The first game after the Six Nations break and we were keen to get the season back on. Mid-table position, nothing to write home about, nothing to be embarrassed about. Competent rugby played (for the most part) by competent blokes.
In the break we’d had a few transfers in, transfers out, shuffles in position, mostly to cope with the injuries picked up in the months before. One of the new blokes was a tight-head prop, Aidan, who had grown up in our village but had been playing in one of the Cardiff clubs for a few years after leaving uni. Built like a brick outhouse he was, and the scrum certainly benefitted from his weight. Could carry a ball well too, though to be fair, he wasn’t built for speed. Might not get too far, but it took more than one player to bring him down.
He was benched for the first half of the home game until our regular tight-head got accidently (how it looked to us; he was an aggressive bugger) kneed in the bollocks and had to go off. On with Aidan and straight into a scrum. In my position as lock I had the hooker’s thighs to the left of my head and Aidan’s to my right, with my left arm grabbing my fellow lock. My right hand went up between Aidan’s legs to grab the waistband of his shorts. We crouched. We binded. We set. We pushed, the scrum-half threw the ball in and we won it. The scrum disengaged and as it did my hand slid over Aidan’s crotch, not deliberately, that was just the way it happened. I was a bit surprised to feel it a lot fuller than it looked when we got into position, but thought no more of it – the game was carrying on.
The sun had come out now and was warming our backs, which was pleasant but was raising more of a sweat. Less pleasant was the week’s worth of rain that had turned our ground into a quagmire meaning that all players were mud covered and by the middle of the second half starting to get difficult to tell who was on which team.
It wasn’t long before another scrum was called for, and again I took up position between muddy thighs and grabbing hold of muddy bodies. As I slid my hand up to grab Aidan’s waistband he twitched a little and my hand definitely rubbed over his crotch, definitely something to take note of there. Come the disengagement I deliberately slid my hand firmly over his muddy shorts and was rewarded with a grunt. As we stood up, he caught my eye, then ran off to get back into the game.
There was a lot more play, a lot more mud caked on our bodies, a lot more sweat in our shirts and shorts and jocks. We had one final scrum about a minute before the end, and I didn’t hold back on Aidan this time. I very deliberately ran the palm of my muddy hand up over his groin, gave it a squeeze and felt it swell before grabbing hold of the waistband. It was still full, fuller even, when I withdrew and the whistle blew for full time. A win – not a spectacular one, but a win.
As we were leaving the pitch I clocked Aidan beside me. He held out the back of his hand to stop me walking, and waited for the rest of our team to pass. When he thought they were far enough away he said “Cocky little shit ain’tcha.” He turned and looked at me.
I took hold of his hand and pushed it away from me. “You wouldn’t be the first prop I’ve played with who had stiffies in the scrum. Doubt you’ll be the last.”
He stepped in front of me and leaned in. I could smell the sweat and mud coming off his body and it was starting to turn me on. “Having a semi is one thing. Having that semi worked up to a hardon by one of your team-mates is something else.”
“What’s that then?”
He put his huge hand round the back of my head. “Statement of intent. You gonna follow through on that or you like all the others, too scared of taking me on?”
I smiled. “I’ll fuckin’ take you on.” I stepped out of his arm and nodded back over my shoulder. “See the old supporters stand? There’s some old changing rooms under, never get used. Tell you what, we’ll get our kitbags, toss a ball around a few times out here, look like we’re warming down then sneak in.”
“You little fucker,” he said. “Alright.”
Most of the team were in the showers when I went in to get my kit bag, and those that weren’t were heads down summoning the strength to get undressed. I grabbed my kit bag and a ball, and exited quietly, almost knocking Aidan over on my way out as he was on his way in. “Act natural,” I said to him as I shot past.
I took my kit bag round to the back of the old stand and left it just inside the door, and wandered back onto the muddy ground tossing the ball from hand to hand. Aidan must have gone round the other way as he suddenly tackled me from behind and I crashed into the mud under his full 20 stone. He lay on top of me for a short while, whispered “fucker” in my ear then leapt off, grabbed the ball and stood up.
