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- Soccer Balls
"My, aren't we the shy ones?" John beamed as we came around the edge of the house clutching our crotches. It occurred to me that we probably looked about the same as John and Eric had earlier in the week, when their arms were not being held. Except -- we had some hair. Some. And it was green!
Then Eric surprised us both by bringing his hands out from behind his back with a jockstrap in each. "Jeez, you guys look so grateful to have these jockstraps, maybe we don't need any more kit for you." Duh -- he was right -- I was relieved to see that jockstrap. Walking the streets in just a jockstrap felt good right now, but would have been unthinkable yesterday. These guys were fucking with my head in a big way!
Holding up a couple of pairs of shorts, John looked at Mike. "Mikey, I'd never force one of my family out onto the street naked. At least not from home." He paused and stared at Mike before looking my way. "Jeffy, on the other hand..." He threw me some shorts and stuck his tongue out. Now I was confused again. Am I about to be the scapegoat?
As we donned the jocks and shorts, they each produced T- shirts -- a smallish one for Mike and a longer one for me that came half-way down my shorts.
"You're going to be playing soccer with us. Carry on being good sports about this and we might go a little easier on you. Embarrass us again in front of our friends and you'll regret it, big-time. Just go along for the ride, and we'll all be even on this." John looked almost hopeful or expectant, except for the 'regret it big-time'. What could he be thinking? We were at his mercy. He must want something more of us. We headed off, as I continued to puzzle over his expression.
When we got to the schoolyard soccer pitch, there were already five guys there. I vaguely recognised them as friends of John's, all about his age -- school chums, I guess. Mike and I stayed off to the side as John and Eric exchanged greetings with their friends. We couldn't hear what they were saying, but I did notice fingers pointed in our direction. Another kid turned up on the pitch and John motioned us to join the group.
John addressed the crowd, "Eric and I think we should do something a little different today. We'd like to play strip soccer, with Mike and Jeff in goal. Each time there's a goal; the goalie pays a forfeit. The winning team gets to take penalty kicks at the losing goalie. Are you all game?"
Mike and I nodded, but the others had questions. "What happens if the goalie has no clothes left?" "Why are the goalies the only ones to strip." "Do they get their clothes back after the game?"
"How about the scorer gets to spank the goalie? Of course, we have to score the goals, and the goalies will be trying to stop us." John smiled at us and we smiled back. Devious -- we were going to strip ourselves if we messed up. But, we did have a chance.
"Mike and Jeff are doing it 'cause they're good sports. It's my birthday tomorrow, and they owe me a few favours. We'll decide about the clothes later. Can we pick teams now? We have to be home before five, and we want some time for fun after the game." There were smiles and nods all around. Two teams formed quickly around Eric and John.
I was on Eric's team, meaning that John would be leading the attack on my clothing. As I took my place in net, I realised I have never played in goal before and hadn't played soccer in a few years. As stupid as those exercises made me feel, they did help me get limbered up; I was about to need all the help I could get. Would I be the only one defending my net? My team had little incentive to help other than being able to kick balls at Mike if they won. This could be a high-scoring game, because I don't think Mike has any more skill in a soccer net than I do.
As I was musing, three more kids appeared. Two were about the same age as John and one looked about ten. John called out, "we're playing strip the goalie. Do you want to be the ref, Steve?"
The youngest kid said, "cool. Any special rules?" Eric quickly repeated the rules, and Steve's companions each joined a team. Steve wasted no time, and the ball was in play.
Here it comes -- the ball was headed for my net. I managed to get in front of it and it bounced off my chest, only to come back twice as fast. I got my leg in front of it, and it went off down the field. That was a lucky escape. My team snagged the ball, and Mike was not so lucky.
Steve pointed at the scorer. "Tim, you can take something off the goalie."
Tim walked over to Mike and looked him up and down. "Hey, one of his arms is hairy and the other isn't. Take off your shirt."
Mike blushed, and started to remove his tight T-shirt. He stopped when Steve called out, "No, Tim, you take it off, not Mike."
Tim looked confused for a minute. I guess he thought Steve meant that Tim was to remove his own shirt. Mike ended the confusion by bending over at the waist and putting his arms straight out in front, saying, "ready, Tim." Watching John, I saw him smile, but this time, it looked more like a smile of pride than of nastiness. He really did want us to be good sports about this. Hmmm.
Tim pulled the shirt off Mike. It took a while, because it was so tight. Mike straightened up and Tim put both hands on Mike's chest, one on each side, confirming that the right side was hairless. "Why did you only shave half?" Tim looked puzzled.
