Date: Thu, 01 May 2003 06:46:42 +0000 From: Rugby Stud Subject: Rugby Revenge Fuck part 2 This story is copyrighted (c) 2003 to rugbystud@hotmail.com and first posted on the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive website. It may not be copied or posted or transmitted in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer. Don't read this if you are a minor, or live in an area were this is illegal, or find male/male sex offensive, or aren't in to rugby and rugby players. ============================================================================ Six months after the fight in the rugby club and things have settled down in to a new routine. Gareth Jones the coach had by now had enough of Paul and despite needing all the good players he could get for the team, after many meetings with relevant parties, Paul was suspended until he sorted himself out. The fact that Amy's uncle is on the committee may well have helped push that little outcome forwards as well. Early June 2000, I'm home from work, showered and sitting outside the back door with a bottle of lager. Music playing in the living room, typical summer sounds outside, kids, lawnmowers, an ice-cream van. My moment of peace was interrupted when the doorbell rang. It was Paul. To say I was amazed doesn't do it justice. For a second it crossed my mind that he'd brought his mates and I was going to get a pasting. But he was alone and dammit if I couldn't help thinking about how good he looked. He'd obviously cleaned up his act a bit, he wasn't a clean-cut gent by any stretch of the imagination but he was standing there on my doorstep in navy Adidas running shorts and a white vest top and looked the picture of rough and rugged rugby playing health. He smiled, a little awkwardly. "Erm, hi Dave." "Hi. What can I do for you?" Polite and no more. "Mind if I come in?" "Why?" I wasn't giving him any help. "I'd like to talk, mate." "Dave will do just fine. 'Mate' is pushing it a bit don't you think?" "Sorry. OK. Dave. Please can I come in?" I let him in. I'm never one to hold such a grudge against someone that I don't give them a fair hearing eventually, though I had it in mind to listen politely and say "OK, bye then." I sat on the chair in one corner of the living room and motioned for him to sit on the sofa. He sat upright, legs apart, looking uncomfortable yet posed. I then realised he'd sat with his thighs apart so that my eyes were drawn inwards along his muscular hairy thighs to the mound of his shorts. He caught me looking but I just sat back and glared at him. What was he up to? "I'm sorry." A pause. I tilted my head as if to say "go on". "I'm sorry Dave, I fucked up. Badly. I'd been takin' stuff and thought I could do and say anything, fuck around, piss off anyone I liked and I was untouchable. And I know that I'm not. Now, when it's too late and everything's fucked up." "What do you mean, too late?" I was puzzled. There was a pause. "I'm not allowed to see my son". His voice was quiet, a tremor in it. I looked at him and could see genuine pain on his face. I'd gone from amazed at seeing him on the doorstep, to shock that he'd apologised and I was now heading towards feeling a deep sympathy. "Amy won't let me see him. I saw him the week he was born and that was 8 weeks, three days and seven and a half hours ago. I have to pay so much every week but until things are sorted legally, Amy and the rest of her family won't let me near Dylan. I've done a lot of thinking since then and I can see I fucked up a lot of things. Been to see Gareth Jones the coach earlier too. He thinks I might get back on the team next season. But he told me that I had one thing I had to do first before he'd even consider it. I told him that's where I was going next. So here I am." Silence again. I was struggling on two levels to handle all of this. This was the longest speech I'd heard Paul make in years, well probably ever actually. And not too much 'fuckin' this and 'bastard' that, just facts. And on another level, he seemed to be making an effort to right all the wrongs that had led him to do what he'd done in the club that night. My biggest problem is that I'm a softie. I'm sharp enough to know if I'm being conned or lied to, but if I think someone's genuine, I'll do anything for them and forgive them virtually anything. I could feel myself going down this road already with Paul, after all, months had passed and most of the rage I'd had was long gone. But his presence had stirred some of it up again and despite my sympathy for him, I wasn't going to be walked over. But I could be hospitable. "Are you in any rush to go? Did you just come here just to say that