Date: Sat, 5 Jan 2013 01:30:04 -0500
From: Alessandro Abbondanti <alessandro.bendotato@gmail.com>
Subject: mr a and his boys: new soccer tourney 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE. PLEASE READ!**

So it's been almost four years. Unbelievable. I've been heavily involved in
a relationship that has made it difficult for me to find the time to write
these stories, and I do apologize, especially to anyone who has dutifully
and longingly checked the Yahoo! Group expecting updates, or who has
futilely e-mailed me anticipating a response that never came.

Considering how long it has been, I enter into this tale with some
trepidation. I have no idea if I will be able to recreate the same feeling
present in the first 36 chapters. My life and the people in my life have
changed considerably since I began the series -- simply put, I'm not the
same person I was four years ago.

It takes some time to get to the sex in this chapter, but I didn't want to
gloss over the soccer match. Also, the sex scene is rather tame compared to
what I wrote in some of the previous chapters, but as I've learned in my
life, sometimes it's necessary to go slow...

I do not have thorough notes covering previous chapters, so please excuse
any contradictions that may arise, whether in a character's behavior and
description or the details of his life. I'm happy to have you point them
out, so that I may correct them or take note of them for future chapters.

Finally, I am unable to find the outline of story ideas that I created when
I began the series and the suggestions that people sent me when I asked for
them, so I again need your input. Where would you like the story to go?
About whom do you want to hear more? What haven't I done yet that you'd
like to see? Other feedback is also welcome. See the note at the end for
contact information. Please note that my e-mail has changed!

Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction; any resemblance to
real persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. If you're not old
enough to read this, go away. This story is fantasy. It didn't happen. It
will never happen. Don't do it. This story contains depictions of
consensual sex between adult and teenage males. All roles in the movie of
my life, however, are played by people aged 18 and over. If you are not
interested in reading about this (or other male-on-male sex), STOP
READING. This story is mine; don't steal it or post elsewhere without my
permission.  (That means I own it, and I have copyrighted it, in case you
were confused.)

*******************

At breakfast Sunday morning, I noticed my boys were a bit subdued, which
didn't bode well for the game. Grayson was already livid because of the
loss in the semi-finals, and I wasn't sure how he would react if we didn't
win today's 3rd place game. Of my Varsity boys, only Paden seemed wide
awake and ready to play. Troy, Peter, and Miles looked exhausted. I
silently cursed myself for allowing Paden to convince me to have the
meeting last night. It had been risky, knowing that the boys had to play
the next morning, but I found it difficult to say no to Paden. Besides, if
we hadn't met up, I never would have experienced Mitchell's perfect, ruby
lips wrapped around my swollen schlong, and Chaz and Mitchell wouldn't have
had one of the most important sexual experiences of their young lives.

Of course, we would all have to deal with Grayson's rage if we lost.

Grayson came bounding into the room, barking orders for the boys to load
their luggage and get on the bus; we would be heading home directly after
the game. Troy, Peter, and Miles were moving a bit slowly for Grayson's
taste.

"Miles, Peter, Troy, hustle it up!" Grayson shouted at them. "Why are you
so tired? Were you up all night fucking around? Get it together, Miles!"
Miles was our only Varsity goalie, and we needed him to be alert and quick
today.

"Yes, coach!" Miles shouted, perking up a bit, and all three moved more
quickly out the door.

While the boys loaded the luggage, I climbed on the bus. Aaron, who was
sitting in the first row of seats, glanced up as I climbed the stairs. His
cheeks flushed when he saw me, and then he looked down guiltily at his
hands.

I took a seat in the first row on the other side of the aisle and looked
over at Aaron. He was now staring out the window and absently picking at
his nails. His behavior since the night in the sauna was beginning to worry
me. I decided that I needed to talk to him as soon as we had moment
alone. Now that he knew so much about Paden and me, I couldn't risk him
losing control and doing something foolish.

Paden and the other varsity boys got on the bus first. "I hope you guys got
a good night's rest," I said to them as they passed me.

"I don't know about anyone else," Paden responded, "but I was incredibly
relaxed by the time I got to bed, and I feel asleep as soon as my head hit
the pillow."

"No worries about the game?" asked Grant, one of the Varsity boys as they
passed down the aisle.

"Nah," Paden said. "I have a proven relaxation technique."

"Is that where you disappeared to last night?" Grant said. Aaron's head
snapped up when he heard this, and he looked over at me. Realization
flashed briefly in his eyes, and then he looked away. I thought I saw a
slight smirk play upon his lips just before he turned away.

"I thought you were asleep," I heard Paden saying as they moved further
down the aisle.

The JV boys came on next, and I was pleased to note that Chaz and Mitchell
were handling the events of last night well and seemed in high spirits.

"Glad to see you guys are in such a good mood this morning," I said to
them. Mitchell's ruby-red lips spread into a huge smile revealing his
bright white teeth, but he didn't say anything. I caught Chaz's eye, and he
winked at me before pushing Mitchell down the aisle.

Grayson boarded the bus last. "Aaron," he snapped at his son, "get your ass
up and count the guys. I don't want anyone left behind." Aaron grudgingly
got out of his seat and walked down the aisle.

