Date: Sun, 9 Jan 2011 18:42:56 -0500 (EST)
From: Jorge Alvarez <ckjhs1@aim.com>
Subject: Tournament-5

Really, Mo should have been at work. It was not like him to call in sick.
Rather he was the type of salesman who consistently exceeded his quotas.
He lived in an affluent, homogeneous neighborhood where non-Anglo families
were still the exception. Actually he had been told that back in the 60s
non-whites were not able to buy property in the area. Hard to believe.
Nevertheless, he had developped a real fascination for young Latino teenagers,
hence his attraction towards Miguel in the plane. Today, he was strolling in
the New Jersey summer heat, looking for field 4. Luck had it that he was
very familiar with this park. It was located in a neighborhood he and his
first wife had raised their children in. It was a beautiful complex,
with many sports fields, a stadium, and all the necessary amenities. He
had coached his son's little league teams in this very park for years. He
even had had sex in the showers a few times. Once with the mother of one of his
son's teammates and once with the teenaged sister of another one. Memories...

The problem he had was that today the fields were poorly labeled, and there was
apparently no map of the park. Yet the Brighton Highlanders were to start
playing in less than 20 minutes on field 4. There were so many games played
that day, Mo was getting a little desperate. In addition, the mental images
that were coming to his mind  did not help his focus: his hand pumping Miguel's
boyhood. The feel of his shorts. His beautiful dark eyes. His moaning in Mo's
hand as he cummed...

He saw the blue uniforms a few fields away, and he felt his cock stiffen. He
looked for Miguel. The first thing he saw of him was his gorgeous ass. The
boy turned towards him.

"Fuck" he said softly. Miguel's thighs were molded in black spandex tights
that disappeared inside his shorts.

"Do these kids know what they look like?" he asked himself. A picture flashed
in front of his eyes of Miguel in the plane with only his tights on. He almost
could feel the boy's sex in his hand.

"Does he wear boxers underneath?" he wondered.

Miguel's legs were toned and the muscles showed under the spandex. Smooth legs,
tanned from the bottom of the tights to the top of the blue socks. He thought of
holding both thighs in his hands, kneeling in front of the boy, his face in
Miguel's crotch, eating him through the spandex, swallowing his sack, tonguing
his dick. Mo was fully hard now, looking at the boy's shorts and having thoughts
of getting on the field and ass-fucking him from behind.

After the game was over, Miguel stuck around with some of his teammates. His Mom
did not appear to be there. They were quickly joined by a father and a teenaged
girl, of probably 16 or 17 years of age, who seemed to be the man's daughter. Mo
saw right away that the girl was interested in Miguel, in spite of the obvious
age difference. Mo could hardly blame her. Like his, her gaze seemed to often
come back to the front of the boy's shorts. She was likely the sister of one of his
teammates. He wondered if the two had messed around already. Maybe the girl is
just hitting on him. No way he does not know what she is looking at. He had heard
that teenagers nowdays have a predilection for oral sex. He wondered if the girl
shared his own fellatio dreams.

That's when Miguel noticed his presence. Maybe he was too obvious, as most people
had left the sidelines already. The boy gave him a few sideways looks as he kept
chatting with the girl and the others, but then their eyes found each other. There
was some surprise in the boy's eyes, and that was to be expected, but there was no
reject. No warmth either, Mo noticed. Mo slowly licked his upper lip twice, left
to right and then right to left, and lowered his gaze to Miguel's shorts. He licked
his lip again and then looked back up, straight into the boy's eyes. Innocence and lust.
Boy and sexual object. Athlete and fuck toy.