SOCCER PRACTICE
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Jim was sitting in his minivan, the bucket seat reclined back, radio and air conditioning blasting, the built-in cooler loaded with cans of cold Coke. He really ought to be up on the bleachers, but damn, it was too hot out there today, and he could see fine from right here next to the fence, and when his boy made a good play, he'd blow his horn! More noise than he'd manage to shout out sitting on a hot row of wooden benches and pretending he liked it. How the kids managed to stay active and cheerful in this heat was beyond him. The soccer moms had arranged plenty of fruit juice and water for them...some over-ardent health-nut was heading up the refreshment committee. Jeremy would be done in another hour and he and his friends would come running and first thing they did was start in on stopping someplace for colas and ice cream! He obliged them, it made him a favorite to drive the players to the games. If he didn't do things like that and didn't have this big honking minivan to drive the kids around, he may have been stuck with buying orange juice and celery sticks for the kids!
Conrad Hiller was assistant coach this week. Old Man Meyer had pre-empted the coach position, but he was in his sixties and retired, and could devote a full day to it if he had to. And he loved the game, that was for sure. But it was Conrad that Jim was watching.
Damned, that man was gorgeous! Tall, blond, muscled, handsome, he fit the soccer clothes like they were made with him in mind and any advertising executive would love to get some shots of Conrad working with the boys. He loved them and they liked him and when he gave one of the boys a friendly hug, Jim found himself wishing he were ten years old again. To be scooped up in those big arms....
He shook his head. Damn it, he was a married man, and that should have put an end to these kind of thoughts! He didn't want to mess things up with Laurie, end up being one of those guys who only saw his son on alternate weekends. Or having to see his son by being an assistant coach like Conrad. He wondered why Conrad and Darva had broken up. A man like Conrad in his bed and he wouldn't have had any complaints...damn it! No! He wasn't going to think like that anymore. A dozen years of marriage hadn't quelled the urge to hold another man, but he had too much invested in his marriage to go out cruising gay bars. Better to just sit back and watch Conrad...and dream.
Shit, the minivan had the automatic polarizing feature, with the sun coming in the front window like that, nobody could see him, they'd just see a dark square. He reached down and fondled his cock in his loose shorts. He'd dreamed of sitting in his minivan (more his own home than the house he shared with Laurie and her interior-decorator mother) and working his meat. Always the risk of getting caught had shut him down, made him stop.
And why? The other cars were empty, the parents diligently manning the bleachers and shouting over every play whether it worked or not.
He brought his cock out the leg of his shorts and let it pump up to its full eight-inch majesty. Laurie always moaned when he stuck it in her, and lately she'd begun to turn down the sex to only a couple of times a month. He wouldn't stray...not in person, anyway. In his mind...come get it, Conrad, he thought to himself, come feel a hard cock wanting you, begging you to take it down that pretty throat of yours, God, I bet you'd feel good lying on your back in bed, your big legs up around my waist, that tiny little butt spread wide for me! Mmm, and then you'd kiss me as I pushed my dickhead in, groaning and I'd feel that nice lump of yours right in the pit of my stomach....
What the hell? The kids were all going in. There was nearly another hour of practice. Shit, there must be some kind of problem. Too hot, maybe, on hot summer days they would call the kids in for a while and let them cool off in the dugout (the field did double-duty as a softball field). Coach Meyer would lecture them on strategy or tell them about plays he wanted them to run, or vote for their favorite left-handed red-headed player.
That must be it, the kids were all streaming down into the dugout. They ought to air-condition the dug-out the way he had his minivan air-conditioned, him all cool and relaxed. He didn't see Conrad. He returned to pumping his meat more ardently now, the danger of missing his son making a good play was gone. Conrad wasn't needed at those cool-down chats, he could slip over here and take a ride on this hard meat. God, the thought of that blond haired stud working on his pud was such a fucking hot image....