"How you feeling, coach?" I heard Paden's baritone break loudly from the
back of the bus. "The last time I talked to you, you were walking a bit
funny. I thought you might have twisted your ankle or something."

I chuckled, and I appreciated the attitude behind Paden's comment, but I
wasn't sure he should be "poking the bear," as it were. I couldn't hear
Aaron's response, if he made one. As he stomped up the aisle, I noticed
that his cheeks were flush, whether from anger or embarrassment, I didn't
know.

"They're all here," he said shortly to his father and flopped down in his
seat.

Grayson and his wife took a seat behind me. Grayson leaned forward and
asked quietly, "What the fuck is wrong with him?" He jerked his head
towards his son.

"I have no idea," I lied. "At first I thought he was just upset about JV
losing, like you said, but it seems like something else might be going on."

Deirdre, Grayson's wife, leaned forward as well. "He said he was upset
because he found out this girl he had been seeing was sleeping with other
guys, including one or two of the older soccer guys," she offered.

"I didn't realize he was seeing anyone," Grayson said. He didn't seem
bothered by the fact that this girl was involved both with his son and with
his soccer players.

Deirdre shrugged. "Before the break, he told me that he was seeing her
almost every weekend." At this, I realized that the "girl" Aaron had told
his mom about was actually me, and the weekends she was referring to were
our regular tag-team sessions that had occurred before I left for Colorado.

"That's too bad," I said absently, marveling at this realization and
wondering about its implications.

"I told him to stay away from the younger girls," Deirdre said. "She
graduated from Washington last year, and she was a well-known
cleat-chaser."

Grayson grunted. "He needs to get over it and find someone else. I'm sick
of his moping." He sat back in his seat.

The drive to the field was a bit noisy, as the boys let off some nervous
energy by horsing around, but that was to be expected.

As we neared the field, Grayson leaned forward again. "Miles is back there
fucking asleep," he whispered hoarsely at me. "What the fuck was that kid
doing last night?"

The boys bounded off the bus as soon as it stopped and the door opened. The
Varsity boys headed to the locker-room to change into their gear and listen
to Grayson's pre-game spiel. The JV boys and I walked in a group towards
the benches.

Our game against Oak Ridge High started, and we looked good at
first. Although we outshot our opponent nearly 2-1, their keeper was
phenomenal, and at the half, we were up only 1-0. The pressure on Miles had
been slight so far, but he nearly missed shots that he easily blocked in
practice.

Things went downhill in the second half, however. Early in the second half,
Oak Ridge scored off a corner kick, tying the game 1-1. For the next 20
minutes, both teams battled up and down the field trying to create scoring
opportunities. We had several opportunities to score, but their keeper
continued to anticipate our moves. Paden nearly scored twice, but one shot
narrowly missed the lower left corner of the goal and another bounced off
the crossbar. Grayson strode up and down the field, calling orders to the
team and subbing out defenders, who, having noticed Miles' sluggishness,
had been working extra hard to keep the Oak Ridge forwards from any shots
on goal.

With 10 minutes left, it looked as though the game would go into overtime,
but our defenders were growing tired, and Oak Ridge continued to push
hard. Oak Ridge scored on a cross from the left. Miles had practiced
blocking this kind of shot in practice dozens of times, but he misread the
kicker and his stance was off. He wasn't able to correct himself quickly
enough, and the ball landed in the back of the net.

We battled back valiantly, but Oak Ridge's defenders were reinvigorated by
the score and worked twice as hard to keep our forwards back. With about 5
minutes left, an Oak Ridge midfielder played a through ball to their
forward. Miles was caught off guard and had little time to get into
position, but he was able to deflect the shot, due more to luck than skill,
as the forward had misjudged his shot. Unfortunately, the ball headed
directly to another Oak Ridge forward. Miles' reflexes were slow, as they
had been all day, and the forward sent the ball sailing over his head
before Miles even realized who was shooting.

Grayson cursed loudly. Any hope of tying the game, much less winning, was
gone. When the final whistle blew, we had lost 3-1, just like
yesterday. The teams streamed across the field shaking hands, but our boys
were clearly despondent. I sighed, knowing that on some level I had
contributed to the loss. No more pre-game fun, I promised myself.

With Grayson in the lead, our team headed to the locker-room. I briefly
considered joining them, knowing that the boys would need some support and
encouragement in addition to Grayson's verbal assault, but I decided
against it. Grayson's mood was foul, and I wasn't sure how he would react
to my presence as he spoke to his team.

About 45 minutes later, we were all getting on the bus. The mood was
somber. Fortunately, the tournament had no bearing on our district
standing, where we still led, and would not affect our chances of making it
to the State Championship, but fourth place was not what we had expected.

Before leaving town, the bus stopped at a mall for lunch. I sat with
Grayson and his family. Grayson ate silently, and Aaron, Deirdre, and I
followed suit. He had an explosive temper, and we had no idea what might
set him off. Grayson finished eating and said, "I have no idea what the
hell happened out there today. We should have won this game."