Mike chuckled. I'm sure he wasn't sincere, but it didn't show. "Not enough time to finish the job. Do you like it?" I glanced nervously at John and Eric, but both were expressionless. This is weird -- first they humiliate us and then they want to play it down? Steve calling for everyone to get playing again broke my confusion.
The game went on for a while after this. Without a watch, I couldn't be sure how long. Mike and I each stopped a few weak shots and I began to think that we might come out of this without losing too many clothes and too much of our dignity. Moving to block a shot from John, I got out of position, John passed to one of his team-mates and I had let my first one in.
"You turn to take something off Jeff, Alex," came the call from Steve, our ref.
Alex came over and, to my surprise, grabbed the legs of my shorts and pulled them down to my knees. His grin was nasty as he told me to get on my back to let him finish the job. I got down, and put my legs up. Although this exposed my ass, I figured that I had to be co-operative, or I'd lose my dignity along with my shorts.
Alex pulled off my shorts. "Hey, Jeff's got one shaved leg." He flipped my feet towards my head, and I didn't fight him. "All the way up to his bum!" He stared and the others came over for a look.
Steve yelled out, "stop showing off, Jeff, and let's get this game going again." I stood, and my shirt fell back into place. I wasn't any more exposed than I had been with my shorts on. The next goal was going to leave one of us in just a jock. I wasn't sure how long we'd been playing, but we hadn't stopped for a break yet, so we must still be in the first half.
The ball came hurtling toward me. I quickly switched my attention back to the game and surprised myself by actually catching the ball. I had to leap to catch it, and must have given quite a show as my shirt went up with my arms. Still, better to have the shirt than not. But, I did get a bit envious of Mike, who still had his shorts.
I missed the next shot, and Steve directed Peter to remove more of my kit. Peter had a mischievous gleam and told me to lie down. Stunned, I complied, as I realised that it was not my shirt I was about to lose, but my jockstrap. Peter flipped my shirt up and gave me a swat on my rump as he told me to flip over. Eric yelled out, "no fair! You can't spank and strip. You'll have to give him a spanking, since you started."
Peter looked over to Steve, who said, "quite right. Those were the rules. You can give him nine swats, as you've already done one."
I looked over my shoulder at Peter, who looked disappointed and then shrugged. "Spread your legs," he said.
Peter kneeled between my legs, and flipped my shirt up to almost my shoulders, laying me bare except for the straps of the jock. Peter did not hit overly hard, and the spanking took little time. I'm sure I was nicely pinked. As I waited for further instructions, Peter spread my cheeks, leaned forward and blew on my crack. "That should cool you off. You can get up now."
I felt a little flushed, but otherwise no worse for the experience. I didn't know what to make of Peter blowing on my ass, but I can't say it was unpleasant. I would have to be more careful, or I would lose the jock for sure next time.
Despite my care, Peter scored on me again a few minutes later. This time he told me to hoist my shirt so he could get at my jock, and pulled it down to my calves. There was a gasp, and Peter looked up as he heard it -- straight into my crotch. He fell back on his ass and laughed. "You're green!" Damn, I had forgotten about the coloured pubes.
"Get on with it, Peter, or we'll do you next," yelled Steve. Peter told me to lay back on the grass on my back so he could finish the job. I did and he did. We both got up and play resumed. Mike fielded a few shots, as did I, but mine were mostly high and weak. Of course, I flashed everyone every time I jumped for the shots, and there was a lot of smiling from John's team. I wondered whether I'd lose the shirt next or be in for more spankings. Fortunately for me, the next goal was against Mike. That made it 3-2, so I was still behind, and lined up for whatever they had in mind for the losing goalie.
A scrawny kid called Dan had scored. He went over to Mike and yanked Mike's shorts down. Mike obediently lifted one foot and then the other. Rather than resuming the game, Steve yelled, "break for five minutes before the second half." At least we still had some covering left. Mike was a bit worse off, although I flashed a lot -- I was OK when not leaping.
I went up to John and told him I needed a pee before we started playing again. He pointed at a wood grove off to the side. I headed off and Mike came along. I whispered to Mike that this was not as awful as I thought it would be. Mike agreed, but said that it wasn't over yet, and we might be being set up for something. I thought about this, eventually agreed, but added that we may as well play along, unless he had a better idea. Mike shook his head. When we got back to the pitch, I realised that Mike and I had just had our first conversation in well over a day.
"You guys are so cool." Peter's comment brought a murmur of agreement from the others. I didn't know what to make of this; should I be proud, or was I being set up for a bigger fall? I looked to Peter and then Mike.
Peter continued, "John told us that you're letting them get even for taking their suits at the pool this week and you're going to help with his party tomorrow. Wish my brother were like you. Good luck on the swim team tryouts." That might explain the partial shave, but not the green pubes unless that was for tomorrow's party.