There was a tap at his window and he turned, startled. Shit, it WAS Conrad, right at his window, looking right through the clear glass in at him and him with his dick in his hand! He tucked his cock back into his shorts quickly and rolled down the window by pressing the power button. "What is it?" he asked.
"Kids are taking a break because of the heat." Conrad said.
"Yeah, it is hot." Jim admitted.
Conrad leaned his head into the window and at first Jim thought Conrad was going to kiss him. But his intent was more pedestrian. "Man, you got it cool in there, don't you?" he said, his face, sweaty and showing utter bliss, the way it would if he...
"You bet!" Jim said, guillotining the thought, grinned. Conrad obviously hadn't seen anything, probably a reflection off the glass had "figleafed" him, made him only a shadow in the van's driver seat.
"Mind if I join you in there?" Conrad said. "I'm about to pass out myself."
"Come around and get in." Jim said, motioning Conrad to the passenger door. As Conrad walked around, Jim thought about it and went to the side door and opened it. "Inside, hurry!" he said. All his wonderful cool air was spilling out into the blistering heat of day.
Conrad climbed in and Jim closed the door. "Have a seat!" he said. "Cold Coke?"
"You bet!" Conrad grinned. God, the man was fucking beautiful! Up close, his broad chest was holding a whistle between those massive breasts (lucky whistle!), his arms were stretching the short-sleeved elastic-trimmed shirt to the breaking point. The man must live at the gym!
He handed Conrad a Coke, sat down in the seat next to him as if casually, and said, "Sorry it's not fruit juice."
"Who cares?" Conrad said. "I get so much of it on the field I'm sick of it. You ever drink lukewarm grapefruit juice?"
Jim shuddered. "Not since I was old enough to say 'No!'" he conceded.
"Right. The ice has all melted and the kids are sweating like pigs. So Meyer's going to keep them busy with playbook quizzes and stories and what they'll need to bring on their trip to the game this weekend over in Hammerfield."
"Right." Jim said. "I get to drive the kids there, I bet."
Conrad grinned. "What you get for having a minivan when everyone else has a pickup truck."
"My home away from home." Jim agreed. At least the Hamerfield game is in the morning, Jeremy won't faint from heat prostration while playing the game.
"Actually, I have an ulterior motive in coming here." Conrad said to him, a grin on his face. He turned the cola up, drank deeply, belched, sighed. Damn it, that just made him cuter!
"Two ulterior motives, actually."
"What are they?"
"Wondering if you could go along on the Hamerfield trip as a chaperone." Conrad said. "We have a couple of parents going, but we could use another one."
"This weekend? Sure!" Jim said.
"Now for my other motive." Conrad said, sidling closer to him, licking his lips. Those moist petals were shining and soft and...and they parted to say, "Wanted to know if you would share a room with me on the trip."
"Sure." Jim said.
"Alimony is keeping me jumping." Conrad said. "I have to keep a two-bedroom apartment so I can get my weekends with Cliff, and pay child support and the house mortgage. It just doesn't leave a lot."
"No problem." Jim said. "I'd rent a large room anyhow, so forget about it."
"I can pay half." Conrad insisted, but not with the vehemence that meant he was going to insist. Just that his pride as a man made him have to be talked into it.
"Hey, the way I snore, you're not getting a deal here." Jim laughed. "Why else do you think Laurie started sleeping in the guest room." That was her official reason, anyway, the sex had dropped to almost none at the same time.
"She does?" Conrad frowned. "Sorry to hear that. Something in a marriage dies when the couple starts sleeping apart."
"Tell me about it." Jim said with more fervor than he meant.
"Oh." Conrad said. "That explains what I walked up on." He pantomined a hand jerking at his crotch.
Jim felt himself blush heavily. "I didn't think you'd seen that."
Conrad laughed. "Don't sweat it. It's my sole form of release these days, myself."
