For Love of a Dream 1

FOR LOVE OF A DREAM - 1

All rights reserved. Other than downloading one copy for strictly personal enjoyment, no part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, except for reviews, without the written permission of the author. However based on real events and places, "For Love of a Dream" is strictly fictional. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Further, as in real life, sexual themes unfold gradually. Comments on the story are appreciated and may be addressed to the author at carl_mason@verizon.net

If you would like to read additional stories by this author, please turn to the "Authors/Prolific Authors" link at the beginning of the Nifty Archive.

This story contains descriptions of sexual contact between males, both adults and teenagers. As such, it is homoerotic fiction designed for the personal enjoyment of legal, hopefully mature, adults. If you are not of legal age to read such material, if those in power and/or those whom you trust treat it as illegal, or if it would create unresolvable moral dilemmas in your life, please leave. Finally, remember that maturity generally demands safe sex.

CHAPTER 1

(A Moment to Remember)

You could see him amongst his teammates as Crocker Memorial's team pushed off the field with its first California State Soccer Championship ever. The previous champion had proved why it had held the trophy for three seasons - as well as why it fully deserved to be playing for its fourth straight crown. Indeed, at the very end of the game - in the dusty golden light of latest afternoon - the overflow crowd was cheering for great plays by both teams! Under Nelson Sears, their blond-haired captain, however, the Cougars of Crocker Memorial had played a game that would have stretched many a fine college team...and the trophy was theirs! Had it not been for two balls that he had personally headed into the net, and a trademarked penalty kick that left their goalie flat on his derrière, however, the moment might have been lost!

As the turbulent crowd of players and fans approached, it became harder to miss their captain. Great gashes had been ripped in his dark green jersey, revealing a sculpted torso that would have graced Olympus. Beneath a shock of golden hair that damply glistened in the sunlight, the young man's handsome face was wreathed in ecstatic smiles. One brawny arm was clamped onto the shoulders of a brown haired teammate; the other more gently caressed the waist of an excited, very attractive young lady. As the Cougar band struck up the Crocker Memorial Alma Mater for the mass of students and adults still in the stands, the triumphal procession swept on towards the athletic complex.

The scene in the locker room was that of a veritable madhouse! Normally, only players and staff were allowed past the main door. Others...parents, school officials, friends, even most reporters...could wait until the boys had showered and dressed. After the greatest victories, however - the ones that would go into the academy's record books...and trophy cases - Coach tended to relax. Today, as the roaring wave burst through the outer doors, the aisles and even the approaches to the shower area were quickly jammed with celebratory students and adults. As the crowd slowly cleared the locker area, the scene was further complicated by waves of billowing steam that dimmed even the brightest lights and raised the temperature to the level of the Amazonian rain forest!

It was a good half hour before most of the crowd had been cleared and the team members could begin to shower. Even then the area remained noisy and congested. Eventually, after stripping off the soggy remnants of his uniform, Nels threw a towel over his shoulder and headed for the showers. He had barely made it halfway, however, before his path was blocked by the Headmaster and two of the most influential men in the area. Nels knew both of the Headmaster's companions, for they and their wives were frequent visitors at his home. Obviously still working on adrenalin, Dr. Casey placed an enormous hand around the back of the exultant sixteen year old's neck and grinned down at him. "Sears, you and your team have done us proud!" he chortled. "You know Mr. King and Dr. Cruthers," he stated. "Yes, sir," the sweaty lad answered smoothly without the slightest sign of discomfort. Grinning, he added, "I'm glad we could show them a good afternoon!" King, a major financial mover in "The City" ["San Francisco" in the local patois] stepped forward, laying his hand on a powerful shoulder. "We're all proud of you, Captain!" the tall, distinguished figure pronounced. At that point, Dr. Cruthers stepped forward, affectionately brushed a lock of wet hair out of the blond's eyes, and murmured, "And your dad will be out of his blinking mind! Move it, Big Guy! Get your shower so you can get out of here!" "Thanks, sir," the youngster responded warmly, moving quickly through the gap that the good doctor provided. Receiving a backhanded slap on a memorable set of glutes as he strode past, he turned briefly, grinned mischieviously, and continued working his way toward the showers.

