Rugby League

"Wooahhh! Here he is! How you doin' scrapper?"

It was Martin welcoming me back into the squad. The lads were well away, and I could barely see the couple of tables the squad was crowded in around for all the empty beer glasses, fag packets and ashtrays.

"Come on mate, get thesen sat down!" Dave was grinning at me, shuffling aside to make some room round the table for me. Martin shifted over as well so I could squeeze in between them. Sam, returning on the bar, noted my delayed arrival and gave me a cheerfully pat on the back.

"Here is! As you're on cleaning duty, could you clear this table mate"

"Oh, yeah, and then there's 13 pairs of boots need cleaning n' all!"

"Fuck off, you cheeky bastard!" I shot back at him.

It was good to be back among them, having a good post match booze up with the squad. I wedged in onto the spare stool they'd kept for me, settling my sore arse gently, pulling myself up to the table. It took a fair bit of effort not to wince, but I really didn't want the squad speculating as to how I'd come by a sore arsehole. I was sure I could still feel spunk up my bum. I downed one of the pints bought on for me in nearly one gulp. It felt like I'd been waiting for it for years rather than an hour. Absolute heaven. It was a bit flat with having sat for a while, but it tasted great, a bit warm, but needed, and within a few minutes I felt the familiar, relaxing bliss of alcohol flowing through my blood and it's soporific impact soothing my brain.

Dave Briggs shoved another 2 brimming glasses on the table toward me, leaning back on his stool. He was still in his club fleece and his old sweatpants. I couldn't help but notice his crotch bulge as usual, large and hefty, nestled comfortable on his bar stool between his spread legs.

"You've a couple more pints sat here waiting for you! Where've you been? Picking up litter all over town?"

"Nah, just making sure I did the job proper!"

"Do I count mesen back in yer good books then now, ya bastard?!" I asked Dave.

He smiled away at me.

"Aye, course you are lad. I wouldn't want to be upsettin' me best try scorer too fuckin' much now do I? An cheers for that today mate. Really put in a great game there, bar the bit we'll consider forgotten now. Keep it coming and we can make this a season to remember. Sod what happened today, we'll be on top o' the fuckin' league by spring!"

Dave's comment was as much an announcement to the squad, and 13 beer cheery rugby league players, me loudest of all, put in a good boisterous cheer to that notion.

Whatever happened on the field, this would definitely be a season to remember, one way or another. I had a surreptitious reach into my back pocket. I still had Trev's envelope with his painstakingly written number on it in there. My fingers brushed the edge, confirming it was safe, a ticket to all sorts of fun to come. I had a private grin to myself. I could almost still feel Daz and Trev on me, the warmth of their bodies, the taste of their juices and gonads, and the brush and tickle of Trev's body hair on my skin. I thought about them for a moment wondering what they were doing. Sitting in their local pub with their squad mates getting just as steadily drunk as I was I would expect. I wondered what they'd said about me on the way there. I could imagine them gleefully comparing notes about me. I couldn't get the image of Trev in his rugby strip with his hairy arse out for a fucking and Daz's cheeky grin out of my head. I wondered if Trev's butt was as sore as mine after I'd given him one. I doubted it. 4 to 1 wasn't an even score, but I wasn't complaining. It was still a better result than we'd managed on the field.

Dave shook me back into the conversation. He stared at my glass with mock incredulity.

"What's up wi' thee? Only one fuckin' pint down ya? Yer still one behind. Get suppin' lad! It'll be thy round soon enough! Tha might as well make a cunt of thesen with the rest of us. I'm gonna get well and truly arseholed tonight lads!"

That brought on a few cheers of encouragement. Dave was getting quite loud and pissed already, as were most of us.

Neil, offering me a peanut pork scratching, gave me a nod of approval.

"Nice try today mate, just keep 'em coming. Fuck knows, we'll need 'em this year."

"Tha shoul seen thine eye mate! Your gonna have one beautiful black eye in the morning!"

"Might improve me looks mate!"

I chuckled back at him. It was starting to throb again, but given what it had been the catalyst for, it was a price worth paying. What it had started had been the best and most enjoyable sex that I'd ever had in my life. I was definitely going to ring Trev and sort out a quiet get together. Id do it soon, but not too soon. Well, I didn't want to look too desperate for more. I'd enjoy sorting Daz's Audi, and the promise of the reward was getting me edgy with anticipation already. I had no doubt that eventually getting to fuck Daz would an experience well worth the wait.

