From: Mark <naturgeil@xoommail.com>
Subject: ST:  Jeromy loves soccer  (M/t/t/t) (oral) (WS)
Date: 08 Jan 1999 00:00:00 GMT

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AN:  Usual disclaimers.  This is a work of fiction which 
depicts willing and consensual sexual relations between a 
man and teenage boys.  Do not read if you may be offended 
or if this material may be illegal in your jurisdiction.  
All names are fictional and any resemblance to any other 
person is purely coincidental. Apart from downloading and 
printing for personal use, this work remains the property 
of the author.
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Jeromy loves Soccer (Part 1)

He's one of those boys you couldn't keep your eyes off.  He 
started school here as most boys, a cute little twelve year 
old in Year 7.  Over the past couple of years I've watched 
him grow, just slowly, into early adolescence and I get a 
hard-on when he's within sight.  Jeromy Lehmann was born in 
Freiburg, Germany and emigrated with his parents when he 
was two years old.  Bilingual, of course, and with those 
classic features:  high cheek bones, blond hair you just 
want to run your fingers through, and clear, unblemished 
skin.

The boy just turns me on so much.  I want to spend some 
time with him, at my place.  We can talk about my travels 
to Germany - I've got heaps of  souvenirs and memorabilia 
from my trips there.  We could talk about books -  I know 
he likes teen fiction and at lunch break he's usually in 
the library reading.  

Jeromy loves soccer!  He's always talking about Bayern-
Munchen, and about the up-coming world cup.  But I don't 
know much about soccer.  I did know, however, that Germany 
was going to play England in the world cup qualifiers, and 
the only way it was going to be broadcast was on cable TV.

Just before he left the library on Friday I asked him about 
the match.  "Hey Jeromy, are you going to watch the 
qualifier tomorrow night?"

"We haven't got cable," he answered, "and I don't know 
anyone else who's has.  Are you going to watch it sir?"

"Sure am," I replied.  Yes, I did have cable, but I would 
have watched an old movie rather than a qualifying soccer 
match.  He lingered a moment and wanted to say something, 
but I wasn't going to prompt him.

"I suppose you want England to win," he said.

"No way!" I replied, "Deutschland fur mich!"  Jeromy knew I 
spoke a little German and every time I used it with him he 
smiled broadly, impressed at my effort to learn the 
language, which along with French was abandoned by our 
school ages ago and replaced with Japanese and Indonesian.

"Er...," he began tentatively, "I suppose you'll tape it?"

"I can't," I answered, "my video machine's getting fixed at 
the moment."  I felt a tinge of guilt at this deliberate 
fib.  But I was hoping like anything this conversation was 
leading him to my front door.

"Er..., any chance of... letting me watch it too?" said 
Jeromy, struggling to find the words, the expression on his 
face anticipating a let-down.

"Oh, I can't see why not," I replied indifferently.  "But 
it won't be very interesting, just you and me.  If you 
think you can put up with my company I don't mind.  Do you 
know where I live, Cockatoo Street?"

I gave him my address and he told me his sister would give 
him a lift.

"Oh," I said, "and don't forget it doesn't start until 
midnight.  But if you come around at six I'll order some 
pizza and we can watch some videos until it starts.  And... 
if you want... bring an overnight bag.  I've got a spare 
room if you want to stay over."  I thought my invitation 
about staying overnight might have gone a little too far, 
but Jeromy gave me a cheeky wink instead.

"Oh sir," he grinned, "Videos? I thought your video machine 
was getting fixed!"

Gotcha!

"I'll borrow one from school," I said, winking back at him 
while I applied that part of my DNA that gave me the 
ability to quickly think on my feet.  I gave Jeromy a quick 
pat on his lower back, as close to his bottom as I could 
get away with.  He looked me straight in the eye, winked 
back at me again and headed out the door.  I couldn't wait 
until tomorrow.

The next day I changed the sheets on my bed and flushed out 
the spa.  I also went down to Safeway and stocked up on the 
things that boys like to snack on, as well as plenty of 
Coke, a beverage I can only consume if it's been assaulted 
by a liberal shot of Jim Beam.  As I was dusting my French 
impressionist prints in the hallway the phone rang.

"Is that you sir, Mister Ball?  It's Jeromy."