I was slathered in mud from head to toe and he just laughed. “Fucking pretty now ain’tcha,” and he threw the ball at me. As I caught it he’d lumbered up to ramming speed and caught me full in the chest and I was now on my back in the mud, with 20 stone of prop on top of me. He lifted himself off me enough to look down. “Now you’re the sort of fuckin’ cunt I like. Grubby, sweaty and…” he slid one of his huge hands up my shorts… “turned on as much as I am.” He stood up, reached down with one of his paws and hauled me upright. “In there is it?” he nodded with his head.
I grinned at him, gestured for him to go through the door first. I followed him into the brick lined room, shut the door behind me and stacked our kit bags against it. The room was dimly lit through windows high up one side, and the old changing benches were packed up against the far wall. The old shower and toilet room to one side was in darkness; there’d been no power out here for years.
Aidan now stood in front of me, not tall enough to loom over me but wide enough to be intimidating, and the mud/sweat combo rising off him was intoxicating. “So,” he said, “you gonna take me on?” He poked me in the muddy chest.
I leaned in so his nose very nearly touched mine. “Yeah, you arrogant cunt,” I said breathing in his sweat.
He closed the centimetre or so that separated us and started to kiss me, tenderly at first, then his huge muddy hand slapped on the back of my muddy head with a squelch and my mouth was mashed up against his. His tongue was all over the inside of my mouth and I forced mine into his. I got my hands up inside his shirt and found his nipples hard as bullets. I gave each one a hard pinch and he gasped into my mouth, his tongue faltering a bit. I left his nipples alone – something for later – and slid my hands down his sweaty chest and into his shorts.
As I’d expected his cock was rock hard and slick with sweat. I could feel my muddy fingers slide over the tip on a sheen of precum – quite a lot of it as he must’ve been leaking all afternoon. To my astonishment he pulled my hand forcibly out of his shorts and stuck the muddy fingers in his mouth, licking the precum off them. Then with a light kiss, he was on his knees and was tugging my shorts down, revealing my sweat-stained and bulging jock. His face went in hard and I gasped at the intensity that he was gnashing at my cock through the jock. As he got the jock wet he was rubbing mud off his boots onto it and onto the skin beneath, cradling my balls and tugging them free of the jock. He got them both into his mouth, first one then the other, rolling them round his mouth with his tongue making me groan. His free hand was round my arse, feeling, touching, probing, rubbing mud all over it.
After a short while he pulled my rock hard cock out from the jock, and as he slipped it into his mouth I felt a finger slide up my sweaty arse. My knees buckled a bit as I was in pig heaven. I could reach my kit bag, and felt for the brown bottle I keep in it. I got it out, unscrewed it and took a good few sniffs, putting the lid back on and putting the bottle on the floor. In short order my cock in his mouth and his finger up my arse were my whole world, that was all I wanted, that was all I needed, this was everything. I let him continue sucking my cock and fingering my arse, one, two, three fingers till the world sort of came back into focus.
He took his hand out of my hole, let my cock fall and stood up, kissing me deep. His hands were all over my head, my body, my arse, my cock. Mine went back to his nipples for a hard squeeze and he gasped aloud. He grabbed hold of my shirt and damn near tore it off me and as my arms were still up in the air he moved in quick to my pits, slurping and licking first one then the other greedily. Every now and again as he changed from one pit to the other he’d force a rough kiss on me, and I got off big time on tasting my sweat on his lips.
He picked me up bodily by the armpits so my feet dangled off the ground – fuck, he was strong. “Now I have your attention, cunt, here’s what you do. I put you down. You strip naked. You get on all fours, face the door. I’ll take it from there.” He shook me. “Got that, cunt?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Got that, fat bastard.” He smiled. He put me down.
I pulled my boots off without undoing the laces, and then the socks came off with the shorts that were round my ankles. The jock I pulled off and tossed it onto the shirt in the corner. As ordered I got down on all fours, facing the door.
I heard Aidan walk behind me, kick my legs and knees a bit further apart till he was happy with the space. The I felt something hot land on my back and run down my arse crack, and up my spine and into my hair and back down again. The bastard was pissing on me! He had a huge bladder and kept this up a good while, walking round me pissing on my face, over my arms and legs. When he’d done, he shook the last drops into my face and tapped the end of my nose with his cock. “Not quite yet, cunt,” he said.