At that, Steve said that time was up and got the game moving again. Both Mike and I made some good saves, and it began to look like we might not lose any more. Steve called a foul on Alex, and gave Eric a penalty shot. Eric scored, and Mike lost his jock. The score was now even, 3-3, but I still had my shirt, because of the spanking.
Mike seemed unfazed by his nakedness. I began to think that everyone was being sincere and that, although they were trying to strip us, there was no attack on our dignity. Mike was a bit comical, flopping around every time he made a save. I must be the same, with this peek-a-boo T-shirt getup. The play continued, both sides trying to score, but Mike and I were in good form, considering neither of us had played soccer for a few years, and then not as goalies.
It was not to be. John made a shot that got past me, and he told me to bend over. He went around behind me, so I wasn't sure whether I was getting another spanking or losing my shirt. He flipped the shirt up in back, and paused, to prolong the suspense, but then pulled the shirt off the rest of the way. There couldn't be too much time left in the game, and I was now the losing goalie.
Surprise, surprise. Dan scored again, and Mike got ten swats. A few minutes later, another kid scored on Mike, and I heard Steve identify him as Nick. Another ten swats. Again, they were more playful than hard. After a few more minutes, Steve announced that the game was over and my team had won 5-4. John took over again. He told Mike to face into the net and bend over. Everyone but Mike and Steve lined up -- we were each to take one kick at Mike's back end. Looks like both teams were going to get a shot, not just the winning one.
Ouch. I was glad it wasn't me. John went first, and hit the target with a soft shot. Most of the shots connected, but none were very hard. I went last and missed (sort of on purpose).
John announced, "Steve didn't get to play, so we should do something to thank him for refereeing the game. What would you like, Steve?"
Steve whispered in John's ear, and John smiled. "I'm sure Jeff and Mike would be happy to." Turning to Mike and I, John continued, "Steve has no older brother, and would like to see your boners."
Mike shrugged, so I did too. What could we gain by saying 'no'? Nothing. A number of the kids looked very happy -- I guess they had no older brothers either, or their bros were more modest than Mike and I could be at the moment. Mike whispered in my ear, "let's lay on the grass, so we can close our eyes and ignore them." I nodded and got down on the ground, closing my eyes and giving my dick a few strokes to bring it to its full glory. That done, I spread my arms and legs and waited.
I heard kids milling all around me, but decided to keep my eyes closed. That was a good idea of Mike's -- it cut down on embarrassment for us and for the watchers. This was kind of erotic, being on display like this. It should have been humiliating, but I could sense more of a feeling of awe from the others, and it felt good. Very strange -- I would never have guessed that.
"Can I touch it?" Steve's nervous question broke me out of my daydream.
Keeping my eyes closed, I said, "OK." I felt small hands on my prick, giving it a squeeze and a stroke, then fumbling with my foreskin. Hmmm -- if he keeps that up, there'll be something coming out.
"Thanks, that was great!" I opened my eyes, and saw a very happy Steve. I looked over, and saw that Mike was standing up and putting on some shorts. Eric was handing me shorts and shirt. I told Steve he was welcome, and put the shorts on before standing up. Mike and I were sticking out up front, but that would go down soon enough.
The gathering was breaking up. I heard some kids say they'd see John at his party tomorrow, and others saying they were away for the weekend. Eric handed me the gym bag, saying, "should have had you carry this over, but you can carry it back. We'd better go so we're not late." He smiled at me, and it was not an evil grin this time.
As the four of us headed back, John spoke up, "thanks guys. Dad was right, that worked out. You guys aren't always shit- heads and our friends think you're cool. That makes us look good too."
Mike was the first to reply, "I'm sorry about the pool. That was mean, and you could have been a lot nastier to us. Did Dad put you up to this?"
Eric responded, "we're not telling." He winked at John. "But, you're right, it was mean, and you're not off the hook yet. Think about it, if we'd beat up on you in front of our friends, you would have looked like wusses, and that would not have done John or I any good. Besides, you two used to have fun with us, and we want that back -- not being pricks like the last few years."
Shit, he had a point. We used to all play together until Mike and I went to high school. "You're right Eric, we did have fun before. I'm sorry it stopped." I wonder why we drifted apart and then got nasty about it. It's not as if John and Eric were bad kids. Our payback wasn't over yet, but if it all went as smoothly as this, it wouldn't be too bad. I still wondered about those pictures, though.
"I've been thinking and may have a way to get Paul to stop being such a bastard. Are you two willing to help? It will be a bit embarrassing for you." John looked at me and then Mike. Ugh -- the cousins were next.