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Rugger Bugger

by Stud


Disclaimer Warning:    If you're under age or offended by the explicit gay fiction, you shouldn't be here reading this - so DO NOT read any further. In fact please leave, and get a life! For all the rest of you guys, welcome to the Fiction Factory. The following is a fictional story and any relation to any real person is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. This story was originally published in the Nifty archive at www.nifty.org and may not be used anywhere else or reproduced further without the author's prior permission.

The weekend of the Wales/Australia match, my team had agreed to go to Baz's home town in the North of England and play a few games, watch the World Cup matches in the club and generally have a complete four-day piss-up. It's the sort of weekend I enjoy anyway, but this time of course, I was pleased because Baz and I hadn't seen each other since May and after five years, Baz was still the only guy I could really call a fuck-buddy.

My team was booked into a cheap bed-and-breakfast and though most were sharing, I'd got myself a single room. Baz has a large family and staying in his bed wasn't an option unfortunately. Quite a lot happened to me that weekend thanks to the way alcohol and male-bonding sessions mix - but I'll write about that weekend some other time.

This particular tale happened the weekend afterwards, on the Friday evening, after I'd been jogging, but happened because Baz and I hadn't been as careful as we'd thought while I was away. One of the guys on the weekend away - a guy called Paul - was at the sports centre, doing some weights.

We'd arrived at the centre about the same time on Friday evening because there's a quiet period between the end of the afternoon crowd and the evening classes, which start at seven. There's about two hours where, apart from staff, the place is virtually empty.

When I got back from my run, Paul was just finishing up his set and he followed me in to the changing room. He seemed a bit on edge and was talking about general stuff, as if he was avoiding something else. We were both stripping as we talked, so that we could get in to the shower. He was slower than I was as he was doing most of the talking. By now I had everything off except my jockstrap, he was still in shorts and trainers though he had taken his T-shirt off.

He began to bitch about his girlfriend, who at the time was about five or six months pregnant and obviously not in the mood for sex. He began to tell me just what he needed at the moment, but I didn't take any notice as most of our team talks to each other like that anyway. He seemed to be getting more on edge though.

Then he suddenly changed the subject. "Some fucking piss-up last weekend, eh?" he said, forcing a laugh. "Oh yeah," I agreed, "I'm still pissing pure vodka!" I began rummaging in my sports bag for my towel and the shower gel and I could tell that he was finally finishing his undressing. "Do you think the weights are doing me any good?" he asked. I turned around and found him standing there, naked, with his arms tensed like a photo from a body-builders magazine.

But it wasn't his pecs that caught my attention. "Er, definitely" I said, suddenly off balance because although I'd seen all my team mates naked before, having one of the better looking and better hung ones pose in front of me was a bit of a surprise. And he was well hung. If his cock was hard and turned upside down, he could do a damn good impression of a tripod.

I turned back to by sports bag, hoping that my cock wouldn't decide to react inside the jock pouch. My cock tends to have a mind of its own when it comes to other men and seems to get hard at awkward moments just to embarrass me. There was silence for a minute. "I saw you and Baz last week."

"What?" I said, startled but not daring to turn around. Then I tried to pass it off. "Of course you did, we were both there all weekend, you twat!" "I mean I saw you two on the fire escape on Sunday night," Paul said. "Baz seemed to be enjoying the blow job you were giving him." His voice was very calm and I didn't know how to react.

I've dealt with lust and I've dealt with disgust, but calm and reasonable from a supposedly homophobic team mate was the last thing I had expected. "Look Dave, I know you're queer, so don't deny it. And judging by the way you were sucking Baz's cock, you have been for a long time - that wasn't an amateur performance." I decided not to try and bluff it, but turn the tables a bit. "Watching for a while were you? Got a hard-on seeing a team mate sucking another well-built rugby player? Did you wank yourself off while you watched us?" "No, I didn't get a hard on then. But I've got one now."

That startled me even more. What the fuck was going on? I hesitated before turning around, but never got the chance. I half sensed and half felt him stand right behind me. I felt a hard rod of flesh press up against my arse cheeks - soft he was quite big, but what was pressed up against me was not only longer but a lot thicker than I'd imagined (yes I have imagined my team mates hard from time to time).

"I just want to fuck you OK? I can't shag around too much with Amy pregnant, it'd get back to her family and they'd fucking kill me. You won't talk though will you, not if you want to keep playing rugby and keep your mates." Bastard! I thought to myself, what a fucking nerve. "So you think it's OK to blackmail me in to letting you fuck me?" I was angry even though, as usual, my body was letting me down. Inside the snug comfort of its pouch, my cock had begun to swell, reacting to the feeling of hard dick pressed against me.

"I'm not blackmailing you, I know you're up for it." He was so arrogant, but by now he'd moved so that his cockhead was pressing up against my hole and despite all the rational arguments against letting this happen, my body was at the point where hormones and lust were far more powerful than logic and reason. Oh what the fuck, I was turned on and horny! "You want to do this now?" I asked.

His answer was to get me on all fours on the tiles of the changing room floor and to kneel behind me, his hard cock pressing between my arse-cheeks. He rubbed his wet cockhead against me then pushed hard to get in. I was still in my jockstrap but he was in too much of a hurry.

He fucked me right there in the changing room, on the floor, fucking me hard and fast. He was moaning as he pumped his dick in to my tight hole, I could hear (and feel) his balls slapping against me over my own grunting, which was quite loud because he hadn't used anything for lube except his own pre-cum. And I don't know if it was beginners luck, but his cock found my prostate and sent me in to orbit.

He's probably fucked his girlfriend this way before, so he must have rationalised his lust into imagining he was butt-fucking Amy. He was fucking good at it though, I was covered in sweat from jogging anyway, but Paul was really working me, his thick cock filled me completely and I could feel every ridge and vein of his shaft as he pounded my arse. I don't know how long he lasts with Amy, maybe he's just got a sensitive cock-trigger or maybe a combination of lust and the fear of getting caught made him faster than normal. Anyway, he came in my arse in about three minutes flat.

I could feel his thick prick swell even more as his nuts tightened in their ballsac. His pounding became fiercer and then he groaned from fuck-knows how deep inside. My arse was filled with boiling rugby-cum, his final thrusts pushing his juices so far inside I thought I'd start dribbling his cum. Actually I was dribbling, and sweating, and dripping pints of pre-cum into my jock. I wasn't long behind him.

The image of us shagging like crazy in such a public place coupled with the feeling of his huge dick slowly withdrawing, sent me into an uncontrollable orgasm. I didn't touch my own cock at all during the fuck, but the horniness of the whole thing had me shooting a major load of sperm in to my jockstrap. I'm amazed no one walked in on us but I was so horny I didn't really care at the time.

He pulled out slowly, his ridged cock feeling so good as he did so. He didn't want to talk about it afterwards, he just wanted to get his rocks off, and go. We showered together, just chatting as normal, as if we were showering after rugby training. He didn't mention anything about the fact that a few minutes earlier, we'd been fucking like crazy, except as he was leaving, he said, "Will you be here next week?"


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