Date: Sun, 2 Aug 2009 23:43:37 -0700 (PDT) From: Matthew Templar Subject: Julian and Roman - Chapter 1 All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author, Matthew Templar at matemp1148@yahoo.com Every word of this story is fiction. All of the players within were 18 years of age or older when this never happened. All characters are fictional and in no way related to any person or persons living or deceased. Any such perceived similarity is purely coincidental, well, kind of. This story contains descriptions of consensual sexual contact between males, adult and minor. It is written for the entertainment of mature adults. Passing through Nifty's main page to get here is your way of saying it is legal for you to be here and that you are at least partially okay with this type of writing. A huge 'thank you' goes to Dwight Wilson for tackling the editing of this story. His list of marvelous stories is under Prolific Authors, as well as the rest of mine. My friends, this will not be a long story. It definitely has a goal and an ending already decided for me, though I adapted it. I hope you have fun with it. JULIAN AND ROMAN Chapter One "Forty - Love!" shouted the voice of the announcer. The two young players stood ready for the next round of volleys. As the ball was tossed into the air, the anticipation sent chills through Benny's young torso, right down to his toes. He pushed up on the tips of those tingling toes. He gulped once and sprang to the side to catch the speeding serve and return it with expert accuracy. The next few seconds seemed to fly by while, luckily, nothing got past him. His strong, 14 year old body struck with a force that caused 'awes' from the bleachers full of spectators. Sammy strained at that last serve. Even though he was only one point from winning this game, he was tiring as a result of his nighttime romp with his friend, teammate and lover, Gregory. If the captain found out, they'd both be side-lined for several tournaments. But the one thing that gave him strength was the boy on the other side of the net. Though he was one of the cutest of the bunch, Benny was a member of Sammy's arch-rival tennis team and, even worse, a member of the Montag family. And just as those thoughts swept by his tired mind, so did the last swish of the ball sweep past his racket, unimpeded. "Forty- fifteen," said the announcer to a shocked crowd. Sammy was shocked, as well. He looked over at the captain and shivered at the sight of the man's eyes as they cut through him to his very core. This was not a match, nor a team, to whom a loss would be an acceptable alternative. He could still feel the stripes across his hard cheeks from his lack of enthusiasm before today's event. Okay, only two, but still, he thought, grinning. Nothing got past the captain. Even so, the public event, in front of the other players, was an inspiration to do his best that day. He wiped the sweat from over his blue eyes and stepped to the other corner of the clay court, feeling the itchy ball in his left hand. He called the score, then tossed up the bright yellow orb and swung a perfect arch that sent the ball directly at his opponent's own twin orbs. But Benny was not tired and the accuracy of that serve did not get past his racket or into the intended target in the evil mind of his enemy. He stepped to the side and leaned into the ball with an equally perfect volley that returned the ball into the thigh of his opponent, causing him to drop to his knee. Benny was as shocked as Sammy. He had no love for the captain's team but he didn't have it in him to want to cause more problems, either. "Time!" called Ty, the captain's young assistant for this match. But just as he did, Captain Eulas passed by him and rushed to the aid of his man. As he approached he was all mouth. "This is an outrage, judge. Fine that boy and let him be escorted out of here. He violently and purposefully aimed at my boy here, the contact probably debilitating." The site of the opponent's coach on the actual court must have enraged Gordon Montag. He strode to the middle of the court with his face as red as blood. "You saw the aim of the serve, sir," he shouted to the judge at mid-court. "His aim was true and would have struck my player had it not been for his skill. Fine that man and his team member for their indiscretion." The judge simply turned to look into the onlookers. As the crowd booed the two teams and yelled to 'just sit down, for heaven's sake' the two men saw someone begin to stand in the first row, dead center. "Gentlemen, to your seats right now! I'll deal with you personally. To the players and our audience: we all know that tennis is a fast sport and accidents happen. Let's return to the exciting match before we lose the sunshine." The crowd cheered and the judge mouthed at his superior, "Thank you, Mr. Prince," and turned back to the game. "I told you to go to bed," Ty scolded, still kneeling down by the teary-eyed boy. "But, no; why