a lot of the seniors. He drove
me to the church, and we got there a few minutes early so I could
meet up with the team.

Coach Neville was gathering everybody just outside and I walked over
to join my teammates. I saw Molly, Heather, and Evan go into the
church with a large group of seniors, and I gave Molly a quick, small
wave.

"Is everybody here?" asked Coach. "Okay, good. Kevin, John, and
Sean, I have a request."

He looked for the three of us. Kevin Soranno was the senior
midfielder who played directly in front of Skip on the field, and
John Pennington was our starting keeper, also a senior.

"The Horvath family has requested that you three teammates serve as
pallbearers today. Unless you have a strenuous objection, I have
accepted already on your behalf." Coach looked from one to the other
of us, receiving each assent in turn. I was surprised and humbled to
be included in this group. "All right, good. Someone will signal you
when it is time for you to perform your duties. Shall we go in,
gentlemen?"

With that, he led us all in to the sanctuary for the beginning of
the service.

The next couple of hours were some of the saddest I have ever
experienced. Skip's family was nearly inconsolable, and Maggie
Wiggins, Skip's girlfriend, was a wreck. Most of the girls, and many
of the boys, were sniffling and blowing their noses all during the
service. Suddenly, we were not nearly so invulnerable as we were just
a few days ago.

Toward the end of the church service, a representative from the
funeral home quietly motioned the pallbearers forward, and the three
of us, along with Dr. Osgood and two of Skip's cousins, took our
positions by the closed casket. At a signal from the funeral
director, we grasped the shiny brass handles and wheeled Skip slowly
down the center aisle of the church. When we reached the front steps,
we were instructed to lift the casket up and carry it down the steps
to the hearse.

I have never lifted anything quite so heavy as that casket and its
contents. Later, at the cemetery, we lifted the casket back out of
the hearse and onto a wheeled cart, and it was not nearly so heavy.
That first experience with such a burden was very surprising, and
startlingly difficult.

After the brief graveside service, the funeral director announced
that the family had reserved a banquet hall in town for the
afternoon, and invited everyone to join them in a celebration of
Skip's life. Lots of kids from school, and many of the faculty I saw
there, were opting not to attend the luncheon, but the entire soccer
team was planning on going. Michael agreed to drop me off at the
banquet hall, and I said I would call him if I needed a ride home.

The mood at the banquet hall was noticeably lighter. It was crowded
with Skip's extended family, with family friends and co-workers of
his parents, and with the kids and teachers from school who were
closest to Skip. There was a large buffet set up against one wall,
and there were lots of tables to seat from four to twelve people.
Coach Neville commandeered a couple of large tables for the team, and
there was plenty of room for everybody.

We all got in line for the buffet. Skip's family had set up bulletin
boards on tripods by the first table of salads, and had pinned
pictures of Skip, baby pictures and more recent ones all jumbled up,
for people to look at while they were in line. We recognized a lot of
us in the pictures, and spent a good deal of time chatting with
friends, pointing out pictures, and remembering good times that had
been recorded by somebody's camera. Molly came over to be with me in
the line, and we grabbed plates as we got up to the first table. We
made our way through the salad and bread table, to the entrees and
vegetables, filling our plates. There was a dessert table also set
up, with separate plates, so we opted to go back to sample the
desserts later. We carried our plates over to one of the team tables
and sat down next to Eric and Keisha, Jorge and Kristina, and some of
the other players.

The banquet hall had been reserved for the afternoon and evening,
and since there was no real hurry to leave, we didn't. After everyone
had eaten their fill, Coach Neville called an impromptu team meeting,
inviting anybody in the room to sit in if they wished. Skip's parents
were in a corner with consoling relatives, but his sister Ashley, a
freshman at school and a good soccer player in her own right, sat in
with us, looking for a comfortable place to feel like she belonged.
Kevin and John scooted over and made room for her between them, and
she pulled her chair in close to listen in on the meeting.

"Can I have everybody's attention, please," called Coach Neville. He
waited a moment for the kids at the tables around him to quiet down.
"Thank you. Okay, as you know, we have dedicated the rest of this
season to Skip and to Theo. We still have some unfinished business,
however. First thing, we need to elect a co-captain to serve in
Skip's absence. I would like to suggest that we consider Mr.
Pennington, currently serving the team as defensive captain, for the
position."

"So moved!" called out Kevin, sitting at the same table as John.

"Okay, I have a motion. Do I have a second?" asked Coach.

There was a general shout of "Seconded!" from the whole team, and
John Pennington was elected Team Co-Captain.

"All right, next on the agenda is our new lineup. Trent," he said,
turning to Trent Abbott, a junior who started as our left midfielder,
"I would like you to start in Theo's forward spot." Trent nodded,
pleased to be moving into more of a scorer's position. "Starting in
Trent's midfield position will be Mr. Eric Johnson."

