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Subject: DOCTOR WHO, JESSE AND JEREMY 87 Suddenly, from out of the darkness, a splotch of black moved. A huge furry creature with a horn on its head, two furry legs, stood up on them. It had huge claws, five of them on each hand. It looked like a bear. It was black but had yellow stripes on it. The Doctor looked at it, “It’s a bear. I had one as a kid. You know…” he moved closer. “I think this is the same one. Loosey, is this you? After all this time?” He sounded amazed. “It might not be him. Careful, Doctor, don’t get too…” Jeremy warned. “CLOSE!” Jesse gasped. The claws grabbed the Doctor around the back and as the thing roared, it engulfed the Doctor to its own chest and body. The thing seemed to be attacking him! “DOCTOR!” “DOCCCTTTTORRRRR!” The hair of the bear shrouded the Doctor from their view as the bear itself roared loudly! Jeremy looked around, “Jesse, get some. Those rocks, get those rocks! Find them!” Jeremy already had two in each hand. Jesse already had two and was running up to the bear and the Doctor…but he stopped short as he heard…the Doctor laughing. The bear licked the Doctor’s face and let him go. The Doctor kissed the bear’s nose. Jeremy stopped, blinked, and went wide eyed. Jesse, holding a rock in each hand, spread his a rms open, “What?” “I know this bear. He’s my…Loosey. He was my pet.” “Pet?” Jeremy asked, slowly dropping the rocks. “He lived a long, long, long time ago. Long, long, oh so very long…” “We get the idea,” Jesse frustrated. “Uhnm, just how long?” “Oh, I don’t remember,” the Doctor stated, “But it was when I was a kid. The first time round. No, the second. Not as the Other. As myself, the Doctor.” “My head hurts,” Jesse moved up to the bear slowly. “Will he…will he accept newcomers?” “Yes,” the Doctor stated. “He must be from that time. He could only a short amount of time. Bears on this planet don’t live long.” “How long DO they live?” Jeremy asked, ready for the goofy answer the Doctor would surely give. The Doctor didn’t disappoint. “He lived about 250 years or so. That’s their normal life span.” “Oh,” Jeremy nodded, “I see.” “I don’t,” Jesse put his hand on the bear’s fur and it shut its eyes and purred. It put a claw on his bare sweaty back and purred some more. “He likes me.” “Who doesn’t?” Jeremy smiled a nd came closer. “He must be from my Doctor childhood,” the Doctor stated. “How long ago was that?” Jeremy asked, knowing the answer but wanting to see if the Doctor knew. “You must know that…” The Doctor smiled and move to the bear again and kissed its nose. “Tell me.” Jeremy prodded, gently, and put a hand on the bear’s chest to pet it. It went down on all fours soon after that. They all pet its back. It purred some more. The Doctor shrugged, “Nice night isn’t it?” “Doctor,” Jeremy said, patronizingly. “Well, I…let’s see.” He tried to count on his fingers, “I’m about…” This endeared him to Jeremy, who smiled at this and looked at Jesse, who rolled his eyes and then relented and smiled, also. The Doctor continued on his fingers, using each finger for 200 years, “I’m just…just under 2000 years if you just count my life as the Doctor. If you count the Other, and other lives, I’m about just under 4000 years…” “What?” Jeremy said. “That doesn’t sound right,” Jesse added. “Are you sure you’re remembering it correctly?” “As correctly as I can after a regeneration,”=C 2 the Doctor admitted. “It doesn’t…” Jeremy started and stared into the night. Blankly. “…add up,” Jesse said. “The real Doc…I mean our Doctor…the one I lo…I mean you…the one we knew before you…he was always…ALWAYS,” he added, rolling his eyes, “…going on about how he was either just over 2000 years old or just over 4000 years old.” “Yeah,” Jeremy added, “He didn’t know for sure how many of him there were…he used to talk about the number 38 a lot so we all thought he was the 38th Doctor or so…but sometimes that number rose to 238 or even 338 and…” “…one time he said he was Doctor 9938…but I found that hard to believe he could have regenerated that…” Jesse noticed the Doctor’s countenance change. “What’s wrong? Whatsa matter? Did I say something wrong?” “No,” the Doctor stood away from the bear, from them and moved off to the desert. He looked into the night. “Oh no, oh dear. Could it be?” “What’s wrong now?” Jesse moved closer to his back. Loosey followed, slowly. Jeremy asked, “Yeah, Doctor, what is it?” “Oh me oh my. Oh my giddy aunt. Oh no. Oh not that.” T he Doctor looked absently into no place. “It is. I can feel it. That’s why the tree was after…it wasn’t after the monks because they were out of time. It wasn’t…” He turned to the boys, “It wasn’t even after you because you were out of time. Things on Gallifrey are often out of time and place and space and rhythm and reason, no rhyme, no reason for place or space, no place for me no place for space, nothing.” Jesse put his hands on the Doctor’s back, “Doc, calm down…” The Doctor flinched, turned away so that Jesse’s hands were off his back and then turned to face Jesse, “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU, DON’T CALL ME DOC! I PREFER JUST DOCTOR!” Jesse backed away and turned his gaze from the Doctor’s eyes. Something about the eyes disturbed him. “I…sor…” Jesse backed away but stopped as…Jeremy intervened. “Doctor, calm it down,” Jeremy said, “And tell us plainly and simply, what’s bothering you!?” “What’s bothering me? What’s bothering me?” “Yes,” Jeremy said as the Doctor turned on him now. And moved at him menacingly. Jeremy tripped backwards and fell but moved up on his elbows. “Doctor, stop!” The Doctor obeyed. He put his hands to his face, went down on both knee s and began to gasp. He then moved one knee up, bending it. He looked skyward, “This is bad, very bad. Worse. For me…it’s me. I’m the reason they were after the monastery. They knew something was wrong with me. That I should not be undergoing this.” Jesse and Jeremy flanked either side now, on their knees, one each. “Undergoing what?” Jesse asked. He held the Doctor’s upper arm. Jeremy held the other arm but at the forearm. “I am just under 2000. As the Other I am just under 4000.” The Doctor gasped. “But our Doc…” Jesse started. The Doctor whipped his head at him. Jesse waited for an onslaught but received only a quick smile and a wink instead. The Doctor went on, “I know. I was in the body of your Doctor and that body was just over 2000 or just over 4000…oh me…my, my, my. What would my father say? I…I am the Doctor. Inside, I’m the Doctor you knew, the Doctor’s mind knows of you both, knows of our adventures but there’s something more, knows of our relationships and our other friends…” He looked at Jeremy now and smiled, “…and even enemies…but inside my mind and my body is the Doctor…I can’t even say it. I’m not regenerated at all.” He took his arms back from them and put his hands in front of his eyes,=2 0shaking. He looked at his fingers, his palms, they shook, nervously, uncontrollably. Jeremy and Jesse grabbed his wrists, one each and helped him stop that, “I’m not the next Doctor or a new Doctor. I’m an old one. I’ve degenerated. I’m the Doctor from before the Doctor you knew. I’m the Doctor just before that one. When I regenerated, I became the Doctor you met. I…I’ve gone backwards.” His voice went hoarse. His eyes nervously twitched. “Is this a trend now? I must be degenerated…and it might not stop. I think…I’m going to keep on getting younger and younger in all my old bodies…until…it’s not right.” The Doctor tried to stand up but fell backward, “Something’s wrong, someone did this to me. It’s not normal. It’s not fair…I’m going to become my past selves but with the memories of the current…YOUR Doctor. I’m going to end up dead!” The Doctor turned away from them, all of them looking distraught. Patrick Stewart as the Doctor Jesse McCartney And Jeremy Sumpter in DOCTOR WHO, JESSE AND JEREMY 87—TWO HORSES WITH NO NAMES, A BEAR WITH A NAME, A TIME LORD AND TWO HUMANS “Doctor,” Jeremy tried to snap him back to the pre sent moment, “Doctor, are you actually sure, that’s what’s happening? Or is this just a theory?” “Yeah,” Jesse said and pulled the Doctor to his feet. Jeremy followed. Jesse went on, “…cause you know you’re theories are often wrong, aren’t they?” Jeremy snapped a quick face at him in anger. Jesse added, “Not all the time, mind you but it might not be that bad.” “Not that bad? Have you ever seen pictures of my former selves?” The Doctor asked. “Only the first through the 8th I think,” Jesse said, “And I was glad we got the Doc the way he looked when we got him…Oh…” Jeremy bursa escort bayan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “…oh, no offense,” Jesse said, “I mean he was almost young, shorter than me so I felt I had one up on him…” “Jesse,” Jeremy snapped. “Yeah?” Jeremy said it as quietly as he could, “Shut up…” “okay…” “I…I think I’ve been here, waiting for you two, for….” The Doctor looked up at them, then stood up again. He held his head. “For, 100 years. Or was it ten? Or a thousand?” “You’ve been here for 100 years?” Jesse=2 0stood up. Jeremy waited before he stood. He looked away, off to the distance. It could be possible. “Waiting. Getting over you. Don’t need me.” “Like hell we don’t,” Jesse said. Jeremy stood, “Jesse, not now. Calm down, Doctor.” “I will,” he said, “But…I…this might be the beginning of THE end. MY end.” “I like your end,” Jesse patted the Doctor’s left butt cheek and the Doctor jumped a bit. “It’s hot and firm, even at this age.” “But…I just told you,” the Doctor turned, “I’m in a younger body than the Doctor you knew…” “It’s so confusing,” Jesse stamped his bare foot down. “I mean it’s bad enough we have to contend with time travel, time warps, time loops, time distortion, time changes and now this…you’re younger but look older, you’ve been here for 100 years, WE THINK, but we’ve only been gone for what, Jeremy? Three weeks?” “I’ve lost track,” Jeremy blinked. “I just remembered,” the Doctor said, almost gaily. “I…I’ve been celibate for almost 100 years or more…” Jesse nodded toward Jeremy, “Does that mean what I think it means?” “Let8 0s….get…some…sleep.” Jeremy stated. They went back to the tents. The Doctor had his and they had one between them. The Doctor looked at them forlorn. Jesse averted his eyes to the Doctor’s and began whistling the main theme song to AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER. Jeremy looked at the Doctor and felt sympathy. The Doctor was unsure what to do. He lay on his back with his head outside the tent opening. He spread his legs out. Then he reversed his body so that they saw his sandaled feet. And up his robe. As they got ready to lie down, Jesse squinted and was afraid to look. They lay on their stomachs. Jeremy nudged Jesse’s shoulder, urging him to look, as they lay side by side, looking at the Doctor’s tent. Jesse made his lower lip come out a bit, “Not bad.” “Not as bad as you thought,” Jeremy whispered. “Yeah but still…” Jesse shrugged, “I dunno…” “I’m going to…” Jeremy pulled himself out of the tent. He moved to the Doctor’s tent and looked back at Jesse. “He’s goin’ in,” Jesse said lowly. Jeremy nodded to Jesse and back toward the tent, “C’mon…” “Uh-huh,” Jesse did his best Dwayne from WHAT’S HAPPENING impersonation. “Oh,” Jeremy gasped and opened the f lap of the tent. The Doctor smiled, laying on his back, his robe open to his slightly hairy chest. The hair was light colored, was it white or peach? Jeremy couldn’t tell. “Come in, lay down, next to me.” Jeremy laid down on his back. This was ridiculous. He had had sex with so many different people along the way to this moment, yet he was unsure he could do this man…this New…strike that, this Old Doctor! He felt conscious and unsure. He laid down on his back, his arms straight down at this sides. He didn’t dare move. “It’s okay, Jam…Jeremy. If you don’t want to do anything with me, that’s okay. I fully understand. Not every companion I’ve had could adjust to the change in Doctor…although to be fair, it usually was a progression forward. A new Doctor…although that wasn’t always an improvement. Have you seen my Fifth self go into my Sixth Self?” Jeremy laughed, “Doctor…” He put his hands behind his head and relaxed. “It is you, though, Doctor.” “Every cell,” the Doctor said, staring at the ceiling of the plant tent. Then he looked over his left shoulder, to Jeremy, “Well, not really. Every cell’s changed…” Jeremy took his left hand and reached across his own body to rub the Doctor’s arm. It was firm. “I think I understand regeneration .” “Yeah,” the Doctor said, “But can you understand degeneration?” “Has that…has that ever happened to you before?” He rubbed along the arm and then inadvertently moved his hand rubbing to the Doctor’s bony hip. The Doctor noticed and jerked slightly. The good vibrations came from there and spread out over his belly, which was incredibly flat and well sectioned. “Once or twice but never like this. It usually happened fast…fast…fast…” He said as Jeremy made his rubbing go faster and faster. Jeremy reached over the Doctor’s belly and then had to sit up to continue. “May I cum in?” Jesse asked, his hips sticking out, standing by the entrance of tent flap. “Of course,” the Doctor said. Jeremy turned, the crack in his ass sticking out as his loin cloth was too small for him. He smiled at Jesse, who winked at him. He winked back. “Sit on it,” the Doctor commanded. “What?” “Sit on it and rotate,” the Doctor patted his dick. He had undone his robe all the way and his dick stuck up straight. “Holy Shit!” Jesse gasped. The dick was huge, possibly larger than the Doctor incarnation they had known. The one after this one. It was thick, veined, cut, and LONG. It had to be over 19 inches. Jesse squat over it and spread his cheeks using his hands. “This is gonna hurt,” the Doctor stated. Jesse had already removed his loin cloth and lowered his asshole over the head of the dick. “I know, that’s what I like…” “Hey, did I just get him ready for you?” Jeremy asked Jesse. Jesse shrugged and shut his eyes, threw his head back and arched, his chest sticking out. “Jeremy! You gottaaaaaaaaahhhh, gottaaaaa gnnnggghh, gotta try this!!!! NNGGGMMGUGGTTT MAN!” Jesse slid down all the way and took it all in and gasped. He rose up quickly and then only half slid himself down. Jeremy got behind him and put his hands on his shoulders and forced Jesse back down all the way! “Oh you bastard!” “You love it!” Jeremy began using his hands to feel up Jesse’s entire torso in front and behind… “I do! Do me again!” Jesse gasped. Jeremy put his head on Jesse’s back, his hair dragging on the left shoulder. He slapped his hands hard on Jesse’s shoulders and lifted, then forced Jesse down the Doctor’s pole! The Doctor moaned quietly …at first. “That’s 100 years of pent up sexuality…” “I feel it!” Jesse gasped, “I feel it!” He jerked his own pud and then let go with his right hand and used it to hold himself up, putting his hand on the Doctor’s tight stomach. “OH GAWD!!!! OH GAWD!!! CUM! UGGGHNNGGGGAAAA! OHTHAT’S GOOD!CUM ONMEEEE! FUCK! FUCK ME! FUCK MAH ASS!” As Jesse gasped, Jeremy anchored him backward a bit and made his face come toward his own. From behind, Jeremy began to kiss him sharply and deeply, tonguing him and locking lips as he gasped. At times, Jesse gasped into Jeremy’s mouth. Muffled screams such as “OH Fuck! Let me kup! Gamfafamfaawoowwwarah!” came from Jesse. Jeremy felt Jesse’s breathing hot on his own lips as his nose let loose air and his mouth gave way to heavy breathing. Jeremy let Jesse come up for air. “Oh, Jesse, I’m about to…” the Doctor said calmly. “DO IT!” “Do you want me to…” “INSIDE ME!!!!” The two boys straddling the Doctor’s legs shook with the Doctor who arched his back as he gasped now, too. He exploded inside Jesse and Jesse felt it smack down his insides, awash the walls of his anal canal and drip and blast out his ass slit! Jesse was tired and slid down the dick, “OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” all three of them said. Jeremy helped move Jesse off the Doctor’s dickhead and the dick stuck straight up. Before he managed to get his dickhead to rub along Jesse’s ass slit, Jeremy quickly sucked the Doctor’s dick, tasted20both his lovers on it and then moved his own hips upward to get his dick to rub all over Jesse’s rim. He then poked inside Jesse and thrust. “Take that!!!” Jesse gasped, “DO it! DO it, man, I love you ! I fucking love you both!!! Fuck me! HARDDDDD!” Jeremy found the hole and put it in and thrust again, causing Jesse to straddle forward and fall. He put his hands out and hit the Doctor’s sides. The Doctor held him, “I’ve got you.” “You sure got me all right!” Jesse gasped and kissed the Doctor’s mouth. The Doctor responded and rubbed along Jesse’s upper body, along the muscled sides. In the meantime, Jeremy slowly put his dick into Jesse and then thrust in and out, more slowly this time but picked up speed as he went. “Ohughhhh! Even now, so tight, so fuckin tight, you tight little monster!!!!” Jeremy’s hot skin against Jesse’s made them all grow in size again, even the Doctor, under Jesse… “I’m gonna fuck you loose!” Jeremy nilüfer escort grunted. Jesse felt his dick being manipulated by the Doctor’s long fingers and he squirmed and jumped, causing Jeremy to bump and grind harder and harder… Jesse grit his teeth as Jeremy did the same while thrusting in. He removed himself and cam all over Jesse’s round hole, letting it drip, adding to the Doctor9s cum. Then he collapsed on top of Jesse’ back, Jesse gasping as Jeremy’s full bulk laid on top of him. Outside, Loosey snored… Morning came… The Doctor decided to ride on Loosey while Jeremy and Jesse rode on a horse each. They covered a great deal of ground the next day. “There’s not a lot of food left,” the Doctor said as he dismounted toward the evening. The sun had not yet set. Both the Doctor and the dismounted Jeremy looked toward Jesse as he sprang to the ground. Jesse looked guilty and innocent all at the same time, “What?” Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I’m a growing boy,” Jesse added. “I’ll say,” Jeremy smiled. “What do we do now? More plants?” The Doctor rubbed the side of his bald head….of course, he had some hair just above the ears and going to the round back of his head and it was mostly white. “I’m not sure, of course, but I think the plant creatures are few and far between in this part of the desert but…” Jesse walked in between them. “Speaking of desert, when does this one end? Or is all Gallifrey desert?” “No, there are some oceans and flat rock areas and mountains…” The Doctor looked around him. “I’ll take the horses and Loosey, see if they can locate anything…you two, wait here and don’t go wandering off…” He points at both their noses. In tandem, they asked, “Us?” The Doctor raised an eyebrow and murmured something like, “Huh uh,” and hopped on Loosey and nodded to the horses and the four of them left the area. Jeremy followed them with his eyes, a hand blocking the suns. Jesse puffed, “Now that they’re gone, I wanna ask you something…” “What?” Jeremy turned. “Did you…? Did you eat all the food just to get him out of here?” “What? Me? I’m shamed you’d even think…” “You did, didn’t you?” Jeremy turned back to look at where the Doctor just rode off to. Then back to Jesse, “You selfish bastard…” “I’m sorry…I…oh, he’ll be allright…” “He could die out there…” Jesse surpassed Jeremy and looked to the desert, “Oh, he’s not gong to die out there. He’s the Doctor, for God’s sake. He doesn’t do dying…not in the desert…that’s not going to kill him.” Jeremy was annoyed. “Ah ah, Allright. Whaaaa…what did you want to talk about?” “I want him back. THE Doctor . My Doctor. Your Doctor. Our Doctor. The one we met…” “He is the Doctor. He is the one we met…” “You know what I mean,” Jesse turned away, “The body we met him in…” Jeremy moved to face Jesse and bent down a bit to face him face to face, “Oh come on, you can’t tell me that last night wasn’t AMAZIN…” “It was. It was,” Jesse said, intimidated for a bit. “But…you know, sex isn’t all there is.” Jeremy blinked and stood up fully. “I…ahhh…did you just say…what? Say that again…” “Sex isn’t all there is to it, you know. I know you think that…” “What did you just say?” “Stop fooling around…” Jeremy gulped. “No, I mean it. I can’t comprehend it coming from your mouth…” “Usually, it’s cumming from your mouth into my mouth or something like that. I mean it. It…the outside counts too, you know…” “Now, that’s my Jesse…” Jeremy put his arms on Jesse’s arms. “Look, there’s nothing we can do about it. We both knew about this…that he could change at any moment, any time he was in deathly danger…” “Which is almost a ll the time…” “Exactly.” Jeremy said, “So what’s the problem. We accepted that long ago…” “Not that long ago,” Jesse wondered just how long it had been since they first met the Doctor. “I mean, our Doc, he’s…he was so…he was almost young—ISH…he had a young look, a young mentality and…he was shorter than I was…I really loved his body…” “This Doc’s body’s not too bad,” Jeremy stated, wringing his hands together and wondering about that himself, as he looked back to the desert. “Ahh, I’ll give you that and last night was amazing but…it was mostly that penned up sexuality for 100 years not coming out cumming out,” Jesse said, then blinked when he realized what he just said and wondered if that made any sense. “I just want him back,” Jesse said, “The way he looked before. I miss him. I miss his face, I miss his body, I miss his breath, I miss his abs…God, I just miss him.” “Well. I do too but he’s still in there, the knowledge of our Doctor, the mind of our Doctor, the love of our Doctor…” “I know,” Jesse sat down, “I could feel it…” He reached into the tent flap. “There’s=2 0only one fruit left,” Jesse picked up the apple. “It’s only fair,” he stood up again and held it out to Jeremy… “I count three,” Jeremy put his face close to Jesse and touched his forearm, picked up the forearm and glided his hand down the forearm to the wrist, fingers and apple. He looked at it and mostly into Jesse’s eyes. Jesse’s eyebrows furrowed, then went up. Jeremy moved his mouth along the hand, licked the back of the fingers after tonguing the knuckles. Jesse gasped, “You know what I mean,” and said all as one word. “The kind of fruit you can eat…” “I still count three,” Jeremy said, “Including me…” He put his lips wide on the apple. “that’s what I’m for for you and you for me…” “I…I know,” Jesse whispered, breath coming out in gasps. Jeremy said, “We’ll share. Sharing’s nice…” He shut his eyes and put his lips on the apple, then turned it in their hands. Then lipped the other side. “Bite it,” Jesse said. “Apples are good,” Jeremy put teeth into the apple now as Jesse put his lips on the other side, “Bananas…” he put his hand to the base of Jesse’s shaft and rubbed slightly, “…are be tter…” Jesse let go of the apple and kept it in his lips, put his hands on Jeremy’s stomach…seductively he managed to eekk out, in a low tone, “But we haven’t any bananas…” Jesse found sweaty hot abs and felt them up while swishing his mouth into the apple from his side. He swallowed a bit of it as he tore off a piece, hoping not to bite Jeremy’s tongue as he did so. Jeremy puffed out, just as seductively, “Well, we’ll just have to make our own bananas…” he said over the apple in his mouth… Jeremy twisted his head sideways and bit some apple aside, juice flowing down his chin, dripping off his chin to swing free to the sand or drip onto his chest, rolling down between massive pectorals. Jesse’s cheek got a squirt of apple onto it, possibly with saliva, he thought. He didn’t care. This was HOT! to him. He continued and so did Jeremy. Jeremy put his hands down free too now and the apple was just held up by their mouths, lips, and teeth. Jesse could taste apple and Jeremy; Jeremy could taste Jesse and apple. Jeremy let his hands roam free now, also. He felt up Jesse’s sides, moving to the smooth muscles above his hips and higher, about two inches under his arm pits. He felt them up before moving his hands around to Jesse’s back and felt that up and down. Jesse’s right hand reached as far down a s it could go and touched Jeremy’s shaft beneath the plant skin loin cloth/thong they had made. His ministrations made Jeremy’s shaft grew thick and the head, just the head, peeked out the solid foreskin. Pre cum was already there and it was obvious that Jeremy was trying to hold back a full outrage cumming. Jeremy’s hands went around and down to Jesse’s asshole and he took both middle fingers and wormed his way into the crack, launching Jesse’s body at his own as Jesse reacted, gasping into the apple. Jeremy smiled and almost lost the apple but re-caught it in his lower mouth, Jesse also holding it as he bit a piece and almost lost it. The piece went down his mouth and he swallowed it, feeling the main body of the apple, twisting with Jeremy’s tongue inside his mouth. The apple was almost gone. A few more bites, a few more kisses reaching the apple if not their own lips. Soon mouths were at the last piece and Jeremy took his lips and sucked it in and took some of Jesse’s lip with him “MMMMMMMM,” they both said as their mouths met, juice between them, apple, saliva, tongue. Lips met and tongues battled. Jeremy backed Jesse up to a lone white tree and Jesse locked lips with him as he did so. He felt the tree on his back and shifted his weight to it to allow Jeremy to almost mount him, half on the tree, half off. He felt the thin tree between his butt cheeks. Jeremy’s hands roamed some more out of the butthole and now türbanlı escort moving around the lower spine. “Like that?” “You’re growing on me…” Jesse looked down to see Jeremy’s dickhead popped out of the foreskin, which lagged behind …both against his thick inner right leg. “I mean it’s growing on me…no, I mean you’re growing on me…” They fell on the sand, Jesse laughing, and on his back, Jeremy on top of him, also laughing. Jeremy moved to his knees, getting off Jesse and gently he turned him over and laid on his back and went inside him again. He slowly began to penetrate his hole, moving his penis head in between the cheeks, moving the head up and beyond the hole, letting it pre cum up over Jesse’s bare back. Jesse laid with his face in the sand, but then put his arms folded over his head so that his face rested on his right upper arm. He shut his eyes as Jeremy slowly this time, moved into him, moving the dickhead down his lower spine, lower, lower, lower….until the head went to the area just above his bung hole. Jesse felt it there and it sent vibrations through his body. Jeremy had one arm holding himself up and the other hand was touching the delicate area between dick shaft start and balls, feeling with all five fingers, moving them around, encompassing balls, in between, ball sac, and dick shaft start on all sides. As he did this, he maneuvered20his body so that the penis head would go neatly into the hole and he slowly moved in. “OH, that feels good,” they both said softly. Jeremy laid down on Jesse’s back, using his hands to hold himself off Jesse. He didn’t want his full weight on Jesse, although from experience he knew Jesse could take that. He wanted this to be slow and romantic… Jesse’s face moved up and down as Jeremy slowly pumped into him. Finally, when they were done, they slept. The next morning… “Oh shit, did we sleep all night?” Jeremy gasped and stood up, his dick popping out of Jesse’s asshole. “Fuck,” Jesse said, “That was so good. I…the Doctor’s back…” He was on his knees and pointed… The Doctor was riding on Loosey and had sacks of skin from another plant and inside were fruits, more skins, and water sacks. The two horses were returning with him. “Great,” Jeremy laughed, “And only just…hey, I don’t want him to think we did it with each other just cause he was gone, you know…” “Don’t worry, I’m sensitive about these things,” Jesse stood up, brushing himself off, his loin cloth found in the dirt. He put it on to cover up dried cum…and only succeeded in covering up the dried cum on his20dickhead. He had some on his belly, too and his back and some that had dried before it had a chance to drip down the back of his legs. Jeremy swung away from the Doctor to put his loin cloth back on and see if he had anything showing as far as dried cum. “Oh it’s useless. It’s all over me…” The Doctor rode in, “Oh, you two have had sex I see.” “You do?” Jesse asked. He went up to the horses and pet them both on the mane. “I say see but I can, as a Gallifrean and Time lord, I can smell it.” “You can?” Jeremy joined them and looked into the sacks. “From miles away,” the Doctor smiled and dismounted. “I…” “Don’t worry. We Time Lords are used to not having sex for long periods of time.” “I meant to mention that. You didn’t have sex for a long time…I mean you must have had it with your wife cause I know that you’re a grandfather and all that,” Jesse started. “But…surely you must have wanted sex after her?” “Another time,” the Doctor stated, “I want to wash up.” He took one sack of water toward a higher up sand dune. Jeremy looked at the sacks on Loosey and the horses, “How many did you find?”C2 “Potential sexual partners?” “No!” Jeremy shook his head and made a “he’s silly” face at Jesse, who shrugged. Jeremy responded to the Doctor, “No, plants?” As the Doctor stripped his robe again, and poured water over his torso, his chest, and began to wash his arms and legs and stomach, Jesse noticed coarse white hair on the chest and a trail on the stomach. “Hot…” His main attention was on the dangling, non-erect penis, which was uncut and still quite long…for being un-aroused. The Doctor answered, “A whole garden of them….just to the west…but I think we should continue…erhm, uhm, north. If memory serves me or I serve it, I think the Capital may be that way…” Jesse looked through the sack, “Oh, an apple!” The Doctor called down as he rubbed water on his arms, “There are bananas there, also…” “Oh, no thanks, I’ve already had one…” Jesse yelled up at him so he could hear…and then stopped the rest of what he was about to say when he caught Jeremy’s face glaring at him from across one of the horses. “I thought I told you not to…” Jeremy looked down. Sand under his feet seems to be moving. He heard rumbling. “What the fuck’s happening to us now?8 0 Jesse gasped and gaped, “Not another sink hole…!” “I don’t think…” Jeremy yelled, “RUN!” He slapped the horse he was near on the back side and it ran. Before running, he did the same to the other one. Jeremy followed Jesse up a hillside, “Doctor, run!” Jesse yelled, “Yeah stop washing your dick and run, man!” The Doctor turned to see them running, Loosey running after the horses. “Whaa?” He calmly picked up a skin and dried himself off. The dirt where Jesse and Jeremy had been with the horses and Loosey was moving upward, not downward. A giant worm came up from the sand. It had human eyes. Jesse and Jeremy trudged up a hillside, for it was slow going now with loose sand everywhere. From the other side of the hillside, a giant mound of sand came up and the sand dropped off what was really moving upward. Jesse stopped running and screamed. Jeremy did the same. On the other side of them was a huge giant crab creature…it had antenna and eyes and what looked like a human forehead. It had two huge claws on either side of it! What really scared them was its evil red eyes that seemed to have pupils like a human being’s but it seemed totally evil to both of them. And it was as large a two apartment buildings. The span of the creature seemed to the boys to be a ha lf mile. There was no way they could out run it. They rolled down the hillside as the crab kept on rising over it. Spider like legs clawed over the hillside they had just been on as the thing pulled itself toward their puny forms! NEXT TIME: The Doctor sobbed. “Why wouldn’t she let me keep the horse?” The Doctor let out a sob and sobbed some more after that. Jesse stood in front of him, “She? Who’s she? Besides an immortal lady who has to stand in the water of fire or something. Ursula Andress, wasn’t it?” “Jesse,” Jeremy scolded. “Who’s she, Doctor?” “Rose, she wouldn’t let me keep the horse.” He cried out and tears came down from his eyes and dropped to his cheeks. “Reinette? DePompadour? She cheated on her husband and left a sick daughter to go live the high life. How could I…how ever could I fall for someone that selfish…?” A wolf-horse-gorilla monster, stands over the trio, dwarfing them in its giant ness. A giant wasp with human lips lands near them, as large as an airplane. Buzzing. An eight foot rock being, arms, legs, a horn on its head and another on its nose had elephant ears and a face like a vampire, almost human looking and milk white in face, red along its rock body. Waving its arms like it was clobbering time! Jesse gasped, “I think it thinks its clobberin time.” A giant butterfly with a giant stinger on its nose lands behind them. They turn around to face it. Jeremy says, “Yeah and we’re the ones getting clobbered!” A spider flower with flesh in the middle and thick legs. A crab mantis caterpillar with a hairy body, all black spindles and pointy spiked hairs. A floating puff ball fish like creature with fins on its sides bounces down near Jesse—eyes appearing and disappearing— and Jesse covers his face with his arms and hands. The thing is pink and puffs out red smoke. From the dirt a squid octopus rears its tentacles up at them. The Doctor looks down and steps back as it rises up. A tentacles wraps around his leg. A sand mud thing slurp up next to that, all brown and liquidly. Jeremy gasped, “We’re surrounded by monsters!” He looked up as a spear with wings and a beak like a bird flew down at him! “We’re gonna die!” One monster says, “Ahh, the Doctor and the monsters, you cannot have one without the other…” “SANDSTORM!!!!” “It’s a Gallifrean burial chamber. Get in there now and stay put!” “There’s only room for two!” “There’s not enough room for you!” “I’ll stay out!” “No,20I will!” “Get in there and …I love you both!” “Doctor! You know I love you, don’t you? ” Jesse asked. “Yes, of course I do, Jesse. Now goodbye…” A giant sandstorm hits the Doctor! He puts his arms up to block the sand from his face but the storm swirls around him and covers his whole body, making him vanish into the dirt and sand!