"Yes Jeromy, are you still coming over tonight?"

"For sure, but..."

"What's the problem Jeromy?"

"Can I bring Damian and Aaron as well?"

I felt a twinge in my groin as my rabid hormones began to 
swing into action.  I knew exactly who these two boys 
were.  Practically inseparable, Damian Rush and Aaron 
Sanders would often sit with Jeromy in the library.  These 
were two absolutely stunning youngsters who preferred 
literary and artistic rather than sporting pursuits, so it 
didn't take long before some of their ignorant, insensitive 
and bigoted `classmates' started referring to them as 
`fags'. But our school, which prides itself on its policy 
of tolerance, equal opportunity and fairness, quickly took 
action and expelled a group of influential boys who had 
been taunting them.  The rest of the school quickly got the 
message.  

Damian and Aaron were also in the school drama group and 
despite strong competition from their peers had been 
elected to the Junior School Congress, a representative 
body which formed part of the Students' Parliament.  
Articulate, intelligent and forthright, at fourteen years 
of age these boys were going to go a long way.  

"Damian and Aaron?" I repeated.  "From 9A?  Oh yes, I know 
them.  That'll be fine.  But make sure they tell their 
parents and to bring an overnight bag - or enough money for 
at taxi home."

"Thanks sir," said Jeromy, "we'll be there at six."

I hung up and started drooling.  Damian was fair haired, 
blue eyed and had a cute little upturned nose.  Aaron was 
another stunner - deep set green eyes, dark prominent 
eyebrows, lightly tousled reddish-brown hair and a dimple 
in his chin.  What was the time?  Only ten past two.  
Nearly four more hours!

Just before six I was peeking through the curtains looking 
out to the street when I heard a car break squeakily 
outside the front of my tall fence.  Three doors opened and 
slammed shut in quick succession and the three boys, all 
with their overnight bags, made their way through my front 
gate as the car with its noisy muffler drove off.  I pushed 
back the curtain and waited near the front door, my heart 
palpitating.  Why was I so nervous?  I felt like I was on 
my first date!  The doorbell rang and I took a deep breath 
and counted to ten.

I opened the door, hoping they wouldn't notice the bulge in 
my pants.  Three gorgeous teenage boys stood in front of 
me, smiling nervously.

"That's what I like to see, punctuality!" I said, "come on 
through."

They greeted me with the usual "hello sir" as they wiped 
their shoes on the doormat and came into the hallway.  
Jeromy led the way, and I put my hand gently on his 
shoulder as I guided them into the lounge.

"Sit wherever," I said as Jeromy took one of the single 
seaters and Damian and Aaron chose the comfortable two 
seater sofa.  "I don't wear shoes around the house so if 
you want to take off yours, go ahead."  I think the boys 
took this more of a request than an offer, and I took the 
smelly things into the laundry.  Curious, I had a closer 
sniff inside Jeromy's left Nike and the odour was, quite 
seductive I must admit.  Not the stale pong you would 
expect, but a tantalising combination of rubber, talcum 
powder and fresh boy-sweat.  I took another deep breath 
inside the right shoe, laid the three pairs on the floor 
and went back to the lounge room.

"Coke boys?"

"Yes please," was the reply.  I wondered whether I should 
offer them some Jim Beam as well.  They were only fourteen 
but as a responsible adult I had no intention to dope them 
with the stuff so they'd get off their faces.  A few drinks 
just to help them relax, (and me as well.)

"Have you boys tried this?"  I came back out of the kitchen 
with a bottle of Beam and showed them.

"My old man gets pissed... oops... drunk on that when he's 
had a hard day at work," said Jeromy, "I've had it in Coke  
It's kewl."

There was that word again - `kewl'.

I looked at Aaron and Damian.  "I've had rum and vodka, but 
not that," said Aaron.

"I'm allowed to have a glass of wine at dinner," said 
Damian, "but I wouldn't mind trying it."

Good, I thought to myself.  I'm in the company of some 
sophisticated guys tonight!  Over the next couple of hours 
the pizzas arrived, and we ate them.  We surfed the pay TV 
channels and there was nothing that interested them.  We 
made small talk...

"So, who do you think's going to win?"  I asked...