or do you really want to try and sort things out?" I asked. "No rush, I've got nothing else to do, so we can talk for as little or as long as you want." "Never mind the talking just yet, do you want food? I haven't eaten yet." His face lit up. Unfortunately, that gave the softie in me a tactical advantage over the sensible part of me. "I'll take that as a yes. Come out to the kitchen. I'll put something in to heat up and you grab us a couple of lagers from the fridge." A little later, there we were, sitting at my kitchen table eating spaghetti bolognaise and working our way slowly through the cold lagers from the fridge. We hadn't spoken much really, just eaten and drank. But I had a few things I wanted to say and the lager was starting to loosen my thoughts. I finished food first and sat back, slowly swirling the lager around in the bottle. "You do know that you've got a fucking nerve don't you?" I asked suddenly. Paul, on one of his last mouthfuls, stopped his fork half way from the plate. "About coming here?" he asked, suddenly looking like he'd lost the thread of the conversation and wasn't sure how or when. "No, about what you did to me in the club, you piece of shit. Do you know how badly what you said gutted me? Have you any idea in that stupid loudmouthed brain of yours how fucking humiliating it was? I'm glad I broke your fuckin' nose. Yeah, really glad, coz at least in the eyes of everyone else I'm still a good bloke, a man, one of the lads. My reputation is still OK. Did you ever think what would happen to me if everyone found out that I actually am gay? Just because I like sucking cock and fucking men, I have to live a pretend life around here to survive and you were happy to ruin it just for a laugh. Despite the fact that you were willing to use me when your dick needed me." I needed to breathe so I stopped. I could tell that my face was flushed and I was hot so I swigged my bottle of lager. Paul too was flushed. He'd put his fork down and his face was scarlet. He'd stayed frozen as I'd spoken, my voice getting louder and angrier till I got to the end. I added one last thing, using language I never use, polite valleys boy that I am. "You made me feel worthless, you cunt." I don't know what I was expecting him to do; jump up and get angry, shout back, tell me to fuck off. I'd bottled up a lot of emotion despite punching him and a lot had just poured out, but this new Paul was full of surprises. He did stand up, but extended his hand to me over the table. "Dave, I've been through a lot lately with Amy and her family and I've grown up. No really, don't look like that, I have. I know I can be a twat sometimes, but I'm just always so confident that I'm gonna win, that I'm the best, that I can pull anyone I want . . . ." At this point he gave me a very small, almost shy grin and very slightly raised an eyebrow. "Bastard!" I said, trying to stay angry but I cracked, caught off guard. I shook my head but couldn't hide the grin on my face at the cheek of him talking about 'pulling' me. "Yeah you fucking pulled me; but just because you fucked me on the floor doesn't mean you can walk all over me afterwards and treat me like dirt." "I know mate, c'mon, take my hand and take my apology, please? I mean it, I'm sorry. I didn't think about what I said, I know I was off of my head but I can't use that as an excuse. You're right, I was a bastard to a lot of people last year and I'm paying for it. It took two months for my nose to heal properly you know. So you gonna shake and forgive? I want to move on and sort everything out. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, tell me. " I paused. The lager and his legs earlier had loosened my thoughts a bit too much maybe. Now it was my turn to give a small grin and raise an eyebrow. I stood and took his hand. "OK mate, we'll move on. I can't forget, not yet. But you've shown a lot of balls coming here and I can meet you half way and we can put this behind us. As long as you learn a lesson, that is." "Oh I have mate, I fuckin' have." he said. My grin got wider, and possibly a little nastier. I hadn't finished with him. "You haven't learned the lesson yet mate, coz I haven't taught it to you." "What do you mean?" "Follow me and I'll show you." We walked out to the hallway and I held out my arm, guiding him towards the stairs. "Up you go, door on the left at the top of the stairs. I'll be up in a sec once I've locked up." I left him standing there, puzzled. By the time I got upstairs, he was in the bathroom as instructed. Still looking puzzled. "Strip and shower then mate." "What the fuck are you talking about? You're gonna teach me how to shower?" "No, I'm