At the age of eighteen, Geoffrey Putt of Mullbrook in England, was almost a lost cause, misplaced in his own family and inherently confused as a result of his restricted upbringing.
Fortunately, he caught the passionate attention of kind-hearted Mrs McPhee. In just a couple of days, Claire reprogrammed the lad from becoming a possible wastrel to realigning him to develop into a fairly normalised modern man.
Geoff's mother, Brigit Mason, had been ripe for child-birth when she married Philip Putt, being two months pregnant to him.
Two years after the birth of their child Lisa and Cleo arrived and four years after that, Brigit delivered Geoffrey, father allegedly being Philip. But the couple agreed that their new-born looked more like their neighbour Sam Lusk than Philip.
Sam, failing to conceal a leer, thought so when Philip had showed him the new baby and remarked on the likeness. He added vaguely, "One never knows."
Philip told his wife of Sam's reaction and she just sighed, shrugged and said that Sam was such an unreliable arsehole.
That left her husband simmering, loaded with doubt and not knowing what to do.
The next weekend, while Brigit and the three children were staying for two nights with her parents, Philip loaded his most valued possessions and left, never to be in contact with his family again.
Bi-sexual Brigit, when finding his curt 'Goodbye you slut' note, thought good riddance weakling but was not keen to live without a sexual and social partner. She went for the softest and on-hand choice, inviting her favourite occasional lover from the coven of her intimate girlfriends to live with her permanently.
Tillie Thomas, who lived precariously in rental accommodation within a housing demolition-ordered zone, accepted in delight the invitation to move in with the voluptuous Brigit and become the perceived man of the house.
Disturbingly, by the time of Geoff turned five, the sole male in the home, he was being roped into an increasing load of duties, performing regular household work as well as being on-call to carry out tasks for Brigit, Tillie, Lisa and Cleo.
Within two years, in full acceptance of doing was expected of him, young Geoff was been coached into performing most of the household's machine and hand-washing, vacuuming the house, attending to carpet spills, dusting furniture, turning sheets when making beds and standing on a stool to clear mirrors as well as attending to the vegetable garden.
He was being treated rather like the storybook Cinderella and there was no promise that he'd experience happy ending, with Geoff being rescued and carried off by a handsome and doting male, or female.
Geoff's favourite task was to each night comb his youngest sister's hair because Cleo's hair was golden and exceptionally fine and during that grooming time, she spoke so sweetly to him.
At his mother's insistence, Geoff was never physically mistreated, even if he fell asleep during his compulsory work.
Geoff's only toy was a rubber ball that he played with by himself and later was given an old football that he absolutely adored playing with. He drew a goal with white chalk on the brick wall on the property boundary alongside the garage. He'd cleverly paced out one of the soccer goals on the senior boy's playing field at school to get the width of the goalmouth and arm-spanned the height to get the measurements more or less correct.
Sometimes his two older sisters, singularly or both together, acted as the goalie to make it more difficult for him to shoot goals.
As Geoff progressed through his teens, his mother and Tillie, who the children came to believe was actually their mother's very close sister, agreed that Geoff was superior at house-keeping than either of them. But Geoff was never told that. He was led to believe that he was a stupid person and the high marks he was getting for schoolwork were faked because the teachers were sorry for him.
A significant turning point in Geoff's life occurred when a neighbour across the street called and expressed interested in him.
Tillie answered Doug Adams' door knock and she said curtly, "Yes."
"I'm Doug Adams from across the street."
"So, you say. Goodbye."
That left Doug nonplussed but fortunately Brigit arrived calling, "Who is it, Tillie?"
"A nobody."
"Oh hi," Brigit smiled. "You shifted in recently across the street."
"Um yes, four months ago. I'm Doug Adams."
"I'm please to meet you at last, Mr Adams. I'm Brigit and this is Tillie."
"Greetings, ladies, please call me Doug. I've called to ask about the boy."
"He didn't do it," Tillie said sharply.
Naturally polite, even to males, Brigit said, "Please come in for a cuppa and explain the problem. I'm Geoff's mother."
"Make tea please, Tillie. Come through to the day room, Doug. The children have gone shopping at the supermarket. What has Geoff done to upset you?"
"Nothing. I've watched him playing with his soccer ball. He has amazing ball control skills for one so young. I'm the senior soccer coach at Bayfield High School and although I'm aware Geoff is a student at Bayfield, he's never presented himself for a trial assessment."
"That's probably because we need him home straight after school to do his jobs. He has no time to play sport outside classroom hours."
"But he runs."
"No, he doesn't."
"Pardon me, Brigit. He sets off running each morning early and always returns just before 7.00 when I set off on my run."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Well, I never knew that. He has to wake Tillie and me and my two girls at 7.00 and begin getting breakfast. Well, as long as he's back in time, why should I care if he runs?"
"You ought to praise him for performing fitness exercise, Brigit."
Tillie stood at the doorway with poured tea in cups on a tray and blurted, "Stop telling us how to handle our children."
"Your children, you say. I understood they were Brigit's children?"
"Fuck off, Mr Adams and leave us alone," Tillie said, slamming the tray on to the coffee table and walking off muttering.
"I apologise, Doug," Brigit said, placing a hand mid-thigh on his nearest leg and pressing fingers firmly. "Tillie is very possessive at times and has never been married. Please excuse her."
He eyed the squeezing hand and said meekly, "She doesn't appear mental in other ways."