The team's collective eyes turned to our table and to Eric, who
seemed to be blushing under his dark skin. Keisha was smiling
broadly, patting him on the back. There was a smattering of
congratulations from all around toward him, and then everybody
quieted down. There was still one position, Skip's, to be covered.

"Starting at the right defensive position," announced Coach, "will
be Sean Porter."

There was another smattering of applause, mostly led by Eric and
Molly, and I felt a lot of hands patting me on the back and shoulder.
The announcement was not a real big surprise to anybody on the team,
but it kind of cemented the fact that we didn't have Skip to rely on
in the backfield anymore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please," called out Coach one more time. The
shuffling of chairs and the clatter of glasses and cups stopped once
again. "I would like to remind you all that we still have half our
regular season to go. And, if we are very fortunate, we will advance
into the sectionals and the playoffs. We have a lot of hard work
ahead of us, and there will be a lot of adjustments in our game that
we will need to work hard on, but I know that you all will pull
together to make this team work." He lifted his glass of water and
held it out in front of him. "To Skip, and to Theo."

We all raised our water glasses.

"To Skip. To Theo." We all took a sip and sealed our bargain.

Coach Neville closed our team meeting, put on his coat, and stopped
by to pay his respects to the Horvath family before leaving. A few
others left, but a lot of Skip's friends decided to stay, taking
advantage of a homework-free, practice-free day.

A little later, small triangles of sandwiches, snacks, and cookies
were brought out and set up on the buffet tables for those of us who
had stayed. There was a small garden area out the back of the banquet
hall, with a gazebo tucked in a corner, half hidden from the sliding
doors of the patio area. Molly and I grabbed a plateful of food and
slipped through the door to watch the sun go down from the patio. We
brought out our jackets, since it cooled off quite a bit as soon as
the sun started getting low in the afternoon sky.

As we were sitting at one of the garden tables on the patio, I
thought I heard voices coming from the area of the gazebo, though in
the gloom I couldn't see anyone back there. I got up and tiptoed down
toward the back, trying to be quiet and careful in the dark.

As I got closer, the sounds separated into two voices. Eric and
Keisha were sitting on a bench inside the gazebo, away from the glare
of the lights from the patio door. They had their arms wrapped around
each other as they talked softly, their hands busy moving under their
unbuttoned coats. I ducked back behind a tree and made my way back to
the patio, where Molly was waiting. I put my finger to my lips and
motioned for her to follow me.

"What?" she said a little impatiently.

"Shhhh!" I whispered. I motioned for her to follow me down toward
the gazebo. She sighed dramatically, but came down behind me, back to
behind the tree. As we got closer, we could hear the tiny movements
betraying the couple. I exaggeratedly tiptoed forward so Molly would
get the idea to be very quiet, and pointed toward the dark area where
Eric and Keisha could just be seen. Molly placed her hands on my
shoulder and peered around me as I crouched down.

There was no talking going on now. Eric had Keisha wrapped up and
pulled to him, his arms inside her coat. They were engaged in a hard,
open-mouthed kiss. From the movement of their mouths and cheeks, it
was plain that their tongues were fully engaged with each other.

Eric pulled her over more, and Keisha knelt with one knee on the
bench, and the other between Eric's legs. She scrunched down on him
without breaking the contact of their kiss, until her crotch was
pressing firmly on his thigh. I saw Eric's hands slide down out of
the bottom of Keisha's coat to grab a round globe of her butt in each
palm. He squeezed her cheeks and pulled her forward and back, with
her help, creating friction along her pussy against his leg. She
humped his leg in rhythm with Eric's clenching of her ass, until she
could take no more. She lifted her mouth off of Eric's and arched her
back in pleasure, throwing her head back and moaning. Eric reached
down and lightly bit the tip of her breast through her clothing as
she was arched back, causing her to hump even harder on his leg.
Finally, I heard a breathy moan escape from her, and she held herself
against him tightly, her hips rubbing back and forth just a fraction
to prolong the pleasure she was generating from her middle. She held
his head to her throat, eyes closed, as she slid down from her sexual
high. Finally, she collapsed against him, resting with her head on
his shoulder. Eric whispered something, and I heard a low, throaty
giggle come from Keisha.

Molly and I backed out of view silently, back to behind the tree. We
stayed off to the side of the garden area, out of sight of the
gazebo. Molly held my arm close to her as we huddled together in the
cold.

"Wow," she whispered. "That was really something."

"Yeah," I answered quietly. "They were really getting into it."

"That's kind of taking a chance on getting caught, though," she said.

"Maybe it adds to the thrill," I suggested.

She looked at me for a moment. In the dim light, I couldn't read the
expression on her face.

Just then, we heard Eric and Keisha walking back toward the banquet
hall, arm in arm, talking quietly to each other. Just before they
slid the door back and stepped through, I heard Keisha's tinkling
laughter as Eric teased her about something.

A moment later, Molly was dragging me by the arm toward the gazebo.

"Come on," she whispered. "It's our turn."

