Victory Tour
Copyright© 2023 by Alured de Valer
Chapter 66: Wednesday, Oct. 17
Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 66: Wednesday, Oct. 17 - The continuing adventures of Gary Robinson and the gang from Best Summer Ever. How will our hero handle juggling playing football, his growing number of girlfriends and his senior year of high school? Let's find out! I'll try to post every Saturday, but don't hold me to that.
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Teenagers Consensual Heterosexual Fiction School Sports Incest Brother Sister DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Spanking Interracial Black Female White Male White Female Oriental Female Hispanic Female Anal Sex First Massage Oral Sex Pregnancy Safe Sex Squirting
I swear to God, the next time I get a week off from school I’m sleeping in every damn day. This getting up just as early as when school is in session is for the birds!
“Good morning, Daddy!” Marie chirped when I stuck my head into the kitchen. “I got more fresh fruit when I did the grocery shopping if you’d like that for breakfast.”
“Sounds good, baby,” I said, leaning in to grab a smooch. “Let me go wash up and get dressed.”
Since I’d showered before leaving the agency yesterday evening and had done nothing more than sit and write last night, I just had a quick wipedown in the sink and washed my face.
A check of the weather showed it was still raining, but not as hard and it was expected to stop at some point. At 53 degrees, it was a good bit warmer than the last two mornings.
I went ahead and dressed in khakis and a T-shirt, grabbing one of the windbreakers Marie had brought from the house. It didn’t feel too small, but it was noticeably less baggy on me than it had been last year. It would work for today and other times I wouldn’t care about my appearance, but I foresaw the purchase of bigger sizes in my future.
I’d let the girls handle it, but I reserved the right to veto their choices. I had a specific style I preferred and tended to stick with primary colors. There would be no aquamarine or fuchsia in my closet.
I sat down at the table as Marie placed a plate with fresh fruit, cheese toast and bacon in front of me. I put the bacon on the toast and made a little sandwich, then chowed down. This would be enough to get me to lunch without fear of losing it during practice.
“Let me check how your jacket fits,” Marie commanded after I finished my pineapple juice.
I stood and extended my arms up, to the sides and front as the little waif ran her hands over my shoulders and down my arms.
“You’re going to need a bigger size,” she determined. “I doubt you could even zip that all the way up.”
“The good thing is these light jackets aren’t meant to zip all the way up,” I said. “If it’s that cold, it’s time for a heavier coat. I hardly ever zip it past my navel.”
“You’d better get moving, Daddy,” she said. “It’s after 6:30. Your detail should be here. I’ll see you tonight.”
“See ya,” I said, getting one last kiss before grabbing my backpack and stepping out the door.
The black SUV was waiting in the driveway. I hurried to get in the back seat behind the driver, thinking I should have worn a cap to give me a little protection from the rain.
“Good morning,” I said as I buckled up. “I have no idea what the schedule’s going to be like today. It all depends on the weather.”
“We’ll adapt,” Sarge grunted as he backed out of the drive.
We were about halfway to the high school when Sarge said the words that pretty much set the tone for my day.
“We’ve got a tail,” he growled.
“On it,” Buck said. “Looks like they’re just following for now. No need to do anything yet. We don’t want to let ‘em know we’ve made ‘em if we can avoid it.”
I looked around in a panic, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Sarge proceeded to the high school, keeping up with the flow of traffic. Several cars continued past us when we turned onto the street that went down the east side of the campus. I wondered which one was the one following us.
“Thanks, guys,” I said as Sarge pulled up to the fieldhouse. “See y’all after practice.”
I stepped into the locker room and was informed we would once again be practicing at the university’s indoor facility. Right now, I’d better hurry my butt up and get changed for flexibility exercises. We were burnin’ daylight.
The Short One, Fernando Hernandez, was the one who tried to twist me into a pretzel today. Of course, he had to give me shit. At least it wasn’t about my love life. Not directly, anyway.