"Yeah?" Jim couldn't help it, his eyes fastened on that crotch, how it was bulging up and filling the loose cloth of the shorts. How long had that been there? He coughed, cleared his throat, managed, "Looks like you need a little release now." His voice, intended to be a casual manly tone, was more a hoarse whisper.
Conrad's response was a quick dart of his tongue against his lips, pressed his lips together. The look in his eyes...it spoke more than those lips could. "I will if you will." he said huskily.
Suddenly Jim knew why Conrad and Darva had split up. The knowledge was a rush against the barriers of his resolve, which gave way like a dam was breaking against a surging flood of water, spraying outwards, disintegrating all at once because the dam was held together so delicately, force against force balancing exactly, and when unbalanced, it all gives way. He felt naked before Conrad, vulnerable...and saved, rescued. His need was yipping happily like a dog greeting its master; it was yelping that he didn't have to go cruising a gay bar and be spotted by a neighbor, he didn't have to hold back and dream alone. Laurie need never know...and may not actually care if she did.
The rushing waters of his need flowed outwards and in its wake...serenity. "Why stop at just that?" he asked. "If you want to, that is."
Conrad's near arm went up and over his shoulders eagerly, and the far arm came over and landed on Jim's inner thigh. The hairs there came alive, screaming their joy as they were touched, touched by a man, a strong handsome man, at last, at last! Jim quivered, not with fear but with sheer, raw need. God, one touch and he was close to coming! Then the hand moved up and Conrad's face came towards his and the sensation became at once more intense and more manageable. This was passion...but only its prelude. There was a process to go through...his body understood and would wait.
And their lips met. Conrad was less in control than Jim here, he was slavering almost, his lips pressing hard against Jim's mouth, that hand at his crotch found home base and clenched! Hard! Powerfully! Manly! God it hurt...and felt so good! "Mph!" Jim grunted and in case Conrad took that wrong, began to hunch up with his hips into Conrad's palm.
Conrad's tongue stabbed into Jim's mouth, a thick, spongy invader that flowed into his mouth like a thick lava. The hand released his cock, began to fumble at Jim's chest, feeling for the nubs of nipples, to fondle, squeeze them.
Geez, Conrad was acting like Jim had expected to. Overeager, panting, ardent to the point of uncomfortable. He knew how to handle it, how to calm it down without rejecting. He put his own hands into play, touching Conrad's body, the hand nearest Conrad resting on Conrad's groin but without moving, the further one made slow, caring strokes over Conrad's thick, muscled chest. His own tongue began to writhe against Conrad's in his mouth, swirling over and around it, but gently. There's plenty of time, his body was telling Conrad. I'm not going anywhere. Let's slow down and enjoy this.
Conrad picked up the signals, let go of Jim's mouth with a noisy almost slurping sound. Panting, he looked at Jim's face, eyes glazed. "Take it out." he gasped.
"Huh?"
"Take it out. I want it. Now, God, now!" Conrad begged him.
To have this blond hunk in his arms was aphrodisiac enough, but to have him this eager, this intense...that was fortune he'd never dared dream of. Always in his dreams he had gone to Conrad as a humble petitioner, being granted the boon of that beautiful body. To be placed upon the throne and knelt before, metaphorically speaking, gave this an air of topsy-turvy.
"Sure." Jim said, his hands going to his shorts. It was so easy to pull away from his body the elastic band at his waist, to reach his other hand in and scoop up the lump of flesh, lift it free of its moist nest in the junction of his legs, and then tuck the elastic band underneath. The balls performed their secondary duty of holding his manhood free of the cloth, letting his cock stand tall and proud...and Conrad's hand went around it and gripped, pulled up squeezing and then down again. "Oh, God!" Jim breathed.
Conrad leaned over and had to scoot himself in the seat to get his mouth at Jim's groin, but then... "Oh, God!" Jim moaned again.