gonna teach you what being sucked, rimmed and fucked by a man is all about. You're gonna leave here understanding me a hell of a lot better and understanding that being gay isn't something to make fun of. Got me? The shower is coz I'd prefer sticking my tongue up your arse knowing it's clean." Paul stood very still. He laughed nervously, seeming to want to believe that this was a joke, yet I swear I could see the reflection of headlights in his eyes. "Don't worry Paul, I've seen you naked before enough times. Strip." He realised that I was serious. "No way, I've never been fucked before. I wanted to make it up to you mate, but c'mon, this is too much." "So you think it's OK as long as you fuck a poof, or get a blow job from one, but you on the other side, the receiving side, isn't what you're about? Tough shit mate, I'm gonna show you a whole new world. Now strip. And relax mate, you might enjoy it, you've enjoyed what you've had with me before haven't you?" I smiled a determined smile. I could the him struggling for a bit, then for whatever reason, he made a decision. Paul stripped. Nervously, but he stripped. First he took of his vest-top then he bent down to pull his trainers and socks off and I could see the top of his arse showing over his waistband. He stood up, his stomach showing he'd lost a few of the beer-pounds and gained a better six-pack. Then off came the shorts. No pants or jock-strap. Just that huge dick flopping over the elastic as he pulled his shorts down, then his hairy balls. Again, I couldn't help wondering if he subconsciously had an ulterior motive in coming here too. Me being the softie however, I started chatting to him about the same sort of stuff (more or less) as I used to do in the changing rooms and showers at the club, so he relaxed a bit. When he stepped in to the shower he was still chatting to me, not realising what he was doing. It was only when he turned to start the shower that he stopped for a second. "You're good at this, you bastard - you've actually got me chilled out for a second. Then I remembered what you want to do to me." "You're not the only one who can pull," I said, but I was smiling as I said it. I stripped as well and got in to the shower with him. "Let's get you all nice and clean for your lesson." I said in a loud, cheery voice, like I was a daytime television presenter patronising a member of the public. I almost started laughing as he'd sort of nervously backed into the corner, facing me but with his hands over his genitals. I turned the shower on full, with no warm water at all at first. Paul jumped and yelled, looking at me like he couldn't believe I'd done that. "I said you'd have fun didn't I?" I said, grinning at my own schoolboy sense of humour. Paul started laughing too, shaking his head. I warmed the water up a little so that it was at a nice cool temperature. I squirted some shampoo onto his head and began washing his hair, massaging his scalp at the same time with what little nails I had. "Mmmmm. No one's washed my hair for years - it actually feels nice." He was swaying in rhythm with my hand movements. I rinsed him off then got the shower gel and started rubbing his chest, his arms, his back - long, slow, careful, strokes, to relax rather than excite. Then I did his legs, same drill, long slow strokes, top to bottom. All the time he stood there, meekly being washed. The finally I moved to the danger zone, would he flinch or stay still? I got more shower gel and lathered up a foamy handful that I rubbed into his pubes, then slid one hand under his balls and the other over his dick, soaping them slowly. His cock twitched and thickened slightly but I carried on. I was squatting in front of him but then pulled him around so I was facing his arse, then I washed his cheeks moving closer to the centre. "Lean against the wall" I said. He leant forwards, arms above his head, the shower spray hitting the top of his head and back of his neck. I nudged his feet apart but he didn't move. "Do it Paul", I said, "I've had one finger there before, remember? " I heard a sigh then he shuffled his feet a bit further apart, allowing me to wash his straight guy's no-go area. I soaped the length of the crack from dickroot to the base of his spine with alternate hands making one continuous sensation over his pucker. The sigh had become deep breathing. Finally I could feel the hardness in the root of his cock behind his balls. I stood up, got more shower gel into both hands, then reached around him to soap up his chest and stomach. A sure fire way of turning someone on - the soapy water and feel of another body so close is just amazing. I had been hard