I settled back down among my squad mates, swilling pint after pint of Tetley's and we were soon recounting the game, arguing good naturedly, reliving the best and the worst, which included the men recalling my brawl with visceral delight and a great deal of teasing. It was difficult for me to keep up with them slagging off Daz and Trev and calling them every cunt under the sun. It was not as if I could tell them that they weren't bad lads really without elaborating on my reasons why. They were under blokes under it all, a great lay and good fun. They were a couple of jock-strapped thugs on a rugby field, but they weren't any more ot less than I was. Or any man on the squad for that matter. I felt a bit of a traitor, both for having fucked the enemy, and for not standing up for the men I'd come to see a different and better side to. Life can give you some strange predicaments at times.

The defeat had made the post match drinking a little less rowdy to begin with, but we really cheered up as the alcohol flowed, arguing over the ins and outs, high and lows of the game that afternoon. We shouted and argued on, discussing the upcoming fixtures, changes to the squads we'd heard about, how we were going to tackle each game, recounting the glories of old Premier League games and the virtues of players past and present. There wasn't too much larking about, more a focus and determination to do better next game, pick up on the weak points and push forward for that divisional promotion when we were talking about rugby As most blokes do, cars, work and sex were the mainstays of the rest of the conversation. Some celebrations after a win got a bit lively, with a bit of horseplay, pissing in pints and a few of the lads running about naked, myself usually one of the worst offenders if I was drunk. I remembered one night where they'd hidden my clothes and the bastards left me to walk home in the buff, nearly freezing my balls off. Tonight everyone was more concerned with getting quietly drunk. As beer does, it wasn't long before my bladder told me it I needed a piss.

I eased myself up and squeezed out of the noisy throng, down the corridor to the gents. 6 pints down, I was a little unsteady on my feet, and sitting on a bar stool hadn't done any favours for my sore, well fucked arsehole. I knew I'd still be sore in the morning. Even the head of my cock still felt sore from the amount of friction it had received. It was the best sore feeling that I'd ever had. Banging through the door of the gents I positioned myself in front of the stainless steel trough, fished my well exercised cock out of my jeans, and let fly with a sigh of relief, long stream of beery piss. I guilty observed the condom machine on the wall of the gents, ominously reminding me that everything I'd just done had been bareback. Rubbers hadn't exactly entered my mind at the time, and I was well aware even back then, in the early days of growing awareness of the nastier STD's, that unprotected sex with a couple of strangers wasn't the best course of action for long term health. I resolved to be a bit less reckless in future. I doubted I'd pick up anything really nasty from Daz and Trev, but then reluctantly admitted to myself that I wouldn't be surprised if they'd left me with a good scorching dose of the clap. It would be just their style. I amused myself wondering if they didn't have a plan. Win the year by putting every decent opposing rugby league player out of action with a nasty dose of the clap.

Shaking daft ideas out of my head, I finished pissing, and stuck out my arse to pull my cock back into my jeans before buttoning up. I was just about to head back for more beer, when Dave Briggs walked in and gave me a big friendly grin. He was his usual self, cheerful, and a bit pissed.

"All right there lad." He settled himself in front of the trough. I hear the zip of flies opening followed the patter of piss against the stainless steel urinal. He chatted to me over his shoulder while he was pissing, his large cock in his hand and gushing noisily into the trough.

"Cheers for tidying up mate. No hard feelings about me lumbering you with that eh, lad?"

"Nah, boss, I did my crime, I don't mind doin' me time."

"I were a bit worried about making Daz and Trev help you, but they needed putting in their place. I were feared the three of thee might start knocking lumps out of each other again."

Not exactly, I thought. Stumbling for words, I managed a response.

"Erm, no boss. We seemed to get along fine."

Dave continued pissing, talking to me over his shoulder. His deep voice suddenly dropped very soft and very low, almost a whisper.

"I know you did mate. I know I told you blokes to kiss and make up but I wasn't expectin' that!"

My mouth went dry, and I could feel my heart racing. I hoped I'd heard him wrong. How in the fuck did he know? And how much did he know. Dave confirmed my worst fears.

"I thought tha might end up brawling again, so I came over to check on you all. Fuckin' hell lad, I could hear thy three carrying on half way up the street. It were pretty obvious what yer were doin'."

