Date: Tue, 04 Jan 2000 01:28:00 PST
From: Justin John <scott_justin51@hotmail.com>
Subject: Confessions of a Soccer Physio

CONFESSIONS OF A SOCCER PHYSIO

As told to JUSTIN SHORTS (scott_justin51@hotmail.com)

About 18 months ago, I was contacted by a guy who claimed that he worked as
a physiotherapist for an English premiere division soccer team.  He had
read some of the stuff that I had written, and seemed to enjoy it, and
wanted to talk to me about some of his experiences in the hope that I would
write them up for him.  I was intrigued, but doubted whether he was
authentic.  But I arranged to meet him, and am now 100% sure of his
genuiness.  Mind you, some of what he told me took some believing, I can
tell you, but you are just going to have to take my word for it that this
is how he told it to me.

I suggested that he did this writing for himself, but he said that he liked
the way I wrote things and would rather entrust it to me (I'm as
susceptible to flattery as the next one!)  So everything you read in the
following episodes is my reworking of what he told me.  I have preserved
his anonymity, as he still works with soccer players, and, of course, I
have had to conceal the identities of the lads involved as some of them are
very well-known names indeed.  These memoirs go back as far as the early
1980s, but continue until much more recently.  I was particularly
interested to listen to what he had to say about his experiences in the
80s, because as English soccer fans will remember that was a time when
soccer shorts were usually cut rather tighter than they tend to be today,
and frequently were made of nylon.  And I have to tell you that there is
nothing that turns me on like the sight of a young guy in tight-fitting
nylon shorts.  Nylon briefs were also much more prevalent in England then,
so the chance of stroking a lad's cock through the shimmering filmy
fabric that nylon offers was much more of a possibility than it is now.

One thing that he insisted on, which I ought to explain, is that he asked
me to retell these things in my own words, because he thought that it would
read more realistically that way.  I found that a bit odd at first, as I
was writing as if it were me that had had the experiences in the first
place.  It also meant that I would tend to elaborate things a bit, and add
my own imaginary details, but I showed drafts of what I wrote to my contact
(I'm going to call him Andy), and he hardly changed anything.  So, for what
it's worth, these have his seal of approval.

One more thing before we start.  I don't know what you'll think, but I was
staggered by the sheer number of encounters that Andy had to retell.  But
he has assured me more than once that although the vast majority of English
soccer players are straight - 'whatever that means', as he always adds - he
has virtually always been successful when making approaches to them.  'What
you have to understand is the particular tensions in a professional
footballer's life, and their compelling need to relax before and after
games.  The fact that I had particular techniques for helping them to relax
didn't seem to worry them.'  Lucky old Andy, I say.  So over to him, but in
my words as it were.


ANDY AND DARREN

I must have the best job in the world.  I was first appointed as an
assistant physio to what was then a first division English soccer team in
1980, and I have been fortunate enough to stay in work ever since.  I've
moved around quite a bit, from team to team, but I've also worked at the
top level.  For obvious reasons I can't tell you which clubs these have
been, but take my word for it that they have been amongst the very best.  I
got my first job when I was just 20, which is incredibly young I know, but
I was unusual in that I learnt 'on the job' rather than taking any formal
qualifications.  That probably wouldn't be possible if I was starting off
today, as most clubs are really hot on getting highly qualified physios.
Apart from anything else, club chairmen are worried about players going to
law if they get injured whilst under contract.

I get real satisfaction from working at the top level with the best soccer
talent around.  But it would be dishonest of me if I didn't admit at the
start of these 'confessions' (as Justin insists on calling them) that I
would have been happy working in the lower divisions too, because all clubs
have their share of cute young men.  I suppose though that the best clubs
have a distinct attraction to me, as they tend to have better-funded
policies for maintaining youth teams.  So I have been fortunate in having
had access to promising lads at the start of their careers, and have got to
know a lot of them really well.

When I first started off, and particularly as I was so young then, I didn't
immediately get to work with the star players of the club.  This was
normal.  Instead, I was nominally in charge of physio checks to the youth
team (age 16 up to 19); some of the older boys would play their first games
in the senior team whilst still being notionally in the youths.  This was
true of Darren, who was captain of the youth team at the time when he
started to be picked for occasional senior games.  He was 18 then, and I
got to know him quite well.  He was a really nice kid actually - in fact,
almost all of the guys I have worked with over the years have been
remarkably open and friendly.  I still count many of them as good friends.