He took my boots and pulled the mud from between the studs, and did the same to the boots he was still wearing. He rubbed this all over me, face, arms, legs, hair, cock, balls, arse, feet, pits, smiling and grinning the whole time. “Now you’re really the sort of fuckin’ cunt I like. Grubby, sweaty, gobby, pissy, piggy.” And with that his cock slid into my mouth. I could taste his piss and his sweat. There was also precum leaking out still. “Yeah, you suck that prop’s cock, cunt. This cock you been fuckin’ gagging’ for all feckin’ afternoon. You’ll get it, cunt.” He pushed his cock ball deep in my face and held it till I gagged. Then he held it a few seconds longer and pulled it all the way out. He got down on his haunches in front of me, his cock bouncing and dripping. He took my chin in a huge muddy paw, lifted it to look into my eyes. “You’re lasting well, cunt. You’re covered in mud and my piss, your arse has had three of my fat fingers up it and your cock and your arse is mine, cunt. I fuckin’ own you. Whatcha say to that, cunt?”
I looked him straight back in the eye. “You’re nothing but a fat bastard with hands the size of dinner plates, no fuckin’ rugby talent and a cock to match.” He laughed.
He stood up and went behind me between my ankles. With a mighty slap he reddened both my arse cheeks in one blow, and I felt something hot lay in top of my arse crack. I felt his fingers run up and down my crack, lingering on the hole, probing it, entering it, one finger, two, three. The fingers came out and something large and fat and hot took their place. It went in easy, he’d lubed me up with mud and piss and sweat. He grabbed hold of my thighs and started to pump his cock in and out of my hole, slow to start, speeding up.
He leaned forward and placed his hands either side of mine, covering my back with his body, fucking my arse all the while in a steady rhythm. He slid one arm under my pits, and pulled my back upright onto my knees, keeping his cock pounding away. His other hand he rubbed on the muddy floor then over all the bits of my body he could reach, cock, balls, face, chest. Then he took that arm and put it round my neck, pinioning me in a tight grip as his thrusting cock got faster and faster, deeper and deeper. All I could do was grab his arm and hang on, trusting he’d not drop me onto the hard stone floor.
His fucking became more urgent, and his breathing faster, his arms tightening round me in a sweaty embrace. With one grunt and a final thrust his cock went deeper than ever before up me and stayed there. For a moment it felt like the world had stopped, then I felt his cock start pumping out load after load of cum, filling me up. His pumping continued a good while, but when it stopped, he let me slowly back onto all fours, releasing me from his sweaty clasp, but keeping his cock right up me.
“Now then, cunt,” he said, leaning over me. “Two of us in this fuck-fest and only one of us has cum.” He leaned up and looked around. “There it is.” I felt him lean off to one side, then there was a familiar sweet smell in my nostrils. “Deep, cunt. I want you flying.” I took a good few deep sniffs and he screwed the cap on when he was happy.
My head was on the verge of spinning again when I felt him reach under and grab my cock roughly in one hand. His cock was still hard up my arse, but his other hand now clamped over my mouth, one muddy finger slipping inside for me to suck on. He began to wank my cock, nothing subtle about it, I was meant to cum and fucking cum I would. His finger thrust in and out my mouth, tasting of mud, and his cock was gently thrusting up my arse again. “You close, cunt?” he asked.
I grunted what I hoped would be a yes, and that just encouraged him to fuck my arse hard again, and wank me rougher. Two fingers were in my mouth now, pushing down on my tongue. “You close, cunt?” he asked again, pumping my cock, pumping my arse, pumping my face. I didn’t so much grunt as squeal. “ARE YOU FUCKIN’ CLOSE YOU LITTLE CUNT?” he yelled in my ear. At that point it felt like all my world was his cock and hands, and my cock and arse. My back arched and he held my cock hard against the base. Cum jetted out across the floor, load after load erupting from my dick, as his cock pushed hard up me again and a second load joined the first deep in my guts. With the release of cum from me my body just erupted in sweat, and I collapsed back into Aidan’s arms, panting.