"I think Paden and Miles screwed up," Aaron said with a pointed looked in
my direction. "Paden shouldn't have missed those two shots, and Miles
shouldn't have let those last two get by him."

"Let's be fair," I said, more than ready to go to battle for my boys,
especially Paden. "Paden wasn't the only forward, and he wasn't the only
one to miss shots or have his shots blocked. Their goalie was damn good. As
for Miles, I don't think he should have missed that cross shot, but no
goalie is perfect. If he were, we'd have a lot of 0-0 games."

"Still," Aaron began to argue, "they're usually much better players. I
really think that..."

Grayson interrupted him. "You're right. I haven't seen either one make
these mistakes in a long time, but I'm not going to lay blame on any one
person. We win as a team, and we lose as a team." He made this last comment
deliberately at Aaron. Aaron closed his mouth.

I gathered my trash and stood up. "I'll be right back," I said. On my way
to the trashcan, I passed by Paden's table, where he was sitting with Todd,
Mitchell, and Chaz. I pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat next to
them.

"What's up, guys?" I asked.

"Just pissed about the game, Mr. A," Paden said. "I can't believe we lost."
The others nodded in agreement.

"I was sure we were going to win," Todd added. "What do you think
happened?"

I paused before answering. "Well, we didn't exactly play poorly; we just
had some mistakes. That could just be bad luck, or..." I trailed off.

"You think it's because of last night?" Paden asked anxiously. He had
arranged the meeting, and I figured he was feeling a bit guilty, just as I
was. I couldn't alleviate his guilt, unfortunately.

"I'm not sure, BP," I answered. "There's a good chance. I mean, we did have
a fairly late and energy draining evening."

"Not just energy draining," Mitchell said quietly. Chaz grinned and tousled
Mitchell's shaggy hair.

"I guess," Paden said, "but I felt fine this morning, and so did most of
the other guys, from what I could tell."

I shook my head slightly. "I dunno. I think Miles was definitely off his
game."

Paden nodded and let out a frustrated grunt. "If I had really thought it
would hurt us today, I never would have arranged it, at least not with as
many people."

"You can't have known," I said reassuringly. "Like you said, some of the
guys were fine today, but I do think that we'll have to avoid such meetings
before games from now on."

"Dammit," Chaz said, "just when I was starting to get into it."

Paden chuckled a bit. "It's not like away games are the only time we can
get together, dumbass."

Chaz brightened at this seeming revelation. "Good point. We'll have to
start working out the details."

"Calm down, Woody," Mitchell said. "I don't think it requires a lot of
planning. We see each other every damn day at school."

"Woody?" I said questioningly.

"Yeah, we call him Woody, now," Mitchell replied. "And NOT just because
he's always half-hard. He told us that when he turns 16, he gets his
cousin's Jeep Grand Wagoneer 'Woody.'"

"That's one ugly car," I said. "You just like the name, don't you?"

Chaz shrugged. "I can't help it. My parents said it's that or nothing."

"And now you can ask girls if they want to take your woody for a ride
without getting into trouble," I joked as I stood up to go around and check
on the other guys.

"Exactly," Chaz said and smiled, revealing his straight white teeth. The
others chuckled.

I walked around to the different tables and was pleased to note that
although everyone was disappointed in the loss, they were good enough not
to try to blame any one in particular, a quality of sportsmanship that I
felt Aaron should learn from them.

When I got back to Grayson's table, he asked how everyone was
doing. "They're disappointed, obviously," I reported, "but they're not
blaming each other, which is good, and they're fired up for Districts."

Grayson nodded. "Good. We've done well this year, and I was worried about
them getting complacent. This loss, sucky as it may be, might be good for
getting through the rest of the year and the post-season without any stupid
mistakes."

The mood on the bus was a little better after lunch, and we set off on the
highway towards home. About halfway through our journey, we pulled into a
rest stop for a bathroom break. I felt like my bladder was about to burst,
so I quickly exited the bus, and a number of the boys came bounding off
behind me.

Several of them ran ahead of me, apparently needing to piss more badly than
I did. The men's restroom had two sides, but one of them was blocked. This
was one of the smaller rest stops along the highway, and the side that was
open had only three urinals and two stalls. I strode in as Carl and Grant,
two of the Varsity boys that I didn't know well, walked up to the two side
urinals and reached into their pants. The other boys stood back, patiently
waiting.

"How come no one is using the stalls or the middle urinal?" I asked.

"One stall has shit and piss all over it, and the other is out of order,"
Hunter, one of the freshmen, answered.

"And the urinal?" I asked again.

"They don't want anyone to see how small their dicks are," Ottavio sneered.

"My dick isn't small," Hunter retorted, "and I don't see you going up
there, either."

The Varsity boys finished their piss and stepped over to the sinks, which
were surprisingly close to the urinals. Hunter and Ottavio took their
places. Despite his big talk, Ottavio took the far urinal.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered. "Someone get up there or I'm going to skip the
line." No one moved, so I walked up and stood between Ottavio and Hunter
and unzipped my pants. I reached into my boxer briefs and hauled out my
floppy, meaty cock. With a sigh, I let loose a powerful stream of piss into
the urinal.