I don't know why it is, but soccer teams seem to be packed with
cute-looking lads.  You must have noticed this.  It's not true of other
team sports, so far as I am aware.  Not in England, anyway.  Rugby?  I
don't think so!  A bit too beefy for me - and a tendency towards squashed
ears and broken teeth.  Soccer players on the whole are terribly aware of
their looks, and are obsessed with fashion and their hairstyles!  Darren
was well up to standard so far as I was concerned.  OK, he had age on his
side, but remember that I wasn't much older than him myself then.  He
didn't seem to see me as someone of his own age though.  Soccer players are
very status conscious, in the sense that anyone in notional authority (me
in this case) is treated with great respect.  They always call the manager
'boss', and other officials are usually called sir.

Darren had been sent to me for a general check-over, as he was being
considered for the up-coming senior match.  We had several small rooms for
physio checks, and I was allocated the smallest of these.  People respected
your privacy.  It would have been unusual for anyone to walk in when you
were doing a check-over with one of the players; the normal courtesy was to
knock and wait for an answer.  When Darren arrived for the check, he
knocked and waited for me to call him in.  He was wearing the usual gear
that the lads wore between training sessions: white club teeshirt and blue
nylon tracksuit bottoms.  Some boys would wear shorts under the tracksuit;
others favoured briefs.  In this regard they just followed the convention
set by the older players.

I had been with the club for a few weeks, but I hadn't checked Darren out
previously.  I had once given him a bit of massage for cramp, but that was
at the side of the pitch during a game.  This was our first private
encounter.  I liked to get to know the players by talking to them, as this
helped them to have confidence in me and would mean that they could relax
more easily when you were manipulating them.  So Darren and I talked for a
few minutes about his hopes for selection for the senior team, and it was
then that I began to realise what an intelligent youngster he was.  This
sounds patronising, I know, but it can't come as a great surprise to learn
that most footballers are not the brightest souls in the world.
Nice-natured and eager to please, sure, but not big thinkers.  So talking
to Darren was a special pleasure.  But before long I felt that
unmistakeable urge rising in me.  I wanted him.  And I wanted him badly.  I
needed to wank him off.

Well, I know I started with an advantage.  When a healthy young teenager is
lying on your bench, expecting you to start manipulating him, that helps a
lot!  But it's not the best idea to grap his cock straight away in the
expectation that he's going to simply let you toss him off without a by
your leave.  Although, you'd be surprised as to how many guys are quite
happy for you to do just that.  As long as there are no commitments on
either side, some of them seem to be only too pleased to be milked of some
of their apparently never-ending supply of spunk.  For them it means
nothing, just a quick wank and no more.

I wasn't sure that it would be that easy with Darren.  He was more
sensitive than your average striker.  Anyway, I got him to lie on the
bench, and went through a few routine procedures.  Then I took a chance.
'It would be better with your tracksuit off, if that's OK.'

'Sure thing.  If I lift myself off, can you tug it down.'

He raised his bum slightly off the bench, and I tugged at the blue nylon
tracksuit which slid easily and quickly downwards.  I was pleased that he
was wearing a pair of yellow nylon shorts, not in the club colours but
clearly a pair of his own.

'Hey, these are nice' I said.  I touched the front lightly with my fingers,
delighting in the feel of the cool silky soft nylon.

'Yeah - my mum bought them for me in town last week.'  That was cute - his
mother still getting him clothes.  I wonder if she had imagined this scene
when she got them.

I went back to work, and massaged up his calves and further his thighs.  My
hands reached the bottom of his shorts, but I didn't go any further yet.

'Do you have any difficulty relaxing before a match?' I asked - a usual
opening gambit of mine.

'Of course - who doesn't?'

'Well, there are techniques you can try out to control that.  It works for
a number of the other lads.  Shall I show you?'

'Great, that would be good.'

I didn't do anything immediately, but continued to massage Darren's upper
thighs.  After about five minutes of this, I almost imperceptibly slipped
one hand just under the bottom of the left leg of his shorts.  The creamy
smoothness of the boy's warm flesh delighted me, but I was still being
really careful as I didn't want him to tense up.  But far from it, Darren
seemed perfectly calm and relaxed.  I didn't reach far under his shorts - I
wasn't heading for the young stud's cock just yet.  With my other hand, I
began gently, oh so very gently, to caress the shiny nylon of the front of
his yellow shorts, at first just at the base and then, very gradually, I
crept upwards towards the centre of him.