for a while but Paul started when he felt my hard-on against him. I'd soaped up my own dick and pushed it between his cheeks, semi-fucking him as my soapy hands reached lower around him and cupped his balls and stroked his solid cock. I nuzzled his neck. "Not so bad so far is it mate?" "mmf" I'd got him nice and clean, nice and relaxed, so it was time to move on. I rinsed us both with slightly warmer water then got out of the shower, motioning him to follow. I got big towels from the airing cupboard and led him to the bedroom. It was turning me on a lot just walking through the house naked with him in tow, but I had to keep my mind on what I was doing. I dried him off thoroughly and gave him the other towel to do me. I think by now he'd relaxed enough to be into the spirit of the occasion because he dried me off all over, dick, balls and arse included, with no hesitation. "Into bed then mate - now we get to the good stuff." I threw back the duvet and got in, almost dragging him after me. He fell across me at an angle but I held him there, pulling the duvet over him and me. I went to kiss him but he pulled back suddenly. I just shook my head and rolled over, taking him by surprise. We were sort of entwined, but my chest and arms were on top so I held him down. I stroked his head, from temple to chin. "Chill out - it's just a snog." I kissed him - full on the mouth, tongue teasing his lips. With my left hand I stroked down his chest to his dick and rubbed my palm over the dickhead. My right hand had him behind the head, wrapped in his hair. He didn't respond at first then with a speed that surprised me, he kissed me back, tongue fighting with mine, the beginnings of stubble on us both making a soft scratching noise. He pulled back. "Not like kissing a girl is it?" I asked. He gently scratched my jawline. "I dunno, one of those Neath girls needed a shave more than you do!" he replied, with a sudden smile that made him look younger and even more handsome. "Jokes now, is it? Someone's getting the idea. OK Mr Humour, on all fours for the next step." We untangled and he got on all fours, facing down the bed. "How can I get to your arse if it's almost against the headboard?" I asked. "And how the fuck was I supposed to know what you're gonna do next?" he replied. "OK, point taken smart-arse. Turn around - you're gonna learn a lesson that most straight men never get to learn." He turned and faced the headboard, but then turned his head back to me and said in a serious and quiet voice. "Will it hurt? I don't want it to hurt." "Mate, I'll be as gentle as I can, I'm not gonna fuck you yet and I have to admire your balls in going through with this. Actually from this angle, I just have to admire your balls!" "Now who's joking. So if you're not gonna fuck me yet, why am I on all fours?" "For this mate. You're gonna find that nothing will ever compare to this." Paul was about to ask me something else but it turned into a loud gasp as I buried my face into his exposed crack and licked from his balls to the base of his spine, grinding my stubble into his cheeks along the way. "FFFFFFFUCK" he said. I did the same thing again a few times, then began to eat out his hole, forcing my tongue in as far as I could. Oddly enough, it didn't take him long to begin grinding his arse on to my face and pushing back on to my tongue. All the time he was moaning and muttering "fuck, ohyeah, ohfuck" under his breath. I came up for air. "No, don't stop, that's fuckin' amazing mate. Where the fuck did you learn to do that?" "I did 'O' level Tongue Fucking in school. I don't know, I think the first guy to do it to me was, oh no, hang on better not go there. Anyway, it's called rimming and you can see why I wanted you showered first. By the way, if you fart, I'll rip your balls off." He started laughing. "OK, I won't fart - just do that some more. It feels amazing. Can't believe someone somewhere once thought, I wonder what it would feel like to have a tongue up my arse. I've never really thought of my arsehole as being a turn on for anyone." "Do you remember when I sucked you off on the running track? You were rubbing your hole on my finger like you were fucking born to it. Didn't you realise what you were doing?" "No I didn't, mate and stop talking - do it some more." His arse was pushed back a bit more, so I obliged with a deep push of my tongue. So far I'd avoided touching his dick while I was rimming him, but I reached under and just squeezed his huge rod as I pushed my tongue as far as I could into his arsehole, which was twitching like crazy. Paul seemed to like this as he began fucking my hand with one movement, then getting fucked