Treacle Tower

The Goal Incentive

I loved football. It was my life. Every evening after school when the weather was good I would don my boots, shorts and a T-Shirt in my favourite team colour, then grab a football and the nearest friend I could get hold of, before going to the local park for a kickabout. If I couldn't get out to play football for any reason, I was watching it – TV, YouTube, questionable internet streams – you name it, I either had it or could get it. I knew the rules inside out and back to front.

I was part of my school's football club, as you might expect. If I had my way I'd have been part of four or five football youth clubs in the area but it's kind of difficult to play against yourself on two different teams when we meet for a game. While they were grateful to me for being part of the team, I was unique on it – I was the only one out of the entire school team that hadn't scored a goal. I'd been there since I started secondary school (I've just turned 13 so I've been here two years) and even the goalkeeper of our team had scored more than me in that time.

I know it sounds strange, a football mad boy who is shit at scoring. If truth be told it didn't particularly bother me if I scored, I just loved playing. When I was watching football on the telly or internet streams I was quite often pouring over the data and the stats that came up and working out all the possible outcomes. That's what fascinated me more about the game than kicking a ball around a field.

My inability to find the back of the net with the ball in my own game hadn't gone unnoticed by my peers, who were clearly growing impatient with every passing game. It had got so bad the coach was thinking of standing me down as my goal average was dragging the rest of the stats down – if I'd only scored one goal last year we would have come third in the league but because I didn't, we came last. Don't ask me how that works, but that's what I was told, could be total bullcrap for all I know. This year we looked like going the same way if I didn't buck my ideas up.

In fact I didn't get kicked off the team in the end, my fellow players presented an elaborate idea to the coach as a last ditch attempt to get me to find the goal. The coach liked it and gave them permission to go off and do it. Of course they didn't tell me because if I knew about it in advance, I'd run a mile and spoil all their fun.

So at the next football match I turned up as per normal and changed myself into my football shirt, shorts and brightly coloured trainers, as did everybody else. We had a distinctive purple top with the school's logo on it, some dark blue shorts and yellow coloured trainers to complete the look. Nobody else in the rest of the football teams in the system IMO looked as good as us.

I was pumped as always, raring to go. Perhaps this might be the day I did score something, as I jumped up and down in a half-arsed warmup exercise.

Without any warning, one of the other boys charged at me, knocking me to the floor. Before I could recover, one of them pinned my hands to the floor by my wrists, another held my ankles down and I was quickly stripped down to my birthday suit through a series of quick, elegant and effective moves that I didn't quite follow, the end result being I was now lying on the floor totally naked, held down by my wrists and ankles.

"Right this is how its going to be Shane," said one of the boys, kneeling down next to me and holding a football in his hands. "We're fed up of you not scoring so we'll give you an incentive. You're going to play on the team naked until you get this ball into the back of the net."

"Yeah, we're gonna put these on you too to keep you on show," said another boy, danging some handcuffs over my face.

"Yes the coach knows. Yes the league knows. Yes today's team is aware you'll be naked so they've been told not to point and laugh. You get your kit back at the end of the next game you score in, however many games it takes."

"But," I spluttered, writhing around against my boy restraints. "You can't play naked!"

"Oh come on Shane, where does it say anywhere that you have to wear any clothes?" I lay there quietly, racking my brain before suddenly realising he was right – there was no rule as such.

"It doesn't," I said quietly.

"Thought so. Get up and let's put these on you and let's get onto the field." I was pulled to my feet and my hands were pulled behind my back where I felt a pair of handcuffs being applied to my wrists. Once I was secure I was carried out of the room and I felt my bare feet on the cold concrete floor outside. I was walked around the building to the playing field where the opposite team of boys were waiting for us.

As we approached, I felt many pairs of eyes falling onto my exposed member, heaping copious amount of silent humilation onto me in the process. Nobody passed comment on my nakedness, though as all the other boys were dressed in t-shirt and shorts, I did feel underdressed.

The prematch routine was as bad for me as you might expect. We did the handshake thing but as my hands were trapped beind my back, I couldn't use them. The lead boy on the opposition team simply grabbed my dick instead and gave it a tug! This caught me off guard initially but when the rest of his team did the same thing, they were grabbing my erection instead that the lead boy had started off! With each passing boy squeezing my nuts tighter and giving sharper tugs, I was soon fully erect, to start my session humilation off. Fortunately this erection didn't last long and soon vanished prior to kick-off.

At the start of the game, I was (no doubt deliberately) chosen to kick off. This was when I found out why it's far easier to wear shoes when kicking a ball as when the whistle went, the first thing I did was stub my toes on the ball when trying to kick it. Realising I was barefoot, I used the side of my foot to pass the ball instead to my fellow player, trying not to show any pain.

As the game progressed, my natural tendency was to try and hide wherever possible, though it eventually dawned on me I was not going to get out of naked football without putting some effort in and I didn't really want to carry this humilation over to the next game.