He held me there, cock still up my arse, but fading now. My cock limp across my thigh, his arms soft round my chest. “Fuckin’ piggy cunt, ain’tcha.” He pulled his cock out of my arse, and sat me on the floor, head between my knees. He stood up, went to his kit bag and came back with a towel, started to rub the muck and grime off my face.
“Well,” I said, “for a fat bastard prop you got some moves on you.”
“For a cheeky cunting lock you got fuckin’ stamina, I’ll give you that.” He looked at his phone. “I reckon we’ll have missed the showers etc. And the first round”
I stood up, cum running down my legs, wobbled a bit, found my balance. “Not a problem,” I said. “I live facing this side of the park. Clean up at mine if you like.”
He nodded. “Yours then,” he said. “But not cleaned up, cunt.”
I picked up my kit and put the filthy rugger gear back on, jock and all, shuffled my boots back on, and picked up my kit bag. I opened the door, quick reccie outside then stepped out, waving Aidan to follow. He came out, strong smell of sweat and piss, shouldered past me. I shut the door and pointed over the road. “Last but one house on the right, green door.” I just strode off, knowing he’d follow after a while.
I got to my front door, let myself in. Boots off on the doorstep, walked through to the kitchen in socks leaving wet prints on the wooden floor. I got some beers out of the fridge, heard the front door firmly shut, a clatter on the floor. As Aidan walked in – swaggered in – I tossed him a beer. “On the house.”
He caught it and popped the can, took a long pull of it and burped. “I’ll need a few more to get me bladder full again, cunt.” He finished the can, crushed it in one huge fist and oddly delicately placed it on the kitchen table. I took another beer out, threw it to him and put two more on the table in front of him. “Should do it,” he said, downing the second can in on go.
I finished mine. “You really like this, fat bastard? Bloke covered head to toe in piss, sweat and mud?”
“Fuckin’ love it,” he said, finishing the third can. He pulled his shorts down and his cock popped up hard. “Was fuckin’ hard walking across the road in your wake, cunt, your arse just metres ahead of me.” He opened and finished the fourth can, put the crushed remains by the other three on the table. He pulled out a chair at the end of the table, and sat on it, leaning back, cock poking up out of his shorts.
I stood beside him, pulled my shorts n jock down so my own muddy sweaty cock popped out and near poked him in the eye. He didn’t need any encouragement and had my cock ball-deep in his mouth before I could say anything. His huge hands grabbed hold of both my arse cheeks and turned me towards him so’s he could get a better, deeper suck on my cock. I could feel his fingers work towards my arsehole, pulling it open, sliding inside. I put my hands on his head, and with difficulty, pulled him off my cock. He looked up, a little disappointed, a little curious. “Don’tcha like that, cunt? You did earlier…”
I leaned in and kissed him deep, tasting the beer, tasting my muddy sweaty cock. “Stuff in kit bag. Gimme a few seconds.” I disengaged from him, kicked the shorts and jock off, ran into the hall, skidded on my wet socks and the wooden floor, grabbed the kitbag and was back into the kitchen. I put the bag on the sink in easy reach.
He waved a huge filthy hand at it. “What’s so special in there then?” I took out my change of clothes and threw them into the doorway along with the trainers I would have changed back into had I not been comprehensively fucked right after the game. I reached back into the bag, pulled out the little brown bottle. “That all, cunt?”
I shook my head, and went back into the bag, into the zipped compartment at the bottom. I pulled out a pair of handcuffs, put them on the table in front of him. A few hanks of rope, a blindfold, a hood, a neoprene cock ring and a few insertables…
“Fuckin’ hell, cunt. You prepared…”
“Never know if a fat bastard wants arse or not.”
He shrugged. “Can’t say fairer than that.” He picked up the handcuffs, snapped one round his thick wrist – it barely closed. “Take it you got the keys, cunt?”
“Course I fuckin’ have,” I replied, holding up my keyring.
He held out his wrists in front of me. “The other one, cunt.” I reached out and snapped the other cuff round his wrist.