"You like what you see?" I heard Ottavio say. I looked to my left and
discovered that Ottavio had stepped back from the urinal and was addressing
Grant. Grant had spent quite a long time at the sink, and he had been
caught trying to get a glimpse the younger guy's dick.

Now that Ottavio had drawn attention to it, everyone was looking at him. I
too looked at what he was showing to Grant, and I was startled to find that
he had one of the largest soft cocks I had ever seen. It was easily as long
my own softie, and possibly even longer, but without the thickness. He
wasn't a terribly attractive guy, despite his heritage, but now I
understood his allure and his popularity. I was even more surprised because
I had never noted a particularly prominent bulge on him.

Grant surprisingly didn't get embarrassed or try to defend himself. He
simply stated matter-of-factly, "Sorry, bro. I just wanted to see if that
Stallion shirt you wore was ironic or not. I guess not." I didn't know what
Grant was talking about. I had very little interaction with Ottavio, since
he wasn't one of my students, and he hadn't shown himself to be much of an
exhibitionist in the locker-room, unlike people like Paden.

Ottavio smirked. "No worries," he said and tucked his dick back into his
baggy pants. I noticed that he was wearing compression shorts instead of
underwear, which, along with the baggy pants and shorts he usually wore,
must have kept his bulge under control.

"And we know you're not the only one," Grant added, and I realized that in
my distraction at this exchange, I had unintentionally stepped back from
the urinal without packing away my own endowment.

Focus quickly shifted from Ottavio to me. "Oops," I said and coolly
returned my meaty sausage to the comfort of my boxer briefs. "My bad."

To my right, Hunter stood with his mouth agape. Some of the guys had seen
me before in the showers at school earlier in the season, but a lot of the
guys, especially JV, didn't take showers after practice, so even if they
had heard others talking about me, they hadn't actually SEEN it. Those who
were familiar with me stood against the wall grinning and saying nothing. A
few others muttered things like "Holy shit," "I heard about it, but I
didn't believe it" and "What the fuck?"

It took perhaps two minutes for all of this to transpire, but I suddenly
felt like we had been standing around for a long time, so I said with more
urgency than necessary, "Those of you who've finished pissing, stop
standing around and get out of here. The rest of you, Grayson's going to
come in here raising hell if you don't speed it up. And stop being so
shy. It's no big deal if someone sees your dick."

"Maybe not for YOU," one of the guys against the wall
muttered. Nevertheless, all three urinals were now being used. I washed my
hands and left.

Grant was standing outside the restroom and fell into step with me as I
walked by him towards the bus. "Hey, Mr. A," he said. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it, Grant," I said. "I'm not exactly modest, but you
could maybe have refrained from calling everyone's attention to me in such
a place." I wasn't angry about what happened, but I was a bit
concerned. When school had begun again in January, the other coaches and I
were a bit surprised to discover that over the break partitions had been
added to the communal showers in all the locker-rooms. Each showerhead was
now its own curtained stall. When I mentioned it to the Athletic Director,
he simply said, "It's a matter of comfort and privacy. This way, there can
be no appearance of impropriety if the coaches also need to shower."

He hadn't said it outright, and perhaps it was just my conscience, but I
was certain that this change had been brought about because a student or
students had expressed their discomfort about me showering with them. I had
no idea who that student might have been, but if he were in the bathroom at
the rest stop, there was a chance he'd have something more to say.

"I didn't think it'd be a big deal," Grant continued. "You've showered with
us before. I mean, I've never been there when you have, but I know you
have. And it's not like your PJ bottoms leave much to the imagination when
you're doing bed checks."

"You're right," I agreed. "I have showered in the locker-room before, but
it's not the same situation. Naked bodies and exposed dicks are expected
there; most people don't go into the bathroom expecting to see another guy
waving his dick around. Perhaps you noticed that they put up partitions in
the shower at school? The AD said it was to promote the 'comfort and
privacy' of the students, especially when the coaches need to shower. I
don't think it was by accident that this happened weeks after I started
using the showers there."

Granted nodded in understanding. "So you think you might get in trouble if
someone blabs to that you were 'waving your dick around' in a rest stop
bathroom, even though it wasn't on purpose."

"Exactly," I said. "People misinterpret things all the time or only get
half the story." As my group of boys had expanded, I had become more
concerned about someone finding out about us. While the all boys had been
willing and had often initiated the activity themselves, I knew that it
wouldn't matter once the rumors started spreading.

We stopped near the bus. Grant said, "I get what you mean. I'll see what I
can do to get them under control, and maybe Paden can say something to them
as well. I think he can be trusted." The twinkle in Grant's eyes suggested
to me that although he didn't have any facts about my relationship with
Paden, he nevertheless thought something was going on. I nodded and got on
the bus.

The rest of the guys streamed out of the bathroom in groups of two and
three and walked towards the bus. As they boarded and passed me, some
turned to their friends and grinned, a few looked away and blushed, and
others acted completely natural.

We pulled into the school parking lot around 5:30, and most of the players'
parents were already there to take them home. It was Sunday night, and the
guys weren't excused from school Monday, so I imagined there would be
little partying and a lot of catching up on schoolwork.