"That's true. She had a rather unpleasant childhood and so occasionally has rather possessive outbursts related to that if she feels threatened by anything unusual around her. Um, just between you and me, my husband abandoned me and our three children just after Geoff was born and Tillie has taken his place, if you get what I mean."
"Oh yes um and that info is confidential. I'd like you to bring Geoff for a soccer trial this Saturday morning at 9.00, and with Tillie's consent if that's necessary. Your boy may possess the potential to develop into a really good soccer player, Brigit. You have to ask yourself should you stand in his way."
"Hmmm. I have always known to expect this day would arrive. Geoff recently turned sixteen and I'm aware I can't hold him at home forever. Nine o'clock on Saturday you said?"
* * *
At the end of the assessment on Saturday, Doug walked over to where Brigit and Tillie were standing alone and said, "Well, what do you think?"
Tillie said, "You really know what you are doing. I used to play grass hockey as a schoolgirl and we had a wonderful coach. She later went to live overseas and used to play international hockey for New Zealand. I remember her trialling me methodically like you have just done, learning about what I could and couldn't do aptly and then applying the pressure to really assess my ability in each discipline."
"Thanks, Tillie. That feedback is sure appreciated as I need the confidence of you both if I'm to develop young Geoff."
"I immediately noticed Geoff was a bit younger than those other five triallists."
"That's correct, Brigit. We are not permitted to push players hard under the age of seventeen and those other players are either seventeen or are pushing that age and were here for re-assessment after performing poorly at their initial testing. All are displaying improvement. I guess you both noticed that Geoff was easily the fastest in the group's warm-up run around the 400 metre perimeter track and won all four of sprints over 10, 20 and 50 metres and was the only boy in the group to get past all five defenders in attack at the goal, not only once but both times?"
"Yes," chorused both women, flushing a little in delight.
When about to walk off, Doug said quietly, "That boy, being offered good opportunities and taking them, has the potential to star as a striker in Under-20 Youth Soccer.
And that eventuated over time.
Doug provided extra coaching for Geoff and that brought him closer to the family because he needed the consent of both women to the boy's release more and more from his household duties. The teenage girls remained unaware that the restraints of a heavy load of household duties around their brother were slowly unravelling.
However, further releases of duties for Cinderella Geoff became greater, and that displeased his sisters because they were required to perform more and more of his accustomed duties. Their mother insisted on acceptance of the changes, thinking it was time her daughters learned some housekeeper skills as in time suitors would begin to call.
Meanwhile, Tillie's hostility toward the soccer coach became softer as his social contact with the family increased.
Doug eventually confided to Brigit that his wife was turning away from most of his sexual advances. Sympathetic Brigit began to occasionally bump softly against Doug and in turn, he slyly began to linger to allow her to catch him starting at her boobs.
Right from the start of their association when Doug was ready to leave, Brigit had always accompanied him to the door while Tillie cleared away, leaving the dishes on the kitchen table for handy Geoff to attend to expertly.
Inevitable, under the usually unrecognised laws of mating, on one such occasion at the doorway, Doug turned to said goodbye to Brigit and their lips happened to touch. Before long it was an established ritual at the doorway for them to kiss lightly and for Doug to squeeze her nearest breast firmly.
One early evening, when Geoff was at the door ready for his quick kiss, Brigit said, "How are things at home with the wife?"
"Fucking awful," he said boldly. "She's become the Ice Lady."
"Oh darling," Brigit murmured sweetly and gently cupped his genitalia.
"Hurry, say what you wish to say," Doug said nervously, looking up the passageway behind Brigit for any sign of Tillie. "If she catches us at this, she might explode hysterically with possible harmful intentions."
"I've been thinking," Brigit whispered calmly. "Every Thursday night, from 6.30, Tillie works as a volunteer sorting clothes and other stuff of value to be sold at the local Hospice Care Shop to raise funds for local Hospice activities. She is never home before, um 9.15. You could, if you wish come a visit me for some beautiful cuddling. The kids are in their bedrooms for the night from 7.30 doing their school homework or reading and there's a lock on my internal bedroom door."
"Come to the French doors of the main bedroom and I'll let you in, sweetheart. Omigod, your cock is inflating in my hand."
"I must flee, now is not the time to dally," Doug said hoarsely. "I'd thought from Day One that I'd like to fuck you."
"It's Thursday tomorrow," Brigid said silkily. "Arrive outside my bedroom with condoms at 7.30."
Doug's response was quite unexpected.
"Phone me to remind me."
"Off you go, you're a big tease," she giggled.
* * *
A month later, after the fourth consecutive occasion that keen Doug Adams had crossed the street early evening to commit adultery with the voluptuous abandoned housewife and mother of three, Brigit Putt, she'd learned that she'd been caught out.
Her female lover, Tillie Thomas had just arrived home after supposedly working that evening as a Hospice volunteer, closed the door quietly, and leaned against it.
She then pulled out her breasts.
"Lick these, slut."
"Okay, this is unusual. Come over here and I'll suck your tits."
Tillie's lips curled in barely restrained wrath.
"You whore."
At that, the supine Brigit placed a hand over her throat and said weakly, "Am I?"
"Yes, you treacherous sow. Throughout our association, I have remained faithful to you and stupidly had expected likewise moral behaviour from you."