Every time I went down after a failed tackle or when I was fouled, my peers would pick me up straight away. As you may know it's hard, not impossible, but hard to get up with your hands tied behind your back, plus it hid my dick for a few seconds. During a brief pause after I'd gone down deliberately, I was taken to one side by a couple of my teammates and told not to do that again, otherwise they'd make it so I wouldn't get my kit back unless I scored 12 goals in a game.

No youth footballer in my area had ever scored 12 goals in a year never mind a game, and the thought of being a naked youth footballer for the rest of my school life scared the shit out of me. That was enough to drive me on and get me to score to get out of this.

The rest of the half was spent with me charging around the pitch after the ball, pretending I was clothed and going for tackles when I could. Unfortunately I was in the way on at least one occasion when a boy on the opposite team kicked the ball and it hit me in the stomach – not hard, just enough to cause slight discomfort. Any lower and I'd have bruised nuts. Dangerous game this when naked.

At half time, rather than leaving the field the decision had been made to do other things with me. I was taken to a corner of the astroturf field and laid down face-up on the ground. Once my restraints had been removed, they were reapplied again immediately, their linking chains fed through the wire fencing. I was at a 45 degree angle from the corner held secure in a four point restraint.

The captain of our team came over to me, bringing the captain of the opposition with him. I had an idea of what was going to happen, it wasn't exactly difficult to work out. I recognised him, it was the same boy who had decided to grab my nuts during the handshakes!

"Shane, this is Ethan from the other team," my captain announced to me. "He wants to talk to you." He left me alone with Ethan.

"I don't want to talk to him," I replied under my breath. Ignoring this, Ethan clambered over me and sat himself next to me in the corner of the pitch. He gently took hold of my dick for a few moments, waiting for a photographer to come along and take a shot. By the time the photographer arrived, I was slightly erect. Gently massaging my nuts, Ethan continued to work me as the shot was setup and taken.

While humiliating for me, it was also strangely erotic – the naked me being dominated and controlled by a boy in a uniform. I glanced at Ethan as he clambered up to straddle my legs – he looked really adorable in his team's colours of red and yellow.

"Thought you might want a wank," said Ethan, continuing to work my member. His voice accent told me he wasn't from around here originally. "Somebody in my old school down south did this and it helped him so I thought it might help you."

Ethan switched from rolling my dick around to circling it with his fingers and then eventually tightening his grip on my nearly erect member. A couple of tugs later and I was now fully erect, starting my journey of being dragged kicking and screaming towards the inevitable climax by Ethan. I writhed around on the ground hopelessly unable to stop what was happening to me, as Ethan stimulated me relentlessly.

The only saving grace here was that I had had a wank earlier that morning before coming to football so while I wasn't going to be able to spill my load that easily, I knew Ethan would work me until I did spill, and that he would find a way to get me there. It only took a few minutes and a few tight squeezes of my nuts to break me down and I knew I would be cumming soon. My finding Ethan adorable and the setup of being dominated by a uniformed boy were both feeding my increasing need to cum.

Having got me to this point, the rest of this wank was pretty much routine for Ethan – I was balanced on the edge close to cumming, I began to breathe deeply, I screwed up my face and I tried to delay the inevitable. I had never been wanked off by somebody else before (especially not somebody so adorable), so this was an entire new experience. Ethan worked me thoroughly, not relentlessly and demonstrated control over me.

The reason for this became clear soon – that half time was soon up and everybody else came back onto the pitch. The wank had to be abandoned though I was so close I almost burst into tears. When I was stood up and my hands were handcuffed together behind me again, I was absolutely horrified to find out that my Ethan-induced erection would not go down! Ethan shot me a sly smile – he'd done it on purpose!

My pleas to my teammates fell on deaf ears as I was put into my starting position on the field, my member on full display. Soon enough the whistle blew and we were off. I was loathe to fall on the floor (accidentally or otherwise) as I suspected it would make me cum.

The ball rolled past me as I struggled to run or control myself with any dignity (what little I had left anyway) while I had this erection. I tried to think of sad things in my head and other things that would't feed my erection and while this helped slightly, it made no noticable difference to my situation.

I decided just to go for it. I soon spotted an opportunity, tackled a player from the opposition team and managed to get the ball. Having to remember to use the side of my foot as opposed to the front, I managed to get the ball towards the opposition goal where I was unglamorously tackled and went crashing to the floor with a throbbling pain in my left ankle, the hard ground scraping my erection, sending a dull pain through it.

The other boy had tried to tackle me from the side, but had misjudged it, so I felt his football stubs dig into my exposed skin at the ankle – normally my boots would have protected me from this. One of my teammates rolled me over to face me up as our coach came on to check my wounds while the boy who had tackled me looked mortified and constantly apologised.

The referee had blown his whistle and pointed to the penalty spot while this was going on but I was too preoccupied with my ankle and my dick as I lay on the ground squirming. After cleaning up where the stubs had hit me, I was pulled to my feet again and headed towards the penalty spot, erection still at full mast.