“Meli’s worried about you,” he said. “You haven’t been to FB in more than a week. She’s afraid Antonia did or said something to offend you.”
“Nothing like that,” I grunted as he pushed my legs back, almost making my toes touch above my shoulders. “Just been kinda busy. Tell her I’ll visit just as soon as I can.”
I wasn’t about to tell one of my teammates I was hesitant to return to the restaurant just in case anyone on the staff was aware of my trip to the ladies room with Ny’Quesha. And I damn sure wasn’t going to say anything about it with Marshawn in the same room.
After the torture session was finished, we reported to the team room for more film study on the Cougars. I tried to pay particular attention to their front seven, looking for anything that might tip us off as to when they were blitzing. I noticed they’d bring a safety from time to time. In those cases, the inside linebacker on that side dropped a little deeper. Basically, they were switching positions on those plays.
Right at 8, Coach Tucker came through blowing his whistle, signaling that it was time to get taped and dressed. We repeated the process of the last two mornings and were loaded up heading for the university before the man had reason to complain.
The trip down went as fast as one could hope and we were on the facility’s 60-yard field stretching when Coach Tucker blew his whistle to get things started. Morgan had again taken possession of my backpack and again complained about the weight.
“You need to dump some of this stuff,” she grumped.
“But then you wouldn’t get your extra lifting in,” I smirked, earning a swat on the arm.
Practice was practice. We proceeded through the segments, spending one on the script and another on the two-minute drill. The coaches did a lot of shouting during the latter, telling us to pick it up. Then they upped the level of difficulty by subbing in random guys. You never knew when someone would get an owie that wasn’t serious enough to warrant stopping the clock.
The last segment before special teams was our weekly bit on the option. I again was called on to shadow Reggie and even took a few snaps at quarterback for some reason. The college coaches, who officially were just hanging around so they could begin setting up for their practice as soon as we finished, paid even closer attention when I was told to get under center with both Jed and Wes snapping.
I never came close to keeping the ball as several guys on defense took turns forcing the pitch when the dive wasn’t there. I considered myself fortunate that none of them hit me. I wasn’t wearing a red vest today.
I don’t know what Coach Tucker was planning, but I got the feeling the coaching gossip mill would be busy tonight.
Finally, it was time for gassers, huddle, “TEAM!” on three. The college coach I’d spoken to the last couple of days flagged me down as I went to retrieve my backpack, which held my change of clothes. Except for the windbreaker. Morgan had donned it, she said, because she was chilly. It certainly didn’t make that much of a change in the backpack’s weight.
“I want to ask you about the option stuff,” the college coach said.
“Our first game was against an option team,” I said. “Coach Tucker had me quarterback the scout team that week. I guess he saw something he liked. We’ve worked on it one segment a week since.”
“Do you always take snaps under center?” he asked.
“No, sir,” I said. “I think the coaches are still deciding whether to go with that, pistol or shotgun if we ever run it. Reggie’s only taken a few snaps under center when we practice it.”
“Uh-huh,” the guy grunted. “I’d better let you go change. Our guys will be here before long.”
“Yes, sir,” I said and hustled over to the college locker room for what I hoped was the last time.
I again decided to wait until I got to the studio to shower and quickly stripped out of my gear. I got everything arranged for Jed, cut off my tape and dressed in civvies before loading up and returning to the practice field. Marvin Johnson was just starting to come check on me when I stepped back inside.
“Gimme your stuff,” he said. “I’ll make sure it’s taken care of. Your ride’s waitin.’”
“Thank you, sir,” I said, handing him the gear.
I looked for Morgan — she’d never returned my windbreaker — only to learn she’d already departed. Good thing it wasn’t all that cold, but I couldn’t help but think I would definitely need new clothes if all my girlfriends began claiming items. Marie was bad enough, but at least she kept it confined to the apartment. I think.
Sarge and Buck were ready to roll when I got to the black SUV.
“Still there?” Buck asked after we’d gone a few blocks.
“Yep,” Sarge said. “It’s like they’re not even tryin’ to hide. That, or they just don’t know how.”
