Soccer Practice


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 k**s 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 k**s around, he may have
been stuck with buying orange juice and celery sticks for the k**s!
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 k**s 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 k**s 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 k**s 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.
"k**s 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 g****fruit juice?"
Jim shuddered. "Not since I was old enough to say 'No!'" he conceded.
"Right. The ice has all melted and the k**s 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 k**s 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 c***d
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 sl**ping 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 sl**ping 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,
f***e against f***e 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 f***efully of his
honeymoon, Laurie being coy and dr****g 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 k**s 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 k**s put to bed."
Right. Jim had half-forgotten that. "You bet." He agreed. "I think the
boys ought to get a good night's sl**p."
"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 e****ting 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.

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Posted by john1195
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