listen to Ty? What does he know about love? Well, you'd better either go to the hospital with a broken leg or win this match, or the captain will have your tight ass in a sling. You've been warned. Look at him. He isn't too happy with your performance; and I do mean on this court. Now get up and go take this guy for everything he has." Ty was a good friend to all the players and they valued his encouragement, most of the time. There were also rumors that he was best of friends with their coach, his uncle, Capt. Eulas. Slowly, painfully, Sammy rose to his feet. He winced at the sharp cut of the pain going through his thigh. But his look over at his coach convinced him to continue. "If I find out that boy had a cock in his ass or his mouth all night, instead of getting his rest last night, he won't be able to use either one for a week!" said the sturdy ex-marine to Ty as he returned to the side. He was a tough man and exacted harsh discipline on his boys when it was needed. He also caved in most of the time and loved them with a cuddle as they cried through the pain he'd just administered. Oh, it was really only spankings, but by the look on their faces, you'd have thought their asses would have cracked and fallen off. Sammy stood at the baseline and stared at the dark-haired boy waiting 78 feet from him. The only thing that separated them was the three and a half foot high net, stretched tight across the width of the clay court. He had never been more ready. He flowed through his serve, a little too hard. "Out!" He reached into his pocket for the second ball and felt the ache of his own young testicles moaning for freedom from their cramped space inside his tight jock strap, after enjoying a night of spitting up no less than three loads of sweet boy spunk into his lover's mouth and backside. He immediately eyed a smiling Gregory in the stands, that is, until his eyes fell to his coach and his look of stern resolve. He looked back at his nemesis for this day's play. His service this time was true and perfect. It whizzed by Benny like lightning, impossible to catch with his strong backswing. 'One more,' he thought as he moved to the other side along the baseline, and tossed the ball up. "Ace! Game! Set! Match! Gentlemen, nice match. Shake and thank you for your presentation." Benny smiled and ran to the net to shake his opponent's hand, but Sammy didn't see it that way. He stepped up to the net, reached out as if to grab the proffered extremity then pulled his arm back and walked to his chair. Some of the crowd was in awe at the rude gesture, but most of the attendees knew of the rivalry between the two teams of highly talented amateur boys. * * * * * * * * * * * No one could tell you why or when the feud between the two teams began. It didn't seem to matter anymore. It just was. When you were on the captain's team, Cap, they called him, you were expected to hate this particular rival team. When you were a member of the Montags you hated your opponents on the captain's team. Oh, not just the team or the fact that they were rivals. No, there was no truce away from the courts either, something that everyone into the game had been aware of for a long time. The captain's team was made up of the best of the best boys that lived on the north, posh end of the city. Of the team's young members, all between 12 and 18, only two were related to the captain. One was his nephew, Ty, his wife's nephew, really. While one of the smartest on the team and cognizant of the protocols and courtesies of life, he was also the most haughty and vain among them, throwing his slight weight around like the arrogant, but beautiful, 14 year old he was. He had his mother's eyes and hair, matching his siblings with his light blond hair and radiant blue eyes. The other of the captain's relatives was Julian, named for his mother's father. Julian was the youngest and newest boy on the captain's team and came to realize quite quickly that there was no advantage to being a blood relative to their strict coach. In fact, it was probably harder on him than most. For, you see, Julian was the coach's son. He hardly took after the swarthy, rugged exterior of the man that stood high over him when they hugged. His sparkling azure blue eyes and light blond hair came from his mother, Ty's aunt. There was something about those eyes, though. The fact that he was on the team at all told of his skill. That he was constantly sought after for interviews and tryouts for semi-pro teams told of the depth of his still raw talent. That it all happened in the short time he'd been allowed to play was , well, very exciting. As you read earlier, there were at least two more members of their elite team; Sammy and Gregory. Gregory was the second oldest on their team at 16. He was fair, as were the others, but he was a bit more, well, effeminate than the others. It never seemed to get in the way and really only showed itself in his lusty humor and expressive movements that always had his teammates in stitches. Sammy was a cute, outgoing beauty that had most people drooling over him. At 14, he was a constant force to be reckoned with on their young team as well as on the streets of their fair city. * * * * * * * * * * * "I saw you here earlier, behind the bleachers again, Roman. You never even noticed me, or anyone, for that matter. You should be more careful," said Benny. "Careful of what? Oh, you mean the captain's team? Bah! They won't hurt me. I don't care about all this feuding. It's stupid. And anyway. . . ." "You're in love," said Benny, completing his friend and cousin's sentence while holding his hands together at his heart and swooning into the air, like he was overcome with passion. Roman grimaced at the sight, which was clearly an impression of his actions of late. Yes, his was a heart of love. He only had eyes on one, the dreamy young lady named Rose. "Aw, forget her, Rome. She can't even see you. You deserve a lot better than her. She's stuck up in the clouds somewhere and will never let you stick her." "Benny! That's horrible. She won't? How can you tell?" Benny laughed at Roman for his pathetic interest in someone two years older and who was clearly not the slightest bit willing to return his admiration on anything but her bedroom mirror. "She's got the hots for that guy on another team. Not the captain's team but the Tigers or something. The guy's pretty lame from what I hear." Roman sighed and sat on a cross bar which served to hold up the bleachers. Benny put his hand on his cousin's shoulder. "You can do lots better 'n her, like I said. There's lots 'o pretty things out there just waiting to lock lips with you, even give ya a nice blow from time to time." Roman rolled his eyes at his friend who started to double over, laughing at his description. "You're so gross. I just want someone to hold and to hold me. I want someone to express myself to and . . . ." "And . . . ," answered Benny as he grabbed the steel support next to Roman and began to hump it, grotesquely. Roman got up and started to walk away. "Gross. That's all you think about, isn't it? Well, I'll show you what class is all about when I do meet that special someone. * * * * * * * * * * * "Perry, we have discussed this in depth. You are not taking Julian from here for at least two more years. He's too young to be on tour, making decisions on his own, without one of us with him." "Cap, you've got it all wrong. First, it will take a long time to get him into a high ranking, semi-pro status. It may well take those two years. Second, there are lots of young boys his age that are going into the advanced league. If he doesn't start now, he could lose his edge. Besides, your wife . . . ." "My wife can't make that decision behind my back. You can't coach him or do anything with him," said Cap Eulas, knowing full well what Perry had in store for his twelve year old son. And it had nothing to do with tennis. "Nothing happens without my okay.' "I beg your pardon," gasped the thin thirty year old professional training coach. "Oh, don't get your panties in a knot, beautiful. Everyone knows you're the best coach, by far, on this coast," Cap told him, making the man stand up straight and proud to the point of standing at an angle with his chin at just the right slant for the picture that never flashed. "Everyone also knows, or suspects what you do with those boys you're training so, um, hard." "Lies. All lies. I wouldn't hurt a fly. Why . . . ." "Okay. Enough. I'll tell you what. We'll meet in a few days. I'll invite you and you can talk to Julian and see how psyched he is about going on the amateur professional tour with a gay man that just wants into his pants." "What? Well, I never," said Perry, with flip of his wrist, storming out of the room; probably looking for some sweet thing to catch his fancy for the evening. Cap roared with laughter until well after Perry had slammed the door to the coach's home office. But he secretly feared for his son, whom he loved far more than he showed him. Just at that moment, little Peter stepped into the room, having passed Perry in the hallway. "What's wrong with him?" he said, pointing to the puff of steam that Perry left behind. Still chuckling softly, Cap told the young boy, "He wants to coach Julian and I told him he can't yet. Ha! Besides, my son isn't ready yet." "Oh-h," said Peter as he swung the captain's chair around until they were face-to-face. "That was a long match today. I think I need a nap," said the radiant boy as he started to pull on the captain's belt. "I gotta make sure you're rested though." "You do?" chuckled the captain, intrigued by the boy's pushy behavior. "Uh huh. So, I figure, the best way ta do that is ta wear ya out lots then take you to nap with me." The belt gone, he pulled the team polo shirt from the captain's slim waist and pushed it up his taut, muscular body. His fingers entwined with the luscious forest of chest hair as his small hands slid over the sharpened tips of the man's nipples. "Oh, so you want us to play baseball or maybe basketball until we're all worn out?" he teased, lifting his arms so the shirt could come off. "No. But I can think of another ball game I think would work," giggled Peter. He stepped back to admire the bold, hard torso of his mother's employer. He almost swooned at the sight, then swooped in for the button on those pants. The captain loved the game they constantly played. It had only been the last few weeks since they were getting serious in their play, and soon, he hoped they would crescendo to the ultimate game point for each. He grabbed at the short t-shirt on his elfin lover and pulled it over and off of his head, causing Peter to fallback to the floor on his bottom. "Hey! Owie kazowie. I could be bleeding," whined the little one, just turned nine the month before he'd arrived at the captain's house. "Oh, no!" cried the captain in mock horror. He grabbed up Peter, who was soon screaming and laughing, and tossed him around in his arms, causing most of his loose clothing to fall off of the tyke. He turned him every which way until the small backside was facing him. He planted a kiss on each cheek and then he lowered the boy into his big lap and hugged him to his furry chest. "M-m-m-m," said the small voice, filtered through the thick hair. "I love this position the most. I think this is how we should do it, Cap. I can just sit here and you can move up and down. M-m-m-m." "Peter, I've told you that there's no guarantee. It could take longer than we think. I would be so upset if I hurt you one little bit." He hugged a little tighter then pushed his warm toy out to arm's length and surveyed his prize. A small nine year old had been the winning entry on his mother's resume that spring when the captain sought a new cook for the household. When Cap met the boy he was huddled behind his mother and looked more like a frightened six year old. But that soon changed as the boy became familiar with the house, the area and the goings on of the captain. His long dark brown hair was a glossy waterfall, spouting its luxurious locks from the top of his head to just above his thin shoulders. Even in the winter his skin was golden, setting off the dark hazel eyes and thick lashes and brows, making his face seem a little mysterious with so much as a wink from the precocious boy. His mother was thrilled that her employer and her son hit it off so well. She was constantly telling everyone in the household how much more outgoing Peter was around guests and family members, that is, unless he was with the captain. Then he'd just stay as close as the captain would let him, without being in one of his pockets. Captain Eulas pulled the boy to him, the small back touching the hairy chest, and played with the small chest, tweaking tiny bumps at the middle of nickel sized nipples. One hand soon glided down the tight tummy to the waistband of the boy's white briefs, the only kind that Cap would let him wear. But the boy hated to wear boxers, too. That hand slipped inside with a gasp from Peter when a finger touched the tip of the hard pencil within its confines. The captain was in no hurry and loved to tease his little charge until he almost screamed. "Oh, Cap! Grab me! Don't make me wait! Just touch me and I'll do the shivers all day long. Oh, yes!" The 'shivers' was always the captain's goal for Peter, at least twice during playtime, sometimes three and once, a total of five times on a lazy afternoon when the captain was recovering from a sprained ankle and everyone else was at school or somewhere else. Cap flicked his finger, hitting the head of Peter's prick, though Cap called it 'My Prick.' Peter squirmed and jumped as the captain rubbed and kneaded the sensitive skin between Peter's belly button and his small cock. The groans floated into Cap's ears as rich and pure as a river of flowing brandy, making him lean back and enjoy the intoxicating sounds and feelings. But Peter had an agenda, as he usually did. He liked, no, loved the attention he got from his Cap, but he also lived to love him back, giving him anything that Cap would take from the young beauty. He jumped from the strong clutches and ripped off his white shorts. Naked and glowing as hot young beauties seem to do, he grabbed at the captain's crotch and started pulling off his pants. The captain started to laugh again, causing Peter to sneer at his lack of help. Finally, he lifted his butt off of the chair so his pants could come off. Still the boy was having trouble, until he stood up, crossed his thin arms in front of him and did a big, 'Humpfph!' in serious indignation. "I can't do it again," he said. "I hate your tennis pants." "Well, I love you and I wouldn't want you to have to pout anymore," Cap continued to tease. He lifted himself a little and started to push his white pants off his legs. "No-o-o-o! I can't wait!" said the little guy as he reached in and grabbed the captain's jockstrap as well. He pulled as hard as he could until he again landed on his butt with pants covering most of his body. They both laughed at the scene as the boy rose and walked to his big lover. He pushed the captain's hands off of his thighs, pushed his knees apart and knelt before the crotch in front of him as the goal of his work began to expand and grow. Peter groaned as he watched his next meal get even bigger. He breathed in the musky scent, mixed with the smell of sandalwood soap. He lapped at the tip as it passed by on its way to full glory. He looked up into the awed eyes of the man and dove onto his feast until two inches were in his hot, tight mouth. He gnawed and mangled the smooth meat, trying to keep his teeth behind his lips. After all, he hadn't been at his new found favorite game for too long; since he got to the captain's house, actually. He slobbered and sloshed around on the appendage without a goal in mind, just happy to satisfy his need for the obelisk to be in him. He loved the captain's long cock. He never thought about the circumference. It wasn't horribly wide, but the captain knew it would take some stretching to get it into the tiny crevasse where they both wanted it so desperately. The captain was beside himself in joy and lust. He laughed merrily at the small boy's attempts to please him before he realized that the little squirt was busy satisfying his own needs. Then he noticed the boy's hand move toward his own small peg, even touching the tip. "Uh, uh, Peter! That's mine to play with, remember?" Peter looked up from his work, careful not to lift his mouth from Cap's tool. He squinted his eyes and nodded, then resumed his thrust onto his favorite popsicle, a little too far. He rose up choking and gasping when he released the behemoth that had lodged momentarily in his throat. "Oh my God, Peter! That was amazing. You almost had me standing up at that one. We'll certainly have to work on that." He breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't lose his load quite yet and settled back for more joyful attention. "Maybe you need to find someone with a bigger throat thing until I can do you, Cap? Like your son, maybe." SLAP! "Leave my son out of this! Never mention him again in this way, do you understand? He's never going to be a slut if I can help it!" shouted the angry man, grabbing Peter by the shoulders and hauling him to his feet in front of the sitting man. "Y-yes, sir! I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean anything. I thought you loved him, too?" the frightened boy whined, on the verge of tears. "Huh? Well, of course I love him." Cap released Peter who rubbed his arms. His mind went off to another place as he saw his son before him, naked. As the image began to kneel before him, just as Peter had done minutes before, he shook himself back to reality. Then he noticed a shivering, sobbing Peter standing with fear caked across his flushed, wet face. "Oh, Peter. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to . . . ." He reached for the boy, who shuddered and closed his eyes tightly, scared of what might come next. "Oh, no, no, Peter. No more. I'm sorry. I love you so much. Please come to me. Please." Instead of grabbing the boy he simply held out his arms. It was up to the boy. Peter looked at the man's face, his eyes really. He was scared until he saw what he needed to, then he knew that it was okay. He saw a tear in each of Cap's dark brown eyes. He fell into the man's arms and sobbed. When the crying changed into heavy breathing, trying to get his breathing back to normal, Peter asked his comforter, "Sir, uh, Cap? What's a slut?" * * * * * * * * * * * Dexter Prince had just about had it with the feud. As director of the local tennis association it was up to him to keep the peace. It had gone on too long for his liking. "I'm sick of this crap at my matches! I want a letter sent out to all member teams in the association that if anymore displays of unsportsmanlike conduct show up like today at any match, that child will be eliminated from further play in this city. Also, state that I will do my best to have him removed from the state's roster. By the time I get done with that kid, he'll wish he were dead." He sat for a moment to collect his wits and his thoughts. He hated the way their petty fighting was affecting his tournaments and the audiences. "Oh, and add that the team will be sanctioned; eliminated from the next tourney, too. Ha! That ought to raise some eyebrows." He sat back in his armchair and sighed. He had finally taken a stand. He'd resisted too long. He didn't care that his wife's nephew was part of the Montag's establishment; he just wanted it all over. * * * * * * * * * * * The end of Chapter One I have two plus more completed. Let me know if you want me to go on. It will not go on endlessly. There is definitely an end to this story. Matt Matemp1148@yahoo.com