Those words were enough to get my blood racing, and I stumbled after
her, suddenly aware of a tightness in my dress pants. She dragged me
by the hand up the three steps into the gazebo, and into the corner
so recently occupied by our friends. She pushed me down onto the
bench and sat on my lap, grabbing the sides of my head and pulling
herself down to kiss me. Her mouth immediately opened, her tongue
darting out to challenge and joust, and she wrapped her arms around
my neck.

Our tongues and lips did battle for a time, reveling in the
simulation of another act in a warm and wet environment. Molly
reached down and fumbled with my belt, suddenly in a hurry. She
practically ripped the snap off my pants in her eagerness to get to
what lay inside, grasping the corners and yanking them apart to lower
the zipper. Her hand was cold as it reached into my underwear to pull
out her treasure. She pumped on me a few times, just to make sure I
was awake and paying attention, and then she let go momentarily to
reach up beneath her skirt to pull her panties to the side.

She was more than ready. She knelt over me and settled her skirt
around us, hiding the actions of her hands as one hand grasped my
stalk and the other kept the crotch of her panties out of the way. 

"Molly? What are you..."

She smiled. "Shhhh," she cautioned. She glanced down at where my
cock was resting. Then, staring into my wide-open eyes, she crouched
down, settling the tip of my rigid pole against her open lips, and
let her weight carry her down and onto my cock. 

I could do nothing but accept it. In an action reminiscent of
Eric's, I slid my hands under her skirt to grasp her straining
buttocks, lifting her up and down upon me. Her hands were on my
shoulders, riding along with her rising and falling. I longed to
taste of the reddened tips of her breasts, but it was not to be on
this occasion, so I concentrated, instead, on trying to angle myself
just right so that her pleasure points were properly stimulated.

The elastic of my underwear was chafing and binding around my balls,
which helped to stave off my release. Molly, on the other hand, must
have been energized by the sight of Eric and Keisha, for it didn't
take her long before she started panting and moaning, straining
toward her orgasm. She bounced down on me, hard, three or four times,
then ground down so that her engorged clit was mashed against the
base of my cock. That was enough to send her over the edge. She cried
out softly into the night, the steam from her breath warming my face.
I could feel the increased flow of lubrication from her, seeping down
around my rock-hard cock still imbedded in her, keeping her
passageway slick and warm for me.

After she had recovered a bit, I started moving her again. Slowly at
first, just slightly up and then back down again. On each pumping of
the piston the stroking got just a little longer, until she
rediscovered the rhythm and began to adjust herself so that she was
using all of her to stimulate all of me. Up, until just the tip was
still imbedded in her, then down, until I was fully encased in her
sheath. Each time I was completely inside her, she would sit for a
split second, and then twist in my lap before ascending once again.
It only took a dozen or so of these strokes and twists before my own
climax was impending. It was I, now, who was panting and staring at
nothing, concentrating instead on the intense pleasures being
generated by our joining.

"M... M... Molly..." I managed, just as I felt the first
contractions signaling my discharge. I lifted her up by her clenching
ass, and she popped up and off me before I could squirt off inside
her. She crouched down in a catcher's stance, grabbed my red and
swollen cock in her hand, and bent down to take me in her mouth. She
pumped me, still slippery with her juices, and took the helmet
between her lips. She sucked on me hard, her hand working to drain 
me.

I came. I came as hard as I'd ever come in my life. It was only the
second time she had ever taken me into her mouth, and it thrilled me
to know she was tasting me, just as I had tasted her.

She swallowed the mouthful I gave her without losing the seal around
the head of my spasming cock. Each time I felt her tongue work my
juice to the back of her throat, each time I felt her hand jerk on
me, I contracted and pumped again in sympathy, until, finally, there
was no more to give. When she felt me soften slightly, she stopped
her ministrations and lifted her head up off me. My overworked cock
popped softly out from between her lips. She kissed the tip once
more, then looked up at me, her eyes shining and happy, a smile on
her lovely face. 'How'd I do?' she seemed to be asking, already 
knowing the answer.

I reached down gently with both hands, wrapping them in the soft
curls of her reddish-blonde hair, and pulled her up to me. I kissed
her softly, a sincere thank-you for her efforts on my behalf.

It was cold out, so we took a moment to tuck and rearrange before
settling back down on the bench, arms around each other, silent in
the dark together. Her head was resting on my shoulder, comfortable
and comforting. Despite my misgivings about our unprotected
adventure, I was as happy as the day would allow me to be, and I
never wanted the moment to end.

At the time, I thought it was kind of weird that we were so intense
in our lovemaking on such an occasion and in such a place. The
advantage of time has since given me, however, a more proper sense of
the motivations behind not only our actions, but the directions we
observed Eric and Keisha traveling.

It was, of course, the affirmation of life, even in the shadow of
the certainty of death in which we had so recently walked.





(Continued in Chapter 23)



  
PTG22