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Subject: Bad Boys Gone Naughty (Part 2) Disclaimer: Hey folks, this story is just a fantasy and I have no evidence that this actually happened, but we can all dream. Happy reading. Previously: Bad Boys Gone Naughty “Shit!” Brandon exclaimed as his fist jackhammered along his pole, Jack’s imposing figure was dominating his thoughts. Jack had pushed the blonde girl to the corner of the room in Brandon’s mind, now Jack was straddling the United star’s face with his tight shorts and that massive bulge protruding through the fabric slowly approaching his face pinning him to the pillow. Brandon grunted hard as his balls emptied firing aggressively across his tight abs. Premier League Football – Bad Boys Gone Naughty 2 Brandon cleaned himself up and lay there unsure what to make of what just happened. [She made me cum. Of course she made me cum. Pfft, stop lying to yourself Brandon you think Jack is hot!] Brandon gritted his teeth and stormed to the kitchen grabbing himself a beer. He sat down in the living room staring at the blank television screen, tears forming in the corner of his eyes before he threw back a long draught of beer. The blonde boy sat in silence pondering what to do next, [The missus would never understand, she would just think I’m cheating. My mates, they’ll just take the piss.] Brandon thought hard, who should he talk to. Picking up his phone he went back to his messages and clicked on Jack’s name, “you alright mate?” he sent, staring intensely at his phone. [What kind of message is that?] the vibration of the phone in his palm made him jump. “Wassup boy?! (wink)’ Jack replied. “Ah, just having a shit evening. You doing ok?” Brandon huffed as he hit send. “Yeah bro. What’s up, missus gone apeshit?” Brandon smiled wryly at Jack’s reply, [she will do when she finds out, if she finds out] “Nah, she’s out, that will be fine I’m sure. Breakfast in bed will clear the air. I was wondering, do you always send such raunchy pix to your mates?” Jack beamed reading the message, [he’s hooked!!!] “yeah mate, I fucking love it. I like knowing that people want my dick and my arse (wink) (aubergine) (devil).” Brandon sat there unable to control a bulge continuing to grow inside his boxers. The young blonde sat frozen for a second, unsure of how to reply. “It turns you on, turning people on. Do you go any further?” Jack grinned, [Got him.] “Why not, I’m always ready to shoot a load! What about you?” “I dunno mate, I haven’t really done anything interesting like that.” Jack was instantly rock hard. “Well if you get the urge to try something interesting then bell me (devil).” Brandon smiled to himself suddenly feeling very relaxed. } “Honestly Brandon, I haven’t got time for your shit anymore. You’ve changed, you used to care about me!” Brandon watched on as his girlfriend packed her bag, tears streaming from her eyes. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re on about, we’ve always been the same, you’re the one creating drama by storming out.” “Whatever Brandon! I bet you’ve been cheating on me too!!!” “You dozy bitch, I’ve been cheating now have I, fuck it, I cant win with you. Don’t bother coming back you ungrateful cow!” Brandon spat as the door slammed shut, his face red with anger. [Exactly what I need, the neighbours will have a fucking field day!] Brandon thought whilst he sat fuming on his couch. [She can sit here all day spending my money, drinking wine with her mates and she tries to accuse me of not caring about her feelings. She’s so damn selfish.] Brandon stormed into the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer, [Don’t let her back this time Brandon, stay strong!] He told himself. } Boris tells Britons to stay at home. Brandon watched the news horrified, were things really that bad. [Fuck, I’m alone] he stared at the TV screen wondering how he was going to entertain himself. Should he go to his parents? Nah they would spend every free minute trying to find out why the girlfriend had left and he would have nowhere to hide. [Staying put it is!!!] } One week of lockdown had passed and Brandon lay there bored out of his skull. “Sup boy, what you been up to?” Brandon glanced at his screen, it was Jack! “On my loners mate, you?” He replied. “Same, I could use some company tbh.” Brandon replied. “Send me your location and I’ll drive over (wink) (devil).” Brandon smiled at his phone nervously. “Ahh man, we shouldn’t, that’s breaking the rules.” he giggled as he typed. His phone buzzed again, “I won’t tell if you won’t. Come on, it’ll be fun. I promise I ain’t got any symptoms. And I know you’re a bad boy deep down (devil)!!!” Brandon gulped reading the last sentence feeling his cock pulse, he couldn’t resist. “Location sent.” Brandon’s heart was hammering, [you can do this man, don’t be scared.] Jack appeared striding up the corridor wearing a sky blue hoody and white shorts. As he reached Brandon the Villa player held up his fist, “sup bad boy.” he grinned disarmingly, [bad boy!] Brandon felt his cock twinge as he reciprocated the fist pump. “Come in mate.” Brandon stammered closing the door and took a deep breath. “I brought these.” Jack beamed holding up a plastic bag, “didn’t know what you like so I just got some Stella.” he continued as Brandon took the bag from him. “Thanks, have a seat.” Brandon replied, taking the bag from him to put them in the fridge, he returned a minute later with two cans and handed one to Jack. “Cheers mate.” Jack smiled, taking the beer as Brandon settled in next to him. Jack spread his legs wide, his knee hovering tantalisingly in Brandon’s eyeline. “Stick summit on the box.” Jack grinned, Brandon exhaled nervously grabbing the remote, “what you wanna watch?” Brandon asked, “Nothing, Just want some background noise.” Jack winked, Brandon’s face broke into a timid smile, “Ok.” he replied flicking through the channels landing on Would I Lie to You? Ranting David Mitchell made them both laugh, “I love that guy, says it how it is!” Jack chuckled, throwing back a swig of beer. “Yeah.” Brandon agreed, Jack could hear the nerves in the teenager’s voice. The 24-year-old rested his left hand on Brandon’s thigh causing the nervous teen to twitch awkwardly. “You sure you’re ok with this?” Jack asked, glancing over towards Brandon. The blonde boy stared back into Jack’s brown eyes and gulped, “I am, just a bit nervous I guess.” he explained. Jack’s face broke into a smile, “Good, that should make it more interesting.” Jack grinned malevolently. “Interesting, how?” Brandon replied thoughtfully. “You don’t even know what you want yet, you’ll learn more about yourself the more we do.” Jack beamed. `And what do you want to do?” Brandon asked. “Show you a good time.” Jack replied instantly giving Brandon’s thigh a squeeze before taking his hand away. Brandon smirked, blushing into his beer as he took a swig. Jack eyed the teenager glancing sideways as he took a swig of his own, “what are you into?” Brandon looked back at Jack, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to think of something normal. “Errr, I dunno.” “Ahhh come on, don’t be shy, you’re young horny and full of spunk, what do you want to do with me?” Jack interrupted. Brandon’s lip quivered, “well I’m not totally sure, but I think I like bad boys.”, “bad boys?!” Jack sniggered. The teenager hid his face in embarrassment, Jack decided it was time to test him out. “I like a good scally, you got a baseball cap and a hoody?” Jack asked cheekily. “Yeah course, one sec.” Brandon replied, hurrying off to his room. A minute later he returned wearing a grey hoody to go with his trackies and a red snapback. Jack looked him up and down beaming, “nice, I like the pumps.” He grinned noticing the blonde boy’s sparkling clean white trainers. “Ahhh thanks.” Brandon smiled as he sat down and picked up his beer. After the costume change there was nothing left to be said, Jack knew he was ready. As Brandon threw back a long draught of beer the Aston Villa midfielder watched him intently. The Brummy’s hand approached Brandon’s thigh and landed gliding along the soft fabric. Brandon’s nerves were still fully in control of his emotions, he sat frozen and aroused as Jack’s hand moved around his thigh and closed in on his cock. As Jack’s hand neared the teenager’s crotch he watched the fabric begin to strain as the youngster’s concealed excitement became apparent. “Suck my dick.” Jack demanded leaning back and widening his legs to present his bursa escort bayan crotch. Brandon’s eyes bulged in surprise and fear as Jack stared back at him with a demanding expression. Jack’s arm moved around to the back of the teenager’s neck and pulled him down into his lap. Brandon felt Jack’s hard cock pushing back against his face as the 24-year-old crushed his face into his warm lap. “You like that bitch?” Jack muttered, taking a swig of his beer as he did so, watching the teenager’s face rub against his cock through his white shorts. A noise which sounded something like agreement came from the teenager as his smooth but spotty face rubbed against Jack’s hard shaft. “Well take out my cock and suck my big bad dick then!” Jack demanded again forcefully. [Big bad dick!!!] Brandon felt his cock pulsing, the intrigue was too much to resist. Jack watched the submissive teenager begin to rub his lips up and down the protruding bulge in the Brummy’s shorts. Brandon suddenly appreciated just how thick Jack’s cock really was, or at least that’s what he thought. The Aston Villa midfielder’s shaft pulsed hard on the other side of the fabric as Brandon moved along it. “I said suck it!” Jack muttered despairingly as he grew frustrated with the teenager teasing him. Brandon pulled his face away and Jack opened up his shorts, the teenager’s eyes flashed in utter horror as Jack removed his cock from his tight black boxers. Jack’s cock was not only thicker than Brandon had expected but the boy was also a good 10 inches in pure length. The blonde boy’s heart was going overtime as he considered how the fuck he was going to deal with the monster in front of him. “Oi, if you don’t put my dick in your mouth right now, I’m gonna fuck your face.” Jack sneered, he wasn’t but Brandon needed a push and he knew it. The teenager’s face approached Jack’s uncut cock and slipped his pink lips around the Brummy’s fat head. “That’s it boy, take your time.” Jack grinned as Brandon began to swallow his shaft. The cute twink’s thin lips hugged Jack’s foreskin as he began to progress his way down the 10 incher. Halfway down, Brandon felt himself beginning to gag so he pulled off and began to stroke the Brummy. “You like that?” Jack muttered as Brandon recomposed himself. “Yeah, it’s nice.” He replied, pulling Jack’s foreskin down and staring at his fat purple head. Jack forced his cock to pulse in front of the teenager’s eyes. “Get back to it boy.” He demanded. Brandon took a deep breath and went for it again continuing where he left off. Jack knew he wouldn’t get the whole way down but he figured he would give the teenager some encouragement. “Breath through your nose yeah.” Jack exhaled, [this is getting good.] Brandon’s head bobbed obediently into Jack’s crotch, as his nose got closer and closer to the Brummy’s pubes. Jack looked down the scally boy’s slim body and smiled. The Villa captain reached down Brandon’s back and stroked the soft cotton of his grey hoody. The 24-year-old’s hand continued down the teenager’s back and slid underneath the waistband of his trackies. Brandon’s face bounced up and down along Jack’s monster pole, the large hunk of piece which previously seemed like Everest now felt more comfortable. The teenager’s lips ran tightly against the Brummy’s foreskin, Brandon judged the moans and twitches from the older boy as positive feedback. But where was Jack’s hand going? Brandon grunted through his nose, Jack gave Brandon a sharp paddle within his trackies before squeezing his arse through his boxers. The sounds of protest-by-grunt only seemed to spur Jack on, the 24-year-old couldn’t see Brandon’s arse cheeks but he knew they were white as a sheet where his fingers squeezed the United full-back’s fleshy arse hard. “Faster.” Jack demanded to Brandon who complied, holding the visor on his snapback the scally teen put his neck muscles hard to work as he swallowed Jack’s beast. Brandon hadn’t even noticed his nerves had disappeared completely, now he was just another sexy scally boy wearing grey trackies, a red snapback and white trainers sucking on a massive scally cock. Jack beamed down at the teenager’s bobbing head and took hold of his beer pouring some on his fingers and reaching down into Brandon’s waistband again. Locating the United boy’s crack he slid his wet fingers over Brandon’s hole and then pushed them in. Brandon stopped abruptly, “push out, and keep sucking.” Jack instructed. Brandon knew he had no choice but to continue, he’d come this far now might as well see where this ends up. The teenager exhaled through his nose again as the Villa captain pressed deeper into his hole, now Brandon had to focus on sucking Jack’s cock. His ring stretched wider and wider still until the Brummy pulled his fingers free and Brandon’s hole slammed shut. The 24-year-old took his beer again and moistened his fingers with yet more lager before returning them to Brandon’s ring. The United teen felt better prepared this time as Jack’s fingers sank into his hole with a little less resistance. This time Jack moved his fingers in and out of Brandon’s ring while the scally’s throat swallowed his cock. “Fuck me that’s a tight cunt you got.” Jack muttered. Brandon’s cock pulsed, he felt like such a sub. Jack’s fingers worked the blonde teen’s ring for a little longer before he pulled them free again. “Right now lemme see that nice cunt of yours.” Brandon pulled off the Midlander’s cock and looked up at him, “you heard me, show me that cunt!” Jack sneered with an evil grin. “Spin around and lean over the armrest.” he demanded. The slim teenager did so obediently, his hoodie hung open and free dangling down as he placed himself over the armrest. Jack moved up and around behind the United defender, “that’s nice, I’m gonna fuck your tight little cunt! You want me to fuck you dirty boy?” he grinned. “Yeah, fuck me Jacky.” Brandon replied nervously. The Villa captain placed his beer down on the ground before turning his attention to the 19-year-old’s arse. Jack reached up and under Brandon’s hoodie to pull down the youngster’s trackies. As he pulled the smooth cotton around and down Brandon’s legs his eyes twinkled full of the blonde boy’s peachy arse. Brandon’s tight white boxers hugged his cheeks nicely, Jack had no time for boxers though slipping them straight down Brandon’s blonde hairy thighs to the teenager’s knees. Brandon’s tight arse smiled back at Jack, the milky white skin in between Brandon’s tanned smooth back and hairy legs made the perfect target. Jack slipped off his blue hoodie and lined up behind the United star, grabbing his beer he poured a little more along the teenager’s crack watching the liquid roll enticingly across Brandon’s skin. “Fucking nasty slut.” Jack muttered before lowering his face to within an inch of Brandon’s hole. The teenager’s tight pink opening twitched nervously in anticipation, Jack’s hands took hold of the blonde boy’s things and pulling him back firmly, the 24-year-old’s tongue jabbed straight and directly into Brandon’s hole. Jack grinned to himself, he could taste the fear in Brandon’s tight ring. The Midlander pushed a pointy tongue into the 19-year-old’s hole, Brandon’s pale ring was covered with curly blonde hairs which tasted of beer and sweaty teenager. Brandon relaxed his ring allowing the Villa captain inside, the delicious fleshy taste of arse turned Jack on even more, his meaty 10 incher strained hard against the waistband of his white shorts as he tongued Brandon with increasing aggression. The Brummy swirled his tongue around the teenager’s tight ring, Brandon flinched as the bristles of the Villa captain’s stubble scratched at his soft innocent skin. Jack’s felt his face slickening with his own saliva and the moisture he continued to spread across the teenager’s hole. The hunger in Jack’s cock grew as he sucked on Brandon’s soft ring, [it’s time Jack, fuck him!] The 5’9″ Brummy repositioned himself and pushed his shorts down to his knees. Brandon’s exposed round arse pointed back up at the Villa captain, placing a hand on each cheek he squeezed firmly and pulled the teenager back on to his raging hard-on. Jack smiled down on the full-back’s cute bum, the soft skin hand a collection of unkempt blonde hairs spread across them betraying Brandon’s innocence. Jack took Brandon roughly by the hips and began to thrust into the youngster’s crack. The Villa captain’s görükle escort 10 inches thudded the perfect divot in Brandon’s bum, “you want my big hard cock?” Jack sneered again, “yeah, I want your cock?” Brandon begged, his hole twitching with anticipation as Jack’s shaft rolled along it. “I’m gonna break you.” Jack promised pulling Brandon’s slim hips hard into him one more time before bending down and spreading Brandon’s hairy hole. Jack spat on Brandon’s blonde hairy ring again then straightened up, dribbling down on to his own head. Brandon watched over his shoulder as Jack prepared his cock, the Brummy’s slimy saliva coated his head which he pointed against the 19-year-old’s entrance. The bottom’s breathing became shallow and rapid in nervous anticipation followed by a petrified squeal. The blonde boy instinctively tried to escape Jack’s clutches, his muscles contracting simultaneously to pull him away from the 24-year-old. No luck, “where do you think you’re going?” Jack smiled malevolent at the teenager’s involuntary fear. Brandon’s ring surrendered to Jack’s pressure, his thick head penetrating the slim twink. Brandon whimpered, the Villa captain’s strong grip pulled the teenager’s hips back whilst his ring begged for mercy. Jack’s shaft sank deeper into the tight twink’s belly, Brandon’s whimpers continued as the Brummy forced himself further in. “Shut up and wank yourself.” Jack sneered, the little blonde took hold of his soft cock and began to stroke himself but he couldn’t stop himself moaning still. With his free hand, the Mancunian reached over to a pillow and bit hard into it. Jack grinned to himself at the poor scally twink below him, his smooth lower back, the white socks and white trainers, the peachy, hairy arse being split in two by the 24-year-old’s fat cock. Brandon’s whimpers hadn’t stopped; they had just become muffled through his nose and a mouthful of cushion. A throaty groan echoed loud around them as Jack’s hands moved from the bottom’s hips to his muscly thighs. Jack used his leverage on the teenager to allow his cock to slide back before forcing himself forward again. A tear dropped from Brandon’s eyes, the stretching sensation of his ring was almost unbearable. 6 inches of Jack’s monster persisted inside the tight blonde, the weight of the horny top pushing him a little further inside Brandon each time he thrusted. The top paused briefly to partially remove his white shirt, taking his head out of his shirt but leaving his arms in, Jack showed off his bronze toned body. “Turn around and look at your master.” Jack demanded. The United full-back dropped the cushion from his mouth and turned to look at Jack. The teenager’s cock pulsed and began to harden as Brandon jerked himself, his blue eyes surveyed the top’s body. Jack’s slim body thickened where his muscles tensed and flexed, the Brummy’s bulging pecs with his thick brown nipples were so arousing to Brandon. “Yeah, you like what you see? You like my big bad cock fucking you?” Jack grinned. “Yeah, it’s nice.” Brandon murmured appreciating the view of the sexy top. The United defender’s eyes surveyed Jack’s body, the Brummy’s biceps bulged flexing hard as he pulled the twink’s ring down his pole. Brandon’s hole stung with pain and yet a smile slowly began to creep across his face as the initial shock began to fade away. Behind him the toned midfielder watched his rod sinking deeper into the dirty blonde’s not-so-innocent belly. Jack rocked back and forth just a little, knowing the teenager’s hole was becoming more accommodating with each passing second whilst gently attempting to feed just a little more length each time he pressed forward. 8 inches became 9, 9 inches became 9.5 inches and then they both felt it, Jack’s crotch pressed against Brandon’s soft cheeks. “You’re mine now you little slut.” Jack beamed holding Brandon at his hips. The slim top squeezed Brandon’s hips together as he began to speed up. The 24-year-old pulled his shaft back 8 inches and pressed forward into the depths of Brandon’s milky cheeks until his crotch stroked the bottom’s arse. Jack’s fingers squeezed the teenager’s smooth skin as he withdrew the majority of his cock again before slamming himself to his hilt. “Yeah baby.” Jack sneered, grinning to himself watching Brandon’s pink face puffing hard, sucking in as much as he could to help him deal with the continued mutilation of his tight ring. Jack raised his right bicep as he continued to pound the teenager. “Look at me.” Jack sneered craving the showmanship, Brandon glanced over his shoulder obediently to the sight of the toned Villa captain pounding his hole whilst holding out his right bicep and tensing. “You fucking like that?” He grinned. “Yeah, I love it.” Brandon smiled, the teenager grunted as he was rewarded with an extra forceful pump of Jack’s cock deep into his tight scally hole. “Fuck.” He squealed, his eyes widening as Jack watched the reaction to his every move. 10 thick inches plunged down ferociously into the blonde twink, Brandon could feel his own cock bobbing hard between his legs. The United defender closed his hands around his shaft and slowly began to pull his foreskin up and down. Their eyes remained locked together as Jack pounded, the Brummy relaxed his bicep and peeled his shirt all the way off, the top continued to spear Brandon hard as he placed his snapback back on his head. Brandon smiled back at Jack as the top flexed for him again, the top’s thick head sliding deep inside his tunnel brought a light consistent grunt from the sexy defender as the incredible feeling of anal sex brought a new sensation to the teenager. Jack grinned down at the beautiful soft milky cheeks below him. Brandon’s arse echoed with louder slaps as the Brummy slammed his torso harder within the sexy teenager. The dominant top ran his right hand down the bottom’s smooth back, tracing down his spine feeling the muscles tense as Brandon backed into his crotch. Jack’s hand slid over the blonde boy’s cheek and then swung his hand hard into Brandon’s firm arse. The sound reverberated around the room joining the sounds of Jack’s crotch slamming into the Mancunian’s beautiful arse. “Fuck yes.” Brandon squealed, looking back at Jack again. The Villa captain grinned malevolently down at the little blonde, a cute tuft of his fringe hung down across his pink forehead underneath his snapback. Jack swung his open palm again and ricocheted hard off the teenager’s soft arse cheek, whimpers of satisfaction pricked Jack’s ears, the little slut was loving it. The dominant top swung his palm again, smacking the teenager’s pale arse, the bass in Brandon’s whimpers grew deeper. Jack continued to swing as he fucked, the Villa captain’s right hand slapped the teenager’s cheek with his open palm then between the pumps of his hips, swung round to hit the other cheek with his back hand. Brandon watched the Brummy top owning his ring, the slim toned 24-year-old’s muscles tensing as he fucked. Jack beamed down at the teenager’s reddening cheeks, watching his cock plunge 10 inches deep inside the Mancunian’s tender hole. Jack felt a darkness take over him and his eyes turned evil, his crotch thudded as hard as it could into Brandon’s arse, knocking the sexy teenager forward. The blonde’s thighs did their best to hold the top back, forming the perfect hole to slam his cock into. Jack gave a wild growl and pulled his hips all the way back, Brandon’s blue eyes shot wide open in shock as his ring tightened around fresh air. His empty hole felt wider, his ring felt abused but he took the moment to breath and smile. Jack took hold of Brandon’s skinny calves and spun him around aggressively, the tight blonde rolled on to his back with his legs open invitingly. The wild top shuffled quickly into position grabbing Brandon by his trainers and without hesitation pressed his head hard against Brandon’s entrance. This time the teenager didn’t even have to push out as Jack’s fat bare cock proceeded back up inside his rectum. Jack watched with glee as his 10 inches split the sexy twink in two. The Brummy watched Brandon’s face screw in pain as the thick rod slammed deep inside him again. All the bass left Brandon’s voice as Jack levered himself up a little and pounded down into the moaning blonde’s belly. Brandon repositioned his snapback as it crashed against the armrest each time the slim top ploughed bursa escort bayan into him. “Make yourself cum!” Jack sneered as his hips crashed into the teenager. As Brandon took hold of his shaft Jack leaned closer and spat into the shocked Mancunian’s face. Brandon’s cock pulsed hard, he’d never felt dirtier in his life and it turned him on. The Villa captain grinned down at the bottom malevolently, “you fucking love it don’t you?” he sneered. Brandon nodded, his rosy cheeks puffed, his hole destroyed. Jack gave Brandon a slap across his face, “tell me you want it.” Jack grinned. “Spit on me Jack!” the teenager begged. The almighty top beamed spitting yet more phlegm on the moaning teenager. Jack’s length withdrew from the majority of Brandon’s tight tunnel before plunging to the depths of the teenager’s rectum. Brandon’s hand pumped his uncut shaft, his glistening pink head shone brighter each time Jack laid his eyes upon it. The bottom’s toned abs bounced with every thud of Jack’s sweaty frame, the Brummy held Brandon’s ankles with both hands and spread them wider biting his bottom lip as he visibly tried to slam as hard as he could into the youngster. Jack grunted heavily as he thudded into the scally twink, Brandon’s fist pounded furiously into his crotch unable to contain his excitement. The sexy Brummy mercilessly slammed his frame into Brandon’s cheeks, the little Mancunian feeling every inch of Jack’s 10 inches vibrating along the inside of his sensitive hole. The United full-back’s hairy legs began to shudder in Jack’s hands and the top’s eyes connected with Brandon’s just in time to see them roll to the back of his head. “You gonna fucking cum for me?!” Jack hissed leaning forward to raise the twink’s arse higher still. “Yeah I’m gonna cum.” Brandon moaned despairingly, his innocent rosy cheeks puffed as he breathed hard through the approaching orgasm. Jack gave Brandon one more slap and then sank his teeth into the teenager’s hairy right calf as the bottom let out a final squeal. Jack watched, with his jaw still clamped gently around Brandon’s leg as the teenager began to squirt. The tight blonde’s fist pulled his foreskin right down as Jack thudded into his bum. Brandon’s shaft grew and his slit opened shooting thick strands of his salty jizz across his torso. With each explosion the teenager’s squeals of delight became deeper and heavier. Jack’s unrelenting cock pummelled his hole whilst Brandon balls squirted more of his thick cum over his sweaty torso. 6 thick strands of cum trickled down the Mancunian’s sweaty chest from his pecs streaming down into his hairy belly button as his orgasm began to subside. The final feeble shot into his bushy crotch signalled the end of his orgasm as Brandon’s hand fell away from his shaft and panting he lay there satisfied in his own mess. Jack released the teenager’s ankle and pulled his cock back to slam into Brandon once more. The Villa captain swung his hips all the way back pulling all 10 inches out of the cummy mess below him. Jack quickly shuffled up the couch and took hold of his shaft pointing it at Brandon’s face as he pumped. The teenager’s blue eyes watched Jack handling his massive tool in disbelief that it had just fucked him senseless. Jack surveyed the messy teen’s body before his eyes returned to Brandon’s face and as he tugged around his head he felt his balls begin to jump and twitch. “Look at me!” Jack demanded hurriedly. The teenager’s eyes moved up the Villa captain’s sweaty body; he felt another glob of spit splash against his cheek before an angry growl from the 24-year-old warned him to close his eyes. Intense shots of Jack’s jizz fired into the teenager’s face. With practically no distance between the youngster’s face and Jack’s cock, the top’s jizz exploded off Brandon’s face splashing into his neck and rebounding into his snapback. Jack’s hard pole continued to throb on his hand as weakening shots of his cum splattered into Brandon’s messy face. The Villa captain gave a final huff as his empty balls sent another strand of jizz dangling from the end of his cock. Jack looked down at the mess below him proudly. “Suck my pole clean.” Jack demanded finally, Brandon peaked through his right eye as his left was covered in streaming cum to locate Jack’s cock. He could see the strand of Jack’s cum hanging down and opened his mouth to grant Jack entry. As the 24-year-old rocked forward his dirty cock slipped back between Brandon’s lips. The cum coating Brandon’s lips slipped onto his tongue along with Jack’s gamey rod. Jack’s hips pushed his cock deep into Brandon’s throat once more probing the youngster’s tonsils. This time Brandon’s throat put up little resistance as Jack gently fucked his face before pulling free. The cum soaked teenager lay there in shock, hardening jizz crusting around his cheeks, eyes and mouth. Jack spotted a box of tissues and reached over to take a few, gently the Midlander mopped up the slutty teenager’s messy face, starting with Brandon’s eyes. “Did you enjoy that?” Jack asked tentatively as Brandon opened his blue eyes whilst the Brummy cleaned him up diligently. “Mate, that was even better than I’d imagined it!” Brandon beamed. “Really? I thought I’d gone a bit too far with the spitting and slapping. I’ve never been that dominant with someone before.” Jack smirked. “I’ve never felt that slutty and submissive in my life!” Brandon exclaimed, “it was the perfect fuck!” He finished. Jack’s chest visible increased in mass along with his pride. “Glad to put in such a good show.” Jack grinned wiping the last runny bits of Brandon’s face. “You’ll have to shower for the rest I think.” Jack explained chucking the saturated tissues aside. “No worries mate, grab us some beers and we can chill like this.” Brandon grinned. } Villa Captain apologies for lockdown breach. Jack read the headlines, [totally fucking worth it!] He beamed smugly, [and no one will ever know the full story.] Sat on his couch he went into his messages and opened the pictures of Brandon’s cum stained torso. Jack reached into his boxers and began to fondle his hardening shaft. END Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoy the story. If you have any thoughts, comments or suggestions about this story or any other scenarios drop me a line on ail. I write these stories for fun, but I would greatly appreciate any contributions you are willing to give as a result. If you would like to make a donation then feel free to contact me on the email above. 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Subject: Suckered By a Jonas Brother – Chapter 11 This is a fictional story in which sexual activity between consenting adult males is depicted; it is no way based on true events or the sexuality of any of the persons mentioned. If you are underage or it is otherwise illegal to read this story where you live, please stop reading now. The Nifty Archive is a great website and is made possible by donations from its readers. If you would like to help support the site, you can do so at http://donate./donate.html This story is the work of the author and should not be copied or posted elsewhere in any way without the permission of the author. Comments can be emailed to: ail Follow me on Instagram @redcheshire RedCheshire website: bit.ly/red_cheshire ——————————————————————– Suckered by a Jonas Brother – 11 – Double Your Pleasure ——————————————————————– Author’s Note: This story takes place in January 2020, in Los Angeles. Shout-Out to Scott G, who helped contribute ideas found in this chapter. PatrickC who helped with proofreading. To those who want to see Tom Holland with Chris Hemsworth…you get a preview here. 😉 ~ Nick Jonas blinked, staring at the television at the video that Liam Hemsworth had begun playing. Joe and Chris were also riveted to the display, eyes growing a little wider in both surprise and excitement. “Damn he’s good.” The voice on the screen groaned in pleasure. “Yeah?” A voice responded, sounding further away, a little breathless. Whoever was filming zoomed in, getting a nice close up of Nick’s mouth bobbing up and down. His face was fuller and more youthful – Joe tried to place how long ago this video might be. His mouth curled into a grin, noticing that however long ago this action was from, Nick still had that hungry look in his eyes, glazed over with lust as he swallowed as much cock as he could, his shoulders bobbing as his body was rocked back and forth. “Hell yeah.” The person behind the camera reached out, running their fingers approvingly through Nick’s curly locks. Zooming back out, the view panned up to show a tanned body and then the handsome face of Darren Criss, his curly hair hugging his forehead, damp with sweat. His cheeks were covered with short stubble, pouty lips parted as he panted with pleasure “Your turn?” Darren closed his eyes, biting his lip as he continued pounding Nick’s tight hole, his hands grabbing his friend’s hips. “Naw, I’m good for now. Really *really* enjoying this ass.” A long breath rattled out of his throat, his mouth hanging open as Nick began wiggling his hips in response to the compliment. “Fuuuuuuck.” The camera jiggled as its owner chuckled. “That’s cool, mate. I meant do you want the camera?” Darren’s eyes reopened as he smiled. “Oh hell yeah.” The view went disjointed as the camera was handed over, a blur of skin until Darren got a good grip. He zoomed in on his cock sliding in and out of Nick’s hole, slick with lube, the prominent vein winding down his shaft glistening in the lamp light. He pulled back, the head of his cock tugging at Nick’s entrance before plunging back in. The view panned up again, the back of Nick’s bobbing up and down. A slim torso was on the other side of Nick’s body, a flat stomach with a hint of abs covered in a wide furry happy trail. Long fingers wrapped around Nick’s scalp, pulling his head down, burying the full length of cock down the singer’s throat. “Oh yeah, fuck man.” Nick pulled back and bobbed up and down, a wet slurping sound rolling out of the speaker system. Looking left and right, Joe noticed that both Hemsworth brothers had a hand in their laps, each guy lightly rubbing their crotch as they watched the screen. Turning his attention back to the television, Joe saw the camera move up – the man on screen was hard to make out, his head tilted back in pleasure, only a short but dense beard discernable. The face finally tilted forward, bold blue eyes drilling into the camera. “Oh fuck – you fucked Daniel Radcliffe?!” Joe looked over at Nick, who looked sheepish but nodded his head. “When the fuck was this?” “Um. When I was doing `How to Succeed at Business’. I met up with the guys to get some tips on the show and working on Broadway.” “Looks like you got more than the tip, mate.” Three pairs of eyes turned to look at Liam, Chris groaning out loud at the bad pun. “What? Doesn’t look like he’s complaining.” Liam nodded towards the television, prompting the other guys to return their attention to the action on the large screen. “And…neither is…he…” Liam thumbed through his phone, streaming a different video. Liam watched as Joe’s eyebrow rose, seeing himself. It looked like the camera was resting upright on a nightstand. Two figures filled the vertical video, one standing up and using his legs to power his hips up into powerful thrusts. Two hands dug into the toned back, with slimly toned legs wrapping around Joe’s waist. With his mouth latched onto Joe’s neck, Lil Nas X stared into the camera, finally lifting his face and moaning. `Kid knows how to play to the camera,’ Liam thought to himself, fond memories of their own trysts filling his mind. The two men clung to each other, Lil Nas’ body pinned to the wall, Joe holding him up and in place as he drilled the cute little butt. “Oh fuck, I’m getting…” “Yeah man, give it to me. I want that load.” “Yeah? Oh fuck…” Lil Nas nibbled on Joe’s shoulder quickly before speaking again. “Fill me up – I want to have your babies.” “Ahhh!!!!!” Joe went over the edge, his entire body clenching as his balls unloaded. Lil Nas’ thighs flexed on screen, working his hole to milk Joe’s lengthy cock. “Yeah, all of it. Every. Fucking. Drop. Give it to me.” His fingers dragged down Joe’s back. When Joe’s climax finished, his body visibly relaxed, spent. Lil Nas slid his legs down, his feet reaching the ground to support his own weight again. Sliding around, he guided his dick and lined it up with Joe’s ass, spearing the other man in one long slow stroke. Joe palmed the wall, sighing in pleasure. Hands held onto Joe’s hips as Lil Nas X began thrusting in and out, faster and faster. One of his hands wandered up, pushing against Joe’s shoulder blade as his own body leaned back for better leverage, plunging into the tight confines of Joe’s tunnel. Before long he reached his own point of no return. Arms wrapped around Joe’s torso, hugging the two men together as his own ass cheeks clenched again, shooting his own spunk deep inside Joe’s guts. Joe turned his head towards the camera, their lips and tongues meeting in a hungry kiss as they slowly recovered from their lustful workout. Nick’s own heart rate was up as he glanced around, his body reacting to the sight of large tents forming in Liam’s Chris’, and Joe’s shorts. Thin cotton fabric was pulled tight all around the room, barely able to contain the three poles that had gone rigid from Liam’s impromptu movie session. “Love this one. Oh, and thanks man, Montero and I tried this one out after watching. Fucking hot.” Chris grinned wickedly at Joe – his wink caused Joe to imagine the scene but Chris standing and himself pinned to the wall – his cock throbbed even harder in his shorts. “You still have the Maluma one?” The older Hemsworth brother looked over to see Nick’s blush deepen as the other man’s memories appeared to rush to his mind, along with more blood to his cock, based on the way the tent in his shorts bounced on bursa escort its own. “Of course.” A few taps and the scene changed again. Nick was on his hands and knees, eyes rolling back in his head with pleasure. Behind him, a tanned figure with a lot of tattoos had his lip curled and eyebrows furled as he fucked Nick’s ass with vigor. A blend of Spanish and English words poured forth, all complimenting Nick’s hole and telling all the things that the Latin stud was going to do to it that night. By now, all four guys were openly groping themselves, their palms running up and down their hard cocks as they enjoyed the videos. After watching the Maluma video for a few minutes, Liam changed up the scene again. “And another singer…” he grinned. Once again, Nick was getting railed – this time he was on his back, his legs wrapped around the waist of Shawn Mendes. Nick’s kept angling his head backward, moaning loudly as he gripped the sheets. Shawn was rubbing his hands up and down Nick’s legs, his own hips gyrating in a circle as he pummeled Nick’s prostate. His words went back and forth between sweet appreciation for Nick’s body and his ass…and dirty taunting talk. Whoever was holding the camera moved around the bed, getting the action from different angles, zooming in and out on Shawn’s cock and the pair’s faces. Liam pressed his finger to the screen and slid it to the right, scrubbing through the footage to a particular spot. Letting go, the video