SOCCER20

This is subject to all the usual provisos:
Graphic sex follows.
I'm not responsible for you reading this if you are underage.
The contents are purely fiction and all characters are figments of my imagination.
This story is copyrighted and any reproduction requires the explicit consent of the author; i.e. me.
AIDS/HIV and other STD do not exist in my fiction but do in reality-if you attempt to live the lifestyle depicted please take precautions.

"If you lack the maturity to grasp this disclaimer, then under no circumstances read this story without guidance of someone more mature (to quote Deirdre)."

SOCCER—CHAPTER 20

That was my plan anyway. The season was over and we were expected to do a week de-briefing to sort out off-season training and diet and stuff. Then six weeks off before pre-season preparation starting in July. I was looking forward to going home—it had been two years since I left Ohio. My mom had remarried but still lived in the old house.

But when I went inside Frank told me I had gotten a phone call while I was out. It was important. I was to call back immediately. I didn’t recognize the number or even the area code. It was still before ten so I figured where ever it was still business hours back in the States. I dialed the number.

After bouncing off a couple of receptionist I got through. Soccer-USA was putting together a training camp in preparation for the upcoming Olympic qualifying tournament. Would I be interested in attending the camp in California for a week? Tentatively I agreed—I knew I’d have to the club’s endorsement—and said I would call back the next day.

The team coaches had no problem. I’d fly directly to L.A. and do the camp. If I made the squad I’d have a break off about ten days in Ohio, and then off to the pre-Olympic tournament in the Caribbean. Then back to Germany for the pre-season training.

The national training camp was tough. There were about thirty of us, all under 23 as per the Olympic rules. Most of them were college players but there were a dozen of us who played pro either in the US or Europe. The coaching was different, we were under strict curfews and banned from smoking or drinking. In Europe we were told not to things in excess and weren’t closely monitored. This camp was a lot more draconian, but I think it also made some people just want to break the rules more.

I did make the squad and was told to expect to start. I went to see my mother in Ohio. My old man called and tried to talk me out of playing—he wanted me to represent England, but I didn’t feel I was English and was proud of the opportunity to play for my country. I hung with my friends from high school. I tried to find Robin but she was taking summer school classes and I didn’t have the time to visit. In time I was flying off to the Caribbean.

* * *

The team was being housed in a luxury resort fill of normal tourists, but we were under a strict discipline of team rules. It was kind of hard living like Spartans while everyone around us was partying. There were eight in the qualification tournament, divided into groups of four. We’d play three games, and the top two teams for each group would get into the semi-finals, with the winners playing each other for the single spot for North America in the Olympics. The US and Mexico were the two favorites to make it.

We won our first game easily. Everyone was feeling good about the build-up and the result. Our second game was five days later, so the coach broke discipline for a night. Naturally we got a little wild. And I got myself in to a heap of troubles: the trouble was Joyce and me not keeping my pecker in my pants.

We were hanging out at the hotel bar by the pool having a few beers when I met Joyce. She was a local girl working for the hotel, ebony and statuesque at about six feet tall. She was friendly and flirty with all of us, but I swore she was picking on me in particular.

The feeling turned out to be true. I went down to the beach to get some sea air.

“You doing ok?” a lilting voice asked behind me. I turned and Joyce was standing about ten feet behind me, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah… I’m just clearing my head.”

“Can I join you.” She had a thick Caribbean accent, so it sounded like ‘Kannh as jun yers.’

“Sure.”

She took off her shoes and scampered over to me on the sand. “You’re one of the footballers, huh? For the Americans?”

I nodded. “Yes. My name’s Holden…”

“I’m Joyce. But you know that,” she said flicking her chin to her name tag. She was standing next to me, our shoulders brushing as we look out over the ocean. I could smell the sea-salt. And her flowery perfume, and underneath it powerful musk.

“So they let you loose?” she asked.

“You noticed? The coaches are letting us let are hair down tonight.”

“All the girls noticed, darling,” Joyce mused. “It’s a shame for all you strapping boys kept under lock-and-key. ‘Specially you.” She felt my biceps for emphasis.

I didn’t know what to say. Joyce finished her cigarette and stubbed it out in the sand. I looked her over: Joyce had a stacked firm body, a roundish face, and short frizzy hair.

“I got to get back to work. Just another hour. Will you still be around?” she asked.

“There’s no curfew tonight.”

“That’s good. I get off at eleven.” She turned and walked back to the hotel. “Maybe you will too.”

I waited a few more minutes and then headed back. Some of the guys had scored some ganja and were sneaking behind the pool house to smoke it. I wasn’t interested, so order another beer and nursed. Seated at the bar I had a good view of the crowd. There was a lot of flesh on displays. A lot of the younger guests were in shorts, or more interestingly bikinis. The tourists were almost exclusively white. Flowing in-an-out among them were the black hotel staff, serving food and drinks, clearing the tables and such. Joyce was among them.

She had an impressive carriage. The uniforms weren’t revealing but Joyce sure stretched hers. Large heavy breasts strained her flowery shirt, and a big round ass pinched her slacks. Joyce caught me looking at her and winked.

A couple of my teammates joined me. Pretty much everyone else had disappeared; some to smoke the killer pot and a bunch to party that was going on a mile down the beach. I was wondering about Joyce. Did she really mean what she’d last said or was that just more flirtation?

A couple of girls came by, one black and the other white, and started chatting us up. They seemed to make beelines for my teammates, and convinced them to out on the dance floor, leaving me by myself. I nursed my beer. Joyce sidled up next to meet with a tray of dirty glasses, and then cleaned out her till with the manager. It was eleven.