"Nice piano sir, can you play something? Asked Jeromy.  I 
gave them my renditions of `Begin the Beguine' and 
`Waltzing Matilda' and I think they were impressed...

`How many years have you been teaching?" asked Damian...

Etcetera, etcetera.  It was only eight o'clock  Come on 
everybody! I was saying to myself.  Let's loosen up!  I 
want these guys to say something.  "I must say," I said to 
Aaron and Damian,  "I'm very impressed with your work with 
the Junior Congress.  But I didn't think either of you were 
particularly interested in soccer."

"I'm not really," said Damian, "but Jeromy asked me and I 
thought it would be good to get out of the house.  Dad's 
been giving me a hard time lately."

"Why?" I asked.

"His old man wants him to join the athletics club," piped 
in Aaron.  "But I want to watch the soccer because at our 
next Congress meeting on Monday everyone's going to talk 
about it and I don't want to seem dumb."

"Do you live by yourself sir?" asked Jeromy

"Yep, just me."

"Your'e not married, are you sir?" he probed.

"Nope."

"Why don't you find a nice lady to move in with you?" he 
went on.  This is getting good, I thought to myself.  I 
could feel the perspiration forming.

"I don't want to," I said.  "I'm not really interested in 
living with a nice lady."  I let out an audible breath, 
realising what I'd just said.  But I wanted to say it.  
They had a right to know, if they were under my roof, and I 
thought, I hoped, I could trust them.  There was a couple 
of minutes of uncomfortable silence.

"Why don't you get a nice man instead?" asked Aaron, very 
matter-of-fact.

"Have you seen the `personals' section in the local paper?" 
asked Jeromy.  "They've got these sections - `Male seeking 
Female', `Female seeking Male' and `Seeking Same' - that's 
where the gay guys and lesbians advertise."

I took a deep draft of Beam.  It was my turn again.  "I've 
seen those ads, but I don't think you can find someone that 
easily, through a newspaper ad."

"Are you gay sir?" asked Damian.  The three boys were now 
scrutinising me closely, but I didn't feel uncomfortable.  
The body language hadn't changed and everyone still seemed 
relaxed.

"I know people want to put you in a category - you're 
either straight, gay, or bi.  OK, if you want to put me in 
the `gay' category you can.  But it's not always that 
simple."

"What do you mean?" asked Jeromy, cocking his head 
sideways.  "Gay means you like sex with other men, doesn't 
it?  Have you had sex with other men?"

"Sex isn't everything you know.  OK, I have, but I never 
really liked it, not that much really."

"Do you prefer boys?" asked Damian.  I gave a more-or-less 
nod of the head and breathed out a `mmmm-yeah-mmmm'.

"Is that why you became a teacher?" Asked Aaron.

"No, of course not!" I raised my voice for the first time 
in weeks, annoyed at the naivete of his question.  "Men 
don't become teachers to have sex with boys.  It's a 
career, something I always wanted to do."  I realised I'd 
used the words `sex' and `boys' in the same sentence.  
Where was this going to lead?

"Sorry sir," apologised Aaron.  "That was a silly question."

I regained my composure.  "No, it was a fair question from 
someone your age.  But a lot of misguided people - adults - 
do actually think that way.  I'm sorry I snapped."  I 
thought any minute now they would make an excuse, ask to 
use the phone, and take a taxi back to their homes.

"Men like sucking cock, wanking each other and fucking when 
they have sex, don't they?" said Jeromy, so nonchalantly 
that we looked at him in total surprise.  I suppose having 
come this far, there was no point in keeping to civil 
language.

"And there's also kissing, nibbling, massage, water sports, 
frottage..." I continued.

"What's frottage?" asked Damian.

"You rub up against the other guy and cum," explained 
Aaron.  "Some guys do it if they don't like fucking.  And 
water sports is where you piss over each other."  We all 
looked at Aaron.

"Lots of boys do `frottage' as well," I continued the 
lesson, "not necessarily with someone else, but you just 
rub your dick against anything soft, say a towel, your 
sheets in bed, or your pyjamas, your jocks, anything to 
soak up the cum, and when you blow it's usually a much 
better feeling than a normal wank."

"I know," said Aaron.  "It's kewl.  I've been doing it for 
a couple of years.  One day I want to try it with someone."