“Whatcha game for?” I asked him.
“Whatcha got?” he said.
I grabbed one of the ropes. “Stand up,” I ordered. He stood up, kicked the chair back. I wrapped the rope twice around the link in the cuffs and tugged. “Bend over the table.” With a wicked grin he did so, and I tied off the two ends of the rope so’s he was stretched along the table, arms extended. I grabbed another two bits of rope and tied his thighs to the table legs, securing him over the top of the table. “Comfy?”
“No, ya cunt. What the f…” He was reduced to a mumble as I stuffed one of my filthy socks in his mouth. Now he was starting to look cross. I pulled up his shirt so I could get to the flesh on his back, broad and hairy. I ran my hands up and down his spine, up and down his sides, into his pits, feeling the warm sweat there and licking my grubby fingers. He wriggled a bit when I felt up his pits, so I went back in, delicate at first, then harder. The harder I went in, the more he bucked, almost enough to move the table. He was moaning high pitched into my sock gag, till I went I hard and the moan became one continuous wail. I let this go on for a bit, then pulled my fingers away, went round to look at his face.
He was red and sweating, eyes squeezed tight shut. I tugged at the sock to pull it out and he opened his mouth to let me and opened his eyes to look at me. “Fuck you, cunt. Damn near cum.”
“Not fucking yet you don’t.” I leaned in for a kiss which he eventually returned with some passion. I left him ungagged, and went round to his arse. His shorts were down enough that his cock was bobbing around, precum drooling onto the floor, but not down enough to get at his arse. One option…
I went back to his head. “I’m going to cut your shorts off.”
His eyes went wide. “Fuck.” He blinked sweat away. “Fuckin’ do it cunt.”
With care, and a pair of kitchen scissors, the shorts were cut away and pulled off. I had a good long sniff of them, tasting, smelling, breathing in, sucking, and I did this in sight of him. I then went back to the arse end of my captive and started to run my fingers up and down his crack, lingering over the puckered hole that twitched every time it was touched. I worked one of my grubby fingers up his hole; he groaned and pushed his arse back towards me, so I got a second up there. He was definitely tight, but was relaxing into it so went for three. That felt good, so I got my thickest butt plug and replaced my fingers with it. There was some initial resistance, but with some sweat and spit it vanished up his arse with a low moan from the other end.
I slid under the table to take care of his cock that had by now made a small pool of precum on the floor. I reached up and started to suck it, reaching round and tapping the butt plug at the same time. Aidan was growling with pleasure and his cock filled my mouth with precum, tasting so sweet.
Now I’d made his cockhead slick with spit I took my glans ring and slipped it over his cock, letting the attached hollow cock plug slip into his piss slit till the ring locked into place round his glans. “Aww fuck, cunt, what is that?”
I got out from under table and went to his head, lifting it. “You’ll find out,” and I slid my cock deep into his mouth again, rubbing his sweaty head with my still muddy hands, let him suck me for a while. I reached down, undid the ropes from the table legs so his arms were free, then undid his thighs. “Don’t move yet,” I told him, and got my keys and undid the cuffs. “Now you can stand up.”
He slid backward off the table, stood up and flexed his wrists and neck, his cock bobbing all the while. He felt behind him at the butt plug, and looked down at the glans ring and cock plug. “Interesting, never had that before. Very intense.” He looked at me. “What next, cunt?”
I tossed the rope at him. “Turn the tables, fat bastard.”
He pulled his shirt clean off leaving his arms up and hands tucked behind his head. “Come here, cunt. I’m not doing all the fuckin’ work.” I walked up, taking my shirt and remaining sock off. I got up close; he grabbed me and forced one of his armpits into my face but I didn’t need any encouragement; I wanted his sweat all over my face and tongue. I slurped greedily and he moved me from one pit to the other. I could feel his cock slide up beside mine, then his face was on mine and his tongue deep inside. He lifted me up and put me on my back on the kitchen table, spread my legs and leaned between them, still kissing me, then slid down and I could feel a good few days of stubble rubbing my arse cheeks, then a hot wet tongue pushing up.