“The plates came back as a rental,” Buck said. “We’ve either got an out-of-towner or local talent trying to look like an out-of-towner.”
I don’t know how the guys up front felt about the situation, but I was getting tired of this shit. I was almost to the point of asking Sarge to pull over so I could confront whoever was following us around, but I had a pretty good idea how well that would go over with the professionals.
We again swung through Sonic for lunch and continued on to the agency. Upon arrival, I again thanked Sarge for the ride and hurried inside to get cleaned up.
When I went to hair and makeup, I was told to cool my jets. Armand was trying to make sure things were set up at the club while still overseeing things here. Kinda hard to be in two places at once.
I took advantage of the situation and found a relatively quiet spot and got back to reading Western Civ. I’d been at it nearly an hour, getting a good chunk of it out of the way, when Armand came rushing over to inform me of the plan.
“We can use one of the indoor tennis courts, but we have to hurry,” he said. “Some little girl has a lesson this evening and some club members have been hogging the others all day. Are you set for a ride?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Let me pack up and we can head that way.”
“Oh, I won’t be going,” he said. “Too many fires to put out here. Zander was a no-show again and there are some unhappy people I have to deal with.”
Probably starting with Zander, I thought, or at least his handlers.
I hated to interrupt Sarge as he surreptitiously ogled the female models. I think he was enjoying this assignment, but he fell in without question when I told him I needed a lift to Prairie Star Country Club. With one last look over his shoulder and a sigh, he led me out to the SUV, where Buck was on the phone.
“I’ll have to get back to you,” the man in the shotgun seat said as I climbed in. “We’re about to get rollin.’”
As we pulled out of the parking lot, he turned to me.
“Kid, I don’t know what you got yourself into, but word is some big names are sniffin’ around,” he said. “We’ve got surveillance teams goin’ every which way.”
“It’s not more paparazzi, is it?” I asked, wondering if I was somehow linked to another Hollywood scandal.
“Doesn’t look like it,” he said. “You just keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
I looked over my game plan a little more during the trip and felt I had a good enough grasp on things to pass tomorrow’s test. It’s not like I was going to be a central figure on Friday night, anyway.
When we reached the club, I directed Sarge over to the tennis center. I was glad it had finally quit raining.
I entered the pro shop to find Mom and Aunt Patty deep in conversation with Serge, the tennis pro, and several folks from the agency. It looked like we had someone from hair and makeup, another from wardrobe and a couple of other assistants in addition to the photographer.
Serge seemed very interested in finding out who to contact to see about stocking some of these items. I’m pretty sure it would be a few months before they were available to retailers.
Mom took possession of my backpack when I was ordered to the women’s dressing room, of all places, to get prettied up. I understood the reasoning when I was directed to a mirror that was surrounded by makeup lights. We certainly didn’t have that in the men’s dressing room.
The door was blocked open with one of the assistants standing guard as the lady working on me did a rush job. I understood why when I stepped out to see a couple of club members waiting impatiently. One gave me a look that was somewhere between curious and outraged as she pushed past me. I think she had to go.
The wardrobe lady was standing by with the same clothes I’d worn Monday, the photographer picked out the set he wanted to start with and I was sent to change. This time in the men’s dressing room.
We then went out to repeat the work we’d done Monday. While the indoor courts had pretty good lights, the agency had sent along several standing lamps that had to be positioned so they wouldn’t be in any shots but still bring the lighting up to the level the photographer required. One of the assistants spent a lot of time running around with a light meter to get readings from different spots.
The method to Mom’s madness became apparent when I stepped on the court to see the walls plastered with Prairie Star logos. There was no way the photographer could avoid having them in a shot. A look out the window showed the windscreens on the outdoor courts were also covered in the design.
Funny. I don’t remember them being like that the last time I visited the tennis center.