"Um, I've done nothing really wrong. You and I call one another darling and other intimate names but we have never pledge to love one another. How did you find out?"
"I'd noticed for three Thursday nights in a row that you had behaved so lovingly to me and became extra wet when I fiddled you and I became suspicious. Tonight, I didn't go to help out sort stuff for the Hospice shop and went out walking until it was almost dark at 7.15.
"I returned home and maintained a stake-out outside and eventually a man's figure appeared at our bedroom's French Doors. As you opened the door in darkness, I clearly heard you say 'Are you ready to give it to me up the butt tonight, sweet Doug'. I recognised his voice when Doug replied, 'Sweet whore, I'm not into such disgusting stuff' and you replied thank goodness for that and added, 'Fuck my throat first tonight Big Guy."
"Omigod, Tillie. You must have been completely disgusted?"
"What? I became hot, hugely aroused and I jacked off big time and for the first time in my life, I streamed off unaided. It left me half-stunned and awash in pleasure."
"I'm happy for you, Tillie. I guess this the end of our relationship?"
"Hell no, whenever he's been at you, I don't want you to clean up and shower. I want to taste him on and in you. And when I rim you with my tongue, I ought to be able to confirm if at last he's taken you in the butt."
"Omigod, I'm becoming on heat," Brigit gasped.
Tillie shed her clothes quickly and jumped on to the bed, kissed her lover wetly and then began kissing her body all the way down to between hot Brigit's widely splayed legs.
Chapter 2
A month after Geoff's 18th birthday, he was selected as one of the four reserve players in the team of the Colson City and outlying district's top junior soccer players to represent the district in the national Under 20 Boys' Soccer Championship.
At home, breaking the news of his selection to the family had been a defining moment for him. He was so excited and he stood, shoulders squared, and thinking he was almost a man, aware he'd become almost an independent guy, because his team selection meant several big things for him.
A choice one was his name would be published in the city's newspaper, a big first for him, being such an unknown in his community.
It would be the first time he'd spent even one night away from home, apart when during his childhood when being admitted to hospital, once for removal of his tonsils and later for an overnight stay in hospital with suspected peritonitis which fortunately turned out to be a false alarm.
He would be away for a week during the school holiday to escape the last bunch of household duties that he remained tied to.
The team would go to venue and return by jet aircraft. Holy wow!
If chosen to play from the bench, he possibly could be photographed or filmed by the news media scoring a header. Well, it paid to be optimistic, yes?
The selected players began practising together and playing against the club's senior team to really tested them.
Geoff didn't have an easy time as he was considered 'the baby' of the squad and tolerated by the majority but bullied by three players, one of whom asked Geoff loudly as they were leaving a team talk, did he still wear nappies to bed.
That raised a huge burst of laughter.
But Geoff's retort, 'Hell no, if I wore nappies how could I pull my dick at nights' produce a gale of laughter from the entire squad and from that moment the bullying stopped.
The squad was led by coach Ted Jury, a butcher. who'd been a professional player for Fulham in his youth, Billy Wells, the assistant coach and tactician. The team manager, Claire McPhee, had played female soccer for most of her youth and until she married at the age of twenty-eight.
She'd played women's soccer for Australia several times and these days was head sports coach at one of the top boarding schools in the country. She had interviewed all squad members during the first couple of days of assembling.
"Why aren't you in a selected position?" she asked Geoff, having watched him at practice.
"Because you guys selected three other strike specialists."
"I'll biff you between the ears if you ever again infer that I'm a guy."
"At you peril, Claire."
"Geoff, please remember I'm one of the team selectors. If you continue to be abusive to me and calling me by my first name, it could count against your selection."
"Bullshit, selectors chose players on known ability and current form, not on their manners," he said quietly
"You insolent twerp. I..."
"Careful Claire, or Mrs McPhee at your impolite request, don't bully me."
She eyes the lad and said thoughtfully, "You could be the player with the controlled aggression we appear to lack in the team. However, I've watched your play and was only mildly impressed."
"Well, don't blame me for that. You guys played me as a defender, rather than as an attacker and please accept that use of the term guys was used in its non-gender form. I'm also the fastest accelerating and the overall fastest runner in the squad."
"And how do you come to the conclusion that you are the speediest member of the squad?"
"I've looked at their body shape, general physique and the way they move. To most people, apart from you, me and the two coaches, we all look roughly the same."
Claire eyed Geoff thoughtfully and then said, "Off you go, Mr Putt. One thing is sure, you appear to be the most unusual find of the entire squad, despite being the youngest and the final person to be interviewed by me. Just don't get a mindset that you are only a reserve. Do you hear?"
"Yes ma'am, err I mean Claire."
She watched Geoff walk out with a swagger, knowing that would be for her benefit.
She chuckled to herself, thinking what a clever arsehole. Err youth.
Next morning, the squad emerged from the changing shed in their playing kit at their assigned practice ground in walking distance from their motel. It was obvious that something was up.
Assistant coach Billy Wells was waiting for them, hands on hips, whistle around his neck and wearing his leather cap.
"All that Billy is missing is a fucking whip," cracked goalie Fat Freddie, and everyone in the squad laughed.
They all then eyed coach Billy Wells and manager Claire McPhee, sitting at a temporary table mid-field with stopwatches and clipboards in front of them. Flags marked out three distances of increasing length.