I was in hog heaven with his face on my arse and a hand on my cock. When he switched and started to suck my cock with his fingers up my arse. I had to have a sniff out the brown bottle and I was flying in piggy heaven, arms back behind my head, wanting him to never stop. I was aware he’d stopped fingering and sucking, but then I felt the cuffs snap on my wrists and I couldn’t bring my arms forward; my pits were exposed along with almost everything else.
I could look down and saw Aidan pull the butt plug out of his arse and throw it in the sink. He then got on top of me on the table, straddling my chest and greedily licking my pits out, kissing me every now and again. I was also aware he was sliding down my muddy torso to lie flatter on me, till I felt his arse bump up against my cock. He reached behind and took my cock in hand, then slid further down with my cock now moving up inside him. He moaned and rocked his hips a few times. “You feel good inside me, cunt. You’re not gonna cum there but it feels fuckin’ good.” His cock was bobbing in front of me, with precum oozing out the end of the plug. He pulled off me, stood up by the side of the table. “Can I piss with this thing in?”
I nodded. “Fuckin’ ace,” and he took his cock in one muddy hand and piss flooded out the plug, the stream more intense having been forced through the plug. It went in my face, my hair, my pits, over my body, and he finished up putting his cock up my arse and filling me with piss till he was done. He undid the cuffs and pulled me standing in front of him, piss running down my muddy and sweaty body, and leaking out my arse. He got behind me, lifted me up by the pits again and turned and slammed me into the wall, one arm pressing across my shoulders while the other guided his cock up my arse. He wasn’t subtle and he fucked me hard and rough, deeper and deeper, growling in my ear, pushing hard into the wall. The sweat was pouring off him, and the smell off us both was making me hard as fuck and my cock was leaving wet tracks in the paint. With one last huge thrust that took me off my feet, his cock unloaded, pumping load after load up me, pushing the piss already up there down my legs. He didn’t let go for a long while, not going soft, just getting his breath back.
He pulled out and stepped back, released me, spun me round and hard kissed me. “Your turn, cunt.” He went to the kitchen table, leant over it, grabbed the sides and opened his legs. I didn’t need a second invitation and stepped up behind him, teasing his hole with my cock. To repay the favour, I relaxed a little, and pissed all up and down his back before shoving my still pissing cock up his arse and letting the piss stop flowing. Then I started a slow fuck rhythm, all the way in, all the way out, grabbing hold of his muddy and now pissy thighs. The piss dribbling out his arse made a slurping sound and he moaned as it ran down his legs.
I started to build up speed, pushing hard into him with every thrust, almost hard enough to move his stocky body and the table across the floor. “Cunt,” he said every time I fucked up him, “cunt, cunt, cunt…” I kept up the pace, stepping it up, slowing it down, till I was ready to blast a load up his guts. With one last push that did shift the table and his fat body, my cock pumped load after load after load of cum into him.
When I’d stopped I collapsed onto his sweaty pissy muddy back, and started to lick. I got my hands up to his pits again, fingers in, started to press… “No! Cunt! No!”
“Yes, fat bastard, yes…” I carried on, digging my fingers in, keeping his sweaty body under me as he bucked. I forced one set of fingers in his mouth while I dug in deep with the other hand. He was bucking fit to burst – and he did. His hips went up, near throwing me off. I slid off forwards over his head, and yeah – he’d cum all over the table top. I reached in, wiped it up with my fingers and greedily slurped it off them while he collapsed flat on the table top. “Cunt…” he whispered. He rolled off the table, stood softening, looking a bit embarrassed. “Listen, cunt. You ever pull a stunt like that in the scrum…”
“Won’t be me,” I replied. “I can’t reach your pits when my head’s sandwiched between thighs and my hand’s only got access to your cock and waistband.”
“There’s a relief. Not an achilles heel I’m keen to be more widely known…”
“Kev the Hooker, on the other hand. Perfect access…”
“You wouldn’t…”
“Depends…”
“On?”
“Full and uncontested access to your cock, arse, mouth, balls etc till the end of the season.”
He stepped up to me and put a huge hand round my throat. “I think an arrangement can be made.” His hand closed a little. “Cunt.”
*That's all, folks* |