So far as I could tell, there was no reaction yet from his cock.  The boy
was lying with his legs apart, and the front of his yellow shorts were
healthily bulging, but I was pretty sure he was not yet at all stiff.  That
could only mean he was pretty gifted down there - I couldn't remember
having seen him naked, so this was going to be a nice surprise.

'How does that feel, Darren?  Are you loosening up?'

'Mmm, I think so'. His voice was slightly husky.

'Good.  No stiffness at all?'  There was a pause.

'Errm, no I don't think so.'

'I'd better check you out.  Just lie back and relax.'

I resumed my gentle caress of the front of the yellow shorts, and then, as
I had hoped, I saw the faintest suggestion of a stirring in the front. I
felt I could now risk making contact, so with great care I brought my hand
slightly further upwards and pressed gently down.  I breathed deeply as I
made out the boy's firm cockmound.  Darren didn't tense up, so I knew I was
OK.

'The best way to relieve that pre-match tension is to have a good wank' I
said.  'All the players do it, you know, there's no shame it.  And if
having a bit of fun can make you play better, well it seems sensible
doesn't it?'  As I said this I continued vary slightly to press his young
cockmeat.

He looked at me, then smiled slightly and closed his eyes.  He nodded.

'OK.  I'll show you a good way, shall I?'

There was a pause, and then again he nodded.

I bent over him, and my mouth travelled down towards those fantastic yellow
shorts.  In a moment I was going to give this kid what I was pretty sure
was a first for him, a suck off through his soccer shorts.  As I approached
the shining nylon, I breathed in heavily, and sure enough there it was, the
heady scent of a teenage cock pressing through nylon - the best scent in
the world.  I gave myself the luxury of holding back a few moments more,
and instead slipped both hands under his loose white teeshirt and travelled
upwards to Darren's taut chest.  There was not an ounce of fat on him.  He
was warm and firm, and his youthful nipples were tight and proud.  I
flicked them with my thumbs, and he laughed, and then I got back to serious
work.  I wanted to suck Darren's teencock through the slippery yellow nylon
of his shorts.

But just before I did so, I brought one of my hands back downwards and
under the leg of his shorts again, and this time slid on further upwards to
reach for the lad's stiffening rod.  I was surprised to find that my way
was barred - under his shorts Darren was wearing tight briefs. Oh God, that
was sheer heaven to me.  Shorts AND briefs!!  I gave him a quick feel
through his briefs, as much to make out the material of the tiny pouch as
to feel the boy's growing cock.

And sure enough, my touch made out the distinct texture of a pair of
shimmering nylon briefs.  This was getting better and better.  I was
already beginning to pray that the youngster would allow me to suck him
through his briefs, so that I could get him to fill them with his hot
boycum.

First though I wanted to enjoy the pleasure of sucking this 18-year-old's
hot boycock through the double nylon prison of briefs and shorts.  I got my
head between his youthful thighs, and plunged my eager mouth over the
yellow nylon.  His pressing boyflesh pushed upwards, and I lost myself in
the heady tang of his warm shorts.  Darren's now fully erect boymeat filled
his shorts, trapped though in his nylon brief pouch.  How I wanted to
massage the youngster's ballsack in the shiny nylon of his briefs - how I
wanted to taste the slippery precum juices oozing through the magic net of
his honey pants.  This kid would be begging for it before I was done.

The outline of his thrusting teenage erection pressed through his shorts,
and with one hand I stroked him through the outside of his shorts even as I
began to close my lips over the glorious yellow nylon.  The first moan came
from him then, as I began lovingly to suck the boydick as it pressed into
my mouth.  Instinctivly, Darren bucked gently, so that the teenstud's
boymeat moved further into my hungry mouth.

God, he was lovely.  I sucked the lad for about three minutes, working over
the bulging head of his dick which was clearly outlined in his
tight-fitting shorts.  They were so wet by now, what with my suckoff and
his own clear precum which began to ooze through.

It was time to get his shorts off, as I wasn't sure how much longer I could
get him to hold back.  But before I did I said: 'remember Darren, you can
tell me to stop at any time, and I will.'  He didn't respond, so I began to
tug at the wet nylon shorts.  As before, the youngster lifted slightly off
the bench, and I eased the shorts downwards.