As the group dissipated, I noticed Chaz, Mitchell, and Grant were hanging
back. "Did you guys call your parents?" I asked, walking over to them.

"My brother should be on his way," Mitchell said, "and Grant is supposed to
ride with us."

"My parents are out of town," Chaz informed me, "but Paden's going to give
me a ride. He went to get his car."

"No woody, yet?" I asked Chaz, grinning.

"Not yet," he answered. "I'm not 16 until April."

"At least not that kind," Mitchell added.

"I didn't know you had a brother, Mitchell," I said. "Does he go to school
here?"

"Yep," Mitchell answered. "He's only two years older than I am. He's on the
Crew team."

Crew as a high school sport was new to me. Neither my own high school nor
any of the schools in the area where I grew up had rowers. Although several
of my students were rowers (mostly girls), I knew little about the Crew
team at Washington High, except that it was very good and very
demanding. Our rowers were usually unable to participate in any other
activities, as most of their free time was devoted to the team.

I nodded. "Let me go tell Grayson that he can take off. I'll wait around
with you guys."

As I was walking away, Paden rounded the corner in his Jeep Cherokee and
honked at me several times. I waved and went to Grayson to let him know
that everything was under control with our stragglers.

"Thanks for volunteering to stay behind with them," Deirdre said. "We're
actually late for dinner with my parents." I could imagine Grayson was more
than happy to be late for that dinner. The family piled into the coach's
Explorer and took off.

Paden had gotten out of his Jeep and was standing with the others. He
smiled at me as I approached. "So I hear you had a bit of a problem in the
restroom earlier," he said, chuckling.

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "I don't know if it's a problem, per se, but it could
be."

"I'm sorry!" Grant said again. "I didn't plan on it. It's not like I knew
you were going to expose yourself."

"No," Paden said, "but you did choose to try to peep at Ottavio's dick."

"Yeah, what was that about, anyway?" I asked. "That was a damn strange
thing to do, under the circumstances."

"Ottavio always wears this shirt with the name 'Stallion' printed on the
back," Grant explained. "He got it as a souvenir from his old school for
coaching the freshman Powder Puff team for Homecoming. Not even Paden and
the other guys I know are ballsy enough to wear a shirt like that around
school."

"And you just had to find out?" Chaz put in. "In public?"

Grant nodded. "It just came into my mind how easy it would be right
there. I could have done it weeks ago if they hadn't put up the partitions
in the showers in the locker-room."

"What's that about, anyway, Mr. A?" Mitchell asked.

I repeated what I had already told Grant. "Shit," Paden said, "so you
really are thinking someone might go and complain about the restroom
situation?"

"Fuck yes," I said.

"Tell me who was there," Paden said, "and I'll see what I can do."

Grant and I listed off everyone we could remember. "Troy and Peter were
also there," I added. "See if they can remember anyone else."

"I bet it was Quinn," Mitchell said.

"You bet it was Quinn what?" I asked.

"Quinn who complained about the showers. Remember what Miles said the other
day about how he insisted everyone in the room wear real pajamas to bed,
not just boxers?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Paden said. "His family is super-rich,
super-religious, and super-influential in this city."

"Not to mention super-crazy," Chaz interjected.

Paden continued, "I'm sure his mom only had to make a call to the
superintendent 'suggesting' that the showers be modified. She probably even
offered to pay for a full remodel over the summer."

Chaz added, "I also heard that his younger brother has been seeing a
psychiatrist since he was about 11, because he was too girly."

"And he was one of the guys there today," I said. "That could be a
problem."

"I'll see what I can do," Paden said, "but he doesn't like me much. We have
very different personalities, and he definitely hates that I'm on Varsity
and he isn't, even though he's older."

"I can only hope nothing comes of it," I said. Then, changing the subject,
"Mitchell, where the hell is your brother?"

The smaller boy shrugged and pulled out his cell phone. "He texted me. I
guess I didn't hear it. He says that the car has a flat tire AND the spare
is flat, so he's waiting for AAA. It could be a while. Ugh."

"Tell him that I'll go ahead and take you home," Paden offered.

Mitchell brightened. "Thanks, BP."

"BP?" Grant questioned.

"Big Paden," the three other boys answered in unison. I laughed. They
climbed into Paden's Jeep and took off.

I made a quick stop at Publix to pick up something for dinner and then
headed home. While I ate, I watched a couple of shows from my DVR. When I
finished, I turned on the stereo and opened up my laptop. I needed to plan
for the next day's classes.

As usual, my messaging app logged me in immediately, and my list of online
friends popped up. I thought about messaging Paden or Colin, both of whom
were online, but I decided against it. I had work to do, and they probably
did as well.

I was reading over my lecture notes and making changes to my presentation
when the familiar message chime sounded and a window with Paden's name at
the top popped up on my screen.

"whats up mr a," Paden asked.

"not much, just working tomorrow's lessons," I typed back. "don't you have
work to do for tomorrow?"

"nah," he answered. "i can get it done at schol." A window offering a video
chat with Paden popped up.

I refused the invitation and then typed, "not a good idea, bro. no
recordings."

Paden typed back, " just turn off ur camera. i want to show u something."

