Date: Mon, 28 May 2001 15:03:31 +0100
From: Rugby Stud <rugbystud@hotmail.com>
Subject: Rugby Weekend Tour - Part Two

This story is copyrighted (c) 2001 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.

Here's part 2 of the story. Sorry about taking so long to post it. Thanks to
everyone who e-mailed me about part 1, I really appreciate the comments and
hope you all enjoy this part just as much.

============================================================================

I stepped in to the nearest stall and turned the water on, letting it just
run over me, cooling me down. I rubbed my forehead gingerly where I'd banged
it on the door and though to myself "That's gonna bruise."

Deciding that I might as well shower properly as I hadn't since before
leaving home, I began to wash down with some shower gel that was on the
shelf, feeling steadily cooler and less groggy. Thinking back to the bus
shelter and Baz as I was soaping my balls, I started to get hard and I began
to stroke the shower gel slowly along my cockshaft, then down over my balls
and underneath to the hard root between my balls and arsehole.

Lost in that awesome feeling, I was therefore startled to hear a cough from
behind me and then a voice asked "So, same question as before then, do you
want a hand with that?"

I virtually jumped round in the shower and stood there under the stream of
water, for once not knowing what to say under those circumstances. Mike had
obviously just got back from clubbing as he was wearing a jacket which,
together with his hair, seemed wet. He laughed and came further in to the
shower room.

"My turn to startle you, though I think I've got a better view than you had
in the bar." He was slurring a little and his eyes were very bright, but
that's all I really noticed.

"I was hot, that's all, needed to cool down a bit, thought I'd have a quick
shower, always get like that when I'm about to be hung over". Shit, I was
babbling as well now.

"That shower gel can burn if you leave it on sensitive areas too long you
know" said Mike conversationally.

"What?" I looked down and realised that not only was one hand still wrapped
around my balls, with my fingers disappearing towards my arse, but my other
hand had been holding my hard-on and had been pointing it at him since I'd
turned around.

I turned around again and began to wash off, as much as I'd have liked to
have taken things further with him, the embarrassment had thrown me off
balance mentally. Trying to get myself back on an even keel, I started to
ask him about the club he'd been too, hoping to move the conversation on a
bit.

When there was no reply, I turned to look over my shoulder and was
pleasantly surprised to see Mike already bare-chested, his jacket and shirt
on the bench. He carried on stripping, shoes, socks, jeans and an
arse-hugging pair of black boxers, then turned around.

"I think I'd better help you wash off that gel, one of my many uses around
this place is that I'm the first-aid man too. Skin burns need to be avoided,
so I'd better get busy, as long as you don't mind?"

I turned back to face him. He looked down at my cock and said "Oh, good, you
don't mind at all then. I was hoping so, after seeing you in the bar, and
with Baz earlier. You two been shagging long?"

"Shut the fuck up, and get in here with me now." I'd clearly got my
confidence back and his slow strip had helped my dick bounce back too - and
bounce it did as Mike got in the stall with me; bounce, throb, pulse, you
name it, my cock reacted like an world class trampolinist. A shameful
display of lust, but Mike seemed to like it. So much so, that his dick shot
forward too, not too thick, but about nine inches long and sticking straight
out from his pubes.

He began washing me down, rinsing the shower gel from everywhere, not too
sexual, just a strong, cleaning motion with his hands. But I sometimes find
that sort of attention more of a turn on than a blatant go-for-my-dick kind
of shared shower; this was sensual as well.

I was leaning forwards, up against the back of the stall, hands above my
head, head almost resting against the tiles. The water still poured over us
both as his strong hands carried on with their massage and rinse. It had to
be one of the most sensual showers I'd ever had, Mike's hands seemed to know
exactly where I wanted him to stroke next.

Eventually, I couldn't take it any more - he'd got me too worked up to care.
I turned around, grabbed his head, pulled him towards me and tried to
deep-throat him with my tongue. If he was taken aback by this sudden kiss,
he didn't show it. His whole body seemed to respond, he grabbed my arse
cheeks and returned the kiss just as forcefully. He pushed me against the
cold tiles and ground his lower half in to me. The water had made us both
slippery and the sensation of two wet hard-ons grinding between us made us
both even hornier.

I dropped to my knees and before he could move, I'd buried my nose in his
pubes, nearly choking in the process but making him growl from somewhere
near his feet.
I pulled back a bit so I could catch a breath, then sank back, gulping as I
did so, so that my throat was clamped around his cockhead. Mike must have
liked this a lot as he was writhing and moaning and his hands were trying to
pull clumps of hair from the back of my head.

I didn't want a long session, I needed him to come now. I slid one hand
between his legs and massaged the root of his cock, then slipped one wet
finger in to his arsehole without warning. Not surprisingly, this did it for
him. His legs started to tremble and then shake; with both hands he grabbed
the back of my head and began slamming in to my mouth as my throat and
finger kept up the pressure. A minute later and I got what I wanted, as his
cock swelled in my mouth and I thought he was going to amputate my finger
with his ring. With a huge shudder that shook his entire body, he came.