"Get this goal and I'll finish your wank off," whispered Ethan to me as I passed him on the way to the spot. "Your stiffie is very distracting."

I watched the goalkeeper as he got ready to try and save my penalty. It was anybody's guess how I was going to hit this ball with any power to get it past him as I really needed the protection of my boots to save my toes. I could just pretend I was wearing shoes and just go for it, I mean there are no end of other boys in the world who play football perfectly happily in their bare feet, and I didn't really use my toes for anything so...

I took some steps backwards, still thinking how I was going to get through this, when the whistle blew. I decided just to kick the damn thing and worry about the pain and repercussions later. Charging at the ball as best I could with my erection in the way, I eventually made contact with the ball using the inside of the big toe on my right foot. While this still caused me a bit of pain, it was nowhere near as bad as it would have been had I just whacked the ball full-on with my toes in the way.

It was just like slow-motion. I watched as the ball lifted and slowly sailed towards the goal, gathering height as it moved. Initially the goalkeeper jumped towards it but he had misjudged the height and as he crashed to the ground, the ball sailed just over the boy's head and into the back of the net.

I just stood there dumbfounded. The goalkeeper rolled onto his front, head in hands at having failed to save a goal by a naked boy with an erection – I could hear him starting to sob. Meanwhile my teammates began to mob me in celebration and my goal drought was finally over. This would hopefully be the first of many.

Because the point of me being naked on the pitch was now complete, I was substituted pretty much straight away, but there were no clothes available for me to wear, so I had to sit on the substitute bench (and it was literally just a bench) still starkers for the rest of the game until we could get back to the changing rooms. My peers left my hands handcuffed together behind my back.

Ethan was the vicim of a very nasty tackle on the pitch a few minutes later by somebody on our team who ultimately had a red card waved at him, while Ethan was substituted as a precaution just in case. he used this opportunity to shuffle up next to me took hold of my still-erect willy again. For the rest of the game as long as there was play on the field, Ethan would play with me, stopping and starting in unison with the referee whistle.

This only served to string out my humiliation as it became pretty much obvious what was going on, but Ethan clearly had a plan to make me cum at the final whistle. I spent the rest of the game only half following what was going on as I had other things on my mind as the pressure built in my nuts, and no amount of pleading or talking to Ethan changed what he was doing with me – I would be forced to have to hang on, breathing heavily and deeply while squirming on the bench.

When the final whistle did sound, (we won the game 1-0 by the way) Ethan gave my erect willy a tight squeeze and a sharp tug. Because he had manipulated and controlled me throughout, I was primed to cum on demand, and cum I did as soon as Ethan tugged. Ultimately I had no option but to cum as Ethan pushed me past the point of no return and continued to flog me to encourage as much cum out of me as possible while I tried my best not to scrunch my face up in relief.

"Thank you," I whispered to Ethan when he finally released my nob and we watched together as it finally began to shrink of its own accord.

"Great game. Great nob. What's your email address?" he asked. I told him what it was and he said that was "a piece of piss" to remember and that he'd be in touch.

I was then picked up by my team at the legs and carried around the pitch on their shoulders, clearly showering me with adoration being the one that scored the winning goal. Nobody noticed the semen on my stomach, or if they did they said nothing. When I glanced back round at the bench, Ethan had gone.

It was back in the changing rooms that the handcuffs were removed from my wrists and I was given my football kit back (unused, obviously!) All I had to do was grab a towel and head into the showers, not like I had to strip or anything. I was straight in and straight out.

I did hang around outside the other changing room for a while hoping to spot Ethan but I didn't see him. He'd either already gone, snuck out with somebody else or had a head transplant in the changing room. All I could do now was wait to receive an email from him. God, I wanted to hear from him again. Or did I want him to wank me off again? I wasn't sure!

I spent the next day or so on a natural high, both having my first goal in two years and having had my chicken choked by another boy on the same day. Ethan emailed me too, to make it a totally worthwhile day. What did he say I hear you ask? Well he sent me a copy of the photo that had been taken when Ethan was sitting behind me and holding my nob in the corner of the astroturf field. This photo turned me on greatly (not just because I was the one in the photo) and it sparked off many wank fantasies for me for what Ethan could do to me.

As an epilogue, my goal in the game meant we didn't come last in the league, but kept us mid to bottom. The system was explained to me but even I couldn't figure out how it worked. Could just be random allocations from the computer for all I know. I did eventually have the pleasure of scoring another goal, this time with some clothes on, but it didn't fell the same.

With regards to Ethan, his team went on to win the league. We built a relationship over email and met up monthly to practice our football skills and build the friendship. On occasion we'd wank each other off too – a regular highlight as he wanked me off more than I did him – but we both harboured desires to be professional footballers one day so that's what we primarily worked towards – if I could find the back of the net.

The End