"These clowns are not aware we are amateur schoolboys, not bloody new professional recruits," said Fat Freddie, also known as 'Mr Lip' because of his inflammatory rebukes on the field to his players who messed up the cover as goalie that he needed when extreme attack pressure was building.
Other squad members were too puzzled or concerned to react to Freddie's wind-up.
"Line up in front of Coach Wells," Geoff suggested.
Billy waited patiently for the squad to line up on three rows.
"Good morning, guys. We three selectors are aware we have someone in the squad who is possible primed to be used as a secret weapon once we make it past the first cut, provided we get that far."
"You now will be put through speed trials to see if this guy is indeed exceptionally fast. You probably won't know who it is at this point but you can expect one of our four specialist strikers to emerge."
"Coach, we have three specialist strikers, not four."
"Well Kevin, you as team captain have that opinion, but is that true? Let's prove it, first by sprints and then by the top eight sprinters in today's trial, each having three attempts to take the ball dropped in their vicinity about 30 metres from the box and to attempt to score facing seven defenders."
"But that testing takes no account of luck, coach."
"Kevin, you are not fool. Whenever do we who have played soccer have ever known luck to fall predictably or even consistently to take full advantage of it when on a run to the goal or to score a header from a flick pass or whatever?"
"Squad, do any of you believe great players have to reply on a big percentage of luck in scoring?" Claire asked.
Someone called, "How relevant is that comment?"
She stepped away from the table and called, "Kick a ball to me, Charlie."
She trapped it nonchalantly, something that didn't pass unnoticed.
Claire then picked up the ball and kicked it high above the group and yelled, "Head it back to me someone."
One player with lightning speed, shouldered his way a few steps through into the centre of the cluster, rose higher than anyone else and headed the ball to Claire who caught it and in the one movement hurled it 30 metres to Billy who caught it without having to move from when he was standing, barely having to move his arms.
Even Coach Jury gaped at the result of Claire's unrehearsed accuracy in that short piece of fluid and unrehearsed action.
"An amazing exhibition of skill, Claire. Who the fuck headed that ball in the melee? I must say I's disappointed that some of your barely moved to sight the descending ball."
No one answered.
"Come on guys, this is no time to clam up."
There still was no answer until Kevin revealed who it was.
"Coach it was Geoff Putt. He who barged in right in front of me and leaped surprisingly high. He'd headed the ball and landed back on to the ground and was beginning to apologize to me for barging before I even had time to take a breath and abuse him. Coach, with reaction and speed like that, Geoff appears to be your secret weapon."
Billy interjected, "You guys, get into line, four at a time, for the 25-metre sprint. Usually changes are only made to a selected representative team unless a player is unfit, injured or unable to complete for some other reason or a reserve had grabbed attention for an extra-ordinary performance."
"Young Geoff managing to head a ball amidst playful competition falls well short of an extra-ordinary performance. Chose the other three players you run with, but remember times overall will count, not who you beat in your foursome."
Geoff returned the fastest times for the 15, 25 and 40 metre sprints.
"Rest while the three selectors review the overall performances," Billy said, noting that squad members were gathered around Geoff.
Billy called Geoff over the table, and he was seen to shrug and then nod a couple of times.
He returned to the group and was asked what was up.
"The selectors are interested in finding just how fast can I run over a given distance. I've agreed to run against Mrs Phee. Although she's thirty-eight, she's a former women's sprint champion for her home state in Australia and has kept up her fitness playing squash regularly. For the past five years, she has been a Golden Oldies female sprint champion over 100 and 200 metres and earlier this year broke her standing record in both events."
Most the guys listening to Geoff looked gobsmacked.
"Is there a chance of you beating her?" Kevin asked.
"Well, I have the advantage of warming up in the sprints. She's just shot back to the motel to change into her running gear. My belief if there's no way she'll beat me because if I lose to a fucking woman, you guys will feel let down and I can't do that to my team."
"That's the spirit," called Fat Freddie.
"I agree," Kevin said. "We must line up on both sides near the finish, cheering Geoff on madly."
"Yeah, the humiliation of not being cheered could put Mrs McPhee off her best pace," said Kerry King, one of the wingers. "Females are like that, you know."
"You motherfucker, you must be to know that," Fat Freddie laughed but he quickly apologized to Kerry and everyone else for being so nasty.
Kerry said kindly, "It's okay Freddie, your tongue got ahead of your brain. I accept that was a misfired joke."
* * *
Before starting the race, Coach Jury said the distance between the goal lines measured 110 metres.
"May the best runner of the day win and good luck to you both."
"Thank coach, and good luck to you Mrs Phee."
"Thanks, and win or lose, only your run times and goal shoots will count for you," she smiled.
Geoff held out his hand for a handshake but Claire stepped up close and whispered mysteriously, "Do your best and you will win."
She then kissed him, drawing cheers from the squad lined up at the far end of the running course and Fat Freddie called, "Watch it mate; she's attempting to seduce you to put your mind off speed."
Geoff ran as fast as he could, and his pace surprised him but he knew he couldn't beat a trained runner, but surprisingly, he did, only just.
As the guys milled around them, Geoff caught quick winks between Ted and Claire and then realised, that for some reason, he was allowed to win, meaning strategically, he was meant to win. He looked at Claire and she appeared to slightly shake her head and he intelligently looked away, believing in due course he'd learn why that had been a fixed race.