I'm always impressed by how much cum a pair of balls can make, but in this
case it took my breath away. Literally, because I thought I was drowning,
the sheer volume of spunk that Mike emptied in to my mouth was incredible. I
was swallowing desperately, but there was just too much. Spunk poured out of
my mouth, I'm sure some came through my nose and still it came, and still I
tried to swallow.

Eventually, the pumping balls and shaking legs stopped. Mike slid down the
tiles and sat on the stall floor, next to me. We were both out of breath. I
leaned over and kissed him again.

"Mmmm, I like the taste of spunk on a man, especially when it's my own," he
said, smiling at me.

"I didn't get to taste that much, most of it bypassed my taste buds and went
straight to my stomach. I'll be able to smell it for days though, half of
it's dried in my nostrils!" His smile grew wider and we both started to
laugh. He moved over to me and kissed me full on the mouth, a real man's
kiss.

"Stand up," he said, "and turn around to face the wall again."

I stood and did as he said. Instead of getting to his feet, he stayed down
on his knees and began to kiss the backs of my legs. I could feel his tongue
licking me too, as his mouth worked from the spot behind my knees up to my
arse.

As much as I was enjoying the sensation, we both knew what was coming. His
tongue licked my cheeks then he slowly spread my butt apart with his hands.
I bent forwards slightly to make his job easier, loving every minute of
being so easy for him. I gasped as his tongue found its target and my dick
felt like a steel rod. His early morning stubble ground against the inside
of my cheeks as his tongue licked at my hole. Then he switched to long wet
licks, slobbering from the root of my dick to the base of my spine; long,
slow, big, wet licks making my legs weak and my cock harder than I thought
possible.

Mike stopped licking (to my huge disappointment) and stood up. Judging by
what I felt pressing against my arse, rimming me had turned him on as much
as it had done for me. He reached around my chest and ran his hands over me,
all the while pressing himself in to me. It struck me that I was now in the
same position Baz had been in behind the bus shelter.

There was one difference though. Mike clearly wanted to cum again. I felt
his cockhead press against my spit-wet hole then push in slowly, sliding in
until I could feel him completely against me. Then he reached around and
down and grabbed my dick and started to wank slowly and thrust at the same
time. Fuck, what a feeling - as he pushed his cock in to me, my dick slid
through his tight grip, then he pulled his hand back, stroking down my hard
shaft and impaling my body on to his own hard-on. Slowly, slowly, in and
out, his cock ridges massaging my arsehole and his hands massaging the solid
piece of meat between my legs. The double sensation had me moaning
continuously, I don't think I breathed in once, just one long groan of
pleasure.

How long we lasted like this, I can't remember, only that it seemed to go on
forever and I knew that I never wanted it to stop. But stop it had to
eventually, neither of us could take the overload of sensations and we came
together, almost as if his balls were pumping spunk through my cock as our
shudders and thrusts were perfectly in time.

For the second time, we slumped to the shower floor, neither of us spoke but
we just looked at each other and connected.

After a while, I looked down at my softened cock and said to Mike "I must
have been under the shower too long, look I've started to wrinkle."

"We'd better get dried off and in to bed then, before anyone else wakes up."

"My room or yours? Or do you think we'd better split up for now?" I asked.

"As much as I'd love to wake up curled around you, I think that we'd better
go our separate ways. Besides, your mates will be in and out of every room
in the hotel in a few hours won't they?" Mike was right, but I was so
fucking disappointed and must have looked it too.

"Don't worry," he said, "We've got plenty of time and I want to make the
most of the weekend, yeah?

"Yeah", I said grudgingly.

We both towelled ourselves and each other then I quickly got back to my room
and in to bed, feeling cooler, less likely to be hung-over and very, very
satisfied.

The following morning over breakfast, a sorrier lot of men you never see in
a thousand years.  With one exception.  Almost the entire team were sitting
around the tables, ordering fried breakfasts to get the systems going again,
ready for the game that morning and the afternoon's drinking in the club,
watching the Wales vs. Australia match.

The only problem was the grey, ill expressions that only the truly hung-over
can achieve.  Each fried breakfast placed on a table was accompanied by loud
growls from protesting stomachs as these big-drinking tough men from the
South Wales valleys picked at their food and complained like a group of old
pensioners.  The usual excuse of "must've been something I ate last night, I
knew that kebab was dodgy" was being bandied about, making me smile.

I was the exception.  Maybe it had been the shower, I prefer to think it was
all that good, hard man-to-man sex I'd had with Baz and Mike.  But I was
glowing in comparison to the others, wolfing down my breakfast, gulping down
orange juice, coffee and chatting away as much as we'd all done when pissed
the night before.

It didn't go unnoticed.