I was sure that this was a bad idea, but I convinced myself that as long as
I wasn't on camera, it would be fine. I disabled my camera, but left the
mic on, and when Paden sent another request, I accepted it.

"Holy shit," I said when I saw the video. Chaz, Paden, and Grant were
sitting shirtless in front of the computer. "I didn't know you had
company. What's going on?"

The three guys laughed. Paden answered, "Grant here started asking a lot of
questions in the car, and after everything that happened, I figured it was
probably okay to tell him our secret.

"Don't worry, Mr. A," Grant said, before I could respond to Paden. "I think
it's really hot." And to prove it, he stood up, revealing that he was not
only shirtless, but also pantless and hard. His cock was pretty average in
size; its banana shape pointed up and stood at an angle to his
body. Interestingly, there was an additional slight but noticeable curve
near the head.

Paden reached up and grabbed Grant's arm. "Sit down, Magic Grant. No one
wants to see that right now." Grant grudgingly returned to his seat.

I knew that some people called him Magic Grant, because he was a pretty
good magician, but it wasn't something I heard often. Paden's use of the
nickname surprised me.

"Did you know that's the REAL reason they call him magic?" Chaz asked,
pointing to Grant.

"What's the real reason?" I asked. My cock had chubbed when I first saw the
shirtless jocks on my screen. Now that I knew they were also completely
naked, sitting within reach of each other's cocks, I grew harder and stood
to remove my pants. I sat down on the couch, still in my boxerbriefs. My
ample endowment strained against the material, creating an obscene bulge. I
was sorely tempted to turn on my own camera and show off, but I didn't.

"That curve," Chaz said. "He says the girls love it because he gets the
g-spot every time."

"So you're Magic Grant because you've got a 'magic stick'?" It was an
obvious reference, but I couldn't resist. I was glad to see that my
compliment made him smile even broader.

"Even though it's kind of small," Paden teased.

Grant punched Paden in the arm. "Shut up. It's normal-sized."

"Not in this group," Paden responded and stood up to wave his hard, thick
8.5" teenmeat in his friend's face. Grant's eyes locked on his teammate's
swollen cockhead. He reached for it tentatively. To Paden's right, Chaz had
leaned back in his chair, revealing his beautifully-shaped jock dick. He
was watching Paden and Grant. Paden grabbed Grant's hand and placed it on
his dick. Grant squeezed, causing my favorite jockboy's prick to swell
further. Chaz started stroking himself.

"I'm so glad I finally got to see this hard and up close," Grant said,
examining Paden's dick closely, weighing it in his hands. "I heard the
rumors, and I've see it soft, but I never thought I'd get to do this."

My dick was now completely hard and strained insistently against the
confines of my underwear. The cotton was already damp where the first drops
of sticky precum had oozed from piss slit. I removed the underwear, freeing
my meaty Italian prong.

Chaz was focused on his own manual manipulations, gently stroking his
smooth 7-inch cock, which arced up towards his stomach. I could see spit or
precum glistening on his tanned abs, hairless but for a treasure trail of
light brown hair. Paden had returned to his seat, and he and Grant were now
stroking each other's dicks.

I spat into my palm and then wrapped my hand around my swollen cockhead. I
loosely slid my hand down the thick, 9.5-inch length of my dick, coating
the veiny shaft with spit and precum. I slid my hand back up the long trunk
and squeezed just below the corona of my flared dickhead. I moaned loudly
and more precum oozed from the tip of my dick.

The boys stopped what they were doing and looked up at the camera. "Was
that Mr. A?" Grant asked.

I laughed a bit. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt. It just sort of slipped
out. Go back to what you were doing."

"Fuuuck," Grant said. "I wish I could see what YOU'RE doing."

"Maybe one day," I said, "now get back to work. Your buddy's dick needs
some attention."

Grant hadn't let go of Paden's cock, but he had stopped stroking it. Paden
reached down and grabbed Grant's hand and then slowly began moving his
hips, twisting his cock inside the older boy's palm and up and down through
his fist.

"I could use some help, too," I heard Chaz say.

Grant stood up and motioned for Paden to trade places with him. Paden slid
into the far chair, and Grant took his place in the middle. He grabbed the
thighs of his dominant teammates and pulled them closer. He ran his hands
along the insides of their muscular thighs and cupped their balls. He
teased the underside of their tumescent teen tools and then brought his
hands over the tops of their dicks and down onto their stomachs. He rubbed
and massaged their abs and pubic area. Each of my soccer boys flexed his
abs, causing his dick to bounce and sway.

Grant stared directly into the camera as he did this, and I knew that he
was wishing he could see me working my own cock. Chaz and Paden leaned back
and spread their legs, giving Grant full access to their crotches and
bodies.

I stood and moved close to the microphone. I grabbed the base of my dick
with my right hand and began slapping my hefty equipment against my left
palm. Loud, wet <thwacks> were carried through the microphone. "Fuck yeah,"
I heard Paden moan. "I love that sound." He grabbed Grant's hand
again. "Stroke me," he commanded. Chaz followed Paden's lead, and Grant was
back to work, sliding his hands up and down his friends' joysticks. His own
dick, though untouched, stood tall and quivered as he exerted his energy on
the young athletes next to him.