Fifteen minutes before the squad walked across the street together that evening to dine at a family restaurant, Claire came to Geoff's room he shared with Pete Shadbolt, a rear defender in the team, who was in another room playing computer games with two of his friends.
She said, looking pleased, "Do I kiss you as a greeting?"
Geoff asked confidently was such behaviour permitted between anyone on team management when meeting a squad member socially.
"Yes, that's correct."
"Then good, it's not permitted. So, kiss me."
He moved his head at the last minute so that she missed his lips and kissed his cheek.
"Have you never kissed a female?"
"Only my mother and her girlfriend when the moody girlfriend decides she wants to kiss me for some reason known only to herself."
Claire laughed and said the girlfriend sounded strange.
"She is. Um, you can teach me how to kiss a female and you know, um, how to get her to allow me to do it with her."
"Err Geoff, it is... um..."
"Dangerous territory?"
"Oh yes, Geoff. What a great way to describe it. However, I'm tempted."
"And I'm anxious to be taught by someone that I like and respect."
"Um do you have any idea about what to do when faced with the prospect of having sex?"
He said he'd watched adult videos and a couple of times had spied on his mother and Tillie licking one another into a frenzy and then having turns to fuck each other with a fake strap-on penis.
"How disgusting for you."
"No, it's good really. I masturbated after watching them and really get myself off."
'Claire, may I suggest you invite me to your room and take me through the hoop?"
Claire initially appeared completely unsure of herself and then softened and said the idea was acceptable to her as she had a fetish for having sex with younger males.
"Great, why no touch me now?"
"What now?"
Walking right up to Claire, Geoff said, "Unzip me and fondle it briefly or do you suggest a better way? I don't have a father to talk to about sex."
Claire didn't answer. She bent forward and unzipped Geoff and dug her hand into his groin and said excitedly, "Omigod, you are half erect and it's quite a size."
"Yeah, mum says it has to do with genetics. She told me that my father, who dumped the family just after I was born, had a big cock and her father had amazingly quick reactions and brilliant hand and eye coordination. I have inherited those qualities, I believe."
"That's plausible," Claire said, withdrawing her hand and closing the zip. I'm now really interested in tutoring you and I'll hope to get real benefit too. I play around a bit outside of marriage, if you know what I mean."
"You take dicks other than your husband's?"
Claire flushed and said she had expected him to say something like that after she'd revealed that she and her husband enjoyed an open marriage.
Geoff allowed her to kiss him on the lips and felt her tongue tip against his teeth.
"Christ," he said in awe, and placed his hand over his mouth.
Claire laughed and departed, looking pleased, as if thinking what pleasure could lie ahead of them.
Geoff saw Claire several times in the following three days and she had indicated nothing to suggest he should call on her that night. She'd even spoken to him, saying the selectors had decided not to play him in the qualifying round.
Then the unexpected happened.
In the third game, the team lost 0-1 to the bottom ranked team. There was panic as the team had 5th ranking and that meant the 4th game was a 'must win' for it to enter the semi-finals but it's chance of winning the championship appeared gone unless the unexpected occurred.
Claire walked up to Geoff and took him aside from the two guys he was with.
"The three selectors are meeting at 4.00 today in the smaller of the two meeting rooms to discuss strategy. You are requested to arrive at that room at 4.30 in case we have decided to play you tomorrow. Okay?"
"Yeah if you kiss me quickly."
"What, in front of other people, are you mad?"
"Then in your room at 8.00 this evening," he said, eyeing her steadily.
"For a chat yes," she said, cheeks flushing. "Now leave me!"
Geoff wasn't worried that Claire appeared pissed off with him. He was used to females and their tantrums.
At the meeting, Geoff was told it had been decided to play him for the team's final game in the preliminary round. It would be necessary for the team to win by a three-goal margin to ensure it qualified for the quarter-finals based on three wins and one loss plus their number of goals scored differential compared with other teams finishing with a single loss.
Coach Jury said, "You will be left-winger playing at less than your potential to ensure that you don't finish appearing to be a stand-out player. Our strategy is to keep you as our secret weapon to reveal if we reach the semi-finals."
"In tomorrow's game, if things appear to be looking grim in finishing three goals clear, which is a pretty big ask anyway, you just follow Kevin's instructions to play you how he wishes according to how he sees the direction of the run of play. We don't want you to shoot for goal unless that is the instruction. You may of course pass possession to any one, particularly to either striker, at will throughout the game."
At 8.00 that evening, Geoff tapped on the door of Claire's premium single room on the second floor.
The door opened, he leaped into the room and she shut the door, leaning back against it and panting slightly.
"I must be mad involving myself in this. Did anyone see you come on to this floor?"
"Nah, and I came up the stairs to lessen that chance of that happening."
Instead of stepping up to press against her and demanding a kiss, Geoff walked to the sofa, sat, and waited.
Claire walked over, glanced at a lounge chair, sighed and sat beside him.
Geoff cleverly remained still and she leant back, relaxing.
"I should never had got myself into this position."
He said softly, "Then why did you?"
"I favour being with younger males. In your case, you are still a youth and judging by your club's senior coach, you have lived among females all your life since your father abandoned your family and there's been no man in the house to provide you with long-term male influence. I felt sympathetic and attempted to visualised how that must have been for you and concluded it must have been bloody awful, especially when the report added you were kept mostly house-bound and were loaded with jobs by the female occupants of the house."