The billowing clouds of steam only partially obscured his body from his best buddy, the brown haired Bill Strayer, who took his accustomed place under the spigot next to his. His back to the others, Bill gazed at him longingly. With head back and eyes closed, the golden boy threw his arms up and out as if in supplication and slowly twirled in the hot spray. Thank all that's holy, the hunky brunet thought, that he had gradually learned to control himself in the showers. The control wasn't perfect, but thus far no one, including Nels, had stumbled across his darkest secret. There were still moments such as the present when he could stand back and with relative safety imagine sniffing his love's hair, running his tongue down the side of his face, or locking their lips...not to break the seal until he felt the tip of the blond's tongue demand entrance. The faintest grin passed over Bill's face as he commanded 'Willy' to stand down... again, and allowed his eyes to follow his heart down Nels' body.

His love sure wasn't built like some of their wrestling buddies...or the football team's defensive line, either one. True, he was huskier than many of the guys on the soccer team or some of the swimmers, but it was all a matter of degree. The fact remained that his golden love was generously muscled and defined in ways that were more commonly seen on bronze statues. At 5'11", 167 lbs, he was a very solid customer indeed! Morever, his sunny personality warmed everyone with whom he came in contact. Hell, even Bill's own blue-collar, violently homophobic father loved him...and the brown haired one knew from experience that he had serious reservations about adolescent males as a "species"! (And while it wasn't a subject that had ever come up, Bill knew that Nels' dad almost worshiped him. Indeed, events were to prove just how far he would go in attempting to preserve a dream.) Maybe, he thought, it was a combination of his softly tanned, nearly perfect skin...and those blue eyes that left a guy - well, at least this guy! - trembling. Nah, he answered himself, it had to be more complicated than that.

Was it in the perfect triangular torso with its broad shoulders, the beautifully toned arms, the hard pecs that stood out in side views, and the abs that absolutely rippled when on rare occasion he had consumed enough beer to agree to showing them off? Sure didn't hurt... Nor did the classic Apollo's belt that led the eye to a prominent set of equipment plus long, well-proportioned legs and sturdy calves. Bill knew for a fact that they could run at full tilt through the hottest part of the afternoon until others were hard pressed to keep going.

Bill didn't dare to dwell too long on what lay between...front or back! Those perfect globes of muscle... Holy Toledo! And the other side was worse! God, how he dreamt of telling Nels to rest that long sack in the palms of his hands, allowing those two outsized balls to vibrate slightly until they came to rest. And then he could reach for the horse dick that was already uncovering as "Super 'N'" made his appearance. Realizing that he was but a nanosecond away from going "full-hard", Bill shook himself and muttered, "NO! I can't go there! NO WAY!" Suddenly he realized that Nels had already rinsed most of the soap from his body and was watching him with a curious eye. Clearing his throat, his buddy asked, "You zonk out for a moment, Muscles? You kinda look like you were thinking of Sally." Hamming it up, he added in his best pulpit voice, "Careful, boy! That sort of thing can get you in trouble!" "You just might be right, Zits," Bill responded. "Come on, Dog Breath, let's finish up and get out of here. Whatever else we do, we at least need to stop by Sally's party." "What would I do without my appointments secretary?" Nels asked with a leer. In one fluid movement, he splashed his buddy, turned the water off, and headed for the almost deserted lockers.

(The Good Life)

Clad in stone-colored chinos and a pale blue polo shirt, Nels stood outside on the back porch of Sally McLaughlin's home. Bill stood next to him in a pair of rumpled khaki cargo pants and a rather mangy Disneyland T-shirt. (Parking three or four houses down the block, the boys had decided to surprise Sally.) Finding the back door unlocked, they crept through the kitchen that was momentarily free of party goers and, yelling wildly, burst into the living-dining room area. There's some question as to which event took place first; i.e., the room collapsing into chaos, spilled beer, and friends pounding on Nels and Bill until everyone collapsed into a pile in the middle of the living room. Or maybe it was Sally's piercing screech that must have been heard well out onto the Bay, a screech that saw her taking a flying leap from halfway across the room to land squarely in Bill's arms, and the room collapsing into chaos, etc., etc., etc. It was a good scene, and for an hour or so it just got better.

Wandering out into the kitchen to get some more ice, Nels found Bill and Sally... involved. She was audibly sniffling. He had just turned to get out of there when Sally called out, "Nels, do you have to go. We've been having such fun. I'd even hoped that Billy..." She stopped cold in mid sentence.

"Hey, girl, you know where Bill insisted we stop first. Problem is, I promised Vicki that we'd stop by her party - and there are a couple of others. You know...the first state championship ever... (It was common knowledge that Nels and Vicki were going together, though no one seemed to know much about their relationship.) Then too, Sal, I didn't even call my dad before we took off for here - and mom's away this weekend speaking to the Native Daughters of the . . ." (The last two words were muffled, but Bill swore later that his buddy had mumbled "Barbary Coast".) "Will you forgive us...this time?" (Pause.) "Sure, Nels..." Sally managed to respond in a somewhat 'resigned' voice. As the blond pushed back through the swinging door into the living-dining area, he heard Sally whisper sultrily, "You feel so good, Bill. You'll call me later?"