And then I almost passed out.  Under his shorts Darren was wearing a pair
of mesh nylon briefs, in a very light blue colour.  They were completely
transparent, revealing all of this hot teen stud's very considerable
charms.  'Fucking hell Darren, where did you get those sexy briefs?
Another present from mum?'

In a slightly strangled voice Darren managed to get out: 'No, my girlfriend
bought them for me.  She likes to wank me in them.'

Maybe he said this to make clear to me (in case I was in any doubt) that
there was nothing queer about him, whatever the current situation might
suggest!  But it had the effect of turning me on even more, knowing that he
liked being wanked whilst wearing his briefs.  At least I wouldn't need to
persuade him what a good idea it would be.

I continued to gaze with lust at this young man lying on my bench, dressed
now only in blue briefs and white teeshirt.  I leant forward and pulled the
teeshirt up to expose his totally smooth chest, to prepare a nice table for
his spurting cum.  Through the mesh I was treated to the sight of the
teenager's hot throbbing boycock, with his meaty balls and a thick bush of
dark hair.

Now, I'm not size freak by any means.  All these exaggerated claims of 10
inches plus do nothing for me. I prefer my soccer guys to have something
well-proportioned and elegant.  Six inches of hot hard cock is fine by me!
But I have to say that I was taken aback when I saw what Darren had to
offer me.  Because quivering eagerly beneath his flimsy transparent nylon
briefs was what I estimate to have been 8 hard inches of teenmeat.  And
best of all, big drops of precum were falling from the juicy mushroom tip
of his uncut cockhead, and soaking through the sexy boybriefs.

There was nothing for it.  I had to drink his precum through the blue
nylon, and I went straight for it.  With one hand I manouvered his cock
within his briefs, and got about four inches of him in my mouth, trapped in
the nylon sheath.  Eagerly I slurped on the sheer blue briefs and lapped
his precum honey into my mouth.  Then I pulled back again, and his head was
released, and I gazed with delight at the fleshy tip through the powder
blue - his foreskin moved freely releasing yet more of the clear nectar.

With my hand I flipped his cock free from his briefs, tucking the waistband
under his ample balls.  Then I headed back downwards and grasped his big
boydick with a steadying hand and slowly but firmly closed my warm lips
over the naked flesh.  For the first time I tasted him without sieving him
through nylon, and the smooth silkiness of his taut cockflesh was so
fantastic.  I gently headbobbed him, so that his foreskin moved back and
forth, and then he began to move with me.  I massaged his heavy teenage
balls, full of their creamy boycum, and for a minute or two we kept this
up.  Then I released him and with my hand gently wanked his big hot cock,
with slow masturating strokes pulling the foreskin back and forth over his
wet tip.

He watched me intently as I wanked him, as I had hoped he would, and then
as I could sense him approaching his orgasm I sat up whilst not for a
moment stopping my slow masturbating strokes.  His eyes went dreamy, and I
knew I had to act quickly, so I pulled the soft nylon briefs back up to
cover his enormous teencock and continued to frisk his knob through the
shiny mesh.

'Come on Darren, I want you to shoot your hot creamy soccerkid spunk for
me.  Let's see those briefs fill up with your milky cum.'

He groaned insistently and loudly now, and raised his buttocks from the
bench, arching his back.  He tensed for a moment, and then as quickly
relaxed, and with a gasp and sharp yelp jerked once and began to pump his
pearly jizz into the blue briefs.  I watched amazed at the quantity of
spunk the youngster delivered - at least eight or nine wads of thick white
teencum.

'Good boy' I said.  I tugged his briefs away from his waist and exposed the
heavy load of spunk, creamy and shining.  I continued gently to stroke his
still hard cockmeat, squeezing the remaining drops of cum from his tip.  I
closed up on him, took his tip into my mouth, and slurped down that residue
of warm teenspunk.  I reached for a towel, and together we mopped the
copious load of cum from his belly.

'Now, see what I mean about how relaxing that can be?'

Darren smiled sheepishly, but nodded.

'Any time you want to repeat it, and I suggest that you do so regularly,
you know where to find me.'

He smiled again, and again nodded.


To be continued...

Comments welcome, especially from shorts and briefs fans.  Send something
interesting to scott_justin51@hotmail.com