Fuck! If the ground could have swallowed me up at that moment I would have been grateful. I felt my skin crawling. I knew I would have to tell him the truth, regardless of the consequences.

"I'm surprised lad! I never thought you would have been into owt like that." At least he seemed more amused than judgemental. I could feel my ears glowing with squirming embarrassment. For once in my life I just didn't know what to say, no smart comment, nothing. Dave paused, turned to face me. He seemed to be thinking about something, then a firm resolve clouded his expression. I was trying to work out what he was thinking. I wondered what he was going to do. Put me off the team? Tell me to sling my hook in disgust? I was wrong.

"I knew about Daz and Trev liking a bit of cock. Well, they used to be this team before thy day." I listened in silent surprise. Then Dave grinned broadly, and continued.

"I can't say I blame thee lad. They're a good fuck." My heart skipped a beat. Dave finished pissing, shook his substantial cock and turned away from the urinal. I heard him very slowly zipping up, the rasp of his fly the only noise in the loaded calm. He gave me an appraising look, and finished my thoughts for me.

"I don't mind the odd bit of cock myself mate..."

Dave looked over his shoulder, making sure no one else was coming and listened briefly for the sound of any one approaching. He slipped his hand round the back of my head, fingers gently teasing my ear. He pulled me closer, giving me a firm beery kiss. Hardly knowing what I was doing, I found myself grabbing the waistband of jeans under his belly, pulling him nearer, and opening my mouth. His tongue was straight in, tasting of Tetley Bitter and Embassy Number One and we had a very quick, frantic beery tongue lashing snog. Dave pulled back, and I felt his hand in my crotch, having a good feel around, appraising my bollocks, before letting go after a quick squeeze of my cock through my Levi's.

"Fuckin' hell Dave!" I responded, incredulous, but liking what I saw.

The big rugby coach was a fit bloke for his age, and his maturity had a definite appeal. I'd always been interested in that bulge between his legs, and he certainly wasn't unattractive in a rough way. I'd had more than one wank thinking about him. He wasn't quite in Daz and Trev's league, but he was definitely a man who provoked a strong sexual interest in me. I'd known him for years and never imagined he was up for anything with another bloke, any more than I'd have imagined Daz and Trev were. I wondered for a moment just how much did go on around me that I'd never realised.

"Well that's two surprise in a day." I concluded. First Daz and Trev, now Dave. Must be that new aftershave I'd started wearing. My heed was reeling from the beer and the shock. Who says lightning never strikes twice?

Dave grinned, and gave me his usual slap on my arse, and a good squeeze of the cheek, taking a lot longer about it than usual, glancing over his shoulder to make sure we were still alone and out of earshot in the pisser. I ran my hand up the inside of my thigh, and did what I'd wanted to do every time I saw him. I had a good feel of his bulge. Dave didn't raise any objections, just grinned at me at pushed his crotch forward to meet my hand. It felt like he was still wearing his jockstrap underneath, but I could easily fell the shape of his substantial balls, and a very thick piece of cock through the material, not hard, but not completely at rest either, just the hint of sexual firmness. It was very promising. Daz and Trev were big lads, but Dave felt like he could be bigger than the both of them. I couldn't believe it, but it looked like I'd found another rugger I was going to find out a lot more about in the near future.

"Looks like it's gonna be a good year this year lad." Dave told me, quiet and breathy.

"I might have to make sure you take on a bit of extra training though. Just me and thee. .."

"I've got quiet a few techniques that we could try out, just to improve your game of course, sharpen up your ball skills."

"Or we could see if Daz and Trev want a bit of a get together. See if we can sort out a quiet game of four a side rugby league sometime mate? "

He let my arse go and gave my hair an affectionate ruffle, and nodded for us to get back to the ale. I reluctantly withdraw my hand from his groin. Plenty of time for that in the future. From the depressing events on the field to light headed awe of that moment my, day had seen an incredible reversal of fortune. A session with Dave, Daz and Trev could well be epic material. My mind was just beginning to open up to all sorts of interesting future possibilities.

Dave, sensible as ever, got us back to the fulfilment of more immediate needs, and came up with the best suggestion a Yorkshireman could hear at that instant to round off a pretty interesting day.

"Come on lad" Dave volunteered, cheerful and more than half drunk.

"Lets go an' get pissed!"

December 2008