“I’ll see you the beach in five, ok?” she said while he rang her out on the cash machine. I nodded.

I finished my beer and went back down to the beach and sat on the sand. A couple of minutes later Joyce sat down beside me. She was smoking a cigarette. She had changed out of her work clothes and now wore a purple halter and shorts. Behind us the noise of partying could be heard in the background, but largely drowned by the rhythmic surf. Joyce stubbed out her cigarette and buried the butt in the sand.

“Don’t da sea make you horny?” she asked staring over the flat expanse.

“I guess.”

“Won’t you come with me?” she said getting up. She reached out and pulled me on to my feet. Still holding my hand we walked in the surf away from the hotel.

We walked about half a mile. The lights from the hotel dimmed as we got farther away. Behind the trees smaller bulbs flickered.

“Do you come from around here?” I asked, if just to break the silence.

“No… I’ve got a room in the basement of the hotel. I came here from another island.” Her accent was sing-song and intoxicating.

She dragged me away from the water and up a hummock held together with sea grass. Then down to a hollow between the sand mounds.

“Lie with me here,” she invited. I knelt on my knees and she did the same facing me. Our heads came together naturally and we kissed. Joyce’s mouth was plush and willing. Her thick lips seemed to clasp mine while her tongue snaked into my mouth.

I could taste tobacco—I’d never kissed a smoker before—that made this more exotic. I’d never kissed a… person of color I guess the phrase is, either. It was nice.

Joyce wrapped her arms around my shoulder and pulled me down with her without breaking our lip-lock. She pulled up my t-shirt, and ran a hand over my belly. My arms were wrapped around her waist and held the small of her back. We frenched for a while. If the sea didn’t make me horny Joyce did.

“Let me see your wood,” she said rolling away from me but with her hands struggling to open my jeans in the moonlight. My cock popped out, white and almost luminescent in the dim radiance. Or maybe it was the matt chocolate hands that were now fondling it.

I pressed my face into her generous but still covered cleavage. She had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen, easily D-cups. Joyce let go of my manhood and pulled up her halter, freeing her breasts. The were firm and she wasn’t wearing a bra. In the nightlight I could see huge pink aureoles and a black-button nipples that I soon was devouring in my mouth. Joyce was pulling off her own shorts and panties, kicking the haphazardly into the darkness.

Joyce rolled on her back on spread her legs, knees bent. She grabbed my cock and pulled me to her. I rolled on top of her and felt the moist cleft of her vulva.

“Do me now, quickly.”

I plunged my “wood” into her. Like her mouth Joyce’s cunny was plush, with plump rich folds the enveloped my length. She was wet and undulating.

“Ohhh yeaaaah,” she cried out loudly. She wrapped her strong thighs around my waist and her ankles were kicking my butt in time with my thrusts. I could feel her urgency and it matched mine.

“Can you feel it? Can you feel it?” she echoed, “Can you?”

Her cunt was clamping around my cock spastically. I could feel it, it being her body’s response to being impaled by hardwood.

“Oh yeah… oh yeah,” she moaned and orgasmed. I’d fucked her for less than a couple of minutes. I don’t think I’d ever caused a reaction so quickly. I slowed down to almost a stop.

“You’re the man, Holden,” she judged. I started fucking her again and felt her cunt clenching around me.

After a couple of minutes she shifted her hips. “Like this,” she instructed, “get on your knees.”

I followed her orders and knelt between her legs. My cockhead was still in her, pulling my erection down. Joyce shifted her weight so her hips rested on my thighs. All I could see was my glowing meat pointing toward her jet-black and tiny pubic patch.

“Now do me hard.”

Tentatively I pushed my cock into her. Her pelvis pressed down on the top of dick, the bone rubbing the lower half as I stroked in-and-out. It seem to dull the feeling of the corona but I could still feel the furls of her vagina and its clamping. I was soon plunging all seven inches into her welcoming cunt. Joyce was resting on her shoulders. I was holding a plump ass cheek in each hand, lifting her onto my cock. Her tits jiggled with each thrust, bouncing all over the place.

“Oh yeah…” she groaned. It made me fuck her faster. Within a couple of minutes she wailing. I thought about the people sleeping just past the trees and figured she was waking them up. But I didn’t have any qualms.

“Oh do me do me do me…” she was wailing and with each ‘do’ I hit her with a down stroke of my cock.

“Ohh…ohh…MAN!” she howled, and I came with her, a month of stored up cream bubbling up and exploding in her cunt. I fell on top and kept thrusting till I was spent. Sweat was seeping from both of us and our bodies skidded against each other.

“Man you do me good!” she whispered. I rolled off her and lay on back. I could feel the sand sticking to my knees and my shorts tangled around my ankles. I could hear dogs barking, probably from the noise we concocted.

Joyce found her shorts and lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. She put the butt in my mouth. I took a drag and breathed it the smoke. Another first. Joyce lay on her back beside and we finished the cigarette.

“Let’s swim now,” she cooed. I followed her naked rump down to the foam and we plunge into the cool water. When we got out the ocean breeze soon dried our bodies. We gathered the clothes and dressed quickly, and then walked back down the beach.

* * *

My roommate, a guy called Todd who was also from the mid-west, was sleeping. The light woke him up.

“So you get lucky too?”

“I guess,” I replied.

“Man, there’s some sweet potang on this island.” A little crude was Todd, but a sound judge.

I drifted off to sleep. The first colored woman I slept with. The first drag from a cigarette. The first outdoor lay. And those weren’t the last firsts I’d do with Joyce.