At this point our eyes crossed paths and I'm sure he gave 
me the slightest of winks.  But it could have been my 
imagination.

"What's fucking like?" asked Damian.

"It's a personal thing," I began.  "I'm not really into it 
myself but a lot of guys like it.  I've got some videos I 
can show you which, shall we say, demonstrate the 
technique."  I went on about lubrication, condoms and safe 
sex but I got the impression that these boys weren't ready 
to start humping each other on my lounge room floor.  Not 
at the moment, anyway. 

"Just talking about all this has given me a hard-on!" 
exclaimed Jeromy, discreetly adjusting the front of his 
pants.  We giggled at his predicament, but then it just got 
a bit more serious.

"Isn't it against the law?" asked Damian slowly, "I mean... 
you know... older guys doing it with boys?"

"It's complicated, it varies from country to country, state 
to state; it depends on the ages involved; there are 
different interpretations depending on the degree of 
consent, or whether there's been violence.  But men and 
teenage boys... willing and consensual... it's been going 
on since the Roman Empire."  I left the boys to fill in the 
dots for themselves.  And I realised I'd used the word 
`teenage'.  What were they thinking now? 

"What would happen," started Jeromy, looking at me and 
choosing his words carefully, "if say, guys our age had, 
you know... sex or whatever... with you know... guys your 
age?  I mean, would we go to jail?"

"No, you wouldn't, but I would.  Probably five to ten 
years, and probably more if the man was in a position of 
trust and responsibility.  Which I am."

"That sucks!" exclaimed Aaron.  What if the younger guy, 
you know... wanted it?"

"It doesn't matter," I hissed, "it's still against the 
law.  "But they say it's to protect the young guy. You 
know, all teenagers, even boys who think they're tough, can 
get confused and worried about sex, so it's really up to 
the older guy to talk to them, to stay in contact, to 
listen, and to make sure they don't get depressed about 
things.  You have to be there when they  need it." 

"I don't want you to go to jail," said Damian 
sympathetically, as if I'd already been charged, convicted 
and sentenced.

"No-one's going to jail, I can tell you now.  But you know 
boys, what some people are like.  Let's keep this 
conversation to ourselves.  OK?"

We all paused, collecting our thoughts after this cathartic 
experience, especially for me.  The boys nodded in 
affirmation, but I sensed the atmosphere had changed.  We 
had gone from trivial small talk to a serious and intimate 
discussion about sex and relationships between men and 
boys.  There was no turning back, no pretending that this 
had not happened.  My nostrils sensed something in the air, 
not unlike the smell from Jeromy's grubby sport shoes. 
These boys were just reeking with testosterone, and it was 
my move.  

   It was as though I didn't think, but I clearly remember 
what I said.  I'll never forget the look on those young 
boys' faces.


Jeromy loves soccer (Part 2)

"Hey boys, why don't we all strip off and go up to my 
bedroom for some fun?"

Their eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and 
excitement.  "I thought you were never going to ask!" said 
Jeromy

I led them up to my room and I can just imagine the sense 
of anticipation in their horny young bodies.  My heart was 
pounding and my dick had been leaking for the past couple 
of hours.  Opening the door to my large bedroom, fitted 
with a king size bed and an en-suite with spa, I switched 
on the two low wattage bed lamps and we started to 
undress.  The boys didn't hesitate, as their caps 
sweatshirts, pants, socks and underwear were flung and 
tossed in all directions, and the naked young bodies of my 
three youngsters were quickly revealed.

Aaron was first to be totally nude, and I almost ejaculated 
hands free as I watched his junior sized boy-cock 
immediately stiffen to a four and a half inch teenage 
throbber before my eyes.  Jeromy was next to show us his 
beauty, classic German features including a smallish but 
rock hard erection, wispy blond pubes and a smooth hairless 
scrotum encapsulating tightly withdrawn balls.  Damian's 
cock was also fully stiff, almost perpendicular to his 
tummy when he pulled his jocks down, probably the last to 
strip off because he had a little difficulty extracting his 
erection from the elastic waistband. His dick was 
undoubtedly the largest of the three boys, six chunky 
inches of throbbing young penis, adorned with a small but 
dense tuft of dark pubes, and a few fuzzy strands poking 
from his dangling ball sack.