changed. The same bed and still Shawn but now a different Jonas brother. Joe was sitting upright, reclining against the headboard. Shawn was on his knees, facing Joe, riding the older Jonas Brother’s cock like it was his new favorite toy. “You’re one tough top…and one hungry bottom, aren’t you?” Joe looked up, playfully growling the words. His hands slid down Shawn’s back, reaching down to squeeze the perky butt. “Yes sir.” A hand pulled away, returning with a loud smack. “Oh fuck – thank you sir.” A big grin stretched across Shawn’s features. “Can I have another…sir?” Joe’s own smile was wicked as he raised his palm again and brought it down, harder this time, with a firm squeeze. “Tell me what you really want.” “Your cock.” Shawn’s words came out panting with heavy breath, his body covered in sweat from fucking Nick and now riding Joe. “You’ve already got that…” Joe leaned forward, latching his tongue onto Shawn’s pert nipple and began sucking on it. “Oh fuck.” Shawn rose up and down. “Oh fuck.” He bounced again, and again, repeating the same words. Each time he said `fuck’, his ass slapped against Joe’s thighs. One hand left Joe’s shoulders and curled into the dark locks of his hair. Joe pulled his mouth away, rubbing his nose against Shawn’s chest. “Tell me what you *really* want…” His mouth played near Shawn’s other nipple. “Your cum.” “Yeah, you want my load.” “Uh huh. Please.” *SMACK* Joe’s hand swatted Shawn’s ass again. “Yes what?” “Oh fuck. Yes sir. Give me your load, sir. I want every drop of cum your balls have in my ass, please, please, please, oh fuuuuuuuck.” His last word stretched out as Joe’s mouth finally latched onto his other nipple, sucking hard. Joe’s cheeks pulled in with the intensity of his mouth’s work, causing Shawn’s words to descend into just moaning out loud. His hand left Joe’s hair and flew down to his crotch, grabbing his own cock and beating it so quickly that his hand was nearly just a blur on the screen. Rolling his head back, he cried out as he began painting Joe’s torso, white juices flying out of his cock and landing all over the older singer’s body. The camera moved down and got up close to where Joe’s cock was driving in and out of Shawn’s hole, a few wisps of hair surrounding the shaft as it slid in and out. Joe’s fingers dug into the ass cheeks, spreading them apart so the camera could get a better view. His thrusting suddenly stopped with just the head still parked inside Shawn’s entrance. With a loud groan, his meat swelled and began to throb, each pulse sending a shot into Shawn’s ass. He withdrew slightly, the very tip still inside, as rivulets of his juices slid down his shaft, pooling in his groin. Suddenly he slammed back inside, just the root of his pole still visible as it continued to pulse, the satisfied sound of Shawn purring as he took Joe’s load. “This one is Chris’ favorite.” The video changed again. Whoever was holding the camera was standing up, looking down at Nick who was on his knees. Nick’s hands were all over the person – caressing their legs, their waist, their abs. The other person’s spare hand was wrapped around the back of Nick’s head, pulling his face down to bury their cock down his throat. Releasing their grip, Nick was able to bob up and down the thick length again…until they impaled his mouth once more. This time, the guy held Nick in place. Nick’s cheeks turned pink and then red, his eyes becoming watery as he held his breath – the entire time, he looked up with an expression of satisfaction instead of concern. Let go once more, he pulled off, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Whoever was getting head relaxed, allowing Nick to return to what he did best – servicing a cock. Liam fast-forwarded the video after another minute of Nick’s efforts. Returning to normal play speed, the video showed a hand laying flat against the top of Nick’s head, holding him in place. The camera was moved down to the side, catching the action as the rod ran in and out of Nick’s mouth, a `gluck gluck gluck’ sound filling the room. The other person’s breathing got noticeably heavier and the angle changed again, returning to a downward view of Nick. Free to move once more, he was swiveling his mouth around the last few inches of pole, most of the shaft exposed and shiny with spit, his fingers playing with the pair of balls below. A loud grunt was heard and the dick jerked – Nick’s lips latched onto the head and sucked, his cheeks pulling in as he looked up. Damned if he wasn’t somehow grinning with joy while his lips were stretched around the pole and his jaw working quickly to swallow. The cock continued jerking, the grip of Nick’s lips holding it tightly in place. The grunts were followed by a long sigh of pleasure. Nick finally released the dick, sliding his hand up to grip the base of the shaft as he grinned, his tongue reaching out to swirl around and around the head, lapping at the slit to get whatever drops of jizz remained. “You know…” The other three men looked over at Liam, who had pulled his manhood out from his shorts and was stroking it. “…that tattoo on the guy’s wrist looks *really* familiar. Think I’ve seen it somewhere before.” He winked at Joe with a knowing grin. Joe grinned back, looking down at the small axe etched into the skin of his left wrist. “But yeah, Chris loves that one. And when a movie is really good, you always wonder if there’ll be a sequel.” Liam’s grin got wider and wolfish, looking back and forth between their two guests. “Bro that’s not really fair.” “What’s not fair?” Liam looked over at Chris, who had a good-sized wet spot that had appeared in his shorts. “Calling our guests out. If you’re going to expose their antics, you should be prepared to reveal your own.” Liam’s eyebrow rose up, his beard pulling to the right as he grinned even more. “Well, I didn’t think they’d want to sit through our own home movies. I hate when people pull that shit, making you watch their vacation videos.” “Oh, I don’t think I’d mind.” escort bayan Joe licked his lips as he pulled his cock out to match Liam’s posture. “In fact, I think I’d love to see some of your adventures.” He chuckled as Liam shrugged, as if the other man hadn’t planned on playing his own videos at some point. “As you wish.” Liam tapped the phone again and the television lit up again. It was a shower, the camera resting a few feet away. Two men faced the tiled wall, one with his hands splayed against the wet surface and the other with his arms wrapped around his friend’s chest. Hips pumped back and forth, both men moaning as the water cascaded over their bodies. The man doing the fucking turned to nuzzle against his partner’s shoulder, the affectionate move making his face visible as Joe recognized Liam’s bearded features. He couldn’t make out the other man’s face and Joe got distracted when the other man’s arm reached down, gripping Liam’s hip and urging him on. The scene fast-forwarded – it looked like Liam got down on his knees to finish the other guy off and Joe made a mental note to ask for a longer viewing later. When the video resumed, the phone was now sitting on the nightstand, angled to get a good view of the action on the bed. Liam was on his knees, his body angled down, face nearly touching the mattress. His hips wiggled around while moving back and forth, as if he were twerking up and down his lover’s cock. The man from the shower was more visible now – his chest and abs were defined, working as he pawed at Liam’s ass. Joe looked over at Liam, eyebrows furled with a question. “Mike Moh. From the `Killerman’ movie we did last year.” “Damn, he’s hot.” Joe squeezed his cock. “Mmhmm. Thick piece of meat too. Really gives you a good stretch. Damn, I need to see what he’s up to.” “Good boy – you want that cock?” Joe returned his attention to the video, where Mike was rubbing his hand in a circle on Liam’s rump. The Australian stud responded by increasing his efforts, grinding against Mike’s crotch. “Damn, you do, don’t you?” “Uh huh.” Liam moaned as he shifted back and forth, working the pole a little. “Yeah, show daddy what you want.” Liam rocked back and forth, fucking himself on Mike’s stick, both men moaning. Mike’s hand patted Liam’s ass. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Liam continued moving back and forth, both men wearing playful smiles. “Goooood boy. Baby wants that bone, doesn’t he?” Liam pushed back with his muscular arms, slamming back against Mike’s body. Drawing himself forward again, he rammed back, impaling himself again and again. The sound of flesh clapping against flesh filled the air. Mike pursed his lips. “Oooh…fuck yeah.” Reaching down, he pulled Liam upright, his hands palming Liam’s pecs as he began taking control, pounding his co-star. Liam’s head rolled back as Mike worked over Liam’s hole with his cock and his nipples with his fingers. The rigid cock bounced in the air as Liam’s waist absorbed the power of Mike’s thrusts. “God damn…” Joe stared at the screen, the words rolling out of his mouth which hung slightly open. “You like?” Joe looked over, his hand continuing to stroke his cock, a light gleaming in his eyes. “Oh yeah…daddy.” “Shut the fuck up.” The two men laughed as Liam returned his attention to the phone and pulled up another video. By now, Chris and Nick had pulled their meat out as well – Chris noticed that Nick kept switching his attention between the television and Chris’ tool, swallowing hungrily more than once. A plump ass filled the screen, one hand tenderly squeezing the round glutes as they rose up and down a long veiny cock. The sound went off, leaving only the video – Joe looked over at Liam who only nodded towards the screen. “See if you can guess who.” Joe returned his attention to the screen, paying close attention as the booty bounced up and down for a ride, appreciating both the ass and the ample cock that it was taking. Just as the camera was panning up, Liam hit the pause button and looked over. “Dude, I have NO idea. It’s just an ass. A really really *nice* round ass but there’s like no tattoos, no body hair, no voice, not even the back of the guy’s head.” Liam looked over at Nick. “Any guesses?” “Ummm….no…” Nick was elbowed by his brother. “If it was a cock, maybe. An ass? Not Nicky’s thing.” He smiled as Nick’s nose wrinkled at the nickname. “Let’s try again then, shall we?” Liam rewound the video and hit play, resuming the video with the sound on this time. “Oh yeah…” The large hand squeezed the round ass, the camera jostling slightly. Joe nodded as he recognized Chris Hemsworth’s distinctive voice. “Fuck yeah.” The bottom’s torso twisted slightly as whoever it was glanced back over their shoulder. “You liking that mate?” Joe made a mental list. Younger guy. British. Lighter voice, not deep. “God damn, who wouldn’t?” Chris’ hips pushed up a little, eliciting a groan from the other man. The ass rose up, letting go of almost the entire length of Chris’ dick, with just the head remaining inside. The hips swiveled as they came back down, a long low rumble coming from Hemsworth’s broad chest. “Fuuuuuuuck.” His hand patted the firm ass cheek. “You have definitely learned some new tricks…” He groaned again as the other man repeated the up and down swivel motion. “…since last time.” “Maaaaaybe.” You could almost hear the mischievous wink in the other guy’s tone of voice, as the two men continued a friendly banter. Joe made another mental note – it was someone that Chris knew…and seemed to know quite well. Suddenly, the bottom began jackhammering themselves up and down Chris’ long cock. The rear rose up and down quickly, the guy rabbit-fucking himself on the large pole, both of the men groaning in pleasure. “Oh god…fuck, I’m getting close. Where…?” Chris trailed off, breathing heavily. Liam paused the video in the same place as before, just as the camera shifted upward. “Want to try again?” “Dude!” Joe laughed, shaking his head. “Trivia night is a little hard when…you’re hard.” He and Liam laughed at the joke while Chris and Nick moaned in pain at the pun. “Valid point.” Liam laughed again, hitting the play button. The camera moved up, the other man’s face revealed under a mop of wavy brown hair as he looked over his shoulder at Chris again. “Well, you’ve already nutted two loads in my ass, so let’s say we try getting a taste of Thor’s hammer.” Joe whistled as he finally recognized the face of Tom Holland. “Daaaaamn, man.” He looked over to find Chris with a big shit-eating grin on his face, obviously reminiscing about the pleasures of Tom’s hole. “How often did you tap that ass when you were filming Marvel movies.” “Um, the better question is how often was I *not* `tapping that ass’ when we were filming?” The sight of Joe’s jaw hanging open caused him to roar in laughter. “I’m serious. The lad is insatiable. And fucking…” He pulled his free hand up, thumb and finger making a small circle. “…tight as hell. There weren’t many days that we didn’t meet up. Sometimes with friends.” He nodded over to Liam with a knowing wink. A few taps and the screen changed again. Chris’ cock was buried down Tom’s throat this time, the younger man on all fours. The camera moved up to show Sebastian Stan’s brilliant blue eyes just above the curve of Tom’s rear, his mouth buried between the cheeks as he ate the young stud out. Lifting himself up, he lined up his dick with Tom’s bursa escort entrance and plugged his friend’s hole, a loud muffled moan coming from Tom’s very full throat. Seb bit his lower lip as he lay his palm flat on Tom’s lower back, pulling back to give a powerful thrust inside, seeming to know exactly what the kid liked. “And speaking of Marvel…” A couple of taps from Liam’s fingers and Tom was replaced by the sight of another man laying on his back, the lower half of his body in view, appearing to be clad in blue and silver spandex shorts that hugged the contours of his body, clinging to his thick thighs. A hole had been torn in the crotch, allowing his cock to break free from the tight-fitting material – it waved in the air, bouncing around as his body was rocked slightly back and forth from the pounding he was receiving. His legs were up in the air, held in the air by Liam’s firm grip as he thrusted in and out. The camera panned down, revealing more of the mystery stud’s body, a beefy thick-muscled build that was covered in yet more spandex. When Nick noticed the straps wrapping over the man’s shoulders, the recognition that he was wearing a wrestling singlet sent a tingle down his own spine, causing Nick’s dick to throb in his hand. A light beard appeared, the mouth open as a veiny cock slid in and out, the man’s throat visibly swelling as it was filled with man meat again and again, happily moaning around the piece of man meat. The dick slid out, coated in a thick layer of spit – its owner grasped the base and swung his cock, slapping it against the chiseled face. “Is that…the guy who played Quicksilver?” “Aaron? Yep.” Chris smiled warmly as he answered the question, fond memories coming to mind. “Daaaamn.” John swallowed, taking in the visual of the hot threeway. On screen, the camera panned up again, over Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s body, showing Liam pounding away. Aaron’s lengthy cock bounced around wildly, causing Joe to think about the inflatable tube people you’d see outside of stores. “How, uh…” Nick cleared his throat. “How…” He held his hands up, several inches apart, his eyebrows rising up to help form a question. Liam grinned, sensing Nick’s reluctance to look like a size queen. “Nine and a half inches. A little over that actually.” He looked over at Joe. “What? It’s a long fucking dick – I got curious and got a measuring tape.” He shrugged, chuckling. “Longer than big boy stud over there, actually.” He pointed at Chris, who extended his middle finger into the air in response. He returned his attention to Nick, a devilish glint flashing in his eyes. “And trust me, you feel every bit of it. Want me to set up a play date?” “I mean, if you want to.” Nick nodded while shrugging, trying to look nonchalant about the idea. “Nick, it’s cool. That’s a prime piece of dick – if you want to sit on it, I’m certainly not going to judge. Hell, what do you think *I* did later that day?” He winked with a laugh. “So…play date? You, me, Aaron?” His grin turned into a warm smile as Nick nodded, his already-pink cheeks darkening with a blush. “You got it buddy. I’ll message Aaron.” On screen, Chris handed the phone over to Liam who angled it down, the device’s camera zooming in the sight of Aaron’s hole taking Liam’s thick piece. From this angle, it was possible to see the jock strap that Liam was wearing, the pouch tucked to the side…and that a hole had been ripped in the rear of Aaron’s wrestling singlet, allowing access to his ass. “Sports theme?” Joe looked over at Chris. “Yeah. Liam likes to play dress up sometimes.” He winked over at Liam, grinning. “Like Thor over there doesn’t like it too. Hang on.” After a couple of minutes the view panned up again, taking in the sight of Chris’ naked body, the only attire he was wearing was Aaron’s mouth and a whistle hanging on a strap around his neck. “See?” “I’m wearing a whistle.” “You still dressed up.” “With a whistle. That’s barely dressing up. Hey!” Chris laughed as he ducked to dodge a pillow that went flying over his head. Leaning over, he took hold of it and tossed it back to Liam. “Don’t be a slob, little brother.” “Okay, guessing game again. See if you can figure ouuuuut…” Liam tapped at the screen. “…who this belongs to.” Liam’s face appeared on the screen, kneeling between two muscular thighs. He wasn’t sporting a beard, his clean-shaven cheeks flexing as his jaw worked, hoovering up and down someone’s dick. Joe and Nick leaned forward a little without realizing it, studying the screen. The shaft was nice and long, with large veins running down its length, a couple of them widening as they reached the base. On screen, Liam pulled off and lapped his tongue up and down the pole. “You like that” he asked, staring up at the camera. His hand pumped the shaft, causing the foreskin to slide up and down, revealing a long bullet-shaped cock head, the ridge flaring out a little…which Liam’s tongue attended to, eliciting a happy moan from its owner. Liam slowly slid his tongue back up to the tip, opening his lips and taking in a couple of inches of cock before beginning to bob up and down again, his blue eyes looking right into the camera the entire time. Liam tapped the screen, pausing the action. “Any guesses?” “Chris Evans?” Joe answered, figuring it might be another Marvel actor. “Close, but no.” “Chris Hemsworth.” Nick answered with confidence, looking to his right at the older Hemsworth brother. “Bingo. Damn, good guess.” “No, it’s the veins – noticed them on the other videos.” “Of course Nicky already logged that away into his mental cock catalogue.” Joe glanced over, teasing his brother. “Hey now, don’t tease the lad…he knows what he likes.” Chris came to Nick’s defense, his smile both kind and enticing at the same time as he looked at the younger Jonas brother. “And, from what I’ve heard…and seen…what he’s good at.” Liam complimented Nick, grasping his cock to point it in Nick’s direction. “Which…seeing and hearing is one thing. Kinda curious what that’s like in-person.” He raised an eyebrow, looking directly at Nick while he spread his legs and leaning back in his chair. Recognizing the welcoming gesture, Nick got up and closed the short space between the couch and Liam’s chair, settling onto his knees, similar to the pose on the television screen. Taking hold of the thick rod with his hand, he lapped his tongue up its length, teasing for just a moment before taking half of it into his mouth. As he began happily sucking on Liam’s cock, savoring the taste and feel of the heavy cock between his lips, he heard the sound of slurping off in the distance, realizing that Joe and Chris were having some fun of their own. The cock pulsed in his mouth, releasing precum against his tongue. `This is heaven,’ he thought to himself, moaning in pleasure. ~ To Be Continued ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed the story, have feedback or want to share ideas, would love to hear from you. ail Follow me on Instagram @redcheshire Website: bit.ly/red_cheshire If you’re interested in other stories I’ve written: “Holland Far From Bone” series (adventures of Tom Holland with various celebrities) https://www.//gay/celebrity/holland-far-from-bone/ “More Than Once Upon A Time” series (series based on the “Once Upon A Time” television series): http://www.//gay/celebrity/more-than-once-upon-a-time/ “On The Set of Neighbors” (series based on the 2014 films “Neighbors” and “Neighbors 2” with Zac Efron & Dave Franco): http://www.//gay/celebrity/on-the-set-of-neighbors “Exploring Kirk’s Frontiers” (based on the 2009 “Star Trek” universe): https://www.//gay/celebrity/exploring-kirks-frontiers “The College fty//gay/college/the-college-bet

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Subject: Welcome to Gayberry – 15 Welcome to Gayberry � 15 Feel free to address any comments on this story to hoo. His is a work of fiction and is based on no real persons, living or dead. If you enjoy this or any of the wonderful stories here, I hope you will consider a donation to the Nifty Archive to keep the site going. It is a treasure!!! fty/ 15 “The sheriff is pretty busy today and can’t seem to get nothin’ done because of interruptions” Randy said with some anger in his voice. The sheriff was still mad at the young pharmacist over her question about his son’s physical development and suspicious of her because of her seeming shamelessness when it came to discussing things women shouldn’t be discussing. He had secretly been concerned that Dopie’s best friends were developing nice little patches of pubic hair while Dopie still had nothing above his cute little cock. His fears had been somewhat assuaged by a visit to a doctor in Raleigh who was a good friend of his new friend William. But the words from the lady pharmacist still angered him as he felt nothing about his son’s body was any of her business. “Do you think you might tear yourself away from your work to take a few minutes and help a damsel in distress?” she asked prettily. “Well, you sure ain’t bein’ the haughty bitch you wuz last time I saw you” he said. “What is it you need?” “Well, since you’re judging the Miss Gayberry Pageant this weekend and you and Aunt Flea were the ones who talked me into entering, I’d be most grateful if you could come over to the drug store and tell me what you think of a couple of dresses I’m considering wearing.” It was true Randy and Aunt Flea had encouraged the young girl to enter the pageant. She and Randy had been out together several times since she moved to town. But that was before the sheriff had realized what a nosy, meddling person she was. The sheriff felt she was far to free to discuss things only men should talk about and he had begun to dislike her. However, he and Aunt Flea had indicated to her that if she entered, she would probably win since Randy had been judging the pageant ever since he had become sheriff. He decided to play along with her, as he didn’t want her talking about him with all the other women in town. He suspected she wasn’t above telling lies and he didn’t want sordid tales about him or his family making the rounds. After all, he had a sterling reputation in Gayberry and that was important to him. “Okay, I guess I can take a little time to help out” he said. “Why don’t you run on and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” “Okay, sheriff,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. When she was out the door, the sheriff wiped her saliva off his face disgustedly. “Damn women!” he exclaimed. “They ain’t good for nuthin’ except stirrin’ shit up and causing problems. I think we’d be better off if we shipped ever one of `em off to another country.” Randy walked over to the drug store. No one was at the counter so he called out to the pharmacist. “Miss Nellie, you around?”he yelled. “Oh yes, Randy” she answered. “I’m back here in the back. Come on back here. I need some help.” When he went into the back room, which was only separated from the main part of the pharmacy by a curtain, he saw Nellie with her back to him, wearing only her slip. She turned to face him, wearing only a half slip and a lacy white bra. The girl had large breasts which spilled over the cups of the bra. “I’ve had an accident, sheriff,” she said. “I took these three dresses out from the dress shop to decide which one to wear for the pageant and I just can’t decide. I hope you’ll help me.” The sheriff turned his back to her. “Why, Miss Nelly,” he said. “You ain’t decent. It ain’t fittin’ for a man to see a young woman with nothing on.” “Why, sheriff, don’t be silly” she said. I’m fully covered. Besides, you’ve been married before so I know I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before.” “It just ain’t fittin behavior for a single girl and a man” he said. “I ain’t got no bizness bein’ alone in here without some other folks around.” His back still to her, he felt her rubbing her barely clad body against his back and her fingers unbuttoning the top button on his shirt. Her hand slid under the tee shirt into his thick chest fur. “You’re the sheriff in this town” she said. “If a girl ain’t safe with you, she can’t be safe with anybody.” The sheriff felt her begin to kiss his neck and felt her warm breath on him. He felt her hand groping at the front of his pants, attempting to lower his zipper. He spun around, planning to tell her to stop, but she didn’t let him get a word out before she had her tongue in his mouth and her hand inside his fly, grabbing for his thick meat. He pushed her away, so hard that she fell over a stool and landed in the floor. She looked shocked at his reaction. “Miss Nelly,” are you drinkin’ or something?” he asked. “Don’t you know anybody could come through them front doors any time and both of our reputations would be ruined in this entire town. What wuz you a’thankin?” “I’m so sorry, sheriff,” she said, feigning tears. “I’ve just been lonely since moving here. I don’t have any friends in this town and you are such a very attractive man. I hope you’ll forgive me, but I thought after your deputy came in here yesterday and bought all those things that both of y’all were men of the world. I thought it would please you if I came on to you. I assure you I have never before behaved in this manner with a man and I shall never do so again. Please forgive me.” She began to get dressed. Randy was silent. “Miss Nelly,” he said. I’m sorry you’re lonesome in this town. You’d likely make more friends if you behaved like a lady instead of talkin’ about things men are supposed to talk about. It ain’t none of your business what my deputy came in here and bought. None of your business at all. If you’re gonna live in Gayberry, you better learn how we behave and learn to keep your silly mouth shut. And grabbin’ a man’s dick in a public business ain’t how we behave.” “Sheriff, I am so very sorry” she said. “I just don’t know what got into me. I’ve never behaved in such a manner. I hope you won’t hold it against me in the Miss Gayberry pageant. It’s very important to me to win that and you and your aunt indicated I would win. Otherwise I wouldn’t have even thought of entering.” “This will have no impact on Miss Gayberry” he said. “I can assure you of that. As a matter of fact, I have selected another judge to assist with that decision. It is far too big a decision for one man to make. You can rest assured of that.” “Oh, thank you, sheriff,” she said as she came and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you are such an understanding and forgiving man. Are we still on for dinner tonight?” “I think so” the sheriff said. “We’re supposed to meet up with Arney and Velma Sue at the diner at a quarter of seven. I ain’t checked with him but if anything changes, I’ll let you know.” As he walked back to the courthouse, the sheriff was stopped by young Kurt, the plumber’s assistant. Randy could tell the young boy had something on his mind but didn’t seem to be able to say it. He guided the boy over to a bench and they sat down. “Sheriff, this is real embarrassin’ to say, but I gotta say it or bust” the boy said in his soft voice. “Sheriff, I’m really sorry about earlier today” the handsome young man said. I didn’t really have an errand for my paw. I just got scared and had to get out of there. I really wanted to stay but I just got scared. I was excited and I thought I could do it but then when it came time to take my clothes off, I just felt really embarrassed and had to get away. I really wanted to stay because you were there. I think I might could’ve stayed if Jimmy and the others weren’t there and it was just you and me. I didn’t want it to stop. I’ve been thinking about how nice it would be to get naked with you and have you touch me. I ain’t got much of a dick but it sure gets hard any time I think about you.” “Son, I’m glad you feel like that” the sheriff said. “I ain’t really done that kind of stuff before but I think you’re one of the most handsome boys in this town and I’d shore like to get to know you better. I wouldn’t mind doin’ some exploring with you if you know what I mean. It’d be real important that you don’t say nothin’ to nobody about what we’re doin’. I got a reputation I have to uphold in this town.” “I understand, sir, and I wouldn’t ever say a word to anybody that would reflect badly on you” the boy said. “I probably ought to tell you though there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe not wrong but it’s kind of bad. My pecker ain’t all that big and it’s cut too.” “You mean circumcised, son?” the sheriff asked. “There ain’t many boys or men in these parts with cut dicks. Is yore paw cut too?” the sheriff asked. “No, sir,” the boy answered, his face turning red. “Just when I started getting’ a few hairs down there, I figured out how good it felt to touch myself when I’d get hard. I was doin’ it all the time until one day my paw caught me doin’ it. I told him how good it felt and how I couldn’t stop doin’ it. He took me to our preacher, who’s my dad’s brother. Brother Roy told my paw that some boys have that problem and how it was a sin against God to spill seed on the ground. The next time he caught me he told my uncle, my paw and the reverend took me out to the church where he preaches and they held me down and cut the skin off the end of my penis. They were both pretty drunk and they didn’t give me nothing to ease the pain. I can’t tell you how much it hurt, sheriff. And healin’ up was just awful. I ain’t felt the same way about my paw since it happened. I don’t hate him or my uncle but I just don’t feel nothin’ at all for either of them. And it mersin escort didn’t do nothin’ to make me stop stroking myself. I’m just a lot more careful not to get caught. But just being around you makes me want to do sex things. I hope you won’t hate me for being truthful with you and I hope you won’t tell anybody about what my paw and his brother did to me. They both told me they’d kill me if I ever opened my mouth about it. I been wanting to talk to somebody about all this stuff and something just told me today you were a grown man I could trust.” “I’m glad you felt that way, son, and I’ll keep what you told me to myself” the sheriff said. “I thought you was kind of shy today and I suspected you might be a virgin except for beatin’ your meat. You ever had anybody suck you off, son?” the sheriff asked. “No, sir,” the boy said. “I ain’t never done nothin’ with nobody except what my paw and his brother forced me to do. That hurt a whole lot and my uncle held a knife to my throat and threatened me if I told. I’m engaged to my uncle’s daughter. My paw and my uncle made a real big deal out of it in our church about me and Sarah being betrothed. We haven’t had sex or anything. We haven’t even kissed or held hands. Girls in our religion aren’t allowed to even be alone with boys till they’re married. They’re planning a wedding for us in about a year when she turns fourteen.” “Son, I’d be glad to play around with you if that’s what you’d like” the sheriff said. “I ain’t had much experience myself but I’ve enjoyed what I’ve done and I like sharin’ it with others. You and Mr. Lee will be doin’ a shower install at my house when you finish this job. We’ll find more time to talk and to make a plan.” “Gee, thank you, sheriff,” the boy said. That’s the best news I ever heard.” The sheriff watched the handsome boy’s bubble butt walk away from him. “Life is good” he said to no one. When he got back inside the court house, Jimmy and the deputy were just finishing hanging curtains in one of the cells. The curtain was on a rod with rings so that it could be closed to allow some privacy in one of the cells. “Looks like y’all done a pretty good job, boys” the sheriff said. “Just remember, that curtain ain’t never to be closed without me sayin’ it’s okay. Deputy, did this boy keep his hands out of his pants while y’all was workin?” “Yes, sir, sheriff,” I didn’t catch the boy with his hand in his pants a single time.” “That’s a good thing” Randy said. “I know the boy wants to go back to school, but the truth is I can’t trust him not to beat his meat while he’s at school. I can’t keep an eye on him while he’s there.” While they were having this conversation, his friend, William, came in. “Hey, sheriff! What are y’all talkin’ about?” the man asked. “I was just sayin’ our boy Jimmy wants to go back to school but I can’t trust him not to sneak in the bathroom or somewhere and beat his meat” the sheriff explained. “I’ve told him he ain”t to touch that dick till I give him permission. I’m trying to teach the boy about self-control.” “I may have an answer for that” the man said. “I may have just the thing for that if I can find it. I’m headed home so I’ll check before I come back this evening. We still on to meet with the coach’s son after school?” “Yessiree” the sheriff answered. The sheriff filled his friend in on what had happened with Nelly at the drug store. He also filled his friend in on the fun he’d had with the plumber and young Jimmy a little earlier. William said he needed to have a little closer look at Jimmy to make sure his solution might work. The boy had been sitting quietly in his cell, trying to convince the sheriff he could be trusted to go back to school. The sheriff called him and he came quickly, still dressed in only the gray athletic shorts he had been given. “Yes, sir, sheriff,” he said brightly. “I need you to drop them shorts boy” William said. “Drop `em down around your ankles.” Jimmy hated being exposed before other men, but after getting a nod of the head from the sheriff, he complied quickly. He was naked now in front of the sheriff and William with the deputy sitting close by at his desk. Arney was watching their every move closely but feigning disinterest. “That’s a pretty big piece the boy’s got there, sheriff, but I think we can make it work” William said. Jimmy had no idea what the man was talking about, nor did the sheriff. Will reached out and weighed the boy’s nut sac in his hand, tickling the perineum. That area under his nut sac was particularly sensitive as it had almost never been touched by anyone. Will then took the boy’s thick, uncut meat in his hand and skinned back the foreskin, revealing his fat pink cockhead. Jimmy started to harden, though he was trying not to. “This boy’s cock gets hard by barely being touched. I can understand your concern. If you don’t watch him, he’ll be beatin’ that meat ten times a day or more. Those nuts are feeling pretty full. I thought you had him banded.” “I did, but he’s behaved himself today so I’m givin’ him a little break. Gave him them shorts to wear too” the sheriff said. “You know best, sheriff, but I’d be careful about giving him too much too soon” Will said. “He probably ought to be in prison right now. He owes it to you that he’s not getting that pretty little butt of his ripped to pieces right now. They’d tear that cute butt up in Statesville. He wouldn’t survive one night with them goddamned criminals.” His words made Jimmy shiver. He knew he wouldn’t survive in prison and his fate was entirely dependent upon the sheriff’s good graces. The boy was convinced the sheriff could put him in the squad car and drive him up to Statesville on a whim and the boy would have no recourse. “Well, I’ll run on up to my house and see if I can find that device for your prisoner. Would you like to join me, sheriff?” William asked. “Ain’t much goin’ on around here right now” the sheriff replied. “Might as well.” Randy told the boy to leave the shorts off for now and instructed his deputy to put the boy back in the cell with one wrist cuffed to the bars of the cell. He ordered the deputy that if he saw Jimmy even touch his own cock, he was to have his hands cuffed behind him. He introduced Will to Mr. Lee, the plumber and his cute young assistant, Kurt. Randy could tell by the way the man was eyeing the young boy’s cute bubble butt that he approved. Then the two men left and got into William’s shiny new Buick. As they drove to William’s home, the sheriff and Will discussed the information they had on Coach Thomas and his older son, Mark. Dopie’s little friend, Jeffy had confessed to the sheriff that his older brother was having sex with the young boy, although not as often as the boy would like. Jeffy said the older brother was also having sex with his father and the boy’s fourteen year-old sister, Betty Jean. The men agreed they had enough information to make sure the coach did anything they wanted him to do. What was less clear was the coach’s exact relationship with Principal Whaley and his son. Apparently the coach and the principal had known each other in Charlotte and Jeffy even referred to the man as `Uncle Ben, as did the coach’s older son. A further mystery was that the coach was a single man, yet he had a son just a little older than Dopie and Jeffy. It was unclear where the kid had come in or if he fit into the whole sexual picture. The sheriff had also learned that young Jimmy thought of Principal Whaley, who was also the school’s track coach as his mentor. Both men agreed to start the ball rolling with young Mark, whom the sheriff had ordered to be at the court house after school. The two men also discussed getting the scout troop started for their boys. They both wanted to get things rolling, but with Founders Day Celebration and Miss Gayberry Pageant scheduled for the coming weekend, it might be hard to schedule a night in the woods campout for the boys. “I think Dopie and Billy Paul have been training pretty hard for their races” William said. “Yeah, they sure have” the sheriff added. “I was thinking we might get them out of the way this afternoon by sending my dumbass deputy out to train with them. It will get the boys from underfoot and keep the boys busy while we do our interrogation of Mark Thomas.” “He sure is a cute little fucker” William said. “I can’t wait to strip the boy down and handle him.” “I was surprised to learn the boy was cut” the sheriff said. “According to his little brother Jeffy, the boy’s maw had him cut while he was out of town. Neither the paw or little Jeffy’s cut so I understand the coach was really pissed off when he came home and found part of the boy’s dick had been cut off.” “I can imagine” Will said. “I’d have killed my bitch wife if she’d let anybody put a knife to either of my sons. I can tell you something I’ve never shared with anybody else. This device we’re going to my house to get is called a chastity device. I think it might do the job on little Jimmy since you don’t want the boy touching himself. When my older boy started hitting puberty, I was on the road a lot. My slut wife complained to her daddy that my older boy was beating his meat a lot. I knew nothing about it, but she told her daddy it was a problem. I came home one weekend to find my older son crying in his room. It was hard to find out what was going on. You know some boys can be kind of shy when they start getting’ pubes and pit hair. I’d been traveling so much I didn’t realize my son had started puberty. His asshole grandpaw had gone out and bought some device that’s like a ring and a tube. He’d