"Bloody awful... yeah, Claire, that's a fair assessment. And as you learned the other day, I have not learned to kiss a girl and thus launch my sexual advancement."
"Kiss me," she murmured.
They kissed long and softly and she placed his hand on a boob and said to squeeze flesh a bit and then to drag out one of breasts.
He fumbled because of the bra restraint and Claire assisted.
"It's so soft and so warm," he marvelled, suggesting he was indeed a virgin.
"Lick around the nipple and then suck the nipple."
After more breast play and intervals of kissing, Claire slowly slid down a hand to unzip him and, excited to find his thick cock to be fully erect, worked it clear of his pants carefully.
"Are you about to jerk me off?"
"Well...um... no, you need to be in top shape for tomorrow's game. Perhaps tomorrow night then as the next day is a free day before the quarter-finals."
"Aw."
"Patience, my young darling. If it's your wish for me to take your virginity, then your just could lose it tomorrow evening, as the timing would be great. You'd have all day to recover."
Geoff, highly flushed, left stealthily to return to his own shared room on the ground floor, leaving his tutor caught between arousal and alarm at her social unacceptable behaviour that could easily end up with her losing her voluntary role as an aid to the team coach and to her job as director of sports head of sports at a top boarding school for girls.
Mid-morning next day, Coach Jury was chatting to team manager Claire when they noticed Geoff walk over to the concrete block facing wall of the changing shed and begin practising striking with the three practice balls he'd been carrying.
"Would you like to go over and retrieve balls that bounce back and elude him, Claire? That would increase his intensity of striking."
"Yes, that's an excellent idea," she smiled, making off and relieved to think there was no obvious suspicion that she and the youth appeared to be lining up for bed play. Then she thought what if the coach wanted to see signs of intimacy himself before he took disciplinary action?
She kicked at a loose small sod of displaced grass and sighed. Her guilt was making her jumpy. The coach and everyone else were probably unaware of her and Geoff's naughtiness and anyway it was just a natural occurrence between some males and females.
Oh yeah? She knew that she was taking a risk assisting a young teenager to face adulthood.
"Yeah? Yeah," she murmured, aware her interest had accelerated when noticing his rugged handsomeness and then finding he had quite a bulge.
Claire knew she meant no harm to the boy. Christ, it was only sex that she had in mind and she always needed to have regular sex.
"Hi, Geoff," she said brightly.
"Hi," he grunted, his concentration unwavering.
"I've come over to retrieve rebounded balls for you so that you can keep up your intensity of shooting."
"Thanks, darling."
Claire winced, aware they both knew that all members of the squad were supposed to openly address her as Mrs McPhee. She smiled and muttered what a mother-fucker.
A ball rebounded to her dropping and she lobbed it back high to Geoff called, "Coming" and that thinking what an inappropriate word to use to that randy young sod, watched him leap and he headed that ball straight at the bars of the small window facing them, catching it dead centre.
A little later she curved a ball back at him at speed, yelling "Coming."
Geoff completed the kick he was about to take, twisted and rammed the incoming ball with his left foot, hitting the security bars over the tiny ventilating window and she leaped high and to her left and headed the ball straight back at him. This time Geoff with perfect timing allowed the ball to almost pass beyond him and then rammed it straight at the bars with his right foot and the ball came straight back to him and he caught it.
An outburst of clapping sounded right behind them.
Claire and Geoff turned and saw that five members of the squad, dressed casually as if about to head across the road for a solid breakfast instead of the motel fare of corn flakes, skim milk and two thin pieces topped with two small runny egg. Moreover, the choice of tea or coffee was better than half decent.
"Great precision shooting," called Leon, a mid-fielder. "How come you have perfected it?"
"Near-perfected is the term," Geoff panted. "Over the years I've spent hundreds of hours booting a ball against the concrete block wall by myself, in fact possibly a few thousand hours."
"Can Geoff come to breakfast with us, Miss?" Leon called politely.
"Yes Geoff, off you go. I'll return the practise balls."
She whispered, "Tonight at 8.00 if you wish to plough my field."
He spluttered "Eh?"
"Don't fake it, Geoff. You're no dummy to the ways of life despite your rather restricted upbringing."
As the youths walked off, Claire scowled when she heard one of them say loudly, "That bitch Claire is a piece of all right, right?"
She grinned when hearing the lusty 'Yes' chorus from that small mass of males that would have included Geoff, fitting in comfortably with the group. She was pleased for him that he appeared popular within the squad.
* * *
The team that Colson City and Districts faced, also had a 3-1 record.
In the final minutes before running on to the field, Kevin said to his players, "We all know this is a must-win game for us. These chumps that we face will be have been told the same thing and will be playing to strategies they have been told will win the game for them. And so, nothing is new. Just run your butts off but wisely, remembering as always that we go for a big finished.
No one appeared to be listening, but the expression on faces indicated otherwise. The pep talk was part of sport culture and it was used to hammer home messages considered to be physiologically important.
Ashfield came out with a hiss and a roar and were two up at half-time.
"No panic, lads. Unlike those suckers we continue steady as we go. We need to score six goals to get our win by four goals. That's been done before. Be happy that it's not ten that we need."
Needless to say, a target of six goals was considered to be unreachable for the team.
Colson chipped home two goals within sixteen minutes and then no more goals were scored until with time nearly up, Kevin lobbed in a header during a moment of confusion among the defenders.
One-up.