I had to have Jeromy's cock first - I'd been waiting for 
over two years, you know!  I wrestled him to the top of the 
bed and moved my head down to his gorgeous little hard-on, 
where I swallowed it easily and completely.  I let my 
tongue lash the tender pink glans while my pursed lips 
stroked the shaft in rhythmic motions.  Jeromy was writhing 
and groaning audibly and after only a minute I felt he was 
close to orgasm.  Should I let him cum now, or let him 
delay it?  Too late, as several seething blasts of Jeromy's 
delicious creamy semen shot into my mouth and his writhing 
eventually subsided.

"What does it taste like?" he mumbled, almost breathlessly.

I still had most of it plastered around the inside of my 
mouth and couldn't say anything, so I moved up to the head 
of the bed, smothered his small frame with my larger body, 
and pushed my lips against his.  With a reflexive motion he 
opened his rosebud lips and stuck his tongue into my mouth, 
releasing the valve and letting his own cum leech back into 
his mouth.

I rolled over to the side to allow Jeromy room to breathe, 
then invited Damian to squat over my chest.  With his balls 
resting comfortably over my sternum, he puffed up his well 
developed little chest, and placed his hands on his hips 
with the thumbs pointing outward.  The pink crown of his 
dick was glistening with precum, a constant bead of the 
transparent substance trickling from his pee hole every few 
seconds.  "I just wanna get pulled... Just jerk me off 
man... Yeah I wanna cum... Grab it and pull me...!" he kept 
repeating, a stream of urgent requests in a voice that 
sounded completely different to the polite, well mannered 
boy from the one sitting in my lounge not ten minutes ago.  
He sounded like a boy possessed!

As I reached up to grab his throbbing cock a small amount 
of piss spurted upwards in such a high arc that its 
downward trajectory struck the end of my bed, before 
falling back and splattering my face and chest.  I managed 
to eventually take charge of his seemingly uncontrollable 
organ, rubbing it briefly but vigorously before a further 
volley, this time of warm tangy boy-cream, erupted from the 
slit and eventually covered most of my face.

Meanwhile Aaron had been exploring me below the navel, 
lavishing my dick and balls with his warm wet tongue.  His 
small mouth took in what it could of my dick, then he 
teased the hairs on my balls by pulling at them with his 
teeth.  Ouch!  Tracing his tongue back over my balls, then 
up the cock shaft and finally to the crimson crown, which 
he licked it as if it were an ice-on-a-stick, a few more 
short thrusts up and down, and that was it.  I let loose a 
gushing load of cum which first side-swiped Aaron's now 
rosy cheeks, then the following blasts spurted in all 
directions, all of us getting a sample of the white stuff.

He wiped his face on the sheet, moved up the bed then 
literally pushed his good friend Damian off my chest.  
"Remember what I said before," said Aaron, I want to try 
this now!"  He laid his small compact frame over mine, his 
hard cock rubbing over my belly, then his tongue found its 
way into my mouth, and he just went for it.  Our tongues 
lashing together, he humped over me for all it was worth.  
My fingers tickled the tight crack between his bun cheeks 
as the sweat poured from his horny young body.  Aaron kept 
grunting and frenching, humping and rubbing, then gasped in 
relief as his explosive orgasm gushed forth, soaking my 
stomach.  I then felt a second drenching as Aaron lay there 
motionless, then took a leisurely and lengthy piss over me 
while regaining his breath.

"Can you boys grab some towels from the bathroom?" I asked.

After we wiped up a bit Jeromy had quickly recovered and 
was in dick-sucking mode.  He moved to the end of the bed 
and went down on his friend Damian, giving the boy's cock a 
generous and energetic soaking.  It was as though he 
couldn't get enough cock in his mouth - we could see 
Jeromy's cheeks distend as Damian's hard boy-dick was 
pushed into every corner of his eager, hungry orifice.  As 
Damian thrust around Aaron and I had to help restrain him, 
gently pinning his arms and legs to the bed while Jeromy 
worked on him furiously with his blow job.  Finally the 
writhing boy moaned in pleasure as he blew for the second 
time that night, cumming first into Jeromy's mouth, then 
pulling out before he rubbed his spurting dick against the 
boy's cheek, a small amount of semen then dribbling onto 
the sheets.