One thing that we did differently today was Serge lobbed balls from the other side of the net for me to chase down and hit. The photographer also stood on the other side of the net, constantly reminding me not to hit him. That was unlikely as most of my efforts went into the net or well wide. I was just glad I didn’t hit any of the lamps.
I again changed shirts out in the open, causing a few ladies on adjoining courts to stop their games and come over to get a better look. It was almost as bad as when the cabana attendants lifted weights at the Activity Center during the summer.
We’d been at it nearly two hours and had stopped so I could catch my breath and the makeup lady could touch me up when I heard an excited squeal just seconds before a smaller version of my sister slammed into me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
“Gary!” Kirsten almost shrieked. “Did you come to watch my lesson?”
“Not exactly, chipmunk,” I chuckled. “I’m working right now. I think your lesson is on another court.”
“And not for another half hour,” Serge said. “Why don’t you come help me until it’s time?”
That sounded like a great idea to Kirsten and the photographer. She’d get to watch me while Serge kept her out of camera range.
I looked up to see Grandma and Kacie had joined Mom and Aunt Patty. I didn’t realize my grandmother had returned from the fall foliage tour with Aunt Karen. I thought they’d be gone another day or two.
At the risk of royally pissing off the photographer, I went to give Grandma and Kacie hugs.
“How was your trip?” I asked.
“Very good, but I was ready to get back home where I can understand what people are saying,” my grandmother said. “Those folks in Vermont have strange accents.”
And the folks in Vermont probably thought the same thing about Grandma. I could just hear her trying to explain to some beleaguered wait person that she’d ordered “swait tay.” My grandmother was pretty rural, after all.
Kacie took what I thought was an extreme risk when she asked if she could come over to the apartment this evening. I took that to mean Bob wasn’t getting it done for her. It had been a while since we’d had any time together.
“I don’t know how late we’re going to go tonight,” I said, causing my sister to pout prettily. “And I have to get up early for practice tomorrow. Maybe after the game Friday.”
Kacie whined in frustration at the news.
“I brought your car,” she said. “You can at least give me a ride home.”
“I’d be glad to, but Mom might make you go with her when she leaves,” I said. “I gotta get back to work, now.”
The makeup lady had to check to make sure I hadn’t destroyed her work as the photographer grew a little more impatient. I half expected him to claim I was burnin’ daylight, or at least wasting his time.
Kirsten seemed to enjoy her part in the endeavor, giggling somewhat evilly as she tossed balls that were just beyond my reach. There were a couple I didn’t even try for. No way was I risking pulling a muscle because of her antics. I didn’t want to have to explain to Coach that I’d hurt myself getting my picture taken.
I don’t know if I or the photographer was more relieved when Serge handed her off to an assistant pro for her lesson.
I had to return to the dressing room to change shorts a few times. I was only mildly surprised my little cousin didn’t try to sneak in to get a peek. I think it helped that her mother and Grandma were around to keep her reined in. And she seemed pretty busy with her lesson.
It was almost 8 when I was finally told we were done. The photographer seemed pleased with the shots he’d gotten, but would have to go back to the agency to look at them on a bigger screen.
I went to shower and dress, taking advantage of the grooming items the club stocked in the dressing room. I stepped out into the pro shop to be confronted by my mother.
“Your grandmother wants to have dinner with you,” Mom said, handing me a powder blue club polo. “Go change and give me that T-shirt. It’s a little rank and not appropriate for the dining rooms, anyway.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, taking the polo and going to do her bidding.
While I had some time and privacy, I took the opportunity to call Marie and inform her of my dinner plans. The little waif sounded disappointed, but understood the importance of doing what my grandmother wanted.
I returned and found Mom to exchange the stinky T-shirt for my backpack. She’d take Kacie, who insisted on giving me a big hug and a peck on the cheek. My sister was disappointed at being denied a chance for a real kiss. To be honest, so was I.
Grandma was discussing the schedule for Kirsten’s lessons with Serge. My little cousin seemed eager to learn the game.
“She’s got good footwork and hand-eye coordination,” Serge said. “She could be a good one by the time she gets into high school.”