Conrad didn't make with any preliminaries, he had grabbed hold and began to promptly bob his head up and down. One moment Jim's cock was exposed to the air-conditioned cool air, then it was wrapped in a tight grip and then it was dumped into moist heat. And those lips, those lips! They were a ring of delight that slid along his cockshaft, ringing joy in its wake. Every move of Conrad's head, of those athletic shoulders, those taut abdominals, they moved together in harmony and vigor and their sole purpose was to wring Jim's cock with those nectar-tinged lips, a slick coating of saliva building from their ministrations, so that it was soft satin dancing upon his cockskin, it reminded Jim forcefully of his honeymoon, Laurie being coy and draping her negligee fabric over his cock, letting it brush him back and forth. Only this was better, much damned better!
Jim slid down in the seat as his pleasure began to take hold of him. Give Conrad a better hold on it. Damn, the guy could keep on holding it, he didn't ever want this blond god to turn loose. He looked down at this wonderful, dream-come-true sight, the way that Conrad's tousled short hair was gleaming, the nearly-rugged face turned to soft vulnerability as it suckled on his prong, the lips turning nearly inside-out as they pulled upwards, leaving a silver sheen upon his prick and a burst of pleasure, then hiding the silver again like a careful leprechaun and rewarding him again with delight.
Jim felt his balls gurgle. "Oh, oh, God!" he gasped out and the high tone of his call must have alerted Conrad, who turned loose to Jim's utter dismay. Conrad grinned at Jim's crinkled forehead and unasked question and said, "I think that'll do it. I want a ride on this monster. I've been wanting it since I saw it in the bathroom stall four months ago."
Conrad stood up and pulled off his shorts. Bemused, Jim watched this god in motion, his mind trying to recall the incident...just when had Conrad glimpsed his prick? They'd been in bathrooms at the same time a good score of times (maybe more than coincidence could explain, Jim realized), but he'd always been carefully discreet when there.
Conrad turned his back on Jim and straddled Jim's legs. "Guide me in." he said to Jim.
Jim's hands went up to Conrad's twin dimples of buttocks and caught them. So small, nearly bony even, they fit Conrad's superb body greatly. Butts held fat and there was no fat on Conrad!
Conrad shifted his legs back against the seat and now he was poised over Jim's dick, the cockhead resting in the precise point between his buttocks. "Are you ready?"
"I'm ready and so are you." Jim agreed.
Conrad pressed himself down, gasped as the cockhead slid into his butt. "Damn, you're big!" he semi-complained. Semi, for he held himself where he was, as if bracing himself, then worked his butt muscles to bring the cockhead up tight and pushed down again. His hand caught Jim's shoulder for purchase on one side, the center arm-rest on the other. "Oh, damn, you're big." he said again.
Jim was gasping, his face was red again he was sure, this time in desire. God, don't let Conrad give up, that warm tucker wrapped around his cockhead was the ultimate in delight, so much tighter than Laurie even on their wedding night, her showing herself not to be a virgin (or not a true virgin, if he believed her story about a doctor needing to puncture it to treat her for an infection), but this ass while not virginal either was still damned tight. "Come on, you can do it!" he urged Conrad. "Come on, try again!"
"Oh, God!" Conrad pushed down again and this time some of Jim's cock went into his ass. "Agh, ah!" Conrad crooned, lifting his face up towards the ceiling as if to beseech some superior entity there for strength to see this through. And he pressed down yet again.
Now it was going. "Oh, yeah, that's it, that's halfway." Jim panted. "Come on, a little more, God, a little more, shit, fuck, ah, ah! Ah, man, that's it, you got it, you got it!" He babbled in semi-delirium.
Conrad needed only a short rest now that Jim's pud was buried inside of him. Now he began to move, slowly and in small motions, but moving. His ass caught and tuckered on Jim's dong, but it relaxed and as it did, Conrad speeded up. This strong, athletic build was made for moving that body the way chosen for it, and Conrad was using it now to bounce on Jim's cock.