put my boy in it and locked it so the boy couldn’t touch his own cock. It was awful. When my son finally showed it to me, I came close to killing my father-in-law and my wife. It’s like a tight band that fits around escort mersin a boy’s nut sac and his cock, then attaches to a tube you put the boy’s cock through. Then the whole thing is locked.” “I ain’t never heard of such” the sheriff said. “I’d imagine that can’t be too comfortable.” “Oh hell, no, it’s not comfortable” the man said. “When I saw that contraption on my son, I went off. I had to put a knife to the old man’s throat to get the key away from him so I could unlock my son’s cock. That’s when my older boy and I started getting so close. I never trusted the bitch I’m married to again. His grandpaw has managed to buy his way back in by paying the boy’s college tuition and promising to pay for law school. But my boy knows what a fucking snake the man is and he’ll turn on him when he’s finished using him. I can’t wait for that day. I look forward to you meeting my older boy, Johnny. He doesn’t get home too often but you’ll like the boy. He’s quite a looker.” “If he’s anything like Billy Paul, he’s gotta be” the sheriff said.” “By the way, I’d really appreciate it if you’d join me in judging the Miss Gayberry Pageant Saturday. I think we could have some fun with it and all them young women wantin’ that title. A lot of `em would do anything to win. And I mean anything” the sheriff said, winking at his new best friend. William reached over and put one of his big hand on Randy’s thigh as they enjoyed a chuckle. Randy liked the feel of having the man’s hand on his thigh. A few minutes later they reached the Walker home. It was a sprawling rancher on a very large lot in one of the new parts of the old town. Will pulled his car up in front of a double garage and hit a button. The garage door opened, making a soft groaning sound. “That’s pretty fancy” the sheriff said. “I ain’t seen many of them around here.” “When Paw-in-law is paying the bills, you can have nice things.” he man said, inviting Randy into his house. The men went into a large den where an attractive woman was watching television and drinking a martini with two olives in the glass. The woman didn’t speak to them or even acknowledge their presence, which seemed strange to Randy. They went outside through a back door and William unlocked a storage shed. There were a number of large wooden boxes on shelves. “I’m not sure where this thing is” he said. “I haven’t seen it in several years, but I know it’s here. Never imagined I’d have any use for it till now.” He grinned as he said that. He opened the first box but it didn’t contain what he was looking for. He did, however, find a large, heavy brown wooden paddle with holes drilled in it. He lifted it out, chuckling. “This may come in handy” he said. “I forgot it was here. It’s the paddle we used in my college frat days. That board has turned some college frat boy asses red in its time. We might be able to use it” he said as he swung the paddle a couple of times. In the next box, he found what he had been looking for. It appeared to be a plastic tube in the shape of a penis with a metal ring and a tiny padlock. “This may be a little tight for that big-dicked boy” he said, “but that’ll just add to the fun.” He went through another box and found several dildoes which he handed to Randy. The sheriff had heard of these but had never actually seen one. They ranged in size from very small to a large black one which was very thick and very black. “I think that’s about a nine-incher” the man explained. Randy didn’t ask for an explanation as to why Will had these items and no explanation was offered. The man went back through the house where the woman had not moved, still watching a soap opera on the television. “Bye, bitch” William said. “Billy Paul won’t be home after school. He’ll be with me.” She had no reply. The men got back into the Buick. “Looks like they’re comin’ right along with that swimming pool” the sheriff said. “They’ve about got the hole dug, ain’t they?” “You bet” Will said. “Billy Paul is so excited, he can’t hardly stand it. I hope you and Dopie will feel free to use it any time you like. And bathing suits will be optional.” “Yore wife might not like that idea” Randy said. “Fuck that bitch” he chuckled. “I may hold her head under long enough to do the job. That bitch won’t say a word to anybody. She probably won’t even notice. She’s drunk by noon ever’ day. Her old man’s been buggin’ her about comin’ to visit. I keep praying she’ll just pack up her shit and move back to that fancy apartment with her despicable father. Those two deserve each other. I’ll tell you one goddamn thing though. I’ll never let him get his hooks into my younger boy. I’d kill that motherfucker first.” “Can’t say as I blame you” the sheriff said. “If I came home and found that contraption on my Dopie, whoever put it on him would have to answer to me � and he’d have a lot to answer for.” “My boy was pretty upset” Will said. “I’ll never forget the day I came home and found him. He was in his room crying and wouldn’t talk to me. He was afraid of his grandfather cause the asshole had threatened him not to tell. When he finally pulled his pants down and I saw that wire cage on his pretty penis, I could have gone off on the old man. If my boy hadn’t begged me not to, I’d have killed that motherfucker right then and there.” “Does that thing hurt when it’s on a cock?” the sheriff asked. “It sure as hell ain’t comfortable” Will said. “When a boy’s dick is locked in that cage, he can’t get hard. When he starts to harden, it sure as hell hurts cause that dick’s got nowhere to go. If they’re put on too tight, it can completely cut off circulation to a man’s nuts and his pecker. He could end up losing his junk. But it’s pretty safe and it has to fit pretty tight or a boy can grease it up and slide it off.” “I think it’s the perfect solution for Jimmy” the sheriff said. “If I can be sure the boy can’t beat his meat, I’d consider lettin’ the boy go back to school. Of course I’d want to lay eyes on him several times during the day so he knows he’s being watched.” “Couldn’t agree more” Will said. “I think it’s gonna be fun to have that coach under our control. He’s a muscular guy and he seems to get his way.” “Yes” the sheriff said. “I think it’s wrong that he makes his older boy suck him and the coach fucks the boy, but he don’t do nothin’ for the boy in return. I hear he tells the boy that only boys suck dick and get fucked � not men.” “Why, that ain’t fair at all” Will said. “That asshole needs a lesson. I guess there are still a lot of men with those old-fashioned beliefs.” “Or several lessons” the sheriff chuckled. “By the way, where’d you get all them sex toys and that paddle that was in your garage?” “That’s all left over from my college days” William said. “I was a pretty wild frat boy back in the day. There wasn’t much me and my fraternity brothers wouldn’t do with each other or with ever’ girl on the campus.” Ah, I wondered where you learned to like so many things” the sheriff said. “You’ve made me think about stuff I’d a never thought about just a few days ago. My dick’s stayin’ harder than it was when I was a teen-ager. Can we make a quick run by old Jubal’s farm. I need to fill out a report on a cow he had stolen last night.” They took off for the run down farm. Jubal reported a cow had been taken out of his barn the night before. Randy took down all the details. As they were leaving the barn, Randy noticed something on the wall of the barn. “Is that a cattle prod?” the sheriff asked. “Shore is, sheriff” the man answered. “I ain’t seen one of them in a while” the sheriff said. “Think you might let me borrow that for a while, Jubal,” he asked. “Naw, wouldn’t mind at all” he reported. Randy thanked him and took the cattle prod as he and William left. As they drove back to the court house, Randy explained that a cattle prod delivers a substantial electrical shock. “I think this might be useful in training young Jimmy not to touch his pecker” the sheriff said. “One zap with that will shock his ass off. He’ll be in the floor beggin’ me not to do it again” he laughed. “Sounds like a useful tool to me” William remarked. “Could come in handy with that coach we got to work on too.” When the men got back to the court house, things were quiet. Jimmy was in his cell, still naked, with his hands cuffed behind him. “Deputy,” the sheriff said, “get over there and uncuff that boy. You can give him them shorts to put on. Now that we’re back, I think he knows better than to even think about puttin’ a hand on that big old swingin’ dick.” The deputy did as instructed. “Now that’s the way I like to see my deputy act” the sheriff said. “Doin’ as instructed without any backtalk or questionin’ what I say. Are the plumbers done installin’ that shower in the back room?” “No, sheriff,” the deputy answered. “They was almost done but Mr. Lee got a call sayin’ his wife might be goin’ into labor. He was worried cause it’s kinda early so he went on over to the hospital after Doc Andrew called. Young Kurt is back there finishin’ up. The boy thinks he can finish the work hisself.” Randy walked into the back room where young Kurt was working away. The boy didn’t hear him enter the room and continued his work, his jeans down slightly, exposing just the top of his creamy white butt and the top of his crack. The sheriff swatted the boy on the butt, lightly and the boy jumped, startled. “You about scared the pee out of me, sheriff” the boy said, laughing. “Sorry, Kurt, I just couldn’t resist doing that, boy,” the sheriff said, sitting on a stool beside where the lad was working. Kurt smiled up at the sheriff. “That really is a cute little bubble butt you got on you, son,” the sheriff said quietly. “I hope you can keep it a secret that I told you that.” The boy blushed. “I promise I ain’t tellin’ a soul, sheriff,” mersin escort bayan the boy said. “I really did mean what I told you earlier about how much I like being around you. I ain’t never felt nothin’ like it.” “Was you tellin’ me the truth when you said you ain’t never done nothin’ with nobody else in a sex kind of way `cept the stuff your paw and your uncle forced you to do?” “I swear it, sheriff,” the boy said. I ain’t even never kissed another person, boy or girl. I think about it. I think about it a lot and it sure makes me hard. But my paw don’t take to that kind of stuff. That’s why he took me and got me cut like the preacher told him. But since it healed up, it ain’t stopped feelin’ good when I touch it. I want to touch it all the time. Thinking about you putting your finger in me makes me harder than anything. I’m sorry, sheriff, but I’m hard as a rock right now just sittin’ here with you.” “Kurt, why are you getting married at such a young age?” the sheriff asked. “My paw said that’s the way it’s gonna’ be. I ain’t got no choice. I’m betrothed to my preacher’s daughter but she ain’t quite thirteen yet. She’s my first cousin but my dad says ain’t a thing wrong with that. I barely ever been around her cause our church don’t let boys and girls mingle much. I think they’re afraid that some sex stuff will get started. But I honestly got no interest in her or any other girl. We can’t marry till she turns fourteen. Them’s the church’s rules. The preacher says the Virgin Mary had baby Jesus when she was fourteen so that’s the age when girls can get married and start having babies. I don’t think I want to get married at all. Specially when I get around you and have all these mixed up feelings.” “Is Mr. Lee, your boss, a member of your church, son?” the sheriff asked. “He used to be, sheriff,” the boy said. “He married his wife when she turned fourteen. He’s a good ten years older than his wife and they’ve already got a house full of little ones. He don’t want no more, but he says he really loves fuckin’ his wife and ain’t willin’ to give that up and the church says usin’ rubbers is a sin. He left the church after he started having kids. He said ain’t no daughter of his gonna be married up like a brood mare when she starts growin’ a few hairs down there. No, sir, him and his family pulled right out of that church.” “How do you feel about that church, Kurt?” Randy asked. “I hate it, sheriff,” the boy said. “I hate ever minute of it but my paw says he’ll beat me black and blue if I don’t go and I know he means it. Mr. Lee has told me I could run away from paw and move in with him and his family, but I know he’s got a housefull and I know paw would just hunt me down, tear my ass up and make me come home.” The boy was blushing deeply as he bared his soul to the sheriff. The boy was quiet for a minute and Randy put his arm around the boy, drawing him closer. He smelled the fresh boy scent coming off the lad. He liked it. A lot. The boy put his hand on the sheriff’s muscular thigh and the sheriff put his hand on top of the boy’s. “Don’t worry, boy, we’ll find somethin’ that’ll work better for you” the sheriff said. “Just hang in for now and get your work finished up here.” “I will, sheriff” he said quietly. “And I really do appreciate you just listenin’ to me. Makes me feel a whole lot better.” The sheriff realized he wanted to kiss the boy but he didn’t. He knew that was just something men and boys didn’t do. He headed back to the main room of the court house where William was talking to his deputy. “Sheriff, I gave the deputy a list of a few more things I think we might need from the drug store, but he doesn’t seem to want to run an errand for me” Will said. “He says I ain’t his boss and that only you can tell him what to do.” “He said all that, did he?” the sheriff asked angrily. The sheriff’s temper flared. “William, where did you put that fuckin’ paddle we brought from your house?” “I put it in the top drawer of your desk, sheriff,” he said, retrieving it and handing it to Randy. “Deputy, you got ten seconds to be out of them clothes and bent over this desk” he barked. “You better believe I mean it and you better get out of them fuckin’ clothes right now. You now have seven seconds! 7 � 6 � 5 � 4 � 3-…” Deputy Arney knew the sheriff meant business and he was totally and completely nude by the time the sheriff reached 2. He was so humiliated to be naked in front of other men because of his tiny uncut cock and his almost hairless body. He was now completely nude and bent over the sheriff’s large oak desk, waiting for what he knew would be a painful punishment. William and Jimmy were laughing at the deputy scurrying to get his clothes off so he could get his ass whipped. Randy stepped behind the deputy and let go of the first hard lick with the heavy wooden paddle. Owwww!” the deputy screamed. “Stop it, Randy! I can’t take that. I ain’t built for pain!” “William, hand me the duct tape out of that same drawer the paddle was in, please” the sheriff said quietly. The sheriff took the black tape and began to wind it around the deputy’s face so he could not scream. “You just fucking never listen and never fucking learn do you?” the sheriff asked. “Well you’re going to learn to listen and to obey orders if I have to turn that scrawny little ass of yours into raw meat every day for the rest of the fucking year. You better not even think about raisin’ up off that desk or I’ll double the ten licks I was originally plannin’ to give you. Don’t fucking move a hair!” The sheriff proceeded to give the man nine more of the hardest licks imaginable. The deputy had tears streaming down his face but the sheriff didn’t let up at all. Arney dared not move a muscle although the pain from the heavy paddle was almost unimaginable. When the sheriff was finished, his right arm was exhausted. The deputy lay unmoving, his butt cheeks red as fire and burning as if they’d been set on fire. He wanted badly to rub his cheeks but was afraid to move at all, fearing more licks. “Good job, sheriff,” Will said. “I know you hated doing that but maybe your deputy will learn his place.” “Would you like to give him a few licks for good measure?” the sheriff chuckled. “I think the deputy may have learned his lesson, at least for now” William said, “although it might be fun to watch him beat his meat.” “That could be amusin'” the sheriff said. “I stopped by his room the other day and he happened to be in the middle of beatin’ his meat. He was embarrassed and tried to deny it but I knew exactly what he was doin’. I shoulda beat his ass then for tryin’ to lie to me. I think that might make this an even more memorable lesson for him.” “Whatever you think, sheriff,” the man said. “You are certainly the boss here.” “You heard him, deputy” the sheriff barked. “Turn over on your back and get that meat hard. You better beat it like your life depended on it. Too slow and William will take the paddle to your sorry ass again. You better get it through your dumb fuckin’ head that an order from him is the same as an order from me. So you better get started getting” that tiny little boy dick of yours hard enough to beat.” The deputy was humiliated as he stood up, then laid back on the desk exposing his tiny meat. He immediately began to tug on the foreskin and he got hard pretty quickly. He held his little dick between his thumb and forefinger and moved the skin back and forth over the head quickly. “That ain’t even a good mouthful of meat, sheriff,” William said. “Both our boys got more meat than this deputy.” “Ain’t it the truth” the sheriff said. “Is them other toys you brought in the drawer too?” At a nod from William, Randy reached into the drawer, retrieving a black buttplug. He spit on the plastic toy and shoved it into the deputy’s hole. The deputy gasped but he couldn’t make a sound as the duct tape still covered his mouth. He squirmed, trying to adjust to the anal invader but it was incredibly uncomfortable to him. “I think he’s trying to say `thank you'” William laughed. The men howled with laughter as they watched the deputy pound his meat, the black butt plug peeking from his stretched , hairless hole. It wasn’t long until it appeared the deputy was about to climax. His breathing was more rapid and the men could tell he was reaching his peak. Just as he was almost there, William delivered a fist to his tiny nuts, commanding him to get his hands off his cock. The deputy was in pain and shocked at this interruption. He had never experienced a ruined climax and his nuts were now hurting as much as his red butt. Both men laughed as the sheriff ripped the duct tape from his mouth and ordered him to get dressed. “We got more to do here than sittin’ around beatin’ our meat all day, deputy,” the sheriff said. “You better get dressed and get to steppin’ over to the pharmacy with that list of stuff Will gave you. And make it fast, deputy! Before you leave, you better get that plug out of your hole, wash it off, dry it off, and put it back in that drawer” Randy had never seen his deputy move so fast and he was out the door, list in hand in a couple of minutes, as the men enjoyed a good laugh. In a matter of minutes, the deputy returned with a bag holding the items William had ordered. By the way, deputy, I’m havin’ doubts about my own vision” the sheriff said. “When I was over at the drug store earlier, it looked to me like Nelly was puttin’ on a few pounds around her middle. It may just be me but it shore did look like she’s gainin’ some weight. I’ve tried to be careful and always used a…naw, I’m sure it’s just my imagination.” Arney was shocked at the implication by the sheriff that he’d been having sex with the druggist. He quickly put it together that the sheriff had been about to say how he had always used a rubber. He’d always thought Nelly was a good girl who wouldn’t do anything before she got married, or at least had an engagement ring. The deputy was wondering about a lot of things as he sat quietly at his desk, his scrawny ass still on fire.

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Subject: Premiership lads part 8: The Trojan Horse Part eight: The Trojan Horse Since their awkward discovery, Harry Kane had been a tensed up bag of nerves, and it was really killing Eric Dier’s sex life. It’s not that Eric wasn’t stressed out too, or aware of the dangers to their reputations and professional lives, but he felt a lot more confidence in the discretion of their young accomplice � in fact, whilst Harry seemed painfully resentful of what had happened, Eric couldn’t deny a quiet thrill at it. The secrecy, the scandal, the voyeurism that only he had noticed. He’d been very careful to hide that detail from his � well, Harry hated the word `boyfriend’, but � lover, and very much kept this scrap of excitement to himself. And so Dier actually hadn’t had any proper action since that afternoon a couple of weeks back, and was even starting to worry that Kane might call things off, whatever `things’ actually were at this stage in their… `relationship’. It was a tough week anyway, they had Chelsea coming up on Sunday and so everybody on the squad was really going for it in training. By Friday morning, a mixture of hard work, sexual tension and nervousness at what was going to happen with Harry had put the muscular young midfielder really on edge. He was clinging to some hope that a big win against Chelsea would relax things for them all, and as the day wore on, he kept imagining the celebratory fuck-fest he might be allowed with his powerful captain. After lunch, he tried to get some chat going with Harry in the canteen, showing him some stupid headlines from a football website. `Look at this,’ he said, `apparently there’s all these leaked nudes of Ross Barkley been bought by a big newspaper, about to publish any day.’ He waved his phone screen at the tall, serious-faced Harry. `Could be fucking great for unnerving the opposition, something like that?’ Very conscious of their nearby teammates, Harry just screwed up his face in exaggerated disinterest. `Nude photos? Who cares about that,’ he grumbled, as if shrugging off the 25-year old. `Well, Ross the Boss will be quaking in his pants, or out of them,’ Eric chuckled to himself. `Stop talking about it,’ Harry hissed uncomfortably. The homoerotic potential of the gossip was clearly bothering him, even though what Eric had not said out loud was how much fucking money he’d given himself to get a hand on those pics: surely, between the two lovers, THAT went without saying. Barkley! `Okay, okay,’ Eric conceded irritably. He was about try and move the conversation on in a different direction, but Harry put down his cutlery with a heavy clatter, picked up his lunch tray and got up to fuck off, leaving Dier moodily finishing his own dull salad and quiche. He looked about the room at the dwindling collection of his teammates: everyone looked pretty on edge, really, it was no wonder Kane was being funny with him. He convinced himself it was a phase, that their little affair meant a bit more to Harry than he let on, that he wasn’t just a mug being pushed aside cos of a bit of personal risk. And there, a couple of tables away, was the source of the risk: Troy Parrott. He was a really good-looking lad, Eric thought to himself, though he would not really have noticed it so much other than for their weird storeroom encounter. Too young, although the 17-year old was tall and strapping and could easily pass for his early 20s, in fact. It was hard not to expect big things from the charming young Irishman, even if his recent first-team debut had been at least 50% down to Harry Kane leaning on the coaches and manager to get his way. The irony, Eric mulled, was that Kane was the person most threatened by the rise of a new striker at Spurs! Troy was in the middle of chatting with a couple of other young players, less prodigious ones who hadn’t cut through from youth and reserves to the main squad yet; but they were leaving, Troy had obviously been a bit later in and clearly liked his food, tray piled high. (Eric had noticed before that the canteen staff liked to mother and pamper this Irish transfer! Was anyone safe from his dark handsome features?) After a moment’s indecision, Eric decided to chat to Troy, what harm could it do? He disposed of his tray, grabbed a cuppa, and slid into the bench facing the young Parrott. `Hey, kid,’ he said with a slight nod of the head. Troy’s reaction was hard to read: that intelligent mixture of professional admiration and the very knowing look he kept giving him, or perhaps that was in Eric’s paranoid head, maybe he was just as terrified as Harry was of what this boy knew and could do to them if he chose. Troy’s answer was just a slight nod, his mouth too full of food to speak. `All going well? Enjoying the first team banter?’ After a pause. `Yeah, yeah. Fuckin’ class so far, mate.’ `Glad to hear it.’ `First two games have been… epic.’ `And you played well,’ Eric said honestly. `You deserved that shot, you know.’ `Maybe,’ Troy said, a touch nervously, `but don’t worry. I know how much you and Kane made it happen. I haven’t forgotten.’ It was the first hint of an unspoken thank you that had lingered in looks between the two men in the week and a bit since Troy’s debut, and Eric felt a buzz at it: partly as a recognition of his seniority and influence, and partly as a reminder of what else this meant Troy had not `forgotten’. He could not hide the smile of indulgent memory on his face but he tried to stay casual and laddish, not wanting to freak out the teenager. `Don’t worry, it was… the least we could do for you. And, I’ll be honest, it was mostly Hazza. He’s quite a big deal, don’t you know.’ `Aye,’ Troy murmured, `but he ain’t top dog, is he?’ The lad blushed a little bit at the innuendo, but both guys burst into a private chuckle at this. `Nah, not quite,’ Eric agreed a bit self-consciously, enjoying the teasing. `But seriously, thanks for… keeping your mouth shut. And, you know, standing guard that day. You’re a sweet lad.’ Troy shrugged evasively, trying to focus more on what was left of his lunch. `We’re a team, you know,’ he said reflectively, `we gotta look out for each other. And yeah, I appreciate the boost. Good to get noticed. Hopefully I’ll mersin escort make the line-up for Sunday against the Chelsea scum, but who knows.’ Eric thought back to that stupid gossipy news headline that had been so badly taken by Kane. `Well,’ he said, `I think some of their stars might be a bit fucking distracted, could play into our hands.’ He unlocked his phone and flipped through apps to find it again, then showed Troy, who looked a bit bewildered. `You’ve never probably met Ross but he’s quite the shy bloke, really � shit like this will get under his skin, even if it’s made up.’ `Oh, cool,’ Troy said uncertainly, a touch of sympathy in his face. `And let that be a lesson to you,’ the 25-year old groaned at him with a joking finger wag, acting like a much older bloke, `don’t be taking a load of nude pics and sending them to your girlfriend back home or whatever, hah!’ Troy looked both worried and highly amused by this, and Eric enjoyed his warm Irish chuckle: Parrott got more and more attractive the more you looked at him, really. That glint in his dark eyes, the surprisingly developed stubble on his sharp features, his short trimmed wiry hair. `Well, I’ll be sure to take more care!’ Troy said lightly. He pushed his plate away from him. `Not sure I can handle any more of this. Dunno why the girls always try and give me so much � do I look like skin and bone, or summat?’ `You’re lean,’ Eric said with a shrug, `but don’t worry. You look good.’ He let the compliment hang in the air and grinned to himself. `Hey, kid � what are you up to this afternoon? I need to hit the gym later but was thinking I might pop into the sauna first. Need to detox a bit before the big game on Sunday.’ `Does that really help?’ Troy asked curiously. The youngster’s na�ve ambition was endearing � one minute he was blackmailing senior players for a start, the next eager to learn from any tidbit. `Yeh, sure, you sweat out loads of shite,’ Eric affirmed. `You wanna join? It’s a good way to unwind from all this pressure too. Bet you’ve been feeling really on edge, trying to make sure you start on Sunday! Well, nothing more you can do now really. Gaffer will announce line-up tomorrow morning as usual.’ `Yeh,’ Troy said thoughtfully. `Well, okay, I guess. If you don’t mind me joining you.’ `Not at all,’ Eric said brightly, and gave him a thumbs up. `Take a bit to let your food settle though, kid.’ To relax the anxious looking teenager, he asked him a few questions about home, about Dublin life, how he was finding his lodging house and host family, and so on. A tantalising possibility was playing on Eric’s mind about this teenage heartthrob, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too much just yet. But boy, it had been ages since that afternoon in the cupboard with Kane on his knees… After a while, it was thoughtful, curious Troy who piped up: `Shall we hit the sauna then? Sweat out some toxins and get fighting fit for Saturday?’ His ambition gleamed in his eyes. Eric nodded eagerly and got up to lead the way. The saunas were one of the more fancy additions to the club’s expensive new training centre this year, tucked away near the changing rooms, not far from the storeroom area where Eric and Harry had been so incautious that day � a coincidence that clearly occurred to Troy to, as he saw a flash of recognition and perhaps apprehension on the boy’s face as they rounded the corner. They headed into the now empty changing rooms; a lot of the lads were hitting the gym and some were out doing fuller training on the pitch. Eric unzipped his tracksuit top and slid it off, then quickly shed the white tshirt underneath, and allowed himself a vain moment in the mirror � his pecs and six pack were coming along well, even after the bouts of injury and illness that had got in the way last year. He saw Troy glancing at him thoughtfully as the young Irish lad whipped off his own top. `Bit more gym time if you wanna develop this way,’ Eric pointed out, trying not to sound patronisingly. `But staying a bit more lean might be good for you as a forward. You’ve still got a bit of six-pack coming through, kid.’ Troy nodded self-consciously but seemed to enjoy the feedback. `And besides, you’re a good lucking cunt, aren’t you? Don’t need to rely on muscles to charm.’ Troy just didn’t seem to know how to react to that, just a nervous laugh, turning away to finish undressing. Eric smiled and turned away politely so as not to stare too much; he slid off his trackies and socks and finally his boxer shorts, wrapping a fresh towel about his waste and taking a patient pause before checking young Troy had done the same. `Through here,’ he said cheerfully. `It’ll do you good,’ he added, seeing Troy looking slightly hesitant or shy. The heat him them both as they entered the dry sauna, a decent-sized block of a room lined with wooden bench. They slumped onto it at right angles, and Troy fiddled nervously with the tie of his white towel whilst Eric spread comfortably on his seat so it lay casually half-open across his squashed thighs. `It’s hot,’ Troy commented stupidly, a slim pale figure in the musty gloom. He really was tall and well-developed, though Eric was a good inch superior in height and notably chunkier in breadth. `That is sorta the point,’ Dier told him, through a smile, making no attempt to hide his roving, evaluative eyes taking in the exposed lean muscle of his young teammate. Both men’s skin was already prickling with sweat. `Yeh. True.’ Eric leaned forward a tiny bit to close the angled gap between them. `Harry says thank you too, by the way,’ he said, quietly even though they were comfortably away from other ears. `I mean, we’re both grateful, but… he has a lot more to lose than me, I guess. Personally and professionally.’ Troy nodded. `To be sure.’ `But yeah, we both thank you.’ `It’s cool, I mean, who would believe me if I said?’ Troy said with an awkward chuckle. `I could hardly believe my eyes and I was the one seeing it. No offence.’ Eric grinned. `None taken. You, er, saw quite a bit, didn’t you?’ he pushed gently. Troy twitched and shifted a bit on the seat. `Sorry, pal,’ he said quickly. `I just…’ `It’s okay,’ Eric responded with a little wave. escort mersin `I really don’t mind. I mean, how can I? We were stupid and risky, huh. We were fucking lucky it was a sweet team-spirited lad like yourself rather than… I dunno, some bell-end like Dele.’ A slightly nervous laugh. `It’d be all over Snapchat by now if that tool had walked in on us!’ Troy echoed the laugh uncertainly. `Yeh, maybe,’ he said. `So… um… are you and Harry, like…?’ It was Dier’s turn to feel a bit wrongfooted, as he really didn’t know how to answer. `It’s been going on a good few months,’ he admitted. `I don’t think either of us really know… what it is, yet. We both thought we were straight. Mostly.’ `Right,’ Troy said, and it looked to Eric like his mind was wondering back to what he saw. Great. `It’s one of those things,’ the muscular defensive player said in a slow, quiet voice. `You don’t quite know what you want until you… experiment.’ He watched Troy’s thoughtful face, and then wiped his own sweaty brow a little, running his fingers up through his short cropped dirty blond hair. Then he shifted himself a bit more, and untied the towel from his waist � he tugged it up, folded it and swung it about his neck instead, so he was sat bollock naked against the heat of the sauna. It took Troy a moment to notice, and he looked a bit taken aback. `Best to be comfortable,’ Dier told him knowledgeably, and shifted his legs a bit to really display his privates. `Oh,’ Troy said, trying his best not to look that way, `yeah, fair. Um…’ And then, as impressionable as hoped, he copied, reaching to his hip to undo the towel and then removing it in a clumsy shuffle until it was around his shoulders draped in the same way, and… Dier started a bit. `Holy fuck, kid,’ he said, nodding across to what lay between those slim but strong dark-haired thighs. `I didn’t expect that.’ `What?’ Troy said in alarm, then `Oh, right, yeah…’ It was a big one, to say the least. Bigger than Eric might have imagined on the lanky striker, and perhaps, bigger than most he’d ever noticed on lads in a long while. It lay beneath a modest bush of pubes, against Troy’s thigh. `The Trojan Horse,’ he quipped admiringly. Was Parrott blushing or was it just the heat? They were both practically dripping now. `Well,’ mumbled the teen, `yours is… you know… big enough, I’m sure…’ Eric spread his thighs a bit more and took his dick in hand. `Yeah,’ he said, `I mean, Kane certainly seems to like it!’ Troy giggle at that. `Um, yeh, it looked like it!’ They both laughed a bit more freely. `Must hurt, that kinda sex,’ Troy said naively. `I was… I dunno… curious to see it, like… it’s not something I ever thought about or knew any gay guys, so…’ A realisation dawned on Dier in the stuffy heat of the sauna. `Troy, mate, are you a virgin?’ he asked bluntly. There was a moment where the strapping teen striker looked about to lie, but his expression was revealing enough. To be fair, he wasn’t 18 until February, he really was a fresh Dublin export. His eyes told Eric everything he needed to know. `I do have a girlfriend, we just haven’t… She wasn’t ready, and then I had to moved to England again for the transfer, and…’ `You don’t need to make excuses,’ Dier told him in a soothing tone. `Not at all. I respect your… patience.’ And I’m fucking turned on by your innocence, his inner voice screamed. `You shouldn’t do any shit until you’re ready,’ he went on, and gave his floppy cock a slight stroke as he talked. `Oh I’m ready,’ Parrott responded a little too excitedly. `I mean, I’m so up for it, I just don’t want to rush her, our families are pretty strict, so…’ `Right, right,’ Dier sighed thoughtfully. `Well, I could… Oh, fuck, listen to me, I need to control my fat gob every now and then…’ `What?’ `Nothing mate, relax � enjoy the heat and…’ `What were you gonna say?’ Eric looked at him keenly and then pulled his weight along the corner of bench a little bit so their feet swung close, and he let his toes brush the softer skin of Troy’s foot. `I was just thinking aloud, being the twat I am… well, I could always help you out, if you were getting very impatient!’ Troy pulled his foot back sharply. `I don’t want FUCKED,’ he said in a tone of panic, tensing up. Dier laughed and reached his toes over for more sweaty footsie. `Mate, I was NOT thinking that far, don’t worry…’ I definitely AM thinking that far, you beautiful bastard… `I just meant, you know, something to get you off � other than your own palm over and over! But it’s a daft idea, isn’t it?’ `Yes,’ Troy said crossly, but there was enough conflict on his face to please the older lad. `It would just be weird for you,’ Eric murmured, `and I don’t know how Hazza would feel about it.’ That seed of competition seemed to do the trick, igniting the ambition that young Troy always exuded. Eric went quiet, flexing his arms slowly, feeling the beads of sweat trickling down his lightly haired body. Then, when there was no real answer from his companion, he just reached over and stroked above his knee a little. He ran his fingers over the firm muscle. `You’re so hairy for 17,’ he pointed out quietly. `Yeah, I guess,’ Troy said, and did nothing to push the questing fingers away. `Hairy and hung,’ Dier added softly, and ran his fingers a bit further up the inside of the leg. He took his time, as he’d done that first time he’d played about with Kane, almost a year ago; you couldn’t rush this first exploration. He played his fingers in soft scratching movements over the hairy flesh, and only once he’d really heard the first anticipatory gasp of Troy’s slow arousal, he lay his fingers over that thick long pipe. `Dier, mate…’ Troy breathed anxiously. `It is so fucking big, isn’t it?’ Eric giggled, and took it fully in hand. `And heavy.’ Their eyes met. `You want me to stop, buddy?’ Troy took a long moment to answer. `I don’t fucking know,’ he admitted, and at this Eric shuffled closer to him, pressing their strong hot damp legs side by side, and taking a firmer grip on the slowly responding semi. `As soon as you say stop, I’ll let go,’ Eric breathed in his mate’s ear, and ran his thumb and fingers up and mersin escort bayan down the fleshy shaft in long strokes. `God, how big is this thing gonna get…? You make Kane’s look a bit like a twiglet,’ he exaggerated in the same moaning whisper. `Really?’ Troy gasped in a tiny voice, watching his own cock responding to the touch and letting out a wavering moan of enjoyment. `Oh yeah, mate, you are… you’re in the big league, down there… fuck…’ It was reaching an impressive length, a real rock hard pole that made Eric’s eyes light up in envy. He pulled up and down on it slowly, controlling his own excitement as much as he could. He loved the sound of Troy’s ragged nervous breathing, and licked his lips as the forward draped one trembling arm about his own broad shoulders, more flesh on flesh. `Just look at the size of you,’ he hissed eagerly into Troy’s ear, and nodded from the big dick in his hand to his own flopping semi. Dier knew he had a decent sized cock, especially in girth if not so long, but the comparison was clear enough to astound Parrott at his own proportions. `Go on,’ Eric muttered in his ear, `give mine a feel, see how much smaller it is than yours.’ Troy hesitated, but then did as suggested, crossing arms with Eric and reaching over to gently touch: Eric tensed up in excitement and let out a deep breath of relief at the feel of shaky warm fingers on his own cock. `Oh buddy,’ he moaned. `I dunno,’ Troy said, `I think yours feels really pretty big in my…’ `Mmm,’ Eric groaned, ignoring him, `your hand feels so good on it…’ `Does it??’ `Oh, yeah… give it a good… oh, mate…’ While forcing out the exaggerated vocal response, Dier increased his grip and stroke on Troy’s masterful length encouragingly, and felt the uncertain teenager start to meet his rhythm almost unconsciously. Troy seemed to just keep staring between their sweat-dripping meats in disbelief, as if unsure it was even his own hand or his own cock he was actually watching. Both men were breathing in rough pants, the heat and handjob making them dazed and gasping. `Fuck,’ Troy mumbled, `I reckon I’ll…’ `Oh, no,’ Eric said, `not yet, buddy. Not yet…’ He slid his hand off the lad’s cock and stroked up his gently defined six pack, then leant his muscular form over, hunching to get his mouth down to the prize. He didn’t often suck off Harry, he preferred to dominate his captain and that had always seemed to be what the otherwise alpha male wanted from him, yet right now he could think of no greater prize than taking Troy’s big nob in his mouth. He opened wide to really take it in, knowing it was too big for him but trying anyway. The teen’s loud gasp of surprised and orgasmic pleasure was enough to drive him on. He gripped Troy by the waist and the leg and bobbed up and down on the cock as rapidly and hungrily as he could, and it didn’t take long to get his prize. `Holy shit,’ cried Parrott, `holy fucking shit mate…’ When Eric lifted his head, white cum was all over his lips and dribbling a bit onto the thick blond stubble of his chin. He gulped and gasped. `You taste fucking great,’ he breathed through the mouthful of spunk, and saw the dazed shock on the younger player’s face. `Here,’ he moaned, and reached for that huge cock again � he gave it a slow upward stroke and smeared two fingers over the bulging head, taking the last of Troy’s load onto them, then offered it upwards towards the teen’s mouth. `Try it,’ he urged. Troy’s eyes looked unsure but his mouth agreed, as he parted his lips and let Eric guide the creamy splash in. The feel of that pretty mouth sucking cum off his fingers drove Dier absolutely wild, and once he pulled his fingers out, he swiftly applied that hand to his own cock, taking over from Troy’s slow nervous strokes. `Salty,’ murmured the dazed Irishman, for want of a better description, leaning his trembling body against Eric’s sturdy frame and then staring down as the bigger guy with the (slightly) smaller cock began to climax. `Whoa…’ Eric arched his back and hugged onto him tightly and let out a bestial groan as he fired off three spurts of his juice that spattered the smoky glass of the sauna door. `Oh man,’ he yelped, `oh man, oh man…’ He squeezed Troy to him, their sweaty bodies pressed together, then leant over and just planted a single kiss on top of his head. `That was fun,’ he sighed. Troy nodded but was lost for words. `I think I need to cool down,’ he said in a voice that was almost a post-orgasmic whimper � none of the ballsy blackmailing confidence he had shown when discovering them that day, or that was making him a promising figure on the field. Eric just laughed and hugged him again, and then stroked his wilting cock. `Yeah, we both do,’ he giggled. `Before things get too wild.’ They got up, wrapping their towels about them, and made their way out and towards the showers. Eric slowed to let the bewildered youngster go ahead, grinning like a Chesire chat to himself at the cream he had received. What a tasty load this hot fucking stud had, wow. He licked his lips and followed Troy into the shower block. The men showered in total silence: Parrott seeming just shellshocked by the intense sauna experience, Dier just beaming to himself at his first man-on-man fun since they were caught. He was still grinning contentedly as he dried himself off. He watched Troy sit down in his towel looking a bit lost, but also very satisfied. `Not quite a virgin any more,’ Eric said softly. `You wanna say that any louder?’ Troy joked bashfully, giving him a weak grin. `Don’t worry. Now we both have secrets on each other, eh? And mine,’ he checked the room was empty for sure, and leant down to kiss him on the head again, `is that you taste fucking wonderful.’ He backed away to finish drying off and get dressed. `Don’t worry about what happened. It doesn’t have to mean anything, okay?’ Troy nodded doubtfully. `And one other thing,’ Eric told him, whipping off his towel and picking up his boxer shirts as his cock and balls flopped about loose, `drink a fuck-load of water today, you’ll be really dehydrated by that.’ `The sauna, or the…’ Eric just chuckled. `Both, lad. Both.’ He tugged on his pants and tshirt and checked the time. `See you tomorrow, buddy. Fingers crossed you make the squad for Sunday.’ `Yeah…’ Troy mumbled, his Premiership career seemingly suddenly insignificant next to his first hand- and blow-jobs in a dark sweaty sauna. `Fingers crossed…’