"How come you're so fucking cheerful this morning?" asked Gareth. "Don't
remember you pulling last night, you just got as pissed as the rest of us.
Didn't you?" he finished lamely, realising he couldn't actually remember
really.

"I can hold my beer better than you sorry fuckers," I said, dead-panning.

A chorus of "fuck off" was the response I got to that, but I just laughed.

"I'm living proof, so fuck off yourselves. Compare me," here I stood up and
opened my arms "with this sad looking git and decide for yourselves!"  I
pointed at Dan, who had apparently lost about 20 pounds since he'd arrived
yesterday by vomiting constantly for hours.

Dan stuck his finger up at me, but did manage a smile.

Mike. who'd been serving breakfast, brought more coffee over to me.  He
turned to Gareth and Dan and said "He was probably drinking shandy last, the
club barman's a mate of mine, I'll find out the truth about last night!"  He
turned back to me and poured the coffee, winking at me while the others were
agreeing with him.

It wasn't long before it was time for the game, it had to start early for us
to be showered and changed and in the bar for the World Cup game kick-off.
We'd agreed we'd change in to our kits in our rooms to save time.  We'd go
by bus to the pitch and only shower and change in the clubhouse after the
game.  As I've said before, I regard my team-mates as mates first and
foremost, but having so many well-built men wandering about naked or in
jockstraps, showering or pissing, talking about the usual crap, was playing
havoc with my senses.

It wasn't that any one in particular was getting to me, it was just the
all-male atmosphere. Changing rooms - the smell of them, the feeling of
being part of the team, there's a kind of comfortable sense of familiarity
about them, mingled with the excited tension of the pre-match period and the
release of tension afterwards, whether you're winners or not.  That's what
the floors of the hotel were like that morning, one huge changing room.

I decided I needed to deal with the rush of hormones or I'd be in trouble
all through the game.  Paul had come in to borrow socks, he said he'd
forgotten to pack any, which was odd, and he'd been wearing nothing but a
jockstrap.  His well-filled pouch had caught my eye straight away, I could
make out the outline of that huge cockhead and could have sworn the foreskin
was pulled back, but had to stop myself looking too hard.  When I stood up
from rummaging in my bag for socks I could have sworn he'd been checking out
my arse.  I put it down to my state of mind.

After he'd gone, I locked the door on the excuse I needed a dump before the
game.  Ever since I was a young and constantly wanking teenager, one way I
had of getting off had involved the use of the bathroom sink.  In my teens,
in the family home, we had a large enamel washbasin which was the perfect
height for my teenage needs.  By standing very close, I could lift my balls
over the rim and wank to my cock's content with the cool enamel pressing
against the root of my cock. I'd get to the point of cumming, them aim my
spurting dick in to the basin, then run the taps to clean up.  Sometimes,
when I'd get carried away, I'd forget to aim properly and spray the taps and
windowsill, but mostly I'd just love the sight of creamy streaks across the
white enamel.

Even now, this method never fails to get me off, so I decided that a quick
one off the wrist was exactly what I needed.  I didn't need much stimulation
as the memories of Baz and Mike, together with a whole hotel full of men in
underwear had got my dick like a steel rod in seconds.  I didn't have long
but didn't need long anyway - I closed my eyes and imagined myself kneeling
in front of Paul, tracing the outline of that huge cockhead with my tongue.
My hand speed matched the rhythm of my breathing and heart-rate, all three
getting faster and faster.  I could feel the basin's edge pressing against
the root of my dick, even though now I had to bend my knees to get the
desired effect.

In my mind, I could see myself at the bus-stop with Baz, I could feel Mike's
shower-wet dick grinding against mine and I could fantasise about freeing
Paul from his jockstrap and blowing him till he begged for me to let him
cum.

FUCK - overload - I got there and only just remembered to aim down.  Despite
the amount of spunk I'd used up in the last 24 hours, my balls were in top
form and produced another hefty load to shoot in to the basin.  Four or five
streaks of fresh cum plastered the basin and some to spare was running down
my fingers.

I licked my fingers and rested my dick on the basin's edge.  It was still
bouncing with the effort of cumming and pulsing with the flow of blood,
still spurting cum when there was a knock on the door.

"Dave, bus'll be here in 5 minutes so get your arse in gear."

It was Dan.  That brought me back down to earth, but I didn't mind.  I'd
dealt with my hormone rush in a very pleasant way and we were now off for a
game, then an afternoon and evening of beer, jokes, the usual nakedness and
bonding rituals.  And I had Baz and Mike to look forward to as well.  Not
that I consciously wanted a threesome, I just wanted them both.

I picked up my kit-bag and boots (I was wearing trainers till we got to the
pitch) and left the room, heading downstairs to the bus with the others. I
think some of the others noticed I was still glowing, but I didn't care.  I
felt great.

============================================================================

I promise Part 3 won't be as long in coming as Part 2 has been! Any comments
you have about this story, then please e-mail me at rugbystud@hotmail.com