Jim watched this muscled body dancing above him in smooth rhythm and then closed his eyes and just groaned. His body was igniting with his need, his eyes were filled with the images his mind had heretofore only conjured out of mists and cotton candy, that vanished with only a burst of flavor, leaving sugar granules to ingest, unsatisfyingly strong. Now, though, he had the reality, so much like what he'd dreamed about, and so much better, too. For example, he'd never thought how it felt to have Conrad's body pressing against him, how strong and warm and firm it was wherever he touched it, strength beneath a sheer film of skin. Jim ran his hands up and down Conrad's legs and sides, feeling how powerful this man was, how amazingly strong, how agile and how beautiful, the way a cheetah is beautiful as it runs after the antelope, graceful movements of energy that can only be appreciated in motion and vanish in repose.
There was also the smell of Conrad, that had never entered the vapor of his dreams, the heavy musky smell of a man who had been exercising in the heat of day and the sweat dried and then remoistened with more, it was so much stronger that way. His body had been sensitized by the heat, it was the more ready to sweat once again and it did, globs of salty, sparkling man-dew sprinkled over Jim and the seat he was in, Conrad tossed his head and the sweat flew in flights of drops like birds fly, in small groups, helping each other fly, one flock splashed Jim's face and Jim licked his lips, tasted the heady brew of Conrad's perspiration and he moaned.
"Oh, God, I'm coming, I'm coming!" He warned Conrad, but he was nearly too late anyhow. His body took that taste of salty man-juice and used it like a torch to set his body ablaze, he was suddenly buffeted by his passions, his body jerked and his muscles clenched and suddenly his entire being was pouring all its power into his cock, which burst out like a Roman candle set in the sand of a beach. Groaning, hunching upwards, he clutched Conrad's hips and moaned as he jetted his sperm-packets upwards into the blond hunk, and Conrad moaned, his butt clenched Jim's cock and as Jim's orgasm concluded, his cock still hot and dripping in Conrad's ass, Conrad sprayed the driver's seat and passenger seat's backs with a heavy flow of blond-headed, blue-eyed, handsome-face bearing jism which left dark crescents upon Jim's upholstery. Panting, exhausted, Jim found to his annoyance that his mind turned to practical details. Have to get the van cleaned up after he got the kids home.
Conrad knelt on the carpet between Jim's legs and reached up for Jim for a kiss, which Jim gave him gladly. "Damn, that was good." he said huskily when their lips parted.
"You were great." Jim said sincerely. "Best I ever had." The word "only" didn't apply, this had been damned good by any standards!
"We can do it again this weekend in Hamerfield." Conrad said. "All night, after we get the kids put to bed."
Right. Jim had half-forgotten that. "You bet." He agreed. "I think the boys ought to get a good night's sleep."
"We'll make them turn lights out at nine o'clock." Conrad agreed.
"Make it eight-thirty." Jim said, and this time he reached for a kiss.
There'd be other opportunities here, two dads escorting their sons to games and lingering together afterwards. He could make opportunities if he had to; Conrad didn't live so far away.
So far from breaking up his marriage, this might be just what he needed to keep it held together!
They were clothed again and decent and back to sipping Cokes in lieu of cigarettes when there came a sort of knock on the side door. Jim leaned over and opened it and saw Mrs. Meyer there. "Hello." she said brightly, her old face crinkled up. "Wondering where you'd gone to and someone said they'd seen you coming this way." She felt the cool air coming out at her and said, "My, I can see why you stayed here, so nice and cool."
"Yes, it is." Jim said, wishing she'd go away before he lost all that cool air with her threshold nattering.
His tone communicated to her. "I'll leave you two alone." she said. "You're busy."
"We sure are." Conrad said, winking at Jim. "We have a lot of comparing to do."
Jim winked back, said, "There's a lot of work in being a soccer dad."
And the door closed, the darkness covering them like a benediction.
THE END
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E-mail me at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM