“Mum, I don’t understand why he won’t play me.” It was a familiar lament to Chantelle, whose teenage son, Oliver, had once again been overlooked for a starting place on his local soccer team.
All Mums wanted their sons to be happy and by not playing, she knew that Oliver was not. Unlike other parents, however, Chantelle had seen her son in action and knew enough about the game to realise that he had reasonable grounds for complaint.
Unlike other Mums – and certainly other Dads – she was prepared to do something about it.
“You go on ahead, sweetie,” she told Oliver. It was only half a mile to walk home and he was used to doing it. “I’ll go back and talk to the coach. What’s his name?”
“Rob,” Oliver replied. “You know he almost made it professionally. He’ll only tell you that you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“But I do know what I’m talking about,” Chantelle replied, smiling to herself at how naive her son was being, although it was best he didn’t know what she was thinking of.
“Whatever.”
“Okay, see you later,” Chantelle said as she turned to go back to the park where not five minutes earlier it had been a hubbub of noise and activity as various junior teams were put through their paces.
Much quieter now, she spotted Rob as she re-entered the park, nodding politely to a couple walking their dog who lived a few doors down from her. He was joking around with another coach, a bag of balls clutched under his arm.
Chantelle estimated he was in her early 30s. He couldn’t be much older than that, while his short black hair and absence of any facial hair probably made him look a year or two younger than he was.
For her part, Chantelle, now in her early 40s, reckoned she could pass for a thirtysomething too. With her mid-length blonde hair, ample bosom and pretty face, she’d never had a problem attracting the attention of men.
“Rob!” She smiled as she called to him.
“Chantelle, is it?” Rob sensed what was coming.
“My boy’s not happy with not playing. What’s going on?”
Rob was used to parents wanting their children to play. It went with the territory. Most Dads thought they knew better, but usually came round to his way of thinking, perhaps because most had played the game themselves.
Chantelle seemed different. He didn’t sense his usual patter, explaining that he knew best from his years of experience in the game, would work. Besides, she kind of had a point. Oliver was a good player but you can, after all, only field 11 players at a time.
She was having none of it. “We both knew he’s good enough. I get you want to get results but surely at this age it’s about having fun. Everybody needs to get a game, don’t you think?”
Rob hated it when people said that. He’d been brought up to win at all costs. He had never played anything just to have fun or take part. While he recognised he was no longer in a professional environment, his approach hadn’t changed.
“Look, Chantelle, I hear what you’re saying, I really do, but I’m not going to change my line-up because you ask me to. Otherwise every parent will do it.”
“Not every parent has a case like mine.”
Annoyingly for Rob, she was bang on the money. It was easy for him to send an eager Dad who thought he was God’s gift to football because he’d downloaded a tactic from the internet and taken his local side to glory on Football Manager on his way if his son was not big enough or not very good. Not so a forceful, demanding mother whose son clearly had what it takes.
“Come on, there must be something I can do to make you change your mind,” Chantelle added, winking.
Rob sighed. “Okay. Suck my dick and he plays.”
If that’s what it would take, then so be it. It wouldn’t the first time Chantelle had put out to further her family’s ambitions. She nodded. “Works for me.”
“Pick up that bag of balls and head over to the groundsman’s shed,” Rob ordered, gesturing to the small hut that doubled up as a changing room. “I’ll follow in five minutes.” He wanted to make sure that nobody could work out that they’d both gone in but not come out.
Chantelle nodded again and moved straight over to the bag of balls, picking them up and marching over to the hut. It didn’t look particularly comfortable or warm, but at least she would be remaining fully clothed.
She sat and waited, playing on her phone and texting Oliver to check he’d got home fine. A few minutes passed before she heard Rob enter and lock the door. There’d been hardly anyone about so he judged it safe to enter. Besides, if anybody saw them he’d simply say they were discussing something of a sensitive nature.
“Is there a towel or cushion or anything here?” Chantelle asked. She didn’t fancy kneeling down on the hard floor.
Rob rummaged around in another bag he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a blue towel. He threw it towards her. She grasped it and asked, “Are you standing or sitting for this?” There was no point hanging around with pleasantries.
“I’ll stand.”
Chantelle smiled as she shuffled over to where Rob was standing, placing the towel on the floor. She playfully grabbed his crotch and squeezed gently. “Trousers off, then” she whispered in his ear as she dropped to her knees.
Rob unbuckled his belt and Chantelle did the rest, yanking down his trousers and pants in one swift motion. She leaned upwards and got an eyeful of his cock as he playfully wiggled his hips, his member swinging gently and slapping her on the face.
“Well, hello, big boy,” Chantelle grinned as she wrapped her mouth around the end of his dick and cupped his balls with her hands. She knew that it was always worth stroking a man’s ego as much as his cock.
And there was plenty of stroking going on. She alternated between rubbing his cock, licking his shaft and sucking him off, particularly once she’d got him fully hard. Although his firm dick almost filled her mouth, he wasn’t the biggest dick she’d taken. That would belong to a trucker she’d once shared a cab with.
As she worked his cock with her mouth, she could feel him starting to quiver a little, a sure sign she was making him feel good. Actually, she was feeling good too. He had a smooth shaft and it glided effortlessly inside her mouth as she teased him by jabbing her tongue against the tip of his dick.
Thinking about it, and Chantelle often allowed herself to reminisce about previous sexual liaisons during sex acts as it helped make the experience more pleasurable, or the time pass quicker, his was possibly the smoothest shaft she’d played with.
Taking his dick out of her mouth, she slowed things down a little, letting out a little groan or two as she stroked his cock while licking his shaft. “You want to see some ball control?” she winked at Rob, who thought now was a strange time to engage in football-related punnery.
He nodded and smiled, though. He wasn’t going to complain as he was thoroughly enjoying himself and that feeling of pleasure mounted as Chantelle fed both his balls into her mouth, gagging as she did so. There was just enough room for her to get a decent sucking motion going.
Still wanking his cock as she did so, Chantelle closed her eyes. She really did enjoy sucking dick. She’d had a lot of practice, but the feeling of a man filling her mouth, and making him explode with pleasure with her lips and tongue really turned her on. The taste of cum was the only downside, but then she was never obliged to swallow, was she?
Opening her eyes again, she switched so she was now fondling Rob’s balls and took his dick back in her mouth. While her son was a natural central midfielder, this was her best position: on her knees, mouth full of dick, hands around a man’s balls, sucking and stroking a man to orgasm.
She could by now feel Rob’s breath on her face, making it clear that the heavier he was breathing, the closer he was to coming. Chantelle smiled, and looked up at him. Still stroking his dick for all she was worth, she paused from sucking momentarily.
“Give me your best shot,” she told him. Rob laughed. This was an open goal he couldn’t miss. Chantelle locked her eyes on his, pouting as best she could while she sucked hard, squeezed his balls and used her tongue to jam down hard around the tip of his cock. That was a trick that almost always worked and the more she stimulated the top of his dick with her tongue, the more she could sense him about to lose control.
Come on, she thought to herself, as her tongue danced around his cock like a cat on a hot tin roof. Spunk in my mouth. He was a fit bloke and his stamina had forced her to go on for longer than she had for a while. She might start flagging before too long and this wasn’t a game of two halves.
Fortunately, her desires were soon met as Rob couldn’t hold on for much longer. With a final writhe of his body, and an enormous sigh, he shot his load. Chantelle could feel the unmistakable sense of warm cum dripping into her mouth and she tried to avoid grimacing as she swallowed it.
She dropped her head and handed Rob the towel on which she’d been kneeling to wipe himself down as she stood up. Her knees were sore and her arms ached. She could taste nothing but his dick and cum. But it was worth it to get Oliver back in the team.
Rob pulled up his pants and trousers, trying to regain his composure, taking care not to trap his dick as he did up his flies. Chantelle had done her bit. Her son would be back on the team but it would be up to him to stay there.
“If Oliver plays half as well as you suck cock, he’ll be fine,” Rob joked, as Chantelle made her way out of the hut, smiling to herself as she did so.
If Oliver plays anywhere near as well as I suck dick, he’ll be playing for England in no time, she thought.