Jeromy wasn't finished yet, Aaron was next.  What?  So 
soon?  But Aaron's cock was fully stiff again, so soon 
after his exhausting effort a little earlier with me.  As 
Jeromy and Aaron moved into a comfortable sixty-niner at 
the end of the bed I turned Damian onto his stomach.  Limp 
and spent by this stage I mounted the boy and pushed my 
revitalized dick between his bum cheeks.  This was my 
version of frottage, as I slid between the warm moist 
crevasse for a few exhilarating moments before I blew my 
second load, then collapsed on top of the now sleeping 
Damian.

At the end of the bed I heard the simultaneous groans of 
Jeromy and Aaron as they achieved their junior orgasms.  
Three teenage boys and one man, sprawled naked on a king 
size bed. We lay there together motionless and silent.

'What moments divine, what rapture serene.' (Cole Porter)

A little later we sat in the spa, the hot bubbling foam 
working wonders on tender dicks and aching balls.  "Tell me 
Jeromy, what's your fantasy?" I asked.

"I want to be the mascot for the German soccer team, and in 
the change rooms we're all in the nude, and I'm giving 
their muscly bodies a rub down, sucking on their hard 
dicks, and then the whole team and I go into the showers 
where we all piss and cum over each other."

"What about you, Aaron?"

"I want to live on a deserted island with lots of naked 
boys and men, where we spend the whole time in the nude, 
just doing what we did tonight, but all day as well!"

We all looked at Damian.  He pondered for a moment, 
thinking of a way he could trump his two friends.

"I want to go to a mega party where there are about two 
hundred naked guys, all walking around with hard-ons, and 
we have an all day and night orgy!"

Not bad, I thought, this kid's got imagination - he'd be 
wasted in politics!

"And what about you sir?" asked Jeromy.

My mind roamed back to the recurring dreams I'd been 
having.  "I want to run a naturist camp, just for teenage 
boys, where we would spend the days completely nude of 
course, swimming, playing games, having competitions, even 
playing soccer.  And naturally we'd have heaps of other fun 
together like we did before.  Who wants to come along?"

The three boys thrust their arms into the air with a 
unanimous shout of "Yes!", as we giggled at our outrageous 
fantasies.

It was nearly midnight and time to watch the qualifying 
match.  We dried off and went down to the lounge again.  We 
stayed naked and I moved the bigger sofa in front of the 
TV.  Jeromy and Aaron sat on either side of me and Damian 
sat next to Jeromy.  Aaron was pretty tired and fell asleep 
with his on my shoulder, while I rested my hand on Jeromy's 
slender thigh, stroking it gently.  It was a scoreless 
match until half time and only Jeromy stayed awake to see 
the finish, then fell asleep in front of the TV with the 
rest of us.

Later Jeromy told us that the second half was pretty one-
sided and Germany won 3-1 against England.  At some time 
during the wee small hours the night chill woke me up and 
we stumbled back to my bedroom for more comfortable 
sleeping arrangements.  The next day after breakfast we 
took a long drive along the coast and came back through the 
hills.  Perhaps the 'morning after then night before' might 
leave them with mixed feelings, or even a sense of guilt or 
shame.  We talked a lot about what we did and they all said 
in their own way that it was a great night and wanted to 
spend more time with me.  But I wondered what they were 
really thinking.

After I dropped them each back at their homes I had time to 
collect my own thoughts about that night.  I started 
thinking about the fantasies that we talked about in the 
spa:  Jeromy's shower with the soccer players, Aaron's 
deserted island and Damian's mega party.  And there was my 
fantasy - a naturist camp for boys.  I'd been having dreams 
about this fantasy for a while now - vivid, lucid images of 
teenage boys enjoying themselves at a totally naked camp.  
I wanted to talk about those dreams with someone.  I 
thought it was time to pay my therapist another visit.


The End


Postscript:  A couple of weeks later my therapist, well-
known sexologist Dr. Dick Testro suggested that I should 
share my dream experiences with other like-minded people.  
But I wonder?  Please e-mail me if you would like to read 
about those fantasies.  I had a lot to talk about...