Message-ID: <33842asstr$1007485803@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "Rev. Cotton Mather" X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 04 Dec 2001 13:24:36 GMT X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Tue, 04 Dec 2001 13:24:36 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Playing the Game 4/30 (mf rom) Date: Tue, 4 Dec 2001 12:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, newsman --------------------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This story is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as there is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of acquiring this material. (copyright 2001, Rev. Cotton Mather) E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@excite.com Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you. --------------------------------------------------------------------- PLAYING THE GAME by Reverend Cotton Mather - 4 - THE TREE Later that afternoon I was scheduled to referee an under-8 boys game. All during the preparations for the game I kept on thinking of my morning with Kayla. It wasn't until kickoff that I was able to get my mind on the game. During the game I felt a little disconnected from things, and afterward I almost went over to the two coaches and apologized. The game had ended in a 2-2 tie, so both coaches and all the players were happy, so I opted to leave well enough alone and ended up not saying anything to them. As I was bicycling home from the game, I decided to ride by Jake and Kayla's house to see if anybody was home. Jake was bouncing a tennis ball against his garage door, playing an imaginary baseball game. "Hey," I said as I rode up his driveway. "Hey," he replied as he whipped through a double-play, shortstop to second to first, against the garage door. "How was the soccer game?" "Two-two tie," I said. I caught his liner off the panel of the door and spun it back toward him off the same panel. "How's Kay feeling?" "Leg's pretty good, I guess. Better now than when she got up this morning. I think she's downstairs now, anyway, watching TV with Jaimie." He threw the ball back at the garage door for me to catch. "Want to do something?" he asked. "I guess," I answered. "What did you have in mind?" "Come on, I'll show you something," he said. He picked up the ball, and put the ball and his baseball mitt into the basket on his bike, then climbed on. "Follow me. I found out something that I think you'll really like." It sounded mysterious enough that he got my interest, so we pedaled off into the field behind his house, into the woods on the other side. We dropped our bikes down onto the ground, and he led the way along one of the many paths that kids of a dozen generations have made through the small patch of woods. He branched off the path and headed off toward the edge of the woods on the other side, until he came to a tree that had slats of wood nailed to it to make a crude ladder. Warning me to be quiet, he climbed easily up the tree trunk, and then used branches to climb a little further up. He motioned me up, so I clambered up until I was on a branch opposite the trunk from the one he was perched upon. He pointed in the direction of a house about 30 yards away, and leaned toward me around the trunk of the tree. "What do you see?" he whispered. I looked, trying to figure out what it was he was showing me, but I was stumped. "Ummm...a house?" I asked. "Yeah, idiot, a house. Whose house?" "The O'Toole house," I said. Why was he asking me whose house this was? He knew as well as I whose house it was. He looked at me as if I was the village dunce. "And who lives in the O'Toole house?" he asked, speaking slowly as if to a very dim child. "Josh lives there," I said. Josh was another of our neighborhood gang, a good guy we both had been friends with since about the second grade. "And?" Now Jake was getting just plain annoying. "And..." The light bulb went on, and I felt just as dumb as Jake was thinking I was just then. "And Heather and Molly," we said together. Of course. Heather and Molly were Josh's sisters. Heather was going to be a senior, 17 years old and drop-dead gorgeous. She was a cheerleader, and one of the most popular girls at school. Molly, Josh's twin sister, was 15 and was a slightly younger version of Heather. I figured that Josh had to have been walking around his house with a perpetual boner for about the past three years, living with those two. He claims, however, that they are just sisters to him, just as annoying as typical sisters. "So what are we looking at here?" I said to Jake. "You see the window on the far left? That's Heather's room. The window on the right is Molly's. That window in between, the one you can see the mirror in, that's the bathroom they share." "Yeah?" I said to him. "So what? The curtains are closed. How do you know?" "Josh and I peeked into their rooms a couple of weeks ago," he said. "And just because the curtains are closed now doesn't mean they are always closed. Understand?" I stared at him disbelievingly. "It gets better," he whispered. "They never close the curtains in the bathroom. And the mirror you see just happens to be positioned advantageously in respect to the very branches in which we are perched," he finished with a smug little smile. "Jake old pal," I said, "You are my new best friend." "I thought I was your best friend already," he said. "Well, you were, but you've just confirmed my good taste in best friends," I replied. We made plans to meet later that night to check out the windows and headed back to Jake's house. As we were riding back across the field from the woods, I couldn't help but notice (now that Jake had got me to thinking about windows and curtains) that Jaimie and Tara's bedrooms were at the back of their house, and they lived in a ranch house, so their windows were all on the ground floor. The possibilities were staggering to a typical 15-year-old hormonally charged boy such as me. Sometime after 9:00 that night Jake and I made our way back through the woods to the tree behind the O'Toole house. As quietly as we could, we climbed up the slats to the branches we had perched in that afternoon. "Damn!" I heard Jake softly swear. "I meant to bring a pair of binoculars." "That's okay, we're close enough for now," I said. Binoculars would have been a great idea, though, I had to admit. The mosquitoes were out in abundance, and Jake and I were getting bitten up sitting in the tree. There still was no activity in the windows we were watching. After about an hour, we both had had enough of branch sitting, and mosquito swatting, and dark house watching, so we gave it up and climbed back down. On the way back out of the woods, it occurred to us that maybe we should have called Josh to make sure they were home. "Oh, well, so I'll call him tomorrow," said Jake. We walked back across the field and I glanced at Jaimie's house. "Look!" I stopped Jake and pointed. Tara's curtain was drawn across the window, but there was a gap in Jaimie's. We quietly crept up closer to try to see into her room. Jackpot! Jaimie was there, sitting on her bed, brushing her hair. We could hear the faint sound of a CD playing, and she was nodding her head in time to the music. She was wearing only a bra and panties, and her boobs stretched taut as she raised her arms to brush her hair. "Oh, man, sweet!" Jake exclaimed. "Boy, would I like to get some of that." "Why not ask her out, then?" I asked. "I don't know," he whispered. "Maybe she's just too tight with my sister. I can't think that anything good could come of that." "Aw, your sister's okay," I said. "Easy for you to say, she's not your sister," he replied. "I guess she's not so bad, but she's still a sister, you know?" "Yeah, I guess," I said. Actually I didn't know, since I only had brothers, but it was easier to just agree with him. We watched as Jaimie got up and put on a robe, then left her room. When she came back in a few minutes later and hung up her robe, we could see she had on her nightie. She pulled back the bedspread and got in her bed, then turned out her light. "Show's over," Jake said, and we started back toward his house. "Hey, Jake, you want me to see if I can talk to Jaimie? Maybe I can see if she likes you, and then maybe you can get together with her." "That's okay," he said. "I'll think about it. I don't know. Christ, why is this all so difficult? Oh, well, see you tomorrow." He headed into his house, head hanging down. Yeah, Jake, I thought to myself, sometimes we really make it tough on ourselves. (Continued in Chapter 5) -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+