by my tongue on the reverse. He was just moaning into the pillow, leaking precum from his knob and his whole arse and balls were soaked with my spit. I kept this up for as long as I could without needing to catch my breath, but after about five minutes, I needed to breathe deeply and I felt his balls starting to tighten. I wasn't gonna let him come yet so I stopped. I heard Paul's muffled protest through the pillow but told him not to move. I reached into the drawer of the bedside table and got out the Vaseline, greasing up my fingers, ready for the next step. Slowly I began to rub my right index finger around his ring, watching as he wriggled his hips to increase the sensation. Then I gently pushed my fingertip into his hole, feeling it clench around my greased up digit. "Why are you doing that?" he asked. "Well as you're about to lose your virginity, I'm loosening you up mate. First was my very talented tongue, now a few fingers, then I'm gonna fuck you like a dog." I did use a light-hearted tone of voice for this not to make it sound like I was gonna rape his arse. He was about to say something else in response but I shoved my finger into him all the way. His gasp was loud. I finger-fucked him a few times, privately getting very eager to fuck him properly given the way his ring was clamping down on my finger. I added another finger to the process, twisting as well as probing. It was as I was doing this that I realised he was wanking himself slowly too - I'd had to balance on one arm to finger him and had left off massaging his slab of meat. I grinned, he was making this easy for me. I was feeling a sense of satisfaction on top of my horniness that a man as straight-acting as Paul was on my bed enjoying being finger-fucked up the arse. Straight guys can miss out on so much but once they actually try it, that's a different story. "Ready for something a bit bigger mate?" I asked. "You gonna add another finger? Can't imagine your dick being thicker than this." Mr Humour puts in another appearance. "You're gonna be sorry you said that." I said, laughing all the same. I grabbed a condom and lube and got myself ready. "Turn over then, let's get you ready too." I told him. "Fucking hell" he said, looking at my hard-on. I realised that he hadn't actually seen it properly - when we'd got out of the shower we'd gone down a bit and semis in the changing room weren't uncommon. This was his first good look at what I was gonna shove up his hole. "Bit thicker than two fingers mate," he said, "I'm not sure I can do this." "Let me get some lube in you, then we'll take this slow. Part of you's keen, judging by the way your dick is still rock-solid. Put a pillow under your lower back to lift you a bit." I pushed a huge gob of lube into his arse, smeared some more on to my throbbing dick and then positioned myself. He'd got a pillow under him and I spread his legs. "Hold them below the knees if it helps to start with." I suggested. What a fucking sight he was. His cock was almost up to his collar bone from the angle I was looking at him and his arse fully exposed to me. His muscular legs bent back and stretched, the thigh muscles tight and firm. I could have just sat there and wanked over that sight for days. But my dick needed to be buried in that hole and I wasn't gonna argue. "When I go in, push down OK?" I pushed in, slowly past the expected resistance. He winced but gritted his teeth until I had slid slowly all the way in. I pulled back a little, then in again. "Wank yourself, that takes the sensation away from your arse." I began to rock back and forth, fucking him slowly and watched as he wanked the end of his cock with one hand, the other holding one leg up and away from him. I began to push harder, my cock taking over from my brain (or should that be my real brain taking over?). He was groaning with every thrust I made, in time with my own grunting as I began to speed up. His arse was so tight I could feel every muscle against the ridges on my dick. The sensation was incredible. I can't remember clearly just how long we kept up this rhythm, but it seemed to last forever. Eventually the inevitable happened. I must have been hitting the right spot with my shaft as he'd stopped wincing so much and was just lost in the fuck. His hand quickened the wank-strokes on his dick and I could tell by watching his huge nuts flatten against his dick-root that he was getting close to blowing his load, as I was. Wanting this to be the best it could be for him too, I stopped his hand, moved it down his massive shaft and made him hold it up from his stomach. He looked puzzled till I curled up as far as I could, still fucking