My cock was wet with spit and precum. I stayed close to the microphone;
even if they couldn't see me working my fat schlong, they could at least
hear it happening. "Turn it up," Grant breathed, and Chaz leaned forward
for the mouse.

I glided my left hand up and down the entire length of my pole, from the
very tip of the broad, smooth cockhead down to the fat base of the
thick-veined shaft. Each time I reached the head, I squeezed and milked it
gently. The stimulated nerves sent a tingle through my whole body, and I
let out a deep, quiet moan.

Grant closed his eyes and moaned. "Yeah, Mr. A," he whispered. His dick
remained untouched by either of the larger boys. Paden was thrusting his
hips in time with Grant's strokes, encouraging his jacker to go harder and
faster. Chaz had his left hand on Grant's hand, pressing it tighter around
his surging shaft. Chaz rubbed his right hand again and again over pecs and
pinched his hard, brown nipples.

The boys were starting to breathe heavily. I placed my right foot on the
table and began to stroke myself harder, not wanting to miss out on the
impending orgasm. I stopped working the entire measure of my solid slab of
meat. Instead, I wrapped two fingers and the thumb of my left hand around
the base, pressing down on the pubic bone. The other two fingers pressed
down against my balls, which rested heavily against my left thigh. I used
my right hand on the top few inches of my prong, focusing on the glans and
stretching my whole shaft downward.

I watched the boys' legs tense and relax. Their chests heaved, and I knew
they were getting close. Their usually loose sacs were drawing up to their
bodies. Grant let go of both cocks, and the smooth, sexy teenjocks took
charge of their own orgasms. Paden wrapped both hands around his dick and
thrust his hips up over and over again, fucking his fists with his
man-sized dick, the biggest in the room. Chaz wrapped the thumb and
forefinger of his right hand around the base of his mushroomed cockhead and
made short strokes, squeezing the corona of his glans hard. He returned to
playing with his round, muscled pecs, this time with his left hand.

I expected Grant to give some attention to his own cock, now that his hands
were free, but he didn't. Instead, he reached down and caressed his
teammates' large, loaded cumtanks. Both sacs were tight, and Grant slid his
fingers under them. His fingers found the right spot just behind each
jock's wrinkled pouch. Simultaneously, Paden and Chaz moaned and jerked
forward involuntarily. "Keep doing that," Chaz grunted at Grant. "You're
gonna make me cum, man."

"Oh fuck," I growled. Watching the two high school jocks twitching and
jerking involuntarily because of Grant's stimulation of their prostates
pushed me closer. My nads gradually rose towards my body. As usual, I could
feel my sperm-filled semen mounting at the base of my cock, ready to rise
through the thick tube of my urethra and erupt from my swollen purple
cockhead. Clear, sticky precum coated my fingers and dripped down onto the
table.

Paden stood up and continued to thrust his column of hard meat through his
hands. Grant reached between Paden's legs from behind to resume the
pressure on the big jock's prostate. Grant's eyes were locked on Paden's
dick, watching my boy's glans disappear into the hole of his fists before
reemerging more swollen and slicker than before. "I can't fucking believe
how big your dick is hard," Grant said, and his voice cracked with awe.

Grant's cock was rising and falling rhythmically, and I noticed he was
flexing his stomach and legs. Chaz leaned forward suddenly and let out a
loud yelp. He pointed his dick head at his flexed stomach and several ropes
of teencum landed on his smooth abs. The rest oozed out over his knuckles
and down into his pubes. Chaz flopped back in the chair with his arm over
his head. He breathed out loudly.

I moaned again. I could feel the thrill of my orgasm beginning to spread
through my body. I shuddered, and my regular strokes faltered. My cock
slipped from my hand and bounced up hard against my stomach with a wet
smack. I grabbed it and pointed it down, pulling hard again on the head.

Grant took his hand from Chaz's crotch and slipped it between his own legs
and under his tightened sac. He still hadn't touched his own dick, but it
continued to flex and bounce. Precum glistened on the tip.

"Oh God, here it cums," Paden growled through clenched teeth. He moved his
left hand down to his tight sac, which he pressed and squeezed, and aimed
his dick up at his chest with his right. I watched his body tense as he
rose up on his toes, his head down and his eyes fixed on his pulsing
meat. He breathed out a deep moan, and three watery spurts of cum rocketed
from his dick and landed on his smooth, broad chest. I had no doubt the
force of the eruption resulted in wet splats audible to Grant and
Chaz. More of his sweet teenjizz, thicker than the spurts, oozed from the
sensitive tip of his dick all over his hand. He breathed out loudly,
catching his breath as his orgasm subsided and his body relaxed. He let go
of his dick, which glistened with cum, spit, and his personal lube. He
looked around for a towel, and finding none, scooped the spooge from his
body and then wiped his hands on Grant's chest.

Unexpectedly, Grant leaned his head back and clenched is teeth. His legs
shot out in front of him and his body tightened, and then suddenly cum
poured out of his dick in a continuous white stream. It pooled in his belly
button and dribbled down into his pubes. He had made himself cum without
touching his dick.