And then nothing until in the closing minutes Kevin, crossing over half-way with the ball after the team just managed to hold out a determined attack, shot out a pass to Geoff on the wing at a last chance and called, "All yours, mate."
Geoff weaved through the defence like a fox racing through a tiring field of hens and scored, out-foxing the goalie. No one, even in his team, could quite comprehend how he'd made that run look like an unopposed dribble through the park on Sunday afternoon. It almost appeared that the defence had invited him through but for moments a lot of them had be picking themselves up off the ground or bending over in frustration at being unable to block the blighter and knock that stupid grin of concentration on his face.
At the final whistle, team members carried Geoff off the field. It may have only been a two-goal win but that was far more satisfying than had it been a loss by even one goal.
In the changing room, Coach Jury said, well done Kevin and to you Geoff for igniting that long and successful final charge. He initiated the clapping.
"Guys, smile please," said the coach. Theoretically we remain in with a chance. Skipper's Rock is holding off United Valley that we all expected to qualify..."
"Just a moment," he said and listening his craggy face became covered in an almost seamless grin. He raised his fist high and yelled, "1-nil to Skipper's Rock, final score. They have done if for us despite losing their first two games."
Coach Jury called, "Guys, make sure you are covered decently. Billy, get Mrs McPhee in here to share the joy. She'll be hovering nearby."
Claire entered and congratulated the team and then personally congratulated Kevin and Geoff, shaking them both by the hand.
Geoff felt her tickle the palm of his hand with the little finger of her hand and almost launched himself at her, despite feeling a little shagged due to the tension and the pace of the game in the second half.
Chapter 3
At the celebratory dinner, Coach Jury had offered everyone in the squad and management a small bottle of beer or a glass of wine.
Geoff chose wine so that he'd not breath beer over Claire's face later that evening. He regretted that decision when he saw Claire drinking sipping beer with a small group of lads. The wine then tasted even worse for him.
Sometime during the night -- just after 1:00 actually -- Geoff heard a scratching on the open window by his bed.
Fucking cat.
He sleepily pushed the curtain aside and was looking into the dimly-lit face of Claire. He opened the window.
"Did you chicken out?"
What? Oh shit. The arrangement had been for him to sneak into her room about 10.30!
"Bugger."
"It's okay Geoff," she whispered. "After Billy Wells and I each paid for another round of drinks and then most of us engaged in the arm-wrestling tournament and then we began playing cards, I noticed you were among the lads sloping off early after your strenuous afternoon. Is Owen a heavy sleeper?"
"Yeah, I'd say so."
"Good, open the door for me."
"What, are you coming in to do it here?"
"Yeah, unless you have an objection?"
Geoff was out of bed and was opening the door in flash.
Before he knew it, Claire had her tongue in his mouth, had undid her dressing gown for him to discover she was wearing nothing underneath it, and his testicles were being lightly squeezed.
Holy-moley!
His worry that he wouldn't know all the expected moves proved groundless. Claire led and he followed and moments later was pushed on to the bed and she was rolling a condom on to him while he had the end of a swinging breast in his mouth and was sucking as if attempting to remove the nipple.
"You haven't done this before, right?"
"True. Guide me."
"Dig some fingers into my cunt."
Geoff experienced passion. He'd never realised that a female would use the C-word. Jeepers, was she something and was he hot! He could feel her body heat too. So, this was real fucking.
"Fucking is great," he wowed in a heavy whisper.
"You have to push this thing in before we're fucking," cooed his instructor.
"Push it in for me... you know I'm a learner."
"Lazy young arsehole," Claire murmured lightly, meeting his request.
She appeared to have pissed herself, she was dripping wet, he thought, and panting for some reason.
The head of his dick began pressing flesh.
Geoff thought she had missed the hole but then his dick began feeling warm and wet and under pressure of being squeezed.
Omigod, he was actually inside Claire and going in deeper.
His head tilted backwards and he felt an intense sensuous feeling building up with part of the feeling appearing to envelop his lower spine and the other part reaching in the back of his head.
Holy shit!
This was beautiful.
Claire's began to buck and before long Geoff sensed he was about to blow.
That was an understatement. He began banging into her and seconds later enjoyed a massive eruption as he experienced the biggest ejaculation by far in his young life.
"Mighty," he gasped and gasped even louder as Claire rammed a finger into his butt and cooed, "Oh my darling boy, you were so great."
She left the bed, picked up her dressing gown from the floor and the still panting Geoff lost most of his feeling of rapture and the stupid grin on his face collapsed when Claire smashed a wet kiss on to his lips and said that he'd performed quite well. He regarded that judgement as an insult.
Claire disappeared quietly, leaving devastated Geoff almost in tears from shock.
He whined aloud, "How could she say that to me?"
His roommate Owen Burgess said sleepily, "I'm told that females tend to be like that when it comes to sex. Lucky you, Geoff, you appeared to be screwing your cock off. Um, who was she?"
"Go back to sleep, pal. It's very late," Geoff yawned, thinking, at least in his view the sex was more than okay.
Geoff awoke just before 8.30 on 'rest day', in expectation that he would be feeling the strange sense of become a man overnight.
He was disappointed, feeling like he always did. Fucking nothing had changed despite being fucked by an expert.
The one thing he did notice he was in urgent need of having a quick pee and then a shower to remove the dried fluids on his body and the smell of old sweat, and more.