him, but now curved so the head of his cock was in my mouth. Paul is the only guy I've managed this with as I'm not the most supple guy in the world but his cock was big enough for me to do it. I was fucking him like crazy by now and he was bucking his hips, fucking my mouth then being fucked by my cock. In seconds, my mouth began to fill up with short spurts of pre-cum before he groaned loud enough to wake the dead and fired off a massive load into my throat. This sent me so far over the edge I thought I'd never find my way back and I fucked him hard and deep, past caring that it was a virgin arse I was slamming into. I came hard, my cock buried deep inside him and he squirmed and shuddered under me. I pulled out faster than I meant to and collapsed onto him, smearing Vaseline and cum onto the bed and rubbing his sweat and mine into our chests. We lay there for a while, gasping for breath. Paul moved first, he just put his arms around me and hugged tight. "No way did I ever imagine what that would really be like. I thought it would be all, I dunno, girly and romantic but sickening as well. That was a good shag you know." "That was a fantastic shag mate - pity you aren't gay. I could do this again, even though you're spoken for and I wasn't brought up to do this kind of thing." "Your mam brought you up not to be a poof as well mate. Didn't stop you. And anyway, what do you mean pity I'm not gay? Doesn't the fact I let you fuck me make me a poof then?" "Yes it does - you'll be wearing pink lipstick and nail-polish by the weekend and arguing with Amy in Ikea over your home furnishings. . . Your face is a picture - no it fucking doesn't, you dull twat, it just makes you open-minded. I mean, do you feel gay? Whatever you think that means anyway?" "I just feel well-fucked actually. I'm gonna have to think about this, but I think right now, I get what you meant earlier. I joked about you being a cocksucker and thought it was funny coz gays are weedy poofs, but this was a rougher fuck than I've ever had and without the 'ohh you're so beautiful' crap. It was just great sex." I propped myself up on one elbow and looked at him seriously. "If it's any consolation mate, you've surprised me today as well. Last year I would never have thought you'd be the open-minded modern man, but you even sound different today. You've come a long way." "Yeah," he smiled that rather shy smile again, "I hit the pillow, look." I buried my head and groaned at the humour. Lifting back, I rolled out of bed and stood up, got rid of the condom and then held out my hand to him. "Come on matey, up you get. I think we'd better have a quick shower. After that, fancy a pint?" "You buying?" "First round yeah, after that we'll see." Paul stood up. We were either side of the bed as he hadn't let me pull him up. "Tonight didn't go like I expected it to, I thought we'd be having a pint already by now," he said. "Not quite what I expected when I got home either" I replied. "Thanks for letting me apologise." A pause. "Thanks for letting me fuck your arse." I said. We looked at each other straight-faced for as long as we could, then he sort of ran over the bed at me, taking me by surprise. He bear-hugged me, laughing. "Dave you are not the bloke I thought you were, but not the fag I made you out to be either. I'm sorry. You're a good bloke and despite the fact my arsehole's killing me, I'm glad I came to see you." We were still wrapped in a bear hug when Paul stopped talking, eyes raised a bit. He reached down and squeezed my dick, which had sprung up because of the close body contact. "And I thought I was a randy sod." I shrugged. "What can I say, my dick has obviously taken a liking to your body." Paul smiled at me, a genuine, warm smile. None of his usual arrogance, that seemed to have all gone. Not even the cheeky lad look that he'd perfected that made him so lucky with the ladies. Just a smile that came from inside. "Somehow I don't think this is gonna be a quick shower before we go for that pint, do you?" he said. He turned and walked to wards the bathroom. I watched him for a few seconds, loving the way his arse moved, getting turned on by the sight of his broad back and thick legs. What had originally been his idea to apologise and my idea of fucking him as payback had turned into something else for both of us. And I wasn't complaining. ============================================================================ Thanks to everyone who's e-mailed about my other stories, the feedback makes writing them worthwhile. I love getting comments about any of my rugby tales (the hornier the better as usual), so please e-mail me at rugbystud@hotmail.com.