It took a few minutes for Bill to get over seeming to feel embarrassed, but he was back in fine fettle considerably before they hit the other parties. Note: It did seem to help that his blond companion let him drive that sweet little convertible! All things told, however, it was quite dark before they approached the Sears estate in the hills above the peninsula towns south of the City. As the boys made their way up the curving, wooded drive, Bill was reminded that this was one of the estates based on old Spanish land grants, grants predating both the Mexican and American periods in California history

Here was an oasis in the middle of the rapidly expanding suburban area south of San Francisco that supported the lives of the most powerful men and women of the Bay Area. Unlike most of his teen friends - especially those who came from backgrounds far less advantaged than he - the big brown haired jock was relatively comfortable around these "movers and shakers". Indeed, he honestly liked Jason Sears who at 41 was a California multi-billionaire, a San Francisco financier (and sometimes adjunct professor at Stanford) whose fortune came chiefly from19th century family alliances with California's "Big Four". His grandfather had been there when the Crockers, Stanfords, Huntingtons, and Hopkins bankrolled the Central Pacific's final linking of the Pacific Coast to the East. His grandfather had been no less involved in the rapid development of the Golden State in the years after the Gold Rush. And, God knows, his father had more than done his part! (Not that Jason had failed to snap up those Silicon Valley stocks in the second half of the twentieth century. In truth, he bought early and he bought heavily!) A significant part of the attraction was Jason Sears himself whom Bill saw as brilliant and as the archetypal father. More to he point he was a human being who had seen something good, something worthwhile in a youngster whom the Crocker Memorial Admissions Committee initially saw as a rather rough-hewn jock from the wrong side of the tracks. In addition to the full scholarship that had been extended to him by the finest prep school on the Coast, that was clearly the most important fact in his life. He also liked Mrs. Sears (Sarah, 37) even if she were wealthy in her own right and highly involved socially. Clearly, she was also concerned for Nels' well-being. At the same time, he was somewhat put off by the emotional distance that she commonly kept between herself and others, and the fact that she took "propriety" far beyond its justifiable limits. Sometimes, Bill joked, it might have been easier for her to deal with his roughly taking Nels on the dining room table during Easter dinner than with the fact that a child reached across the table for the salt!

They found Mr. Sears in the library. "What a room!" Bill thought. Walls of polished redwood, stained glass windows, a massive fireplace (that held a small, flickering fire), banks of leather covered books, distinctive lamps, several magnificent Persian rugs, and a number of dark, heavy pieces of furniture that looked as if they belonged in one of the old Spanish mission churches... Nels and his dad met half way across the room and fell into a tight hug. "I heard on TV," the older Sears murmured. The San Francisco stations still can't believe what happened!" At that point, they broke and the distinguished patrician threw his arms around his son's friend. "They're saying that you set up his two headers, Bill," he said as he rubbed the big jock's back. "Enemy propaganda," the brown haired one responded. "They just can't admit that Nels hogtied their whole defense and scored half our points!" "Nothing like a good friend - and a man who's got your back," Jason laughed as he twisted Bill's ear.

"I'm sure you're exhausted," Sears continued, "but is there any chance that you could run through a couple of the more successful plays for me?" "Sure thing, dad. Bill, throw your shirt off and help me show dad how we worked the plays that led to those headers." For the next half hour, the floor of the Sears library became the field at Crocker Memorial - the field that had recently witnessed one of those moments in time that no one who loved soccer was ever likely to forget. At the end, Nels sat down on the rug in front of his father while Bill crouched beside his chair. The brown haired one could hardly believe the sensations that were shooting through his whole muscular body as the elder Sears used one hand to massage his thick neck and shoulders. After promising Nels that he would stop by the next day to look at an application in which his buddy was involved, the young man sadly went to his car and left the great house.

As the small fire worked its way down to bright coals, the evening ended with Nels talking with his father over a small brandy. The golden blond complained that the coaches should keep more adults out of the locker rooms during showers. "You're not embarrassed...?" Jason asked. "No way, dad, but it's hard for a guy not to feel uncomfortable. You'd never come in and watch us would you?" "No, son, that's one more thing among many on which we tend to agree - though in your younger days I did enjoy watching you prance around the house in the nude!" Nels blushed violently, then giggled and took a play swing at his grinning father as they headed up to the second floor.

(To Be Continued)