"Fuck, fuck," I moaned. Watching Paden cum was always a huge turn-on for
me, and that combined with Grant's unexpected hands-free orgasm pushed me
over the edge. My body trembled.

"C'mon, bro," Paden encouraged. "Empty those balls with us."

With a low, animalistic roar I let loose my load. The piss slit of my
broad, sticky cockhead gaped open and my whole dick twitched. My sweet
Italian cream traveled the length of my fuck pipe and exploded in thick,
white ropes of jism. Eight heavy blasts landed loudly on the table to the
far side of my computer. I deposited three more wads on the table, but they
didn't fly as far. Instead, each stringy strand landed on edge of my
computer and the table next to it.

As I caught my breath, I turned my attention back to the computer
screen. Paden, Chaz, and Grant were grinning stupidly at the computer
camera.

"That sounded intense," Grant said. "Holy shit."

"You should have seen it," I said.

"I wish I had," Grant responded. "Was it a lot?"

"What do you think, Paden? Do you think it was a lot?" I asked.

"I don't THINK it was, I KNOW it was," Chaz said, before Paden could
answer.

Paden nodded his agreement. "I'm sure you're standing in a flood of sperm
right now."

"Nah," I said. "It's all on the table in front of my couch. And a bit of my
computer." The boys laughed. "I'm just glad that I bought a keyboard
protector for this thing," I added, chuckling.

No one said anything for a few minutes. "Well, it sounds like you enjoyed
yourself, Grant," I said at last. "And that hands-free cum trick was mind
blowing."

"Seriously," Paden added. "I wish I could do that."

Chaz nodded his agreement. "Very hot," he added.

Grant blushed at the compliments. "Thanks," he said. "It isn't easy. I've
been practicing for a long time."

"Alright, guys," I said, "I better clean up and get back to work for
tomorrow, or else half of my classes will be watching movies!"

"Fine with me!" Paden said.

"Yours wouldn't be one of them!" I shot back with a laugh.

"Dammit," he said. "You make us work too hard."

"Yeah, but I also let you play hard," I said lasciviously.

He grinned. "That you do. Maybe one day Grant will get to see the fireworks
in person."

"Maybe," I said. "No promises, but as you know, sometimes things just
happen, kind of like this little session."

"We'll talk," Paden said to Grant and winked.

Chaz stood up and stretched his long, toned body. His floppy cock rested
nicely on top of his nutsac, and both his sac and his dick swung as he
turned to find his clothes on the bed behind them. I watched his muscular
ass flex as he walked away. My dick, which had been quickly losing volume,
perked up.

"Nice ass, Chaz," I said. Paden and Grant turned to look. Paden turned back
to the camera and grinned at me and raised his eyebrows. He made a hole
with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and then inserted two
fingers in and out of it. I laughed. "Exactly."

"Exactly what?" Grant asked, turning back to the camera. Chaz looked over
his shoulder and grabbed his right ass cheek.

Paden stood up. His cock, longer than Chaz's, flopped against his right
thigh. "Nothing," he said, as he walked by Chaz and slapped his smooth ass.

My dick grew fatter, but hadn't started to lengthen yet. If this kept up,
I'd be in for another session, and I'd probably yield to the temptation to
show them everything. Mustering all my will power, I said, "Gotta go,
guys. See you tomorrow."

"Later, Mr. A," Paden said, pulling on his underwear. "I gotta take Grant
home..."

"Unfortunately," Grant interjected.

"...but Chaz is staying, since his parents are out of town," Paden
finished.

"See you tomorrow, Mr. A," Chaz added.

Grant waved at the camera and then reached forward. The video disappeared.

Not much happened at school Monday. My classes went as usual, and the day
actually seemed to pass rather quickly. As 6th period, Paden's class, drew
to an end, my door flew open. It was Grayson, and he was red-faced, which
was not a good sign. Everyone fell silent.

"What's up?" I asked, standing up and walking to intercept the coach at the
door. I had no idea why he was there or whom he wanted to see, but I could
read the anger in his face.

"I forgot you had a class," he said, not apologetically. I remembered that
his planning period was 6th, so he didn't actually have a class, which is
why he was here. "I'll wait." He stomped off into my office.

I was a bit confused, and when I turned around the class was staring at me
and at the door to my office. Paden had also stood when Grayson
entered. Now, his eyes met mine. I could see panic in his face; I tried to
remain cool, but my only thought was the quite eloquent, "Shit goddamned
hell mother fuck."

*******************

Please e-mail me (alessandro.bendotato@gmail.com) and let me know what you
thought. Like I said, it's been a long time, and I'm trying to get back
into the right mindset. It's a big turn-on for me to hear from fans
(especially the sort of fan that Mr. A himself is a fan of), and hopefully
your encouragement and suggestions will get me back on track and make me
better. If you didn't like it, well, don't bother telling me unless you
have something constructive to say.

Check out my non-Mr. A stories entitled "Italian Soccer Coach" in the
adult-youth section and "Soccer Jocks Alex and Austin" in the highschool
section. They're several years old, but they garnered a good response in
their day.