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Subject: Premiership Lads, Part 299 Part 299: For Club he meant everything he had typed, altough moreso the first half. In truth, the week so far had been too exciting for the young forward to really miss East London life and home life with the missus – he’d been way too wrapped up in the honour of his first call-up and the laddish buzz of days on an international training camp. It was different to club life, Jarrod Bowen thought to himself. On a superficial level, maybe it was the lack of language or cultural barriers in the international lucky dip of the Premier League, though it couldn’t just be that, since the men spoke as much with their feet as anything else. It was really a sense of shared boyhood dream, knowing that everyone here had aspired to wear the Three Lions from before they could remember, and the thrill of taking on the challenge was unanimous. And for Bowen, it still felt a shock, even after the stellar season he’d experienced at West Ham – it still felt like yesterday that he was a youth player at Hereford United, and his journeys to Hull and London were a giddy daydream for the down-to-earth West Midlands boy. For a few moments, Jarrod stared at the phone on the palm of his hand, waiting for one tick to become two, and then blue, but the response to his girlfriend Dani went unseen and so he clicked the device into lock mode and put it face-down on the canteen table and got back to eating his hearty lunch of pasta salad, elbow to elbow with good friends, old and new. On one side, his club captain, Declan Rice, almost the only guy here who he’d previously known very well; and on the other, Leicester’s James Justin, his roommate and fellow debutant. Jarrod glanced between the two other young guys, glad of their welcome and companionship, and wondering if they knew how nervous he’d been and that he’d have really struggled to relax and get involved in the training without such immediate allies in the ambitious squad. They were hardly the only two, though. Bowen looked up, crunching through a mouthful of vegetables, and considered the other lads at their circular table, one of several that made up the players’ dining room as they continued their lunch break from a hard day’s work. Rice’s much-touted bestie, Mason Mount, was holding court with some jokey narrative about the ins and outs of Chelsea this season, and was being greeted with cheery laughter from Jack Grealish and Trent Alexander-Arnold, who completed their table of laddish twentysomethings. On first arrival, Bowen had been vaguely worried about Mount, taking on some of the banter about how his inclusion in the England team might upset the alliance between the two youth academy best mates – there had been a lot of joking about it even back at West Ham, and around the St George’s Park training centre when they were arriving on Monday evening. Rice himself had led some of the joking, but it was only once Mount began making wise-cracks about it that he could relax – Mason, who he had met a few times before through their mutual buddy, had been nothing but welcoming to him, and had made it obvious that the jokes were just jokes. In fact, Jarrod thought, probably nobody had been as friendly or as complementary to him in training than his captain’s pal, and Mase had been regularly asking him how he was doing and if he had everything he needed – he was really starting to see why Dec valued the Chelsea star’s friendship so much, and why people were always queuing up to praise the midfielder’s maturity in their League. The other two… Bowen’s opinions were more reserved. He took a moment to study Jack, who was laughing heartily at Mason’s latest line, and shovelling food into his face; the mercurial Brummie had actually been quite sheepish, almost surly, for the first couple of days’ prep. Jarrod suspected that the Villa-turned-City star was actually just on a massive hangover/comedown from his celebrations and brief Ibiza holiday, and he didn’t want to read too much into his aloofness and occasional rudeness – it seemed like he had stuff going on in his private life, and friendly Mason had even apologised for him behind his back after he was short with everyone at the first evening meal. Trent, he would admit, was way more open and friendly, but he was similarly `absent’. Even right now, he noticed, the team’s lone Liverpool star was only half-invested in the group conversation of their circular table. He had his phone out, though admittedly Bowen was resisting the temptation to briefly check his own for a response from his girl; but the Scouse lad was almost never off his, often grinning fondly at the casually hidden screen in his hands, blatantly lost in the early stages of some romantic liaison he didn’t wanna discuss. Mount and Rice had chided him for it a bit on the first evening, and the affable defender had grinned and blushed, but continued to spend a lot of their down-time seemingly lost in a text conversation that nobody else was privy to. He’d asked them if they knew who he was seeing, but nobody had any idea. `Honestly,’ Mase was chuckling at the end of his story, `you’d be surprised how much of a joker our Pulisic is, he’s way less quiet and shy than he might seem. Our Captain America, haha.’ At the Marvel reference, Grealish immediately began roasting the 23-year-old for his alleged Spiderman fetish and some TikTok of him in the lycra outfit, which had totally passed Bowen by. He cracked up at the image of the young midfielder in such a daft get-up, and joined in with his buddy Rice in adding to the mockery, light-hearted and playful. Three days into the England camp, Jarrod was glad he already felt part of the banter, able to jibe playfully at a guy like Mason, and join in with the jokes and chatter of guys who had bonded in last summer’s Euros crucible and, in most cases, many games and tournaments before that. Though it would take longer, he knew, to share that camaraderie with some of the squad’s older members: the captain, iconic Harry Kane, had been friendly to him, but in a perfunctory way, not exactly the meaningful mentor he might have hoped for; England stalwarts like Walker, Trippier and Pickford seemed slightly inaccessible, so loaded with their own in-jokes and history; even putting all that aside, there were so many guys who were haunted in different ways by the barely finished 21-22 season, such as the deep doldrums of Harry Maguire r the exhausted relief of Kalvin Phillips. Jarrod hoped that by the end of this short Nations League camp he was making some headway with all of the blokes – but he knew he was not here just to make chums, and the timing of these few games meant that Jarrod was essentially playing for a stake in the impending World Cup. He was trying to ignore that lurking pressure, the scale of the opportunity at his feet, but Southgate had already alluded to the bigger tournament three or four times in their meetings! Speaking of which… the other tables were already clearing, the kitted men dutifully lining up to tidy away their dishes and cutlery and thank the catering ladies with a dollop of flirting (Kyle Walker could be heard complimenting one on the quality of her buns, joined by his permanent comedy partner John Stones) and several already hurrying outdoors ready for the next round of drills; Bowen hardly wanted to be the killjoy who pointed this out to the rest of their young circle, but Grealish was now regaling them with some of the finer details of the Man City celebrations, beginning to comment on some Manchester rooftop that the guys had booked out, and- To Jarrod’s relief, it was Trent who cut that off, a touch of Scouse bitterness as he exited the private world of his phone messages, and told Jack to save his storytelling for the journey to Hungary when everyone needed some help sleeping; the Premier League rivals wrestled and play-fought as they got up from their seats, and the rest of them laughed on, picking up their stuff and joining the queue. Jarrod braced himself for a long afternoon of hard work, intent on securing that starting position on Saturday night in Budapest. By the end of the day, the 25-year-old’s sturdy body felt like it had been hit by a train, and he even had to pit stop on his way through the hotel, taking a pause on the first floor before continuing on into the modern extension where his and 24-year-old JJ’s shared suite lay. At this very moment, Jarrod was crashed out across the foot of one bed, rubbing sweaty palms over his blotchy face, and wondering if he’d ever experienced such a challenging day’s work in his pro career to date. Mason, ridiculously, still seemed full of energy: the 23-year-old Chelsea ace was hopping about the spacious room, snacking on Ritz crackers, talking about the holiday he and Declan had booked for almost immediately after the last England fixture. His fellow holiday-goer was lounged wearily on the side of the other kingsize bed, and Jarrod rolled his head to one side to share a playful look with his West Ham buddy, as if to question whether Mason ever tired out and switched off from high-energy mode. The 6ft1 Southwest Londoner laughed gently, catching his eye, wiping a forearm over his sweaty fringe. `Give it a rest, Mase,’ he barked warmly. `I don’t think Bowie here needs to know our flight details and the name of our hotel barman, do you?’ He grinned, that easy confidence exuding from his slouched lanky form – he was an easy guy to respect and admire, and Jarrod had never had any trouble looking up to the young skipper, as loyal and comfortable with the fledgling leader as with West Ham’s outgoing hero Mark Noble. As it always did, Jarrod’s mind turned quietly to the question of whether Dec would still be in that position come mid August, but he had been explicitly banned by his friend from bringing the transfer window up at any point during the camp! It was not an easy promise to keep, especially with guys from so many of the big clubs included in their party. `Alright, alright,’ conceded Mount cheerfully. `Sorry, I can go on.’ He directed his apologetic grin straight at Bowen, who just shrugged as if he hadn’t noticed. `God, my clothes are sticking to me. I can’t wait to shower.’ `Same,’ Jarrod yawned back, resting his thickset body against the starchy white sheets, and then slowly hearing the social hint in his new friend’s comment – oh yeah, this wasn’t his room, and he’d just tumbled in here wit the pair of them because he was soaking up advice from them both on how to really catch the England manager’s eye tomorrow morning ahead of the squad line-up for Budapest. `Yeah, go shower,’ Dec was calling to Mase, `you stink, mate!’ Mount was peeling away his England training shirt, baring the surprisingly ripped muscles of his compact torso, and then making a panto of sniffing each of his lightly haired pits, re-enacting a deodorant ad that had earned him a sizeable sum, and chatting hyper-actively to them both about how weird the filing experience had been; Bowen laughed along, but he began to pick himself up from where he’d collapsed on the bed, easing back up to his feet and stretching one limb at a time. He needed to leave these guys to it, really, and not out-stay his welcome – besides, he’d need to shower too, he could smell the sweat pouring from his own skin and muscles. `I’ll head, then,’ he announced casually, interrupting the stream of chat between the 23-year-old lads. `Oh, no rush,’ yawned Rice contentedly, patting hands against his flat tummy with his shirt pulled halfway up his torso; Mount didn’t voice the same sentiment, busying himself by rifling through his suitcase with his back to them. `You guys need to shower,’ Jarrod said vaguely, stifling another yawn himself. `And me too, fucking hell.’ He blinked a little wearily, glancing down and worrying he’d left sweat stains on the bright clean bedding below – it didn’t particularly register with him just how neat this nearest of the two beds was, though the one Dec had lounged on seemed all wrinkled and loose with several nights’ use. Why would it? `Well, maybe catch you in a bit?’ Dec was offering. `Give us a shout on the group chat, or something – maybe play some FIFA down in the rec rooms before dinnertime, or something…?’ `That’d be sweet,’ Mason called from inside the en suite, before returning in just his bulging blue sports briefs, the sound of a shower echoing out of the adjoining bathroom behind him as it heated up. `See ya, JB!’ The West Ham forward gave a big smile and grateful wave to first Mase and then to Dec, infinitely glad to have two such likeable dudes on his side, and then he made his exit, out into the quiet cool corridor beyond, and then heading on in the direction of the landing that would take him across to his wing of the hotel. The Herefordshire lad whistled to himself, rolling his shoulders and feeling the satisfying aches of a solid day’s prep work ripple through his stocky 5ft9 physique. He was reasonably confident that he’d made some impact already over the past few days, and he thought that a few good moves tomorrow morning would seal the deal – he was ready to represent his country when the whistle blew on Saturday evening. It was only when he was a few feet from the door to his own hotel room that he realised he’d dropped his backpack on the carpet of the other lads’ suite, and with it the keycard that would let him into his own – and only as he stood awkwardly in front of the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood, that he picked up on the muffled dance music on the other side, and realised that JJ was not going to hear anything and let him in. Oh, for fuck’s sake – it was hardly a long walk back to Rice’s room, but he could do without it, and he was itching to undress and get in the shower or bath. Bowen kicked off his trainers, walking back through the hotel passages in just the dirtied white football socks on his sore feet, listening to the assorted raised voices and varying music that blared from alternating rooms in the quiet halls. It’s odd how homely the initially intimidating accommodation already felt to Jarrod, this special place where England teams had been basing themselves for many years now. A few more days, he thought, and he might stop feeling so fucking nervous! Reaching the door to the room, some impatience or over-familiarity made Jarrod just reach for the handle, rather than calling Declan’s name, or knocking his fist on the door in the way he had back at his own shared space; he cursed mersin escort his own laziness when he realised the hotel room door was not QUITE fully closed, resting on the latch in the position that he must have left it as he exited and trudged homeward. As a result, the door swung an inch inwards, and he called out apologetically `Hey guys’ as he barged hesitantly through – stepping back inside the sweat-scented room where he had temporarily crashed out on the way up here, exhausted and comforted by his closer friendships. Oddly, the first thing that struck him was the continued dim roar of water, the sound of an ignored shower running in the en suite – this sensation then connecting with what he saw, the two near-naked bodies still in the main room together, not getting washed. Mason was on his feet, stood with his back to the door, very close to one of the beds; his back muscles rippled with the damp of sweat and his socks stretched up his calves, but his blue briefs were peeled halfway down rounded bum cheeks, where pale fingers were locked at either hip. Very suddenly, Dec’s shoulders and head were visible peeking around Mason’s body, staring this way in alarm, wide-eyed and shaggy hair sticking to his brow. Unthinking, Jarrod took a couple of short steps forward, staring at the two of them, and slowly piecing what he saw together. It was the jolting separation of their bodies that confirmed it, the Chelsea player shuffling to one side and turning at an awkward angle so that his glistening prick was very briefly visible; Jarrod’s own trusted captain staying seated on the edge of the bed for a second longer, his shirt off and his shorts about his ankles. As he got up, an alarmingly obvious shape was visible in the tight white of his trunks, and he was rubbing a hand over the slightly shiny dampness of his lips and chin. Jarrod shook himself. Averted his eyes, quickly. Snatched at the strap of his backpack where it rested by the wall. `Sorry lads,’ he mouthed uncomfortably, hugging the small bag up to his sweaty chest, then backing towards the door. `Shit,’ Mason was cursing loudly to himself, whilst Dec lunged upright from the bed and took a long stride forward, his horrified expression locking this way. `Shoulda knocked,’ gibbered Bowen, backing further away, reaching behind him for a door handle. `Soz, sorry – er-‘ He hurried backwards and yanked the door shut after him, his heart slamming inside his chest. His head span. Had he really just seen that? He could hear loud footsteps and indistinct voices through the door behind him and he dreaded having to look his club captain in the eye, and so he jolted across the corridor and span down the stairwell – not hurrying away towards his own room, but escaping downstairs and further away from what he’d just witnessed. It was still light outside, the early June sunshine making it look more like high afternoon than well into the evening. Jarrod stood for a while out in a courtyard to one side of the hotel, breathing deeply and calming himself down: his entire perception of the younger teammate who had valiantly led so much of West Ham’s campaigns these past couple of seasons, one of his best mates in London, and… He felt a bit nauseous, but mainly just shocked and confused. After the long day and the disorienting experience of the week’s novelty, he couldn’t adjust his brain to take in the bombshell he’d just clumsily walked in on: Rice and Mount, a bit more than just Premiership besties. The bromance every joked on about really was a bit more than platonic friendship, then. Fuck. He dragged his hands up his face and fingered his soft blonde hair, then shook his head. He was already criticising his own clumsy behaviour, including his hasty and uncomfortable flight from the room. The thought of how judgmental and unpleasant he was being jarred and jostled with his instinctive displeasure at the truth, his vague sense of betrayal at finding out Declan just wasn’t quite the lad he’d believed. Bowen would hardly have labelled himself as homophobic, but he’d grown up on the fringes of a small town in Herefordshire, and spent years in the macho depths of English football. His brain was experiencing jet lag at the rapid flight of perception it had just taken. Declan Rice and Mason fucking Mount, two of the League’s brightest young talents, and they were… Dec had been busy… ergh. He blinked his eyes and swore under his breath several times. And then the 25-year-old drifted back indoors, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He should make his way back to his room, he knew, but he couldn’t face Justin right now – he felt as if his stunned face would say everything, and in seconds he’d be passing on this weighty secret to his fellow England newbie too. So instead he moved on through to the empty unmanned bar area, enjoying the cool quiet of the hotel communal areas, and thinking that he might stay for a while down here to collect his thoughts before dinner. Dinner, he thought then with fresh panic, where he might have to sit right next to the 23-year-olds, and look them in the eye. Oh god. Bowen passed through the bar and into the pool room on the far side, and then jolted to a pause when he realised it was not quite as empty as it had seemed. A tall brooding figure was leaning at one of the pool tables, as intensely busied with his smartphone as Trent Alexander-Arnold had been all week. Jarrod had to cough awkwardly to alert the distracted figure of their national captain, and then when a flash of annoyance passed over Harry Kane’s long face, he slightly regretted it. `Oh – hiya – Jarrod, mate, how are ya?’ For a moment longer, the heroic striker continued to stare at and thumb at the screen of his phone, then it was pushed into the pocket of his sweatpants, and the 6ft2 Londoner was flashing a PR smile this way, acting very glad to run into him off-duty. Jarrod blinked a few times, unsure how to answer that at first, but walking further into the room and letting the dividing door swing shut behind him. He unhooked the bag strap from his shoulder and let it dump by his feet, then walked over to one of the other tables, where he pushed and flicked aimlessly at the scattered pool balls. `You look shattered,’ Kane remarked, not unkindly. `Tough day, huh?’ He was glad of the generic comment and question. `Really tough,’ he agreed gruffly. `Southgate really pushes us, right?’ `Sure does. He’s a very focused guy. Different to what you’re used to…? I suppose I’ve played for quite a lot of managers in my time, mate.’ Big Harry still sounded a little distracted and like he was being polite, but this was a bit more openness and sincerity to his voice than in their limited conversation so far. The tall guy was lifting away from his spot and joining Jarrod at this table, where he stopped a yellow ball that had been sent spinning away by an idle shove of his fingers. `What’s up?’ the national captain asked, his voice warm and quiet. When Bowen looked up, he was quite surprised by the sensitive and worried expression on the striker’s face, and there was something very reassuring about the Tottenham ace that almost made him spill the truth immediately. But he hesitated, and rubbed at his chin and his nose. `You’ve seemed nervous all week,’ the 28-year-old admitted, but continued, `but you’re doing great, and the gaffer has made it obvious he wants you on that pitch come the weekend, okay? Don’t lose any sleep over it tonight, bud.’ Jarrod nodded vaguely – in his sudden alarm at what he’d walked in on, that question had evaporated, and he didn’t mean to sound arrogant or presumptuous as he mouthed his agreement: `Sure, yeah, I hope so.’ He flinched, hearing how that might sound to the seasoned team leader. But Harry was just smiling reassuringly at him and edging closer to him along the side of the pool table. `There’s something else?’ Kane pushed in the same low voice, thick with his North London accent. He rested a hand on Bowen’s shoulder and stood right beside him, emphasising his 6ft2 height superiority. It was crazy to share anything with the captain, but he found he couldn’t help himself. `I just walked in on something I shouldn’t have,’ he blurted, and felt immediately terrible – was he really gonna rat out one captain to another? He saw the gentle lift of Kane’s eyebrows and the uncertain lines of his mouth. `I mean – er – I just had a weird moment, right, with Deccers, and so-‘ `You walked in on Declan?’ the England captain asked gently. Again, the honesty just poured out of his mouth. `And Mase,’ he added, immediately feeling worse. What was he doing? He hadn’t processed any of this, his brain was still trying to reshape around the information, and here he was, spewing it at perhaps the worst person he could – what would the Walthamstow working-class lad have to say about this shit going on in his team?! But he hesitated, watching the cogs turn and wondering if Harry was even piecing together the implications of what he’d just said. But Kane just let out a light snort of laughter. `Those two,’ he said in a knowing way that caught Jarrod entirely off-guard. `Not sure that surprises me.’ He laughed again and the hand of his on Bowen’s shoulder gave him a light squeeze. `Did it really surprise you…?’ Jarrod stared at him, almost angry for a moment. The casual tone and vague approval from this national hero was as unwelcome and surprising to him as what he’d seen, but he controlled himself, trying to suppress the unfair judgement that he felt. He let out an indecisive huff of breath and picked up one of the smooth shiny pool balls, turning it against both palms and clutching it like a precious egg. `What the fuck?’ he asked the world in general, and when Harry laughed again, he joined him, letting out the exasperated sound. `You walked in on them?’ his new captain asked in a low voice. `You KNEW they were a thing?’ he snapped back warily. Harry shrugged again. `Not exactly, but – Well, I think it’s a possibility that’s crossed everyone’s mind, hasn’t it…? The way they carry on. They’re like an old married couple.’ Again, both of the footballer lads laughed, Harry sounding very relaxed but Jarrod sounding wary and uncomfortable. He corrected his harsh tone. `I just don’t know what to think,’ he admitted. `I mean – fuck, I must have seemed so rude, I just walked in on them and then immediately buggered off, like… Oh, god. I just… Dec’s my captain, you know? I didn’t need to see that. I’d never have… I’d never have thought he’d ever…’ He fell quiet, dropping the heavy ball loudly against the green baize. `I feel sick about it.’ `What did you catch him doing, exactly?’ He glanced up, irritated by this question over specifics, and Kane just shrugged one shoulder and raised his soft brown eyebrows a bit. `Well, just asking. It seems to have really shaken you. Must have been something really bloody kinky, hah.’ He squirmed. `Well, not exactly. It’s just- Damn it, I don’t mean to be such a prig about this, but it’s really thrown me, that’s all. I mean, I’m not homophobic or nothing, seriously.’ He thought about the Pride Month rainbow band that Kane would be donning in each of their fixtures as captain, and he felt particularly grim about his reaction, but no more able to suppress it and change the situation. `I’ve nothing against gays,’ he grunted dimly. `Are they gay…?’ He huffed, irritated again. `Well, aren’t they? I know what I saw.’ `Which was…?’ He grimaced. `I think Rice was-‘ He paused, unsure why he was being so candid, but feeling a little trapped in it now. `I think he was sucking off Mase. I mean, I was only in there for a sec, so…’ `Oh, just that.’ `Just that?!’ The 25-year-old studied his fellow attacking player, aghast. He still felt hot and clammy, having not washed or stripped off since the last of their late-running final training session, where he had been working closely with Kane and the other forwards to perfect their set-pieces. He shuddered under the clammy training shirt and stared concernedly at his senior, baffled by that dismissive reply. `I’m having trouble getting my head around all this,’ he grunted evasively. He was tempted to hurry away from Kane now too, and go hide in his own bathroom taking a bath so long that he could skip dinner. `Well,’ the Spurs player said slowly, `that doesn’t really have to mean much.’ Jarrod stared at him, blinking and breathing slowly, and then breaking the stare and pushing impotently at the nearest balls on the gauze, letting them roll away and clack pointlessly at each other as their paths crossed. `It’s just stuff that happens,’ the captain said distantly, `when lads like us are away from our wives and girlfriends a bit too often, that’s all.’ A long pause, Jarrod turning this logic over in his head, and then, `Mind you, with those two, who knows. Like I said. Pair of old romantics, those two. Old married couple, worse than me and my missus.’ Bowen gave a hollow laugh to this assessment, and lifted his thick arms to hug over his chest, feeling his heartbeat and his breathing cool. `I dunno what to say,’ he admitted aloud, staring at the final gentle rolls on the random pattern of balls, and then at last looking earnestly back at his new captain. `You mean loads of footballers are at it? Hardly. I don’t think I believe that, mate. This is…’ `You’d be surprised,’ the 28-year-old muttered, and his expression was light, amused. It made Bowen frown and shift uncomfortably. `You’ve never had a teammate help you out?’ the striker demanded now, his voice quiet but confident. `Help me out!’ he echoed, ridiculing the idea. `I’ve got a girlfriend, thanks.’ He glanced back at Kane, accusation in his own eyes. `And you’ve got a… a wife, and kids.’ He stared hard at him, reading his relaxed posture. `You’ve… done shit like this, Harry?’ Kane didn’t properly answer. He just smiled in a way that was almost wistful, and then stroked and pushed some of the balls on the table, starting them off with another clacking domino effect, drawing both of their eyes down to follow the gentle action. And then one of his patient hands was back on the bulge of Jarrod’s shoulder muscle, holding him there. `I don’t think you should let any of this get to you, or change how you see your mates,’ he advised sagaciously. `I promise you, there’s madder things going on all the time. Nowt wrong at all with footballing lads experimenting a bit, or looking out for each other.’ His escort mersin tone changed slightly. `Unless it gets too serious.’ Jarrod glanced sideways at him, trying to read his pensive expression, and then noticing the insistent hand on his shoulder. It made him tense and he looked back at the final rolls of the red and yellow balls in front of his hands, which were white-knuckled as they gripped the edge of the table. Kane’s hand squeezed and then rubbed his shoulder a bit. Like him, the 6ft2 captain exuded the musty heat of an unshowered sportsmen at the end of a long day, though the striker seemed to have swapped his damp kit for clean grey sweatpants and a loose-fitting white t-shirt. But Jarrod could smell his physicality, his effort, his masculinity, laced with an aftershave that he couldn’t’t name but was sure he owned. The hand on his shoulder squeezed a little more against his muscle. `Like I said,’ he muttered. `I ain’t homophobic. I won’t hold it against Dec. I mean – I love him, he’s a great player, he’s a great captain. He’s my mate.’ `Exactly.’ `Hardly gonna change anything, if he IS seeing Mase, it’s just-‘ `It mightn’t be serious,’ mused Kane, close to him, and finger the neckline of his England shirt just a little. `It might just be a tour thing, something they do. I shouldn’t give it much thought. Guys have needs.’ But it was Dec sucking off Mase, part of him thought bitterly, trying to process that. Would he be less shocked if it had been the other way round? Perhaps not, but the details were sticking with him. Mason just stood there casually by the bed and Declan stooping forward, not quite visible, presumably attending to that cock which had been glimpsed – He shuddered again, and the feel of Kane’s fingers now closing about the back of his thick neck was relaxing and welcome against his own tension. `Don’t you have needs too, Bowie?’ the England skipper asked gently. `Huh.’ `You’re very tense.’ `Oh yeah?’ `You need some help, don’t you?’ Bowen’s ears and brain cells closed clumsily around the word `help’ and he remained there, strong arms locked forward to grip the edges of the pool table, but his back melting against the soft massage of fingertips on his nape, pulling and shifting at the neckline of his top. Then the same fingertips were scratching up the back of his head, which he let loll forwards, and tickling against the sweaty fluff of his blonde hair. He let out a long frustrated sigh, trying to square his shoulders, but feeling them sag and relax. One of Harry’s hands descended on each of them, and then something else was touching the back of his neck, something warm and moist – lips, kissing the very top of his spine. He felt gripped by sudden conflict, shuddering in unease, but melting forward in physical relaxation. He stiffened his body and made to shift to the side, but he stalled as Harry’s voice sounded gently. `Let me show you,’ murmured the Tottenham star, and Jarrod stared warily at him. Harry smiled confidently back, and nodded across the room. He followed his eyes to the gendered toilet sign in the corner, and he bit his lip hesitantly. The suggestion was obvious enough for him to grasp, and he had no idea what to do. Later, he would tell himself that it was some sense of obedience or fealty to his new leader, to the nation’s football captain and his tentative position in that international squad – but in the moment, he knew otherwise. His sweaty and tired body had reacted to the tender touch, and his thoughts were a muddle, still trying to understand what he’d seen Rice do to Mount. When he slowly followed Kane between the pool tables and through the door into the gentlemen’s, he knew he wasn’t even sure what `help’ was coming, and yet part of him was very ready to receive it. Inside the small toilet, it was Kane who instantly slid the lock into place and helped him out of his clingy shirt, peeling the material away from his smooth thick torso, and then draping it over the sink. The 6ft2 striker stood over him and it made him feel short and stumpy, but the height imbalance was quickly irrelevant, because his teammate was gliding down, settling on his knees. Then the same mouth that had very softly kissed the back of his neck was doing the same a fraction below his belly button, kissing the soft trail of golden hair there, and those big hands closing about his hips, rubbing him through the thin material of his new England training shorts. As it happened, the acclaimed West Ham player felt like he was watching it happen to somebody else, an out of body experience. He felt his shorts removed, pulled about his thick thighs and then dropped, and then his tight grey boxer briefs too. He felt himself guided back so that his chunky buttocks were pressed down on the cool white plastic of a toilet seat cover, his legs gently parted to make space between the thigh muscles, and the hand then fondling and weighing his damp sweaty balls, rubbing the underside of his soft meat. `Close your eyes. Just give it a go.’ And from then, it wasn’t even a third-person experience, but just an absent fantasy. He willingly obliged, squeezing his eyes shut and reclining into the tiled wall. The toilet seat and the wall were cool on his clammy skin, but the mouth that now enveloped his prick was soft and warm, and his skin prickled and responded. His balls retracted a little as his cock tickled and woke, and he slowly let out the gasp, feeling his dick enclosed within a mouth, and his closed eyes allowing him to displace the sensation from the tall tanned sight of Harry Kane, disappearing to his own bedroom in a trendy neighbourhood of East London, and either pair of open lips from his girlfriend. `We’re screwed,’ Rice groaned, his head buried in his hands. He was sat between the two beds, hunched over and wearing only his boxer trunks. Mount was next to him, cradling his bigger body, kissing the side of his neck, nuzzling him there. `I’m fucked,’ Dec groaned now, the point becoming even more personal. `I can’t stay at West Ham now whatever they throw at me, that’s it ruined, that’s it properly fucked.’ `Shush,’ murmured Mason in his ear as he kissed and stroked him. `Relax, babe…’ Dec rubbed at his face and then scratched his fingers through his hair, and pushed himself into a more upright seated position, becoming resistant to the tender hold and kisses of the lad next to him. He elbowed some distance between them as he groaned. `Why did he have to barge back in like that? Just as I was going down on you, for fuck’s sake, what must he be thinking? Oh shit.’ The West Ham captain groaned and grimaced, almost a whimper of dismay escaping his lips. There was a sharp sigh at his side, and then Mason was wriggling a little away from him. When he spoke, his voice was less quiet and tender. `Right, then,’ was all he said, and the tone more than the meaningless words caught Rice’s attention and made him glass attentively to his partner. `Cos obviously it’s the worst thing in the world, you being seen sucking my dick,’ the other 23-year-old sportsman muttered at him in a quite cold tone. Dec screwed up his face, and snapped back at the other lad. `Oh, don’t be like that, Mase, you know exactly what I mean. You know how bad this might be for me- for us, for what we’ve got. You can’t just be a dick about it, babe.’ `No, no, cos you’re so ashamed to suck my dick,’ Mount went on, pushing more distance between them, then pulling his bare legs up onto the bed and hugging them as he sprawled back against the loose mound of pillows. His eyes were resentful. `What a disgrace for you, to be caught like that.’ Rice just frowned. `A disgrace for us both, potentially,’ he said, but the ferocity had gone from his voice, as he heard himself talk about their love in those terms. He grunted miserably. `I don’t get what you’re saying, why you’re being like that.’ `Plenty of people on my team know what I’m into,’ Mase told him tartly. In spite of his love and loyalty, Dec sneered back at this. `Yeah, the ones who’ve fucked you,’ he retorted, and he regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth, seeing the jolt of annoyance on that handsome face, and the tightening of his lover’s crouched body. He reached out, grabbing one of those bare knees. `I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just different, you know it is. I’m captain there, Mase. And Jarrod isn’t so… I dunno, so open-minded. He’d never be okay with anything like that, with…’ `So is he a friend worth keeping?’ the Chelsea player snapped at him, and the hurt look on his face was intoxicating for Rice – suddenly, his boyfriend’s feelings resumed their importance, shoving away the usurping insecurities. Declan pulled himself more fully onto the bed and lunged at him in a hug, closing arms about his middle and pressing his face to his chest. `Sorry, sorry,’ he muttered quickly. `I didn’t mean any of that. I love you. Nothing we do is a “disgrace” – I never meant that. I promise.’ In response to the sweet words, Mason cuddled him back, and found his mouth to kiss him. `It’s okay,’ he mumbled contritely, his momentary sulk gone. `I do understand, I’m just worrying too, that’s all. We’re both freaking. Let’s not take it out on each other.’ `Deal,’ Dec quickly agreed, squeezing him close. `But what do we do? Like seriously, what the fuck do I do, Mase?’ `Well… for the rest of tonight, and the rest of our careers, I haven’t a clue, baby. But in the short term: we both need a shower. You stink, I stink, we stink. And ideally, in the shower, you’ll clap my cheeks and make me cum, but I’ll settle for a snog and a backrub. And then, fresh and clean, we’ll face whatever we got to face. Okay?’ Dec sighed and twisted his head to make eye contact with his beautiful lad over his smooth chest. `What did I ever do to deserve you, Mason Mount…?’ The cheeky Chelsea player grinned back. `Fuck knows, Dickhead Rice. But that shower will be good and hot by now, if we haven’t used all the water. So let’s get soapy, eh?’ Jarrod didn’t mean to open his eyes. He was really getting into it, feeling the sloppy lips slide back and forth over his short thick erection, enjoying all of its girth and tending gently to the sensitive head. He liked the tough rub of the hands going up and down his inner thighs, and he didn’t even mind the shorter hair on the scalp as he dragged his own fingers over it, unconcerned that it didn’t feel much like his babe’s hair extensions. But he was lost in the blowie, letting his aching cock be serviced, having not enjoyed even the briefest or most discreet of wanks since his driver deposited him at the training campus on Monday evening. But his eyes did open, and the fullness of what was happening did hit him. None other than his new fucking captain, England’s prolific striker, was on his knees for him, his head bobbing up and down and his golden brown hair mussed up beneath Jarrod’s guiding hands on his skull. The bigger man’s shoulder muscles bulged through his t-shirt, and the back of his neck shone with fresh sweat. He moved with speed and skill, pausing only to suck in breath and to spit messily upon the shaft of Jarrod’s chunky prick – and then back on it, taking in its full length but gagging somewhat on its thickness. Seeing it so vividly, Bowen tensed up, pushing back against the cistern and the wall, locking his thick thighs on either side of Kane’s questing face. This was madness. Initiated into his first international squad by the captain himself, shown a whole new underworld to the sport that he loved. Harry’s words drifted through his minds, his comments on `needs’ and `help’ and how `surprised’ Jarrod might be if he really knew what went on. Fucking hell. Now that his eyes were open, it was hard for the 25-year-old to close them, but it was also hard for him to stop the rollercoaster he was on. His bollocks, tight against the base of his wet cock, tingled and burned, and he knew he was getting close. The older man’s mouth moved ceaselessly up and down his short shaft, and the tongue was serpentine in its fluid strength against his bulging cock-head. He grunted vaguely, his hands still locked about Kane’s head: he could push him away, he could shove him backwards, but all he was doing was pushing his head down, dragging that long bronzed face in against the sweat of his crotch, holding it there and even thrusting up, squeezing his glutes and jolting his crotch forward from his seated position. And then he was riding that wave, feeling that overwhelming tingle from head to toe, and still he clung to the tight cut of Kane’s hair, holding his head in there, locked over his cock as he spilled his load, creaming inside a mouth that very much was not his girlfriend’s. `Fuck fuck fuck,’ the Herefordshire lad swore in a slur of gasps, shaking Kane’s skull and pushing his thickness into the tight wet mouth. `FUCK FUCK FUCK!’ The tensin left his body and he collapsed back against the cistern and tiles, letting go of Harry’s hair and head – his bare strong arms dangled at his sides and his thighs loosened apart more, and he felt his cock and balls tingle. He let out another groan, wordless now, and closed his eyes, his head throbbing. The sound of Kane’s mouth leaving his dick was wet and gasping, the tremble of lips and an unholy little gurgle. `Yes, lad,’ sighed the captain quietly. He sounded like he had a mouthful. `Fuck,’ Bowen groaned one more time. He brought an arm up against his eyes to screen the view, feeling the rise and fall of his body with each breath. Harry’s breath tickled his inner thighs and the sticky wet tip of his cock, and he felt one last suck run over it, as if every last drop of his seed was being consumed – oh god. Then his thighs were being patted in a robust, businesslike fashion, and he heard a lighter more jokey sound to Kane’s voice. `You’ll feel better for that,’ the captain was saying – it was both an assurance and a command, he thought. It meant: shut up and enjoy it, you git. Jarrod stayed slumped on the toilet while he felt more than saw Kane’s presence move away from him. When he lowered his arm, the striker was at his side, washing his hands and face in the sink, splashing flecks of warm water and soap this way. He was laughing a bit, and muttering to himself under his breath, and then pulling out and checking his phone. Jarrod’s shirt was passed to him and he snatched it cautiously from the taller, older man. `How do you feel?’ demanded Harry. There might have been mersin escort bayan an edge of worry to his voice, but he largely sounded fucking delighted with himself. When Jarrod finally looked at him, he half expected to see dribbles of his cum over his face, but the 28-year-old looked fresh and alert, rosy-cheeked, quite tanned. `Exhausted,’ he muttered evasively, starting to drag up his undies and his shorts before clambering into his shirt. `I really need to shower.’ `You do,’ Kane murmured, standing over him again. `So sweaty.’ Bowen grimaced. `But it tasted good.’ There was just a lewd smirk on the other forward’s face, and the confines of the men’s toilet held them together but separate, an uncomfortable heat all around them. Bowen just groaned, and pushed past to get to the sink so he could wash his face too. The captain said more words, but he didn’t catch them, just relieved when the door was unlocked and the 6ft2 bloke left first, allowing him a few moments of privacy whilst he rubbed cool water over his burning face and then adjusted his damp kit about his chunky body, waiting for his cock to recede and jut less obviously in the white. When he left the small cubicle, there was no sign of Kane in the pool room or the bar, or of anyone else. That was some relief. He felt light-headed and overwhelmed, just as he had when he rushed down those stairs. He found and picked up his backpack, lingering in the empty bar and considering pouring himself a comforting pint of ale, but deciding that could look bad if caught. If caught! As if what he’d just done in the toilets wasn’t fucking mad and risky, or as if Declan and Mason weren’t taking huge risks in hotel rooms with the doors half-open. It all made him feel queasy and anxious and he was suddenly desperate to just be in Budapest for the game, making his debut, not caring about anything else. That’s what he was here for, he reminded himself, nothing else. With that in mind, he stomped his way up to his room. He passed a few other players on the way, having paused and glanced grimly at the door to Rice and Mount’s suite. Coady and Phillips bounced happily past him and tried to involve him in hugs, but he shrugged rudely away from them, and then an equally cheery Stones tried to engage him in conversation at the next set of stairs – but Bowen powered awkwardly on, glad to get into the room and find Justin busy on the phone to family. It meant he could lock himself in their bathroom and stand under the shower for ages, washing away both the sweat and the shame. At dinner, he couldn’t help but avoid taking a seat beside Declan, even though he knew it would be conspicuous – he’d been pretty inseparable from his West Ham skipper since hugging him in the foyer at arrivals. But he tried his best to look relaxed and upbeat, figuring that if there were any remarks, he’d just point out that he was networking and trying to break out of his West Ham bubble – if pushed, he’d even maybe make some sarky comment about Dec as an ex-teammate now the season was over, provoking the inevitable speculation over where Rice would actually play in 22-23. He spotted a gap at the end of the table, and took up his position there. `This spot free?’ he asked brusquely, hurrying into the chair before he could be corrected and end up in Declan’s orbit. Harry Maguire turned morosely and gave him a briefly puzzled look, then nodded. `Sure,’ the 6ft4 centre-back grunted quietly at him. `Have a seat, buddy.’ The Manchester United player tried a smile, but it just came across as a twisted sneer – the big Sheffield bloke had been noticeably unhappy throughout the past three days, clearly quite unable to distance himself from a season of disappointment and intense scrutiny. `Long time no chat, Slab,’ Jarrod said, deciding to focus all of his attention on the dour giant, rather than risk making eye contact across the table to where Dec was taking his seat between Mason and Jude Bellingham. Maguire gave a low laugh at the shortened nickname, and nodded. It wasn’t strictly true that Dec was Jarrod’s only existing friend on the England line-up when he arrived, but it had been years since he and Harry had spoken outside of a football pitch. The several three or four seasons they had shared at Hull City seemed like a lifetime ago to Jarrod, and he suspected the same for the 29-year-old brute. He realised that the big United captain was giving him a long look, perhaps reflecting on that same shared past. When he spoke, his question jolted him with surprise and worry. `So, why is Mason Mount staring daggers at you across the table?’ the bigger man asked in a soft growl. `Is he really as possessive about his Rice-cakes as everyone jokes…?’ A rough chuckle. Bowne frowned then forced a laugh. When he dared look, there was no accusing stare from Mount, and Rice was engaged in talk with Bellingham. But he didn’t disbelieve Maguire, and he felt a pang of shame – he was being a dick, he needed to make sure things were okay with those two. They’d been such good friends to him. But it was gonna be tough, and a bit humiliating, in some way. He still felt uneasy and stunned by what had taken place when he confided in Harry Kane. `Or is it summat else?’ pushed this other big Harry. `Hmm? Oh – nothing. Just… a difference of opinion. A few words out of line earlier. My fault,’ he added swiftly. `Right. Hmm. Well – make your peace, mate. Cos you’re definitely in the squad Saturday night, and you don’t want any little tensions fucking that up, lad. Rice and Mount will both be starting, you don’t want any problems there, huh.’ This was a calmer and more mature Maguire than he remembered from their Hull days, and he paused to consider the big hunched man next to him – in fact, he thought, it was a different Maguire to the one he usually saw in his Red Devils shirt. The 29-year-old seemed aged and deflated by his experiences in a doomed Old Trafford, worn down by pressure and scathing review. It made Bowen a little sad to see, but he appreciated the kind words. `Trust me,’ Maguire muttered, as if talking to himself, `it’s never worth letting rivalries or personal problems get in the way of your form. If I’ve learnt nothing else this season, it’s that.’ He made a hollow grunting laugh, and then seemed to sag back further in his seat, a man defeated. Jarrod looked past him, briefly catching Declan’s eye over the table. He smiled weakly in his friend and captain’s direction, hoping to signal his loyalty in that gesture, whatever private reservations he had. He’d seek him out after the meal, he decided firmly, and make sure things were okay. He knew Harry was right, and they all just needed to be close and friendly, focused on shared goals. There was no room for bullshit and tension. And Declan Rice was a fucking great bloke, whatever else he might be getting up to. Across the table, Dec hesitantly returned the smile, and Jarrod braced himself for what might be a fairly awkward heart-to-heart with the 23-year-old. Rather than end up locked in a longer staring contest with the other West Ham player, he scanned the rest of the table, and then gave a puzzled frowned. `Wait,’ he said, looking at a gap down towards the far end, `where’s the skipper?’ Next to him, Maguire just made a vague noise of disinterest. `Running late?’ he guessed dismissively, immediately more interested in the arrival of some serving staff and the dishes being laid down at the far end of the table, around where Harry Kane should be seated. `Probably another cringe interview with the American press, or some shit.’ The United captain sounded resentful and bitter. `Right,’ Bowen said uncertainly, wondering if his own action or inaction had anything to do with the skipper’s AWOL status at the meal, and how he would feel when he next had to interact with the tall striker. That, he suddenly thought, would be far worse than making peace with his teammate buddy. `Fuck yes,’ whined the boy, and Kane lapped at his second sticky load of the evening, holding the big curved member at its base and running his tongue messily over the head to taste more of the silvery goo. `Fuck, fuck, yeahhhh…’ Now the youngster was holding his cock and pushing it at Harry’s dirty lips, slapping it weakly against his mouth and letting out a sour victorious laugh. `Eat it up, you Hotspurs slut.’ `Yes,’ the 28-year-old groaned with a shudder, pushing out his tongue and letting the tip of the fat cock sweep against his mouth, smearing the last frothy traces of the spilled load against his palate. Spent sighs from Emile Smith Rowe, and short sharp breaths from Kane himself, recovering from the heated excitement of bringing the 21-year-old player to climax. He remained crouched on the rough grass, letting his heart slow down, and hanging his head for a few moments whilst the younger player pulled away from him. He thought that the Arsenal starlet was busying himself with pushing his fat cock away and yanking up his pants, but nope – he lifted his head to look and saw only the pink-white blocks of Emile’s glutes, the lad turned away from him and angling at the base of one tree. A watery rush announced his business, pissing casually into the tree roots whilst Harry picked himself up and rubbed dirty marks from the knees of his grey sweatpants. The spot was risky in such bright sunset, though they had been will hidden whilst crouching down on the ground. Now he was stood up, the 6ft2 England hero felt conspicuous and ridiculous, unsure why he’d taken the risk of meeting so early. Last night and the night before they had waited until almost midnight before creeping here to this spot where the different sectors of the St George training campus connected. Smith Rowe finished pissing, shaking his cock and then stuffing it into the front of his underpants and tracky bottoms. He turned and shot one of his smug, contemptuous looks this way, a solid 5’11 and looking more full-bodied and muscular every month. It had been obvious all week how annoyed the winger was to languish in England’s U21s side for this camp, part of their Euros qualifiers, rather than playing with the big boys. He’d been pretty blunt in his complaints when Kane admitted that he didn’t have enough influence with Southgate to push against that decision. They both knew the truth: Emile’s skills were needed to get the U21s through into their tournament, and the Nations League games for the senior squad were the bottom of everyone’s priorities – that fact did not seem to comfort the impetuous Arsenal upstar whatsoever. `Was that good?’ Harry found himself asking in a shaky mutter. He heard how pathetic he sounded, asking that, having just slurped and snuffled over the young stud’s restless cock and savoured almost every drop of his salty deposit. But he had to ask, he had to know. He’d think about it while he wanked himself off in the hotel room later tonight. Emile just grunted. His dismissiveness, his aloofness, his arrogance – it was all part of the fun. Harry understood himself well enough to know that the submission was half of the pleasure. Still… This one was so young, and so overly confident. There was an edge to Smith Rowe that made him so excitingly uneasy, especially after he’d got what he wanted from him each time. Harry stared at him for a moment, licking his salty lips. `What?’ the 21-year-old grunted. `Did you want my piss too?’ Harry blinked slowly. In a very small voice, he asked, `Would you-?’ `Ugh,’ groaned the Arsenal winger immediately, breaking from groan to harsh laugh. `I’m gonna forget you almost asked that, big man.’ He winked. `Wish me luck for tomorrow’s match then, Tottenham scum.’ The kid would never dare speak to him like this in front of anyone else, he thought, and that was why he enjoyed these moments so much – he loved to be treated like this, and perhaps even more so from some jumped up youth who’d only spent five minutes at the senior table. Kane remembered that hotel scene after their last away match, the way Maguire had tried to urge him into being more dominant and in control. And all that had happened, well apart from Maguire and Bellingham exposing Pickford as a greedy sub, was that Harry had fallen for Emile’s beautiful tool, and he’d been obsessed with servicing it ever since. `Good luck,’ he said to the 21-year-old, in a voice more like himself. He was shaking off the greedy sub in him, ignoring the press of his semi in his underpants. He couldn’t believe he’d blown them both – first that tense stud Jarrod Bowen, and now his snarling 21-year-old regular playmate. He knew without looking at his watch that he’d be late for dinner, but it had been worth it. `I don’t need luck,’ Emile murmured, despite having just asked for it. He too was rubbing bits of dirt and broken twigs off his pants, backing further away in their dubious little spot of cover in the hotel grounds, a bit of red still in his cheeks and neck. `And… good luck to you lot in Hungary, I guess.’ It was a pretty kind and tender comment, as far as the Arsenal player went, and Kane nodded respectfully back, easing himself back into captain mode. But he didn’t say any more, stuck between roles. He just let the younger sportsman jog away, heading back to the different wing of the hotel where the Under-21s were based this week, then made his own slow walk back down the path in the direction of his own team meal. It was tempting to skip it altogether, and hurry upstairs to jerk off thinking of Bowen and Smith Rowe’s weapons and loads, but he was not someone to take his duties lightly. He headed for the hotel restaurant, checking his reflection in some windows to make sure he wasn’t too dishevelled, and then racing in through the foyer just in time to see his dish being served at an empty space. Kane hollered his apologies and hurried on into the dining room, not daring to look across the table and seek out Bowen; he just had to trust that the humble West Ham bloke would have recovered from the shock and got on with his evening. He’ll be grand, the Londoner promised himself, glad that he’d initiated the naive newcomer and opened up another possible playmate in this squad of unbelievable studs. The captain sat himself down in their midst, no longer paranoid or worried about his sexual needs: they were two different men, he decided, the Harry Kane who won those penalties and led the campaign, and the Harry Kane who had submitted to about half a dozen different men at this table. They were both him, but different, and he was learning to accept that. ‘Writer guy’ – Premiership Lads on Nifty fty//gay/celebrity/premiership-lads/ Amazon Wishlist here if you wanna say thanks LOL https://www.amazon.co.uk/hz/wishlist/ls/26BW3WSABBHNM?ref_=wl_share

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Subject: Premiership Lads part 202: Spurred On Part 202: Spurred On The late afternoon outside was a dark grey-blue, but the atmosphere inside the team coach was bright and jubilant; a 1-0 win over the likes of West Brom was not an obvious triumph for the North London club, but the 3 points had put Tottenham Hotspurs temporarily atop the league table, and the players were taking it as a great excuse for celebration. Their eccentric Portuguese manager had dragged out a surprising half dozen cooler boxes of bottled beer, since the lockdown rules meant there was no other way of relaxing and socialising for the squad once they were home in the capital. Harry Kane, swigging heartily from his second green bottle, had his own more specific triumph from the Sunday afternoon away game: his lone goal that had secured them the win was his 150th in the Premiership, an achievement that put him in true elite of strikers in the league’s history, only the legendary Alan Shearer and the impressive contemporary Sergio Aguero having reached the accolade more rapidly in their playing careers. The personal victory and the team’s temporary supremacy had him in a comfortably warm mood, his face-mask tucked below his jutting chin and a little red flush in his bearded cheeks — he was quite content to sit back quietly and bask in the boisterous enjoyment of the other Spurs men, too tired out to make a spectacle of himself enjoying his latest statistical accolade, just enjoying the winning mood and the upbeat energy of the other lads as their coach approached the edges of the city. Somebody somewhere — Welshman Ben Davies by the look of it — was blasting tinny music from a portable speaker whilst a few of the other players danced in their seats or the aisle, pulling their best dad-dance moves and guffawing self-deprecatingly while filming stupid TikToks. Eric Dier was in amongst them, Kane could not help but notice, grinding his tall body in a daft limbo move to the amusement of Matt Doherty and Giovani Lo Celso, a little party of Premiership talent. Kane let his beady eyes rest a moment on Dier’s best disco moves before the tipsy laughing defender lumbered back into his seat with a whoop, quickly averting his gaze in case his ex looked over this way in his noisy celebrations. The 27-year-old striker did his best to suppress the little well of feeling, determined to move on from that fraught romance that he’d pressed self-destruct on; there had been a little moment between the pair of them today that had been helpful and encouraging, a real look of respect and support as they passed each other on the way onto the pitch. Not that Dier had ever let his feelings spill into their game in any obvious way, he was a good guy like that, but today had been the first time where Kane felt able to look him in the eye as respected colleagues in a long while; maybe it was just in his head, but there had seemed a difference in the way Eric treated him on and around the pitch today, a returning warmth or decency. There might have been a time lately where Harry could have misread the little look as something more alluring and optimistic, but he was learning to accept the reality that their previous intimacy was eroded and gone. He had to shoulder the responsibility, having sacrificed their budding relationship to protect his own marriage, even if his brief determination to keep his dick clean and eschew any `extra fun’ had been quickly derailed by insatiable appetite when the opportunity last arose. He was ambivalent now, on both counts: as sad as he was when he sometimes looked at Eric in his prime, he was quite sure that the other England ace needed and deserved something more than he could give him; and while he worried about the risks and the impact on his happily married home life, he regularly caught himself thinking longingly about the sexual deviance he’d learned since those hot Russian nights with Dier. Or he had done, he supposed, until the Maguire incident. The thoughts were still there, perhaps even more excitingly than ever, in the darkest moments or the night or in the middle of making love to his missus, but the longing itself was dulled; that exciting fuck from two other Harrys had come at terrifying cost and risk, and made him understandably cautious about ever branching out again. Winks, the adorable young bloke he was, had sought him out to apologise profusely two or three times at the Spurs training ground, and Kane had chosen to react blankly as if he barely knew what the younger Harry was even talking about. That afternoon in Surrey, the real excitement for Kane had come in the brutish attention of the Man Utd captain, not his twinkish teammate; besides, he didn’t want to make himself any more submissive to a fellow Spurs regular, not again! Fortunately, young Winks was not among the jubilant Spurs players on this particular Sunday trip, which made it easier for Kane to relax and soak up the good vibes. He drained the last of his second beer bottle, relaxing his shoulders against the cool glass behind him, turning to watch as another hyped-up man began to karaoke to Davies’ boombox. It was today’s spare goalkeeper, former England legend Joe Hart, one of the year’s new signings, making everybody laugh with a terribly performed power ballad. Harry heard his own deep laughter mingling with the voice of the guy nearest to him and he looked to the left a little, found the man in front up on his knees, elbows propped on the headrest so he could lean over and watch the louder end of the coach from this comfortable distance. It was another newbie, or in many ways a true oldie: Gareth Bale, returned to the club that had put him on the map. It was odd for Harry to be reunited with him now, having once watched him as the club’s main weapon while he was just a gawky youth in and out of the squad on loan deals. `What are they like?’ chuckled the older footballer, slouching forward and yawning slightly. `Bunch of kids, really…’ He grinned, acknowledging his own `old man’ status at 31 by the harsh terms of football life, lifting a beer bottle to his lips. `Yep, and I love every one of them,’ Kane responded with a grin, lifting his empty to clink with Bale’s. In response to that, the burly Welshman disappeared backwards and then produced a freshly opened cold one for him, having somehow landed one of the cooler boxes on the spare seat beside him. Harry thanked him and supped on his third drink, glad of the winger’s company as he began to compliment him on his goal and talk about the match. `A really great achievement,’ Gareth concluded, starting a fresh beer himself and chinking their bottles together again in another toast, resting his chin on his broad hairy forearms and guzzling back the beer. `Here’s to that, pal, here’s to that.’ The dynamic between them had been a little odd in the last couple of months; Kane wondered if Bale was as conscious of the role reversal as he was, the switch since before 2013 when the Welsh beast was in his prime and the England goal assassin was a spotty young nobody. Now, Harry Kane was the established hero of this club and his national team, and Bale was the plagued loan player whose Spanish club seemed to be described as `cursed’ for the media. Their quiet cheerful chat turned inevitably to Bale’s slow progress, with Kane keen to reassure and praise his experienced wingman on his efforts this afternoon and his possible contributions to the club’s bid for Premiership top spot. Gareth seemed to appreciate it but he laughed off Harry’s slightly overstated positivity, seeming philosophical about his stalled career. `It’s just good to be back here,’ the Wales legend told him openly. `Do not miss the Spanish league whatsoever.’ He almost shuddered. `If you guys don’t make this move permanent, I’ll be shopping around — I ain’t playing for that cunt Zidane or his dirty Spanish fuckers ever again.’ Beer and the Cardiff accent made his statement sound all the more firm and aggressive and it took Harry aback, sipping his beer and raising his eyebrows. Bale just chuckled again. `Seriously, don’t do it, Kano, don’t sell your soul to the international market, it is NOT worth it. Trust me.’ The 27-year-old shrugged, sitting up a little to feel closer to the other man. `Well, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it. Came pretty close, earlier this year.’ Since Bale was being so honest, so would he. `Wife got a bit funny about a little side-thing I had going, so she was pushing me to get out of London — had all sorts of maybe deals on the table, y’know.’ He regretted his dismissive admission of infidelity (and to diminish Dier as `side-thing’) but he was already feeling half-drunk. `Ah, it happens,’ Bale grunted back, `and yeah, sometimes moving on is best, but… they love you here. You’re king. You don’t need to go nowhere, big man.’ Harry smiled at him. It was refreshing how down-to-earth the Cardiff man actually was, given his years at Real Madrid. But, hah, he was probably just getting pissed and charmed by anyone of Bale’s age and status referring to him as `king’ of anywhere! Bale was talking rapidly on, much less reserved than he usually seemed, filling him in on the latest nonsense around his wife’s mad family, confiding in him like they were old friends who had played together in all the intervening years since they were last fellow Spurs men. By the time the coaches were parked up at the suburban training ground, the Sunday night was inky blue overhead, and most of the players were loudly drunk as they tumbled out into the frosty cool of the car park, zero social distancing in their matey hugs and back-slaps as a successful away day was brought to an end. Bale swung himself off the stepped entrance of the coach, digging his thumbs into the shoulder straps of his back-pack and taking a few bouncing steps onto the concrete, beer-warmed enough to ignore the cool night in his thin branded team tracksuit. Earlier on, he had felt a sudden awkwardness in sharing in another Spurs victory of the League, conscious that his own hard work in the match had yielded no real results. He’d been sweating into a chair with the substitutes by the time Kane scored the winner, despite throwing all of his muscular efforts into the 78 minutes of play he’d endured. He could share in the excitement of briefly topping the table, but his patience was running thin on his big Premiership comeback. It was a malaise that had been easily drowned by four or five beers on the road, he and his neighbouring striker taking more than their fair share from the cooler box towards the end of the journey, resulting in a fuzzy head as he blinked across the floodlit car park and realised that he was in no state to drive his own luxury car back through the London suburbs to his new rented mansion. Around him, other players were perhaps making similar realisations, though in reality most lads had only downed one or maybe two of the bottled beers — there was some obvious fuss and negotiation of car shares and pragmatic solutions going on, from which Gareth felt vaguely excluded, less bonded with his new teammates and fairly oblivious to who lived in roughly the same direction as him. Kane was suddenly beside him, pink-cheeked and swaying a little on his feet. `Taxi for me, I think,’ the London bloke slurred deeply, patting him on the arm and tottering next to him as the gathering of athletes slowly dispersed. `Huh, yeah,’ Bale agreed slowly, momentarily regretting knocking back so much drink but ultimately too complacently relaxed to think it in earnest. He squinted at his fellow forward, hugging his thick arms across his broad chest and shrugging. `Unless we can pile in with mersin escort someone, er, I dunno quite where you live, Harry…’ Kane was about to answer in a slow bleary fashion, but then a third big tall player was suddenly between them, clapping especially large hands together and elbowing each of them in a matey bustle. `Fellas!’ barked Joe Hart loudly. `Am I the only one too pissed to risk his BMW right now…? Haha. How are we doing, gentlemen…?’ `Good,’ said Kane drunkenly, grinning broadly from behind his long pale-bearded features at the new substitute goalkeeper, another deflated legend in Bale’s eyes and therefore a natural ally. He smiled at the bigger man, a towering 6ft3 over them as he draped one arm about each of their shoulders, and nodded his agreement. `A bit tipsy,’ he chuckled. `I think all three of us. Crying shame there ain’t no London pubs open right now, eh…!’ `Yeah,’ Harry agreed readily, `could so happily go to some local boozer and toast to my 150th goal…’ Bale jokily rolled his eyes. `Oh, give it a rest, champ,’ he boomed, shaking free of Hart’s heavy arm, and adjusting his tightly tied locks up into their bulging topknot. `You two are men after my own heart,’ Hart said very firmly, rolling his eyes regretfully. `It’s one thing partying on the coach, it’s another thing being back at the dinner table with the wife and kids by 6pm…!’ He groaned, tapping his rolex as if to prove the point. `Criminal, really. I mean, we could…’ `What?’ Harry barked with a beer-soaked impatience. Bale grinned uncertainly and watched the tall goalkeeper’s smirking expression. `What are you gonna suggest, old man?’ he demanded playfully. `You don’t know somewhere?’ `Well,’ drawled the big Englishman slowly, `I do know a little place…’ `Where?!’ today’s successful striker asked incredulously, an excited little glint in his small eyes. `He’s talking shit,’ Gareth found himself chuckling with drunken bluntness. `Nowhere is open, it’s fuckin’ lockdown part two, lads, it’s-` Joe Hart was laughing again, a booming confident sound, and rubbing his palms together in a big gesture of mischief. `Okay, let me be clearer — I’m talking about my own bar in the outhouse.’ He shrugged his impressive shoulders. `Look, I know it’s, er, bending the rules, but — our garden is ridiculous. Wife won’t even know if I have you two over for a couple of nightcaps before I turn in.’ He had dropped his voice quite confidentially as he said it, grabbing again at their shoulders and leaning in. `Just between us blokes, eh?’ Gareth found himself looked hesitantly at his new pal Harry, unsure if Hart was even being serious and even more unsure if the plan was too needlessly transgressive on a Sunday night when he could soon be curled up in an armchair being waited on by his missus. But the reality remained that he’d sank a few beers already and had caught the infectious cheer of the team, even if the news of the Leicester score had already displaced their spell at the top of the League by the time the coach parked up here. Kane met his eyes, a conflicted smirk on his lips, but Hart just slapped their backs enthusiastically and took the pause as a distinct `yes’. `It’ll be good, serious, nobody need know,’ big Joe promised eagerly, glancing about them at the thinning gathering as individuals and pairs piled into their expensive cars or growled out of the gates at the far end, the scene quickly emptying as the excited match-winners departed for their homely evenings. `We just need to bagsy a driver,’ Hart murmured as he stared around them. `Taxi might look dodgy,’ Kane murmured in agreement, but he did something odd as the goalie hoisted one arm and began to mouth a name, gesturing to the nearest bloke just disappearing into his motor. `Di-` began the `keeper, but Harry had dragged his arm down and hissed silence at him in a strange little intervention that dully registered in Bale’s tipsy mind. `Nah,’ he was telling the other fella, `not Eric, he’ll… I mean, he’ll not feel comfortable with the rule-breaking, so…’ `Right, right,’ Joe murmured, shooting him a bemused frown. `Here,’ Bale said quickly, dismissing the odd moment and nodding in the other direction, spotting another of their colleagues just unlocking his 4×4 and waving a goodbye at a passing coach. As one, the three men ambled that way towards Toby Alderweireld, the Belgian defender, who turned to give them a jokey salute and then a smirking nod as he guessed the unspoken favour. `Need a ride, boys?’ the other tall senior player asked, standing with his driver’s door open beneath his hands. `How’d you guess?’ laughed Hart, fist-bumping him and then leaning in to share his plan with the well-established Tottenham player, who didn’t seem to hesitate for very long. He shouted out something about `How did you read my mind?’ and then they were bundling into his vehicle, four respected players sniggering like teenage boys as they shared the Jeep and listened to Joe Hart waxing lyrical about his little party cabin and how it had swung the house purchase when he and his family moved down here at the end of summer. Bale stretched out on the back seat, feeling drunker already at the prospect of illegal further booze, spreading his thick tired legs and fumbling about with the seatbelt while Hart continued to boast and Alderweireld made loud howling laughs of appreciation; in a little slip of balance, Bale leant down to the right in an effort to belt up, and planted his right hand down firmly on another leg, momentarily seizing the muscle of Kane’s thigh as the younger man hunkered down next to him on the back seat of the car. The Welshman grunted out a breathy little apology, pulling his hand away, freaked out for a second but also just amused that the ample backseat was so fully occupied by two tall muscular players like themselves. He glanced sideways at Harry and found the striker blushing slightly and making a little tittering laugh as if quite uncomfortable with the accidental contact. `Relax,’ Gareth said forcefully, punching him in the arm, `I won’t be groping you again, king.’ `Fucking hope not,’ mumbled the English fella with strained humour, looking away and faffing with his own belt, while Toby started up the engine and sped them out of the cold car park and onto the winding road, directed by the excited goalie in the passenger seat. Kane sent a clumsy text to his wife as they were shifting from the car to Hart’s little man-cave, excusing his absence and advising her not to wait up; there would be an angry earful over breakfast, but drunk-Harry was in no mood to make concessions for the wellbeing of tomorrow’s hangover-Harry. They had parked up at the bottom of the host’s impressive garden and entered the little detached block beneath the trees. Joe was true to his word: it was a veritable chalet, set up with a huge bar dominating one wall, overflowing with stock. It was obvious enough that the 33-year-old had been aching to show off his manly little escape almost since moving here, gesturing madly about as he showed them it and muscled behind the bar to start mixing up some drinks. He was boasting about the sound-system that just been installed but then making embarrassed apologies that they needed to keep the noise down to avoid alarming his wife or the other wealthy neighbours. Kane didn’t care, he didn’t need any music to enhance the taboo thrill of his lockdown socialising, tipsy on beer and his own success — on that, and also on the oppressive hypermasculinity of the tight gathering, all deep booming voices and swollen chests, the blokiest contingent of the Hotspurs squad right now. All peeling off their heavy puffer coats and bulging muscularly in matching pink and blue polo shirts with the Tottenham crest on one pectoral, shuffling about the bartop and admiring different aspects of Hart’s cliched man-cave. Lubricated by beer, Harry allowed his eyes to rove — after all, how the hell could any of these blokes guess his secret penchant for prick? — as he leaned sideways on the bar, playing with the collar of his polo shirt and watching Joe Hart show off his stupidly comprehensive cocktail kit. It was a process that showed off the big guy’s physique, biceps bulging as he worked the shaker and beamed vainly at his laddish guests — he was obviously someone Kane had played with before through their overlapping England prominence, though he’d never noticed how attractive his boyish looks and spiky blond hair were back then, hadn’t had his eyes opened by a certain someone else. Joe looked a lot older than he remembered him on those early England camps of his own international career, but it just made him more impressive and physical, a solid tower of manliness now pouring out some strong martinis for them all. Those massive capable hands, Harry thought, so skilled and receptive on the football pitch, imagine the things they could do if put to other uses… And next to him, the brooding European figure of Toby, thumping his fists appreciatively against the wooden top and congratulating the self-appointed cocktail waiter in his slightly broken, faintly London-accented English. He was not necessarily Harry’s type — he blearily questioned himself when he suddenly had a `type’, when for the past couple of years his `type’ had only been `Eric Jeremy Edgar Dier’ — but the tattoos on his thick arms just seemed to accentuate their latent strength and the man’s forceful masculinity. He grinned stupidly and made a pantomime of enjoyment, knocking his martini rapidly back and baying for a second. And past him… Harry focused on Gareth and thought back to those days when he was desperately trying to make a name for himself in his late teens, desperately sick of being loaned out to minor teams and just wanting to be given a proper chance at playing for Tottenham in their first team… he remembered brief encounters with the then-iconic Welsh lad who had become something of a role model for him. The four years between them had seemed huge back then, different generations of talent, but now Bale was an `aged’ sidekick to his and Son’s attack force. Harry was a little startled to find Gareth looked directly back across him over the bar, their eyes connecting again for a little puzzled moment like on the coach, then pulling apart as Bale pushed away from the bar and began to inspect the footy memorabilia adoring the other walls of Hart’s generous cabin. Harry, flushed and stupidly excited, slurped from his martini glass and tried to remind himself to calm down, he was just here with the blokes, this wasn’t some seedy lad-pad orgy…! But his head had been turned by the events in that Surrey hotel, the electrifying realisation that Harry fucking Maguire was capable of swinging this way… in his taut tracksuit bottoms and dark briefs, his arsehole clenched and throbbed for the memory of that intense fucking. He turned his back to the bar to watch Gareth, admiring the chunky build of the 6ft1 winger, warrior-like with his man-bun and bunched shoulders, commentating loudly in his Cardiff accent about various England souvenirs decorating the walls around the large window facing towards the silent house. He was a sexy fucker, Harry’s liberated thoughts rambled, excitedly deciding that Bale was his best counterpart in a way, the Welsh equivalent of his goal-scoring prowess for the Three Lions — two big manly married blokes, national heroes, but… Calm down, Kane, calm the fuck down! Gareth meant to suggest leaving after the first cocktail, meant to insist on calling a discreet taxi after the second and third. After the fourth, he’d given up on those thoughts and, unlike Kane, hadn’t escort mersin even been sensible enough to warn his wife and fend off tomorrow’s lectures about being a drunken rule-breaking idiotic fucker. It wasn’t even that late, he realised at some point, watching 9pm come and go, draped across one of the two huge retro sofas angled across the cabin, knocking back some fancy mixed drink that he couldn’t name, barely able to focus on the Tottenham Hotspurs documentary playing on the wall-mounted TV. He and Hart had thought it was a hilarious idea to insist on watching it so that they could cringe and mock their two well-established teammates, but he could hardly follow the snippets of dialogue between the Spurs men on the screen, or keep up with the other guys’ humorous interjections about what was really going on when Amazon produced the series behind-the-scenes at Tottenham. At what point did Hart insist that they all stayed over here? It seemed to go from a vaguely suggested idea to a firm reality very quickly, nestled on the sofas as they were, Alderwerield’s big socked feet pressing sideways into his thigh as the Belgian lad got comfortable where he was, half-asleep and chuckling at himself up on the screen. Bale blearily accepted another drink, unsure how many he’d had now, and stared at his own iPhone in indignant confusion as another missed call from his angry wife bleeped through. Hart was making a noise at the bar, singing to himself as he mixed, and opposite him, Kane was gesticulating at the screen, criticising his own clumsy monologue as he was interviewed and then — making Gareth blink and squint — featured in his underpants in the changing rooms with a couple of other guys. It all felt suddenly very surreal and confusing to the Welsh stud, and he had to squint back at the striker on the other sofa to check he wasn’t indeed just sat in white briefs exposing himself to the room. The documentary and reality were blurring a bit in his alcohol-shaken mind. Gareth tried to sit up straight, laughing dizzily to himself and stroking the side of his face, his eyes roving over the walls at framed goalkeeper gloves and big framed photos of Hart posing with other English icons of the last decade, all of the big moments of his dwindling career. Through the drunken confusion as the night descended into grunted half-conversations and four men slipping into their own exhaustion, Bale felt a stab of pleasure and satisfaction, so sure of his decision to return here, even just on loan; it was just such a different atmosphere and camaraderie here in the Premiership and in Tottenham in particular, another world to the glaring synthetic world of Madrid and Ramos’ kinky kingdom. Ugh, thank god he’d left that filth behind, those secret perverts and their fucked-up expectations of each other, Ramos and all his cronies, those dirty dirty fuckers… good riddance! Better off here in London, here with big solid blokes like Hart and Kane and this Belgian dude, so much safer and calmer and… he slipped into comfortable sleep, scratching at his body in the heat and rifling at his Spurs tracksuit in a mission to relax and settle on the soft expansive couch. When Kane awoke, it was still dark outside, and it could have been any time between midnight and 5am. The cabin felt hot and oppressive but his body felt oddly comfortable where he was draped, the position he’d somehow dug himself into as the boozing turned to yawning and then sleep. He was angled back into — wait, not just the couch, but another body, oh how awkward. He was leaning half against Joe, that must be it, he could feel the hard muscles of the bigger man to his left, catching half of his own weight while the rest of him pushed into the saggy cushions of the couch, his long legs jutting out ahead, one ankle up on the arm of the sofa. Beyond the silhouette of his own foot he could see the TV, glowing faintly on a streaming service menu where the stupid embarrassing documentary series had timed out in the dark. He tried to angle himself carefully away from the body he was slumped against but decided he couldn’t really do it without disturbing the other guy more; he could hear the shallow sleepy sighs of Hart’s breathing and daren’t break that stillness. Head throbbing and eyes feeling dry and sore, he twisted his head a little, glancing at the window and the first hint of dawn light starting to materialise out there, or was he just imagining it? His mouth felt tender and tasted sour, how much shit had he actually drunk from the host’s over-the-top home bar…? Ugh. He felt queasy and wired and impossibly physically comfortable where he was. Though Joe’s breaths were shallow and soft, even though he could actually sorta feel them purr through the hard body of the 33-year-old beside him, they were almost drowned out by snoring; his eyes drifted below the window to the other end of the adjacent sofa, where Alderweireld was sleeping sat almost upright, his head lolling at a funny angle and his mouth wide open so his buzzsaw snoring cut painfully across the intimate space. Where Kane had tumbled asleep still in his full clothes, though both the polo shirt and tracksuit bottoms were twisted and uncomfortably about his torso and thighs, he noted that Toby had stripped off at some point, his shirt half-off and curled about one shoulder and bicep, his softly hairy chest bared and the other sleeve-tattooed arm propping him as he snored obliviously; his trackies were bunched about his ankles where he had maybe tried to undress and then drifted off, leaving his chunky legs on show and… Harry’s eyes fixated irresistibly on the way the sleeping Belgian had stuffed one hand inside his pink-and-blue striped boxer shorts to adjust or fiddle or play with himself, and left it there, sleeping in a pose of masculine self-assertion with his legs wide open. Harry blinked, headache momentarily cured by the sexy pose. His eyes flickered to the left, realising that Bale had partly stripped too, though against all odds seemed to have sourced some kind of blanket. His big bare feet pressed into the side of Toby’s bare thigh and Gareth’s face was buried in the arm of the couch, his whole big body in a foetal hunch where he lay fast asleep, though how anyone could sleep in close proximity to those hog-like snorts and breaths from the Belgian, jesus christ… Harry’s eyes skipped back to the accidental posing of Toby, this big defensive player who was `not his type’ but right now looked so fucking rugged and slobbish and sexy and inviting and… his own cock twitched in his tangled layers and he touched it awkwardly, giving it a peremptory rub that he knew was starting what he couldn’t possibly finish here and now, not like this… Some odd instinct made him pause, one hand on his crotch, the other folded numbly beneath his side, and turn his head sideways to look properly at where Hart slept. Or had slept. Joe had one eye open and a huge knowing smirk on his lips, lounged sideways towards the end of the sofa, his one open fixed on Harry’s gawping face. His grin seemed so rich in dirty knowledge and suspicion and it made Kane both tense with fear and tremor with possibility. He averted his eyes away for a moment, letting them fall again on the ogled prospect of Alderweireld, but then sharply back at the surprisingly conscious heap of the goalkeeper he was laying against. There was no hint in Joe’s smile or posture that he objected to being used as part-pillow and part-mattress, but Kane suddenly felt painfully aware of their closeness, the immediate presence of the bigger man as painful to him as the throbbing in his temples. Hart let out a long quiet sigh and shifted — at first he thought it was a hint that he should move, but then he felt it. The twist of Joe’s body to adjust the contact of their frames, the fleshy mound that was being suggestively rubbed into his shoulder, the size and obviousness of it… he tensed more and lifted himself a little and become very acutely aware that the way their bodies now interlocked, he was lying with his face hovering just above the splayed crotch of the former England no.1 who, like Toby and Gareth, seemed to have shed his tracksuit bottoms, and was bulging wildly in a pair of pale blue boxer briefs that clung to the insides of his blond furry thighs. It was a surreal, dreamlike moment. Perhaps, Harry thought, it WAS just a dream. It could hardly be real. Joe was smirking at him, both eyes lazily hooded, almost half-asleep still. One of his huge hands came rubbing down his front over the folds of his top, and when it reached the waistline, a thumb was hooked inside the band of those pants, pulling them forwards so that, yep… out came the cock, fleshy and pale and smelling sickly-sweet with hangover sweat. Harry lay sideways against his supportive body with his head around his midriff, staring down into the exposed lap beside him, and then back up at Joe’s face; the belligerent mischief in those hooded eyes and the little twisted grin of his pink lips. Kane was dizzy and sickly and overwhelmed but instinct responded to desire more than thought and quickly he was stooping, lowering his face close to the man’s crotch, breathing in his odour more, letting the tip of his nose rub against the chubby shaft of his meat, prodding and rubbing over it, letting the moustache of his beard tickle and stimulate it… exhaling warmly over the form of it and parting his lips to rub a gentle kiss against its base. No real noise of delight from the prone man but a slight deepening of his sleepy sighs. Kane kinda forgot where they were, kinda forgot the pulsing hangover headache. He kept his lips open and rubbed them dryly against the cock, which felt monstrously huge now but he had no real sense of its proportions compared to its own or the others he’d played with. It tasted of sweat and martini and hangover; it felt big and thick and increasingly firm. He adjusted his head a little, leaning his left side more fully into Joe’s body, and resting his right hand just above one of his knees. Then he dipped his face forward, opened his mouth fully, and took the lolling head of it inside his gob, ran his tongue over it and finally heard the faintest of discreet moans from his host. In Bale’s dream, the sound of the other man’s snoring had been like some infernal machine, some nightmarish dystopian scenario he was lost in; as he awoke, its blunt reality felt just as painful and invasive to his aching head, and he resisted opening his eyes for as long as he could. God, what time was it? How long had he been here? Where was everyone? His whole hunched body ached and twinged, what a shitty position he’d curled into, far too big for this sofa even without sharing it with the snoring beast of Alderweireld, and… ugh… The semi-conscious Welshman twisted his face away from the arm of the sofa, knowing its ribbed texture would be imprinted on his cheeks and brow, and gradually opened his eyes, shifting his body silently between the useless thin rag of a blanket he’d pulled over himself at some dizzy moment in the night. His bare knees rubbed against each other where he’d, for some reason, needed to strip off his trackies, and he twisted himself a little, and- The sight in front of him blurred into existence like an accidentally clicked porno of the totally wrong genre, jarring and uncomfortable and very much there before his eyes. Two men sprawled lengthways on the other couch, angled away from this one, displayed fully to him as his eyes adjusted and his brain loaded like an ancient PC; the sprawling decadent form of Joe Hart, one big hand resting halfway up his tummy, pulling his polo shirt mersin escort bayan away from the lower rungs of his white six-pack, and below that… the ruffled dirty-blond combover of Kane’s hair, dislodged where his face pressed in and out, mouth wide open… just at his parted lips, Gareth could make out the thickness of cock, the tight band beneath it where the man’s bollocks were still trapped in his undies… He stared, held his breath, observed. Kane was pushing his face in close, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide open, sucking in slow but firm motions, making Hart twitch a little and sigh heavily. It seemed for a little while like the iconic goalie was asleep as he was fellated, his other hand resting loosely over his vacant face as he lay there, his cock buried in the other guy’s face; but then his big keeper’s paw lifted off his tummy and ran over the striker’s head, stroking his hair lazily, then clutching it more firmly to press down on, causing a very faint gurgling choke from England’s key striker. He watched it in horrified fascination, so shaken and alarmed and not a little excited. He watched as Harry twisted and shifted his weight, clinging to the bigger frame of Joe, mouthing up and down; his motions gave Gareth more of a glimpse of the goalie’s prick, shiny with saliva and veiny as fuck. Down he would go again, sucking on it like an icepop, the whole scene so public and obvious before him in the half-light provided by the glowing TV screen on the wall, everything painted a thin electric blue. He could hear the approach of Hart’s orgasm; could see the tensing of his big broad chest and bulging biceps, the little twitches of expression in his dormant face. He particularly saw the tightness and force with which that goalkeeper’s hand pressed down on Harry’s head, holding it over his crotch as his sighs intensified and got a fraction louder and then, just like that, were gone. Bale stared on as it the motions stopped and it became a tableau: just Kane lying halfway down him, face buried in his crotch, neither body moving an inch, their breaths almost imperceptible. And then, with great quietness and caution, Harry lifting his head, parting his lips from the tool, drooling a sticky mix from his tongue as he raised his face and, abruptly, looked THIS WAY… Gareth Bale met his eyes across the gap between the angled sofas, staring openly at the trickle of spit and cum in the man’s soft beard, beading on the hairs and glossy on his bottom lip. He saw his eyes widen and his brows raise. What the fuck? For a moment, the Welsh stud was back in sunny Spain, staring at Eden Hazard or at Sergio fucking Ramos, or watching himself almost in the third-person, stalking into that final pool party before he quit… No! He’d left all this behind! No, this was NOT happening… The other man burst off the couch in a rapid flurry, discarding the blanket and sweeping his big bare legs across the narrow space of floor. Harry blinked and swallowed and propped himself up on both elbows, one digging accidentally into Joe’s pelvis, but his attention was fully on the winger who had woken and observed his dirty dawn crime. He did look once more at Hart, but all he saw was a sleepy smirk of completion and a soft sigh of disinterest, his whole huge body relaxing back and his arms spreading in pandiculation. His cock flopped against his tummy and oozed cum and spit on his flesh, and Harry pulled himself away from the big man, tumbling onto the rug-covered floor on his knees and launching himself after Gareth, who had just burst at the door and wrenched it open. Out of the corner of his eye and in some calmer corner of his brain, he noted that Toby was still fully asleep, snoring like an underground train, hand still stuffed inside his undies. Kane burst out of the cabin door and into the pre-dawn darkness in a frantic rush, the same brief spurts of energy that allowed him to run a rapid attack on the football pitch. Quickly, he was tumbling into Bale, who had paused yards from the doorway, lost and overwhelmed; he grasped at the sleeves of the polo shirt the man still wore on his top half, though his bared legs seemed glaringly pale and luminescent out here among the trees at the bottom of the massive garden. `Bale,’ he gasped, still tasting cum in his mouth, `Bale, listen to me…’ `Geroff,’ grunted the Welsh wonder, pushing harshly at his body and stumbling away from him in the shadows, `geroff me and fuck off, you…’ `Mate, listen, it wasn’t what it-` `Cocksucker! Fuckin’ cocksucker…’ `Mate! Stop… shush… you’ll-` `You dirty bastard, Harry Kane,’ hissed the Tottenham returnee. `Gareth,’ he pleaded, his voice full of fear at what he’d been witnessed in, snatching at the chest of the other man’s shirt, wrenching at the fabric and squaring up to him, almost aggressive with his need for solution and reassurance, `you didn’t see anything, it wasn’t, it was just, it…’ `You dirty queer!’ Bale was spitting in his face, grabbing at him too, by the upper arms, digging thumbs into his biceps, really glaring at him, his face stormy and craggy in its outrage. `I…’ I what? Harry had no idea what to say. His breaths just wheezed out and his lips felt sticky with Joe Hart’s seed. He thought angrily of the big goalkeeper just drifting back to sleep on the couch, satisfied in his hangover and then disinterested in this little scuffle of exposure. But the two inside the cabin felt very distant from this conflict, the two big forwards grasping at each other in the darkness beneath the trees. `Get down,’ grunted Bale viciously, pulling on his arms. It took him moments to understand the command, even as his knees buckled and he felt himself give in to the pulls and pushes of the other player’s hands. When his knees and shins struck the rough grass, and he came face to face with the package in those tight blue trunks, he still thought he was about to be punched or kicked or shouted at, but no; Gareth’s hand was inside the pants like Toby’s, and like Joe’s, pulling it out, pressing it into his face, his second big sweaty cock of the early morning rush. Driven again by instinct, Kane parted his lips, and his eyes rolled up, trying to catch Bale’s eyes, trying to understand the moment, but he couldn’t, all he could see was his clothed torso and the arc of his neck as the man leant back and sighed, and brought both hands down to the sides of his head, holding him in place as that cock stiffened and grew against his tongue. Still dizzy, still nauseous, still confused, Harry sucked him off, tasting the difference between Joe and Gareth and also tasting their mixed fluids in his mouth, the leaking pre-cum of the Welsh meat so delicious on his palate. He had no real sense of where they were or how insanely stupid this was, out in the early hours in the freezing cold suburban garden of the hosting footballer, he just knew what he needed to. He mouthed quickly and furtively at it, feeling its size and strength, grabbing his hands around the tight hairy calves of Bale’s legs. This was a dream, he asserted, it really was, he was just being passed from crotch-to-crotch like a total slut, used and abused like he had been by Redknapp and Maguire and… he opened his mouth wide to be that slut, let Bale’s strong rough hands push his head about, fucking his mouth like a pussy, and he submitted entirely to the insane rush of it all. When he swallowed his second load of the day, he gasped and licked and panted greedily, letting it ooze over his beard and mix with the beads of Hart’s spunk, his head exploding with the throbs of his hangover. Bale went back inside first, his package bouncing in his tight undies, his face set in a rigid frown of anger. On one sofa, Hart made a generalised groan of hungover distress, his cock still loose over the waist of his underpants, arms stretched out; on the other, a piggish snuffle seemed to interrupt Alderweireld’s snores and he shifted and jerked awake. Bale stood between them, glancing from one man to the other: watching Hart’s hands dip down to stuff his privates away, smearing a little stain on his fingers; Alderweireld muttering to himself in Flemish and flopping sideways to stretch out and take up the whole sofa, then turning his bare back on them and seeming to disappear into sleep again. `I’m going,’ Gareth barked at their host, who barely moved, just lifted one muscular arm in a lazy wave, and made the faintest groan of acknowledgement from his closed lips. The Welshman picked his tracksuit bottoms off the floor and dragged them up his legs, which suddenly felt ice-cold from being out in the darkness in his just his undies. He tightly tied the drawstring and then forced his feet one at a time into the trainers by the side of the couch, glancing about for where he’d dropped his tracksuit jersey. He found two of them, unsure which was his since they all matched and were similar physiques, and then glancing at the doorway, picked up a second, walked over and handed it to the rather forlorn figure standing there. `Here,’ he snapped irritably at Kane, `put this on,’ and then burst outdoors past him and left the cabin behind. He walked quickly over the slippery damp grass, away from the little outhouse and the spreading lawns that led up to the main property itself. Above, the sky was pale, shifting, a wintry daybreak on its way. He could hear the scuffling steps behind him as he marched on, away from the cabin and the trees and down to the thin gate they’d drunkenly entered through last night. He held the metal bars open and glanced behind him as Harry Kane, sheepish and silent and eyes downcast, followed him then scuffled past and out onto the roadside beyond. He followed and let the metal gate clang heavily shut behind them. `Mate,’ whispered the Tottenham striker, in the middle of zipping up his tracksuit top, finally looking properly at him, all wide-eyed innocence and manly fear. `You wanna share a cab?’ Bale cut over him, not meeting his desperate gaze, just bustling past him, and past the parked lump of Toby’s big Jeep. He kept his back to Kane, marching out onto the deserted suburban road, all looming mansions and tree cover, glancing left and right and trying to remember where the fuck Joe Hart actually lived. They could be anywhere. His breathing was loud and heavy and he stood still, trying to calm it, reaching up to fiddle with his loosening locks and tie them back up. He felt rather than heard Kane’s presence draw closer and stop still beside him — then the tentative hand about his shoulder, forcing him to turn and look at him. `Bale,’ said the 150-goal Premiership hero fearfully, `are we okay?’ He scowled at him, his hungover eyes burning at the effort of being open. `Last night was a mistake, we both feel like shit.’ He turned sharply away, rubbing both hands over his face, and feeling his cock chafe and itch in his undies as it softened. `That was stupid. So stupid. Ugh.’ He shook Kane’s hand off his shoulder and fished out his phone, stepping out into the road as he loaded up the app and swiped desperately to summon a taxi. As he did so, he glanced back once more, catching the worried frown on Kane’s face as he stared back at the high walls and the gate into Hart’s grounds, back towards the man-cave where so much had been exposed. Gareth Bale paused guiltily in the middle of opening the cab, thumb hovering over the confirmation button. `Harry,’ he sighed, his voice gravelly with the hoarse dehydration of the morning after. `Yeh?’ mumbled his acclaimed teammate, turning this way. Deep breath, slow nod. `We’re okay,’ he confirmed distantly, unable to say anything more positive or specific than that. `We’re okay, mate. Come on. Let’s get the hell outta here.’ *AS EVER, THANK YOU FOR READING – LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT! 202 STORIES IN, STILL GOING STRONG…? KEEN TO GET SOME NEW CHARACTERS AND STORYLINES IN, SO SUGGESTIONS AND REQUESTS ALWAYS WELCOME…*

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Subject: Premiership Lads part 105: Training in Pairs II Part 105: Training in Pairs II `So,’ Harry asked in a rather brittle voice, `how did it go?’ He rested his buttocks against the work table in the corner of his quiet garage, eyes playing with unconscious worry against the rough concrete ceiling and hoping it was as soundproofed as it looks, through to the bedroom above where his wife was getting their child to sleep. `Well,’ Luke said in a confiding tone, quiet against his own worries of being overheard, `it was quite fun, yeah.’ A pause loaded with untold story. `We did some good training, you know. And after…’ A throaty little laugh, one Harry associated with his own heavy-handed advances; it was the little laugh Luke made when he grabbed him unexpectedly on the behind or surprised him with a kiss of his upper earlobe from behind. `I see,’ Maguire said gruffly, choking on the list of questions he wanted to ask. He echoed Luke’s laugh and tried to convey his shared pleasure. `I’m glad you got to… train,’ he said, aiming for light and teasing but unable to hide a trace of envy in his voice. `It was a bit unexpected,’ the pretty defender was musing to himself two dozen miles away. `I was all ready to be on my best behaviour, you know.’ `Huh.’ `But he could NOT stop checking me out,’ Luke said with uncharacteristic vanity. `Honestly, Harry, from the second I got there… I mean, I was wearing those real tight trackies you like me to wear, you know the ones, and…’ `Oh right,’ Harry murmured. `So you were really on your best behaviour, then.’ `Oh Harry,’ laughed the other guy secretively. `I stuck to the rules, just like you said. Just like we agreed. And Harry, it was so fun, I really enjoyed myself…’ Harry wasn’t sure if he made a sour noise or if his silence communicated what he refused to, because Shaw’s tone quickly altered as he carried on. `I mean, just a little bit of fun, nothing like, you know, US, or anything, babe…’ Maguire made a sort of scoffing noise, again meant to be jokey but sounding pretty grim. `Of course it wouldn’t be like us,’ he returned quite firmly, then trying to save his sour note, `what we’ve got is just summat else, ain’t it…?’ `Sure is,’ Luke said. His voice was dreamy and wistful, and it was more than enough to satisfy and comfort Harry’s pangs of possessive jealous. Fuck’s sake, he thought, how can a guy have so much impact on you with two dumb words…? His left hand grabbed aimlessly at items on the work bench, clutching a heavy hammer then the rim of the tabletop, flexing restless knuckles. `Still,’ Harry grunted. `Glad you got some. So you… I mean… he sucked you off…?’ `I fucked him, Harry. I fucked him so good. Haha. He seemed pretty happy after.’ Maguire’s hole clenched at the thought, a memory of both pain and utter liberation. He nodded silently, tapping the phone in his right hand a little and looking about the empty garage again, unsure what he was meant to say to that. `Well done’? `Good work’? `That’s my boy’? Nowt sounded appropriate or less than shite. `And?’ Shaw asked after too long a silence. `What about you and Scotty, then…? Did you…?’ Maguire made a dismissive noise. `It was fine,’ he said, and then quite pointedly, `I don’t really wanna talk about it, mate.’ Mate, he’d said, dismissive in its friendliness. `Honestly, I’m pretty done in and I got to go,’ he said more quickly. `That’s so fuckin’ good that you got some, though, proud of ya. Naughty boy, hah.’ He tried to smile through his words, enjoying the thoughtful little chuckle from Luke, who said his goodbyes and vanished from the call. He’d insisted on it but as soon as he heard the click and was separated from it, he regretted his impatience. Scott McTominay showed up early to the closed suburban leisure centre that had been assigned to him and his partner for this morning’s early workout session, the first proper step towards Premiership training resuming by the end of the week. He threw down his jumper and waterproof as goalposts, vague tribute to schoolboy days, and fetched a football from the boot of his car to do some practice alone, energised by the prospect of this kickabout. The 6ft4 midfielder knew his fitness was tip-top after almost daily long-distance running and relentless muscle work in his home gym, the near obsessive maintenance of his body one of the key things getting him through these weird times of crisis. But he’d slacked on ball skills and his speed over short distance, things he knew would be vital back in the fray of a Premier League match. He’d barely returned from extended injury leave when the season ground to a halt, so he suspected he would struggle more with the return than some of his stalwart colleagues. Speaking of which… He looked up as Maguire approached, the towering brick of a defender who imposed on most men through height alone. McTominay knew he was a little slighter in body than the big Yorkshireman but he matched him inch for inch; still, the 23-year-old thought with momentary panic, he knew where the United captain definitely outsized him, knew all too fucking well. He stopped the ball beneath one trainer and marched across the stretching rectangle of grass, glad to see the burly captain in the flesh, despite those reservations of Marbella memory. It was exciting to start being reunited with teammates, people he was used to seeing pretty much daily, fighting and playing and triumphing side by side. He gave him a quick nod of greeting and went for a firm handshake, glad at the familiar crushing grip of the captain’s paw. `You’re looking well,’ he barked at Maguire. `Good to see ya, skipper.’ `Aye, same,’ returned Harry, somewhat formally. They milled through the obvious pleasantries and the generic but heartfelt check-ins of all friends at the moment, severe nods and warm smiles alternating on their faces as chatted. There was something stiff and professional about big Harry these days, Scott noticed; he supposed some of that was to be expected, probably others noticed the same, the careful behaviour of someone landed with their dream captaincy. Of course Harry had to maintain an air of strict professionalism and club commitment, it came with the armband. Sometimes, though, McTominay wondered if it was a little more than that. Did Harry treat him a little differently because of that silly prank in Marbella? He’d suspected so in the weeks just before the season suspension, finding it hard to chat easily with Maguire as he had earlier in the season, at the end of last summer. It seemed, and it definitely seemed so right now, that the tall powerhouse footballer couldn’t quite meet his eyes without a twitch or a frown or suddenly changing the topic. Did the memory of that Spanish training camp make Slabhead so uncomfortable as that…? In truth, there had been a short phase where McTominay felt the same. Returning to England, he’d found himself waking in hot sweats in the night, horrified by blurred dream sequences that returned him to that damp floor, surrounded by a forest of bare legs. But why should it bother Harry so much? After all, Maguire had hardly been instrumental in that scene, had he? It was bloody Lingard, that mercurial idiot, who’d schemed it and let it get out of hand; and Scott felt quite firmly that he himself could have stopped it at any minute, if he hadn’t been so bloody… proud! Pride, he insisted to himself, dwelling on the memory as Harry loaded up their training schedule and barked out some instructions to help them get down to work. Pride, definitely pride; he’d risen arrogantly to the challenge of Jesse Lingard’s daft games and pranks and when the week hadn’t gone his way, he’d been unable to step back and laugh at it. Honour and commitment were big things in the McTominay clan, he never went back on his word! So, of course he’d knelt down, braced himself, and taken the booby prize, as insane as it was. Back in the present moment, the two lofty football heroes dashed back and forth across their outside training space, silent but for their pants and jibes and the occasional buzz of traffic beyond the tall hedges. Scott was pleased to find his kicks felt fluid and natural, less rusty than worried. He also found Maguire a little less indomitable than he remembered: it was as if the older bloke was distracted by something and not as invested in their little one-to-one tackles and prescribed set-pieces. Scott himself was not without his distractions. The Sheffield giant had worn a slightly undersized pair of shorts (`My bro’s by accident, for fuck’s sake…’) that really didn’t cover much of his mighty thighs, nor do a lot to hold onto his sizeable package. Every time Harry was running his way, about to try and meg him or shoot for their improvised goal, he could see a ferret-sized presence jiggling side to side in the blue nylon. Really, it was obscene. So why did he keep looking at it? It wasn’t just that bouncing blue mersin escort bulge though. When Harry would burst by him, his pace always surprising for a man of his muscle mass, and Scott would hare after him to try and nick the ball from between his big feet, he’d find himself looking at the big sturdy backside that sat atop those thick legs, tight and accentuated beneath the shorts. He’d never really noticed that before. He didn’t spend much time noticing lads’ behinds, generally! By now, Scott didn’t give his Marbella humiliation a lot of thought, but being alone with Harry and getting these glimpses of what lay beneath his kit… well, it was hard not to dwell back on it. McTominay had become so privately dismissive of his submission that evening that he’d struggle to even list the men who were present for it. (He knew that in a darker mood, that too could be a source of shame and worry, to acknowledge just how many blokes were there; how many of them had he touched? How many of them had he tasted?) After all, when he occasionally envisioned what had gone on and marvelled at his own self-abasement, it was big Harry who occupied the gaudy spotlight of his feverish memory. Smell and taste were stronger than sight or sound, he thought, looking Maguire up and down during a panting break in their training. He rested against a fence post, brushing sweat from his eyes and fringe on the back of a hairy freckled arm. The morning had been sharp and cold when he set out in the motor, but it was hot now, a fiery May sun burning down on the pair of them. He watched Maguire pull up on his comparatively baggy retro United shirt and drag it over his damp face, baring the long dense muscle of his torso; there was nothing obviously deliberate or provocative in the captain’s behaviour, in fact the opposite, he seemed strangely oblivious to Scott’s presence here, his mind seeming miles away. Still, McTominay felt a touch of silent competition in the air and, meeting it, he pulled his own tight black shirt up and whipped it off. `It’s gonna be a scorcher this afternoon,’ the tall Lancaster lad announced by way of grabbing attention, a nervous chuckle following his weather commentary. Harry looked up, blinking sweat from his eyes. `Huh, aye, you’ll be right there.’ He paused, beady eyes looking across the space of grass between them. `Jeez, Scotty, how many sit ups are you doing every day…? Fuck’s sake, kid.’ Scott grinned proudly, having already received some friendly jibes from a few of their teammates over his enhanced six-pack this month, bared and boasted on Instagram because… well, why the hell not? He patted it with both palms and shrugged his shoulders, an atlas of freckles and patchy tan. `I’ve been putting in the work,’ he said with a wily grin. `Not that you’re piling on the flab yourself or anything, captain, eh.’ An almost defensive grunt of agreement from the captain. `Should hope not. You ain’t the only one been doing his drills in lockdown, Scotty.’ `I know that,’ he replied lightly. `I think I was complimenting you, chief.’ `Huh, yeh. Guess so.’ `Something bothering you today?’ McTominay asked. `You seem… elsewhere.’ `I’m good,’ Harry said bluntly. He ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair and chipped the ball Scott’s way. `Are we getting back to work, lanky, or are we gonna stand around comparing abs until we get our own charity calendar…?’ `Well, if it was naked one,’ Scott quipped before he quite knew what he was saying, `you might need a couple of months to yourself, big man, haha…’ The joke died a bit in his throat, his laughter turning into a self-conscious cough before he’d even seen Harry’s reaction. The look was unreadable, a sort of amused frown. `Guess I would,’ Maguire said mildly. `Just saying,’ giggled Scott. `I mean, I’d know, right? Heh…’ It was the first time he’d come anywhere near a clear mention of that incident in front of any of his teammates, even Jesse, who smirked and prodded him with hinted references whenever they found themselves together at work. Normally he lifted his chin and held an expression of calm disinterest as if he hadn’t a clue what Lingard was even referring to. `Guess you would,’ his captain replied quite mysteriously. He was still frowning at him. `Seems a long time ago, don’t it?’ `Guess it does.’ `Mad that we all went along with that idea, right?’ `Guess so.’ `That’s a lot of guesses!’ he exclaimed, voice shaking with nervous giggling. Shirt still dangling from one hand, he patted and stroked his ripped abdomen again, shaking his head. `Okay, I can take a hint, you don’t wanna talk about it…’ `Well,’ mumbled Harry, `it’s more… I didn’t think you would. You know. It was…’ He seemed to struggle to know what to say, and Scott felt sympathetic; surely a big macho Yorkshireman like him would never have expected to engage in such kinky behaviour with his teammates? Not that it had been in his to-do list either, but he supposed some of the sleazy buggers involved had brushed against such experiments before, especially that smirking fucker Fernandes, or Lingard himself, surely. He just grinned at Harry and shrugged, both signalling his dismissive rejection of any shame or awkwardness over what had gone on. `I lost a bet, so I took it on the chin,’ he said. He felt it almost sounded a boast, and laughed again. `I mean, I took your big bollocks on my chin, more accurately, hah…’ Too graphic, too explicit. He felt his cheeks colour, saw Harry’s hand reach to tug unconsciously at his drooping bulge. His eyes trained on it and he felt like Harry probably saw his gaze dart down. He grinned and blushed and pulled his eyes away from that sagging outline in blue. `Yeah you did,’ Maguire said, less evasive now. When Scott looked back his way, he was staring away across the pitch, either unwilling to take the conversation further, or distracted once more by whatever distant problem was bothering today. Family shit, probably. Scott sighed and questioned why he was even poking this wasp’s nest of possibilities. It’s not like he wanted to… no… he had only done it because… His eyes zoomed magnetically to the front of Harry’s shorts, enjoying a side-view of the way that VPL dangling teasingly in view. Not noticing him this time, Harry tugged and adjusted the undersized shorts a little more and, unknowingly, gave him an even better few of that floppy outline, oh yes… `Let’s get back to work, eh?’ Maguire interrupted, turning and giving him an odd look, a bit sad and worried. He kinda wished he knew what was going through that mind, but if Harry Maguire wanted to speak his mind, he spoke it. He rarely reacted well to nosy questioning. `Sure,’ Scott agreed. `What’s up next, chief?’ Harry put the phone down, Luke’s cheery half-asleep voice still echoing a little in his ear. He lifted himself from the workbench and paced the garage, listening to the sound of a toilet flushing somewhere above. Bedtime duty was clearly over. Maguire thought back sourly on how this morning had come to its awkward end, and kicked pointlessly at a heavy box of old junk by the door, hurting two toes in the process and knowing he’d regret that when next he had to pass a ball. He lumbered back through into the main house, which still felt a little alien after their extended stay with family back in Yorkshire. He’d cleaned up so thoroughly that night after the various antics of confronting Jesse and celebrating Luke, but still felt stabs of paranoia that some awkward evidence of his guests would linger in some corner of the home. He moved through into the kitchen and began drying dishes from the rack, thinking back to the training session with young McTominay. He’d felt the lad’s eyes all over him by the end of play, conscious of the glances and stares in a way he never would have been say six months back. He’d felt the tension between them as, Scotty with his six-pack out and his cheeks flushed, they’d stomped away from the pitch and towards the car park. Their chat had been idle, he wasn’t sure on what, thinking back; one minute they had been bantering back and forth in vague nonsense and then they’d been passing into the vaguely secluded space between their two biggish cars, and Scott’s hand had been at his crotch. `It’s just so fuckin’ big, ain’t it?’ the tall slim midfielder had said in a really low voice. Harry had been able to see the fear in his eyes, fear of this wrong move and what it might mean for either of them; he’d just stared back a bit blank, obviously enjoying the tense grabbing of his swinging package but also conscious of location and danger. But that’s not what had made him swipe Scott’s hand away from his bulge. `Leave it, Scotty,’ he’d barked roughly. `You sure?’ Scott had asked rapidly. `You seemed to like it last time, so just wondering if-` He’d shoved him up against the side of his own car then, grabbing his bare shoulders and bringing their faces close together. `I’m escort mersin not in the mood,’ he’d snapped, a man who was more or less born `in the mood’, shoving the ripped muscular Scottish national against the warm metal of his Land Rover. `I dunno what you think this is, but I came out here to TRAIN today, not…’ `Right, sorry,’ grumbled Scott, wriggling away from him. `Forget it, I just… Sorry, skip, I just — misread the signs, so…’ Harry had climbed into his car and driven away in a rush. For fuck’s sake. He’d been unable to really focus on their training because he was thinking of Luke and Daniel James, and now having spoken to the lad over the phone, his feverish imagination was confirmed almost detail for detail. He scowled into the crockery cupboard and thought about the unfairness of it: his libido totally crushed by little jabs of possessive envy, his opportunity for a free and easy sucking off from a handsome athletic youth… He could have ended the sunny morning on a real high before coming back to lunch in the garden with his missus, riding that stolen pleasure, but no… He’d been in a foul mood all afternoon and evening, and the call with Luke had been the pissy icing on a shit cake; not the near-dialy highlight it usually was. Of course he’d suggested the rules. He’d muttered it eagerly, proud of what they had now, confident in it. He’d set the arrangement almost entirely, so little discussion or feedback from compliant Mr Shaw, and yet… Well, this was the reality of it, wasn’t it? This was the freedom he’d granted. He dried a couple of mugs from the draining board so aggressively he almost snapped the handle off one. His fiancee’s voice drifted down from upstairs, questioning what he was up to. Harry took a while to answer, shoving the mugs into the cupboard as if they were Dan fucking James and Scott stupid McTominay, and… Another call down, tired and disinterested: `I’m going to bed, just get up here and give me a cuddle, hun…’ `Babe,’ Harry called up a moment later, `I’m just gonna nip out for some supplies, makes tomorrow easier right…’ Some vague muffled protest at the lateness and randomness of the outing. `Yeah but we’re out of milk,’ he called up to her, whilst quietly pouring the semi-skimmed contents of a 2 litre bottle down the sink, `I best go out now so we have some with breakfast.’ Scott McTominay called some quick vague reply back to his parents in the other room, disappearing through the front hall and out into the pouch. He yawned widely, filled with the satisfying sleepiness of a relaxed evening: homecooked food, well-chosen family favourite movie, the comfortable knowledge of the hard work he’d put in at the sports centre this morning. Now, the 23-year-old slipped out of the front door of the big six-bedroom house he’d bought for his Lancaster family in Manchester, ready to attend to the dull chore of bins. The night air still felt balmy against his skin as he crossed the front garden in a pair of flimsy pyjama shorts and a baggy old t-shirt. He reached the two empty wheelie bins at the front gate, empty since this morning but totally forgotten by everyone. He grabbed one with each handle, peering out into the quiet, spaced out suburban street they occupied. Then he dragged them back with him, around the bulky corner of the house into the lane formed down its side between the rise of the house and a tall wooden fence, a little alley leading into the sizeable rear garden. Scott dragged the bins into place, satisfied by the everyday dullness of the job to round off his comfy evening in. He yawned again, slapping his hands together and reminding himself to wash them thoroughly when he got indoors. Just as he turned, tilting his head back into the front garden and the glow of streetlamps, he caught sight of the big dark silhouette in the front gate, which he’d left ajar. He paused with a horror-movie sensation of oddness, still a little surprised when the figure wasn’t imaginary but tangibly real, sliding across the half-light of the narrow front garden and bypassing the porch, walking in his direction. The only light in this narrow alley of space came from a window two floors above, the bedroom of his elderly grandmother who lived with them. By this faint glow, he caught out the height and breadth and vague facial features of the figure: Harry Maguire appeared a few steps in front of him, dressed in an open zipper hoodie over his tshirt and jeans. He stepped closer into the pool of dim light and Scott caught sight of the almost threatening frown on his rugged features. `Fucking hell,’ McTominay breathed, `you almost gave me a heart attack.’ Harry stood silently a few paces away, just inside the cover of this alley space, pawing at the zip of his open hoodie, then glancing back into the front garden. Scott relaxed from his moment’s fright, confused but pleased to see the big guy for a second time today. He slipped away from the bins and took a step forward in what he hoped was a vaguely welcoming manner, about to ask what was wrong or what he could get for his friend, or- but he saw, in this dim glow of secondhand light, that Harry had reached a hand to the front of his jeans and squeezed the bulge there. Above, Granny McTominay had clearly finished reading for the night, and the dim light went off. Scott heard the rustle and steps as Harry moved forward and his heart leapt into his mouth. A dull and nervous excitement that had built in him in the morning then been carefully boxed away was suddenly awake. For a second he was back on the training pitch or between the two parked cars, seized by the manly smell of sweat and the memories of Marbella. One of Harry’s hand snatched at his shoulder and the other reached for his hand, dragging it in against that bulge. `Harry,’ he gasped quietly. `No talking,’ Maguire snapped, `just what you’re hungry for, Scotty.’ He almost stammered out a response to this; didn’t know if it would have been eager begging or a frantic protest. He reached out and grazed his palms against the jagged zips of the man’s hoodie, taking in a deep breath of his mixed sweat and aftershave. He could sense the man’s violent desperation and erratic mood, feel it in the grabbing hands. He squeezed that bulge, as he’d really wanted to do this morning, but denim was thicker and less sensual than those blue shorts. Still, it felt big, it felt good. `On ya knees,’ growled his captain. `No messin’ around.’ Scott rapidly complied, backing into the alley as shoved, and gliding down, feeling the rough stone flagging scrape his bare knees but, for now, not giving a fuck. He tottered on his knees, his tall stature brought low, and scrabbled at the big belt buckle above the bulge. Harry’s hands were patting, almost slapping, at his shoulders, neck and cheeks. He licked his lips as the belt popped open and then struggled with each button of the fly. `My family’s inside,’ he gasped, as much to himself as his sudden visitor. `Don’t care, you want this. They gonna come outside…?’ `Nah…’ `Then get fuckin’ suckin’.’ Scott’s bleary tiredness was swept away; in the gloomy dark of this side passage, he was wide awake with excitement and terror. He wrenched open the front of those jeans and pressed his face in, nuzzling the thick bulge within through soft cotton. His nose wiggled side to side over the fat length and then he lifted his lips to kiss it through the fabric. He grazed his lip against another zip but tugged the jeans open more and down a bit, grabbing the man’s cock through his undies and looking up, hoping for some glimpse of the dominant desire on his face. He couldn’t make it out, just hear Harry’s heavy breathing. `Hurry up,’ Maguire was growling down at him. He wanted it fast and easy. Scott dragged down the front of those underpants, colour uncertain in the dark, and instantly felt the big thick semi flopping against his mouth. He kissed it, recognising its fat form and picturing himself in the third person, a submitted tall hunk in the crowded shower block. He pictured his bare lithe body knelt before all those yammering blokes, hyped up and excited by the taboo of it. Here and now, he put his lips to the thick tip and eased more of it into his gob. He struggled a bit, partly because he was unsteady in his squat, and partly because Harry was pressing demandingly forward at the same time. He tottered back a little and knocked into an empty bin, almost knocking the line of them over like dominoes. He was saved by Harry’s strong grip on his shoulders, shoving him into the space between two bins so his back pressed into the brickwork. He opened his mouth wider, gladly, taking in the stiffening prick and grabbing and pulling at the loosened jeans as they slid down thick thighs. He tried to control his own gasps and splutters, relaxing his breathing and feeling Maguire’s meat fill up his mouth and throat. Again his eyes rolled upwards, glancing at the dark mersin escort bayan trim of Harry’s pubes, then up the pale front of his tshirt to what he could make of his face. He had his eyes closed and his mouth set into a snarl. Damn, this was so exciting. Even the scratching of bricks on his back, the rough slide of stone against his shins and knees, the slapping movements of Harry’s big hands… so uncomfortable but so thrilling. His cock was getting hard in his shorts, so hard in fact he could feel his tip wet against the material, leaking pre-cum in his sudden whipped-up excitement for something he’d been longing to repeat. Harry groaned again. `Careful, watch your gnashers, lad…’ `Sorry,’ he spluttered, drooling a little and kissing the thick rounded pink-red tip, licking away the foreskin and teasing it, he hoped. `Sorry man, sorry captain…’ `Stop apologising, just SUCK…’ `Yes, skip, yes…’ McTominay didn’t stop to question his submissive excitement here. There was no lost bet, no pride at stake, no excuse for his antics; just the powerful presence of his beloved captain and the wonderful sweaty taste of manhood on his tongue and lips. He took more of it in again, sliding along the pole then back, measuring the groans and twitches of this big brute as he tried to pleasure him. The vague danger of the full house behind crossed his mind again but distantly and incoherently. `You’re hard in your pants,’ Harry noticed aloud. `Yes, skip,’ Scott breathed, holding Harry’s big dick in both hands and circling his tongue on the tip. `Then wank yourself, you greedy cunt,’ Maguire chided him dispassionately. `Yes sir,’ he groaned, pulling his own cock out to play with, feeling its stick leaking on his fingers. He wanked them both, adding licks to his hand-job of his captain. Harry was staring down at him with open eyes, his mouth more smirk than snarl now. He put his mouth to the mighty cock again to suck it, wanking himself more furiously as he did so. Then Harry was taking over a bit, wanking himself instead, though the end of it still brushed his lips and tongues with each jerk. With his other arm, the tall Yorkshireman was leaning to the wall above, so he loomed fully over him, heaving in his clothes. Scott lashed his tongue in and out to meet the wanks of Harry’s majestic length. He reached down to scoop a hand beneath his cock, toying with his own tight bollocks as he wanked his average-sized prick, so conscious of its ordinary size next to this thick rod. Was that where his fascination lay? He’d always been a bit paranoid about his dick size, weirdly fascinated by bigger and smaller ones he noticed in changing rooms, but now… `I’m gonna cum on your face,’ Harry groaned. `Yes skip,’ he agreed. `Do it…’ `All over ya,’ Maguire insisted almost violently. `Please…’ `Get your tongue out…’ `Yes, yes I will…’ `Lick out ready, get ready for it, you hungry slut!’ `Yes skipper, go on…’ `Hmmph, mmmm, oh…’ `Please sir, please chief…’ Harry’s groan might have been too dangerously loud, but he saw him bury his face in against the arm that supported him, but then Scott’s eyes were drawn down as the veiny piece throbbed and burst out with sticky white goo, splashing against his high cheekbones and his fuzzy stubble and his parted lips. It dripped on his tongue and the rich salty taste took him back to Marbella. He’d still been tasting it, Harry’s and whoever else’s goo, on the flight to England the next day. `Yes,’ he panted weakly, `thank you, skipper…’ Harry just groaned more, toying with his cock and draining its load out onto his tongue and lips and the tip of his narrow nose. He felt it trickle down his cheeks and chin. He shivered and reached his own private climax. Cum spilled against both of his shaking hands and, presumably, the stone flagging beneath. He felt drops hit his thighs just above the knees. He whimpered his satisfaction then buried his face in Harry’s crotch to stop himself crying more loudly. He kissed at the rough pubes and the drooping balls and the side of Harry’s still-throbbing erection. `Oh Luke,’ Harry groaned in a long slow noise, `oh baby…’ Scott listened in mild confusion. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly and, even if he had, did he mind? Luke Shaw was not a bad-looking boy; could he be offended if this masterful figure fantasised about other United players whilst he tasted his load? Scott felt almost disinterested in his own role here, just obsessed in the moment with pleasing his captain. He drifted back, leaning into the wall, feeling the sticky mess of his face and dreading going back indoors. Harry was pulling back, gasping for air, and forcing his oversized appendage into his pants. Scott reached up with shaky hands to held, adjusting the cum-stained undies and doing up the buttons of his fly. Harry pushed his hands away dismissively to do his own belt buckle then stepped back, almost disappearing n the dark. But amongst his dominant behaviour, a hand was thrust downwards and Scott took hold, glad of the mild gesture of support and kinship. He was dragged to his feet, feeling the warm humidity of the night. `I needed that,’ Harry said vaguely. `I can tell,’ he wheezed. `Erm… thank you…’ `Thanks for what?’ Harry snapped, sounding annoyed. `I didn’t give you anything.’ `Yes you did,’ he mumbled back. `You taste amazing. Thank you.’ He lifted the front of his baggy tshirt to smear against his cheeks and lips. He blinked wearily and followed Harry the few steps down the alleyway, feeling his desperation to getaway. He staggered after him into the front garden, watching his long strides to the still open gate. `Captain,’ he whispered loudly. `This didn’t happen,’ Harry barked back at him, pausing in the gateway. `No,’ Scott agreed. `No it didn’t, boss.’ `Right, yeah,’ Harry agreed. `See you at training, whenever that is.’ And he was gone. Scott vaguely saw him disappear into his big familiar motor a little way down the street. He stood there in his flimsy nightclothes and eventually took slow steps back to the front door, still open a tiny crack. As soon as he pushed it in and entered the hall, he could hear the low muffled voices of a couple of family members back in the lounge, clearly having barely noticed how long it took him to take in the empty bins. He shut the front door behind him and rested against it in a complete daze, shame and smugness fighting for dominance in his overworking brain. But the thoughts could fight on; his senses knew where they stood. He rested on the door, eyes closing, and savoured the taste in his mouth, the salty ooze of that man. Oh yes, he thought, it really did taste so fucking good. Harry signed the autograph with an expression of blank disinterest, then forced a smile at the mini-mart cashier who had served him. She grinned delightedly behind her safety face mask and took the precious signature away from him for her youngest son, allegedly the biggest United fan in the world. He gave her a nod of gratitude and backed out of the small Tesco with his few purchases bunched under his arm, heading over the forecourt towards his parked Land Rover. He tossed the milk and other minor necessities onto the passenger seat with a bounce then paused, leaning on the car door and adjusting the belt and front of his jeans a little uncomfortably. His dick had that sensitivity of over-use; a hard early evening fucking of his fiancée followed by Scott McTominay’s amateurish and tooth-grazing blowjob up against the wheelie bins. He hadn’t even felt that horny tonight, just… oddly provoked. But still, he told himself, he was just following `the rules’. He moved around the front of the car to the driver’s seat, fishing his phone from a pocket of his hoodie, and let himself in. He sat there with the door open enjoying a few breaths of the petrol-stained air and looked at his phone. He opened up his United emails to see if any details of squad training had been firmed up or finalised. Just as he was scanning the generic, uninformative update from the powers that be, a notification pinged over the screen and blocked his view. 1 new message, Luke S. He opened it. `Night night babe. Hope u kno I only fucked DJ cos can’t see you yet. Miss u so much. Xxx’ He stared dully at the sweet message from his beautiful boy and felt a little lurch in his tummy. He’d done nothing wrong, seeing Scott tonight, it was within their little deal, for sure, but… He felt guilty for his possessiveness, his angering jealousy at Luke doing exactly what he’d said he could do. He re-read the message twice and pictured Shaw sending it before bed, or after carefully waiting for his girlfriend to be asleep, probably having thought about it all evening and worried about his smug chuckles down the phone. That lad overthought everything and apologised too much. Harry was overcome with regret for bothering to visit McTominay and for resenting anything his handsome lover got up to without him — but more burningly, he was overcome with a desire to drive to Luke’s right now, rather than home. But that was not possible. `All good, Lukey. Miss u too — soon x’ He hit send and shoved the phone back into her pocket.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ebru ve Metin ile Maceram-2
Metin’in arabada ağzıma boşalması her ne kadar Metin’in ateşini biraz da olsa söndürdüyse de Ebruyla ben hala çok azgındık. Özellikle Metin’in kıvamlı döllerinin yüzüme çarpması ve kıçımdaki buttplug ile oynaması beni iyice azdırmıştı. Evin önüne gelmiştik. Ebru arabayı park etti ve arabadan inip apartmana doğru yöneldik. Yolda apartmana girerken ve asansörle eve çıkarken bile elle tacizler devam ediyordu.

Eve girer girmez Ebru ile ben Metin’den hazırlanmak için izin istedik. Metin de kendisine bir içki hazırlayıp bizi beklemek için salona geçti. Yatak odasına gidip üstümüzü çıkarttık. Bütün gece üstümdeki külotlu çorabı çıkartıp nihayet bugün aldığımız siyah jartiyer takımı giyebilecektim. Yarım büstiyerimi giydim ve siyah geniş dantelli jartiyerimi geçirdim. Geniş dantelleri olan arkası dikişli siyah çoraplarımı bacaklarıma geçirdim ve jartiyerin kopçalarını bağladım. Önü dantel olan stringimi üstüne giydim. Ebru’dan bu sefer daha ağır bir makyaj yapmasını rica ettim. Bu arada o da kırmızı bir takım giymişti. Bana mavi tonlarında ağır bir makyaj yaptı. Bu makyaja siyah uzun bi peruk giderdi – öyle de yaptım. Silikon göğüs desteklerimi yerleştirdim, aldığımız saten geceliği de giydikten sonra incecik ve upuzun topukları olan topuklu ayakkabılarımı da giyince hazırlıklarım tamamlanmıştı. Deliğim zaten bütün gece içimde duran buttplug yüzünden hazır sayılırdı. Yine de çilek aromalı kaydırıcı jelden az miktarda içine sürdüm. Ebru da hazırdı, ben siyahsam Ebru da benim kırmızı versiyonum gibiydi; büyük an gelmişti. Salona doğru ilerledik, topuklarımızın sesi evde yankılanıyordu.

Metin bizi salonun kapısında görünce bir ıslık çaldı. Ayağa kalktı, masanın üstünde duran Cialis’i elindeki viski ile ağzına attı. Bunu biz hazırlanırken de yapabilirdi ama sanırım bana da bir mesaj vermek istiyordu, bu gecenin uzun olacağını göstermek istiyordu. Ebru ile beraber Metin’in birer koluna girip salondaki geniş köşe takımına onu oturttuk. Kravatı hala üzerindeydi. Sağlı sollu onu soymaya başladık. Gömleğinin düğmelerini çözdük. Sıra pantolonuna gelmişti. Kemerini çözüp fermuarını açtık ve külodunu indirdik. Yarrağı zaten yeniden kalkmaya başlamıştı. İkimiz birden iki taraftan aynı anda yarrağını yalamaya başladık. Sırayla kafasını ağzımıa alıp birbirimizin ağzına sunuyorduk. Bu arada ben Metin’in pantlonunu ve gömleğini de tamamen çıkartıp çırılçıplak kalmasını sağladım. Bu arada Metin ayağa kalktı. Camda fantazisini kurduğumuz şeylerden birini yapıyorduk. Benle Ebru’nun dudakları birleşmiş, Metin yarrağını ikimizin dudakları arasında ileri geri hareket ettiriyordu. Metin’in yarrağı iyice sertleşip kıvama gelince sıra bize gelmişti.

Geniş koltuğa Ebru sırt üstü yattı, ben de mecburen domalarak üstüne yattım. Ayaklarından başlayarak onu yalamaya başladım. Bu arada Metin de arkamdan benim sırtımı yalamaya balamış ve yavaşça aşağılara inmeye başlamıştı. Metin benim götüme geldiğinde ben de Ebru’nun amına varmıştım. Metin stringimi çıkartmadan kenara sıyırdı ve deliğimi dillemeye başladı. Zevkten gözlerim kararmaya başlamıştı. Ben de bu arada aynısını Ebru’ya yapıyordum. İki elimle amını ayırıp klitorisine dil darbeleri atmaya başladığımda Ebru’nun inlemeleri de salonda yankılanmaya başlamıştı. Bu arada Metin de dilini deliğimin içine sokuyordu. Metin en sonunda doğruldu ve yarrağını eline aldı ve ben domalmışken deliğime dayadı. Yavaşça deliğimin içine ittirmeye başladı. İnanılmaz zevk alıyordum. Hiç öyle hikayelerde anlatıldığı gibi acı zevke dönüşmüyor, direk zevk alıyordum. Metin de işini çok iyi biliyor önce yarrağının az bir kısmını sokuyor daha sonra hızlanarak taşşaklarına kadar sokmaya başlıyordu.

Bu arada Ebru benim dil darbelerimle titreyerek ilk orgazmını olmuştu. Ben de akan zevk sularıyla amını yalamaya devam ederek bir parmağımı Metin için götünü hazırlamak için götüne sokmaya başladım. Parmağımı sokar sokmaz Ebru’dan tatlı bir çığlık geldi. Önce bir parmağımla, sonra 2 derken 3 parmağımla içinde gidip gelmeye başladım. Bu arada Metin istifini bozmadan arkamda hızlı bi tempoyla beni sikmeye ve zevkten delirtmeye devam ediyordu. Yaklaşık bir 5 dakika sonra Ebru “ben de istiyorum” dedi ve yer değiştirdik. Bu sefer koltukta ben sırt üstü yattım. Ebru benim üstüme ters yattı ve amını benim ağzımın üstüne getirdi ve domaldı. Metin kaydırıcıdan biraz Ebru’nın alıştırdığım götüne sürüp direk götüne girdi. Ebru da bu arada boş durmayıp benimkini ağzına almaya başladı ve götümü de aynı zamanda parmaklıyordu. Müthiş bir tempo tutturmuştuk. Arada Metin yarrağını Ebru’nun götünden çıkartıp benim ağzıma veriyor sonra tekrar götüne sokuyor ben de Ebru’nun amını yalamaya devam ediyordum.

Ebru kaç defa orgazm oldu bilmiyorum ama Metin bir anda Ebru’nun götünden çıktı ve inlemeye başladı. Büyük bir haykırışla yüzüme boşalmaya başladı. Hemen ağzımı açtım, hiçbir damlasını ziyan etmek istemiyordum. Ebru hemen kalkıp yanıma geldi. Metin’in yarrağını beraber yalamaya, temizlemeye ve öpüşmeye başladık. Ben hipnotize olmuş gibi hala Metin’in yarrağını yalıyordum ve hala boşalmamıştım. Ebru bu arada kaybolmuştu ve içeri gitmişti, herhalde tuvalete yüzünü yıkamaya gitti diye düşündüm. Kendime gelip kafamı kaldırdığımda Ebru’yu salonun kapısında gördüm. Belinde kocaman bir strapon sallanıyordu. 🙂

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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kuzenimin karisi 1

Evet hayat insana umulmadik anlarda enteresan şeyler yaşatıyor…bu bazıları için çok seyler bazilari içinse iğrenç ve anlamsız gelebilir. Kuzenim kaza yaptiktan 1 hafta sonra felan eve çıkmıştı. Ayağı metal çemberlele sarılmış acılarını ağrı kesiciler sayesinde hafifletir olmuştu. Akşamları is çıkışı mutlaka yanlarina uğrayıp evime geçiyordum. Bir eksiği gediği varsa öğreniyor ihtiyaçlarını karşılıyordum. Yenge hanim cay kahve faslindan sonra abi senin içinde uygunsa burda kal.hem sende bekar adamsın burda yer içer, hemde fahrinin ihtiyaci olduğu anda mudahele edersin diyordu.he ya abi hadi kirma bizi tarzi ikna konuşmaları arasinda.agzimdan tamam sözü çıktığında hayatimin bu şekilde gelisecegi aklima gelmezdi. Fahrinin kirik kolu ve bacağı yüzünden kalmaya başladığım kuzenim ve gezeller guzeli eşi ile aramizda geçenler i sizinl3 paylasmak istedim.ben 37 yaşındayım turizmciyim.kuzenim fahri 29 esi nazli 24 yaşında afeti devran sayilabilecek bir hatundur.dugunlerinde onu gelinlikle görüp tebrik icin ilk sarildigimda göğsüme yasladigi o memeleri dusunerek sansli pic kuzen diye hayal dunyamda ve porno sitelerin sayesinde defalarca 31 cekerek bosalmisligim vardır. Ne zaman beni karsilamak merhabalasmak icin sarilsa ertesi sabah mutlaka kucuklugu hayalini kurarak kusturmusumdur. Kuzenimde kalmaya başladığımın 2.gunu sabah uyandığımda nazliyi oyle ilk görüşürüm aklimin donmesine bir fırsatını bulup mutlaka nazlinin o minik kukusunu koklayip oglani gobegine ve diri goguslerine doğru kusturmayi planlamaya baslamistim. Ayagindaki tayt resmen aminin içine girmiş yala beni diye inliyordu.fahriyi birer kolundan tutmak icin davrandığımızda meme uçlarının hafif sertligi tisortunun arkasindan elimin ustune baski uyguluyordu. Fahriyi klozete oturup disari çıktığımda nazlida abi ben çay yapayım diye yanimdan geçerken kalçalarımiz coktan çarpışmış o taytta sıkışmış gotu sallana sallana mutfagin kapısından geçmişti. Mutfakta bir sigara içerken bir yandanda kahvalti ile uğraşan nazliyi izlemek ve derin derin oh çekmem ve Nazlınin abi senin başını nezaman bagliyacaz demesi ile hayallerimi sikmesi bir olmuştu. Etkisi olur diye sarf ettiğim sözler le nazliya bir seyler ima ediyordum ama ne kadarını algilar bilmiyordum. -Nazlıcan ben tek eslilige inanmam. Temcit plavi gibi hep ayni seyi ayni tastan yemem diyordum.-abi nereye kadar yasin geçiyor artik çoluk çocuğa karismalisin…dedigiginde-2 senedir demekki sizde tik yok diyebilmistim….-Aaaah ahbe abi biz dugun yaptik ama borçlarla uğraşıyoruz bitsin planlıyoruz. DediğindeSen gel koynuma ben borcunuzu kapatirim dedim içimden. Aman be nazli gencsiniz calisin odersiniz.hem acele etmeyin.cocuk için derken fahri ben tamamim diye seslendi lavoban.Kahvalti fasli bitince:- ben duş alip çıkayım fazla laklak yapmadan  diye çıktım mutfaktan tam banya ya girecekken nazli..-Bir saniye musade edermsin abi dedi banyoya girdi ve hemen çıktıIceri girdim sigara keyfi ile tuvaletimi yaparken gözüm camasir sepetinden disari sarkan bir şeye takıldı. Kalktim elime almakmicin davrandığım da elime yapis yapis olmuştu..fahri banyoda 31 çekmiş Nazlınin kirlilikteki ic çamaşırına bosalmisti.lan hayvan yuruyemiyor ama bu islerdende geri kalmiyor diye düşünürken aynadan sikimin zonk zonk vurarark kalktığını gördüm. Spermli kulotu alarak sikime surtmeye ve 31 çekmeye başladım.fahrinin spermleriye dahada kaygan olan ipeksi ic çamaşırı na sürttürürken gözlerimi kapatmış. Nazlınin amini hayal ediyordum. Kulodu katladim ve icine sıcak sicak boşalmaya başladım inanilmaz zevk almıştım. Demekki artik fahrinin her lavobadan ciksinda buralari kontrol etmeliydim diye düşünüp dusumu alip ise gittim. Aksam 9 gibi isten dönmüştüm. Zile basali 3 dakika olmasina rağmen kapi acilmayinca  eyvah dedim yoksa sabah ile ilgili bir anormallik mi var acaba diye dusnurken kapi acildi yukari çıktım. Kapi aralik bırakılmıştı.-Alo nerdesiniz diye seslendim. -Geliyoruz abi diye cevapladı nazli….Lavobadan çıktığında bornozu ile odaya kosusuturyordu.nazliBanyonun kapısını açtığımda siki inmeye başlayan fahri bana pis pis siritiyordu…-Len cenabet mı gezecen 1.5 ay dediğimde -yok be abi düşündüğün gibi değil dediğinde anlatmıştım 31 cektirdigini yada saksofelan diye…Gözümün sikinde olduğunu farkeden kuzen hayırdır abi daldin dediğinde neyine dalacamlan bunun diye cikistim.hadiyaaa sende ne var dediginde fermuarin ucundan sallanmaya başladım ohooo abi tamam tamam kapat kapat derken nazli kapidan iceri girmisti bile.ayaginda kisa bir sort ve tisortu ile gorunce cildirmamak imkânsızdı. Aksam yemegi sohbet felan falan yatma zamani ben müsade isteyerek salondan ayrıldım tam işemeye dururken – ayyyy pardon abi dedi Nazlı…. elim sikimde aniden geri dönünce dona kaldım. Ve inanilmaz şekilde nazlinin sortundan assagi kalcalarina dogru isiyordum..2mizde donup kalmıştık ki son kirintilarda damliyordu sikimden ve her yer cis olmuştu…göz göze birbirimize baka kalmış elim sikimde nazliya kusura bakma diye soylenirken nazlida onemli degil abi derken aynadan sikimi yerine koymami izliyordu.  Ben disari cikarken .kalcalarinindaki sidigimi siliyordu. Sonra tekrar geri dönüp-Özür dilerim Nazlı diyecektim ki…aman allahım nazli sortunu çıkartmış anadan uryan ciril çıplak ti ve sadece-Abiiiiiii diyebilmisti..Manzara inanılmaz dı….iri ve diri memeler..ayvamsi bir göbek…bir haftalik kıllı örtülü amcığı…ve amından dışarı çıkmış dil….bense sadece-Ohhhh diyebilmistim….saniyelerle de olsa bu manzara bana olene kadar yeter diye düşünüyordum…Salonda biz fahri ile sohbet ederken Nazlı ilk defe uzun bir etek ve uzun kollu bir tişörtle yaşananların yuzunden sanırım. Odaya gelmiş utangac ve magrur bir eda ile kahve icermisiniz diye soruyordu.ben hayir sigara icip yatacagim. Yardimim gereken bir konu varmi diye sorup mutfağa geçtim fahri yaok abim sen keyfine bak dedi.Nazli abime 1 Nescafe yap sigarasinin yanina diye arkamdan nazliyi durterken ben mutfaga gecmis sigarami yakmıştım Nazlı geldi kızarmış bir yüz. Abi ozur dilerim dediğinde ne için birbirimizi ciplak gorduk diye mi demiştim. Bogazina birsey dugumlenmis gibi.-eee evet dedi nazli titrek bir sesle. Cekinmemesini utanmamasini bir kaza olduğunu ama bir cok erkegin para vererek bu işi yaptığını soyledim..-neyi abi dediğinde. ?.. -erkekler para verip kadinlarin uztune işiyor bense para vermeden yaptim kaza ile deyip gulmeye başladım….baktim nazlida üzerinden urkekligi atti ve bana dönüp -o zaman bana borclandin dedi…-allah allah  para vereceksek boyle olmaz dedim zaten o korkuyla şok la oldu deyip….para vereceksem sorta degil komple çıplak kuvete girmelisin dedim ….-hadi canim abi gercektenmi varmi boyle sapikliklar diye sorunca …bir an bocaladim ama -inan 500 lira verip bu isin yapildigini biliyorum dedim….hadiyaaa felan deyip muhabbetimiz kapandi.ve herkez istirahate çekildi. Ben kucuk odadaki cek yatta fahri salonda kanapede nazli ise benden 2 kapi sonra yatak odalarında istirahat ediyorduk. Genelde kapim tam kapatmaz bir ihtiyaci oldugunda sesini duyayim diye fahrinin tetikte olmak isterdim.o gece sort giymedim boxer la yattim.ara holun isigi her yandiginda kapidan gecerken bakar diye umarak sikimin kafasini boxer dan   Çikarip uyuyor gibi yapıyordum.sabah olup ise gittim ogleden sonra whatsap tan Nazlınin mesajını okuduğum da ilk defa sikimin 3 saniyede dimdik olduguna sahit oldum…-Abi söylediklerin cok enteresandi. 500 lira verirsen seninle denemek isterim diyordu….aradagimimda alisveris icin tansaşa diye çıkmasını ve benim eve gelmesini söyledim 4 dk sonra gelen -ok mesajı delirtmisti beni..Gaz pedali sonuna kadar basil bir şekilde mahalleye donerken  cik gel diye mesajı yapistirmistim.5 dk ka sonra zil çaldı artik ne duyduklarima nede gördüklerime inanamiyordum…solanda biraz sohbet edip bu yasanacaklarin aramizda sir olarak kalmasini.ebediyete kadar da oyle devam etmesini birbirimize anlatarak ortami yumusatmaya karar verdik sohbet sigara derken isterse bira icebilecgimizi daha rahat olacağını söyledim gerek olmadığını isterse baslayabilecegimizi ama once parayi gostermemi istedi…gulumseyerek gelirken bankamatikten çektiğim paranin icinden 500 lirayi uzattım ve pantolonumu direk cikarttim tam ic çamaşırımı indirirken-ohaa abi bu ne dedi…-e siiik hiçmi gormedin dedim- abi bu ne cok kalin yaa dedi… evet sikim oyle anlatanlar gibi 22cm felan deil ama kalin ve 17 cmDedimki bos ver sen sikisecek değiliz dedigimde oda sadece donu ile kalmıştı….izin verirse kulodunu benim cikartmak istedigimi soyledim.yanima yaklaştı yuzum ve dudaklarimla o iri memeleri opup koklayarak donunu indirdigimde 1 gece onceki manzara ile yuzyuze idim…sikim zonkluyor gobegime davul calar gibi vuruyordu. Musade istedim koklayabilirmiyim diye.extraya girer deyince sorun degil ne isterse verebilecegimi soyledim.kahkaha atinca o 1 haftalik kıllı amcığına burnumu surterek koklamaya başladım….- oğğhh dediginde ….sanirim sulanmaya baslayan amcığından akan bir 2 damla suyu dilimle cektim göbeğinden memelere kadar yaladim ve bir öpücük kondurup küvete girmesini söyledim. Kalkik sikimle biraz zorlayarak işemeye başladım sicak sidigim yuzune memelerine kalcalarina vuruyor enson amından cikan dudagindan yere iniyordu…yüzünü elleri ile ovusturup bittimi dediğinde. Evet sira sende dedim.-aaa abende mi yapacam dedi o da extra dediğimde …-.simdi yandin dedi …-niye dedim…-görürsün diyecekti ki oyle degil bir saniye dedim…amı tam sikimin hizasına getirip işe dedim..a aa yuzune isemeyecem mi dedi…-o da benim extram dedim…sikime dogru sicacik bir şekilde işerken elimle sikimi amına surtmeye başladım. ?.abi sakin dedi…-korkma yapmayacagim dedim.ve sicaksuyu actim yikanmaya başladık….tertemiz yikandiknazlinin tum vücudu ellerimin arasında o da 2 eli ile sikimi oksuyordu..isterse devam edebilecegimizi yada durabilecegimizi belirttim….sen bilirsin manasinda kafasini yana buktu…o anda kıllı amina ve gobegine sicak spermlerimi fiskirtyordum….kendini geri çekerek aminin üstündeki killara spermlerimi sürüyordu…temizlenip çıktık havlu ile otururken…hayallerime kavustum dediğimde nasil yani diye sordu? Hep bu anın hayalini kurduğumu istegi olursada kendisi ile birlikte olmak istedigimi soyledigimde havluyu acip seninim dedi…artik beni kimse durduramazdi. Amansizca ve hunharca yalamaya başladım hem amini hem gotunu umarsizca yaliyor aminin dudaklarini isiriyordum.sikim kalktmaya başlayınca onuda ters cevirdim 69 yapiyorduk agzina soktukca boguluyor gibi oluyor boğürüyordü…tam kivamina gelince sikim amının dudaklarına yaklaştırıp.-Benimsin deyip ne varsa dayadim kokune kadar. Diri memeleri yoğuruyor dudaklarını kemiriyor ritmik şekilde amada pompaliyordum…yaklaşık 10 dk sonra kasildi ve ığğohh diye inleyip bosalirken bende dayanamadım ve patladım.amına. -abiiiiiğ ne yaptın?  korunmuyorum dedi ustune cokmus bir haldeydim.sorun degil hap aliriz dedim.bir nebzede olsa içini rahatlattim. Tekrar duş aldik markete gidip tekrar onlara gectik.eve girdiğimizde abi sende olmasan bunlari tasiyamazdim dedi. Nedemek canim deyip salona fahrinin yanina gittim..Kuzenim hicbirseyden habersiz hasta hali ile oturuyordu.bir anda empati kurdum onun yerinde ben olsam ne yapardim diye.sonra sohbeti ne yapip edip sexe getirdim.- kuzen sen simdi pompada yapamiyon yala dediğimde abi biliyon el işi yapiyoruz dedi.garibim.len aslanim ben yillardir yapiyorum sen hic olmazsa 2 senedir mala çöküyorsun. Bu fakir ne yapsin dediğimde birak abi sen istanbulun yarısını duzmussundur dediğinde gulumsemistim.  Devami gelecek…

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