In the glory of the shower, Geoff experienced his body becoming clean again. Claire had left him feeling shock when not praising his performance. What a whore. He'd been under the impression that he had become someone exclusively special to her whereas he must be well-down on her list of best-ever fuckers.
What a fucking sham. He was angry but... well, she had been a rather nice woman to him and had been responsible to assisting him to nail his first fuck, and he was grateful for that.
* * *
The next day in the team talk before their quarter-final game, Coach Jury had taken Geoff aside and said that he couldn't see the side going much farther in the tournament.
"We may not even win this semi-final; indeed, probably not. However, I want you to let it rip. Where would you like to play?'
"Alternating in position as a striker."
"Very well, I'll brief Ian that I want you two alternating positions. It's been a great pleasure working with you, Young Geoff.
Geoff re-joined the squad, head held high and the names of the playing team and their positions were read out
He was stounded when Billy read out details of the selector's decisions.
"Team captain Kevin Cooper will be rested because he is rathe stiff in the groin after vigorous play in the fourth game and he agreed he couldn't play at his best today."
Geoff grinned, thinking Kevin's groin stiffness may have been as the result of being banged wickedly by Claire over-night.
Everyone including Geoff, after hearing his name called out as a striker, assumed that Alan Horner, the vice-captain would be named captain for the day but the final comment by Billy astonished everyone.
"Alan Horner remains vice-captain but the three selectors have agreed unanimously that the captain for the day shall be Geoff Putt, an obvious strategist. Good luck, lads."
Geoff glanced at Claire, caught her eye and she flicked a wink.
Good heavens, he thought. Claire had fucked Keven legless and then probably had suggested to her fellow selectors why not make a bold move and play Geoff Putt as a striker and name him as captain for the day. What a great old babe she was!
The team gathered 90-minutes later for their warm-up and waited for Geoff to say something like they were on the eve of going for glory and he intended to lead them across the first hurdle.
Instead, he said, "Guys, I have been thinking the selectors were stupid playing me at wing instead of my accustomed position as a striker. But now, in this crucial match I'm playing in my accustomed position and have been stupidly named as captain for this game. Well, let's prove that stupid selections can actually work, eh? Just feed me the ball in a timely manner if that appears to be your best choice and I'll go my best for the team. Come on, dribble and pass easily to warm up slowly and effectively. Each one of you play proudly today."
"Wow, that was brief, modest and to the point, Geoff," said Alan Horner, vice-captain. "Lead and we shall follow."
The team won the game, 4-0.
A defender opened scoring with an own-goal and Geoff hammer home two goals and right on time when the opposition goalie punch away the Colson City right winger's header, Geoff rose high and smashed a header back over the head of the goalie caught off guard.
Colson City won their semi-final match 2-1 with Kevin scoring both goals, the first spectacularly from a low jab pass from Geoff and the second from flicking on a header from Geoff into the back of the net, well clear of the goalie.
None of the squad management expected Colson City to win the final against the far superior team of the tournament, Southern United. And that proved correct, with Colson City going down 2-4.
Coach Jury was delighted and told the team and its management that they had played 'above their weight and should be proud of themselves'.
Claire left for home as soon as the official wind-up of the tournament finished.
And that was that, for Geoff, who'd expected a bout of farewell banging or at the very least a hugely wet kiss. That left him muttering angrily, 'Women!'
Yes, in being away from home for that time, Geoff had learned a great deal, and actually was grateful. He felt especially proud of himself in performing well in the tournament when played in his accustomed position.
He arrived home to be unexpectedly greeted by the occupants on the house standing on the front porch on both sides of a huge photo on the back-page of the local newspaper of himself being carried off the field by some teammates after his twinkled-toe run through the defence to score the team's winning goal in the fourth round to put the team into the quarter finals of the tournament.
He felt proud that his family had posted that welcome home tribute to him as it revealed that they cared.
On his arrival, Geoff's mother screamed, "He's here" and his siblings and Tillie rushed out to the porch to join his mother to perform a very vocal three cheers of "Hip, Hip Hooray!"
Flushed, Geoff said, "My heart-felt thanks and a great reminder that marks the end of my sporting days."
"Rubbish," snorted his mother. "Rex Adams, a friend of mine from our school days, phoned to say you are required to play in a trial match between Colson Conquistadors our city's premier team's senior, and our senior B sides on Wednesday evening. Rex is the club's director of coaching and wants you assessed to play as a striker in the B-side providing you shape up well in the trial. The side is weak up front and Rex says he believes you have the finesse to lead by example, thereby generating a revival in up-front strength in the team."
"Have you been drinking, mum?"
"Hold your tongue, you cheeky upstart."
"It's true," Tillie said. "Your mother was beside herself in excitement after finishing that conversation with the caller. And Geoff, Mr and Mrs Adams may have something of real interest to you. They are the parents of Pearl Adams."
That got Geoff's attention. And his self-confidence flowed.
Pearl was a year older than him and once she'd asked him if he would like to go with her to a movie but he had to say no because his mother was entertaining that Saturday night and needed him to assist with the catering. Well, his sisters and Tillie were next to useless in the kitchen.
Even if Pearl was into occasional dating, he could still be optimistic and invite her to a movie. If she'd heard from her father that Geoff was a football performer with possible star qualities, that would impress Pearl and her girlfriends.
Oh yeah! He felt he was really emerging into the real world.
The End
Comments