“Until she discovers boys,” Grandma muttered. “Maybe we can keep her distracted for a few years.”
While they were talking, I looked around the pro shop at various items. I still needed to get Kirsten a birthday present and figured something tennis-related would be appropriate. One thing that caught my eye was one of those racket bags like the professional players use, only the ones on display had the club logo. The model held six rackets in addition to a couple of side pockets for smaller items. The straps could be configured so it could be slung over a shoulder or worn like a backpack.
They even had one that was almost the exact shade of blue as our school colors. And it only cost about $80, but I was willing to bet I could get it at cost. There had to be some benefit to being the general manager’s kid.
I’d have to check with Mom on that. And with Aunt Patty to see if anyone else was looking to give Kirsten something similar.
“Ready to eat?” Grandma asked, coming over to see what I was looking at after she finished with the tennis pro.
“Yes, ma’am,” I smiled. “I worked up a pretty good appetite getting my picture taken.”
“You should think about taking up tennis,” Grandma said as we headed toward the exit. “You looked pretty good out there. I’m sure Kirsten would love to have a regular playing partner.”
“Let me get through football season first,” I grinned. “I think I’d be about as good at tennis as I am at golf.”
And I wasn’t real sure it would be a good idea to spend that much time with my little cousin. She still hadn’t given up hope of being my girlfriend.
I escorted my grandmother across the parking lot to the main building, making a quick detour to drop my backpack in the trunk of the Beemer, which Kacie had parked right outside the tennis center. Instead of the main dining room, Grandma directed me to one of the little private dining rooms on the other side of the kitchen. It was the type of room where the George Pattersons of the world decided who should be governor.
Grandma had no problem with me ordering a steak. Heck, as far as she was concerned, Grandpa may well have raised the beeve it came from. And she went with a little filet herself.
Our server made sure we had a pitcher of tea on the table before hustling off to turn in our order. Now all alone, my grandmother wasted no time starting in on me.
“Tell me about this situation you’ve gotten herself into,” she said in a tone that was Grandma-sweet, but definitely a command I’d better obey.
“Believe me, I’m not trying to pull anything,” I said carefully, “but just which situation?”
I could think of three or four off the top of my head. I knew Mom would be informed of everything I said before the end of the evening. I just wanted to be prepared for whatever would be coming my way by bedtime.
“Let’s start with Saturday night,” she said. “Your grandfather said you were involved in a shooting.”
“More like I was nearby when a shooting occurred,” I said. “I invited one of my teammates to join me when I took Morgan to Morton’s provided he find his own date. The one he found was a cheerleader from the school we played last week.
“Some fellow she’d gone out with before and a couple of his buddies didn’t like it and decided to let us know they didn’t like it. The security people had everything under control before the fool tried to pull a gun.”
“And what about the one today that has the security folks in such a tizzy?” she said. “Why are people following you around?”
“That’s a very good question,” I said. “I wish I knew.”
“Then tell me what you suspect,” Grandma ordered.
“OK, but I have no proof that there’s any connection,” I said. “A couple of days ago, I accidentally learned who set the paparazzi on me. It was one of the models at the agency. He was talking to the reporter who caused most of the trouble. It sounded like they were setting up a meeting to plan the next story on me.
“Then the guy said he had to be careful his boyfriend didn’t find out he was going out with someone else. I managed to get word to the boyfriend.”
“What do you mean by boyfriend?” Grandma asked, looking a little dubious.
“Just what it sounds like,” I said. “The model is gay. He even tried to hit on me a while back. I turned him down, of course. I think that was part of his motivation to set me up.”
“What other motivation could he have?” Grandma asked.
“That I publicly called him out for continually messing up one of the ads we were shooting,” I said. “He was causing things to run long and I had a date to get ready for. I sorta lost my patience with him.”
“Just what did you say?” my grandmother demanded, narrowing her eyes.
“That if he didn’t pull his head out of his butt, he’d have my foot next to his face,” I said.