Date: Mon, 23 Dec 2019 15:18:34 +0000
From: writer guy <premiershiplads@outlook.com>
Subject: Premiership Lads part 10: Watford Away

Part ten: Watford Away



On a damp and chilly Sunday evening in December, a few days from Christmas,
the Manchester United team coach wound its way north from Watford. The mood
was low: they had lost badly, 2-0, to the edge-of-London nobodies, and it
had cemented the headlines that United were having their worst first half
of a season in years. On the coach, Ole's lads were grumpy, irritable,
feeling the pressure of this turning point in their season.

But amongst this general malaise, there were four lads who were
particularly exhausted and wiped out, scattered amongst the banter-less
rows of professional footballers: very consciously sitting apart from one
another, unable to really meet each other's eyes.

Each of them knew that they had been bad boys and contributed in their own
secretive way to the loss, exhausting themselves the night before this much
underestimated challenge, wasting their energies on activity that none of
them would be comfortable admitting to their manager.

Right at the back of the big, warm coach, Luke Shaw's eyes flickered open
and shut in a dreary half-sleep, slumped against the window and barely able
to follow the chatter of the lad next to him, too lost in his own
reflections and self-doubts.

A few rows in front, Daniel James was different, wide-eyed and a little
startled looking, distressed by something more personal than the side's
embarrassing defeat earlier today, though anyone around him would mistake
his awkward, nervous disposition for the latter.

And nearby, on the other side of the central aisle, one of the team's real
youngsters, Mason Greenwood was snoring deeply, totally shattered not by
his brief appearance on the pitch as a substitute, but by the stupidly late
night that had preceded it, and perhaps changed his young life.

And nearer the front, sat squarely with his dark low eyes fixed on nothing
in particular in an expression of deep thought, Harry Maguire was
reflecting on how stupid and risky he had been this weekend: and how poorly
he'd put himself out on the pitch after last night. Embarrassing. But...
perhaps it had been worth it? He let out a long, sleepy sigh, and thought
back to how it had all played out, starting twenty-four hours ago...

`Happy birthday you absolute bell-end!' he had chuckled down the phone at
his good mate, padding through their Watford hotel with his bag slung
heavily over one broad shoulder. `Fucking sorry your team had to get
trounced just now but hope you're enjoying turning 23 all the same...'

`Hah, thanks, you big prick,' Ben Chilwell trilled back down the phone to
him. `Was having a fucking lovely birthday til City had to shit on our
parade.'

`I'll bet. Well chin up, you awesome bloke,' Harry said, twisting a key and
letting himself into his hotel room. `I'm sure you played fucking awesome,
even if the other lads let you down?' He listened to Ben's brief, scatty
match analysis as he dumped his heavy bag on one of the double beds and
inspected the generic Hilton hotel room disinterestedly. `Yeh, sounds like
it,' he mumbled back, lifting his polo shirt to scratch his lower
abs. `Good lad, good lad...'

`But yeh, can at least celebrate my birthday properly now,' Ben exclaimed
down the line, `maybe push a few bevvies tonight... see if I can get
another couple of lads on board...' There was a long pause on the line,
then, `Maybe see if I can get some fun like you and I had the other Sunday,
buddy.' Another pause, almost nervous in its silence, as far as meaning
could be applied to such gaps in phone chat.

Harry let out a rough, uncertain laugh, but... he was alone, and why not be
honest? `Aye,' he murmured, `I hope you do, big lad.'

`Yeah?' Ben responded thoughtfully. `Glad to hear you say that, big man.
Been on my mind a bit since.'

Harry made a tentative noise of agreement. `Aye, aye... could do with some
of that myself,' he confessed quietly. `The wife is still not... up for
it.' He let out a wistful sigh. `Shame you're playing in Manchester the
weekend I'm away, eh?'

`Fucking awful shame,' Ben said in a similar tone – lusty and desiring
but crippled by uncertainty and layers of masculine shame. `I dunno. I'll
see what's going on up here, heh. We'll be leaving for Leicester soon
enough. Home I go.'

Harry was quiet for a bit. `Well, I'm sure I can... get some tonight,' he
said, almost in a giggle, `but it might not be as... as fun as when you...'
Another nervous out-of-character chortle. `You know.'

`I know,' Ben said softly. `Well, you know where asking about what I wanted
for my birthday?'

`Aye?'

`Send me a video,' Ben said in a dirty whisper. When Harry didn't respond
at all, he went a bit further. `Go on... just a short one, doesn't have to
show the other lad's face, if you're still being protective... just
something to er, get me off, in case I... Come on, mate. Birthday boy and
all that.'

Harry let out a long, whistling breath. `You fucking prick,' he teased,
irritated and excited and worried. `Okay. Okay. No promise. But... yeah.
Okay.' The sound of a key and doorhandle. `I best go now, pal, catch up
later... okay, I'll see what I can... shush, you fucking perv... hah.' He
hung up just as the door opened and in strolled pretty boy Luke Shaw,
struggling under the weight of his own kit bag for the Sunday game. `Oh,
hey there,' Harry said, lowering his phone and giving the submissive
handsome defender a wave of greeting.

`Hey,' Luke said in a slightly guarded way, entering the room and dumping
his bag at the foot of the other bed. `This is a... surprise. I thought I
was rooming with...'

`But we made such good roomies last time,' Harry replied ambiguously,
giving him an intense stare that made the defender blush and shrug a
bit. The two had not really spoken since the Christmas party, not properly,
and certainly not about...

`Yeh, maybe,' Luke replied, sounding as if he was trying to sound
disinterested and unfriendly, but Harry could see through it. He'd seen the
hunger in those sparkling eyes, he knew how things stood between them now.

Harry's mind was tingling with Chilly's words and encouragement on the
phone, which had come as something of a surprise in their openness after
that garage toss together. He took a stride forward, clearing the gap
between them, and landed one hand on Luke's shoulder, and the other on his
wrist, and pulled his hand imperatively towards the crotch of his own
jogger bottoms. Luke's fingers instinctively closed around the soft bulge,
and the lad's face wilted in its disinterested, sulky expression.

`Harry...' Luke murmured concernedly.

`Yeah?' Maguire responded sharply.

`We need to go down to dinner,' Shaw said, avoiding eye contact, looking
totally conflicted.

`Yeah,' Harry agreed, `but don't eat too much. You've got this for afters.'
He squeezed Luke's clammy hand in against his package, then let go, and
squeezed the shorter guy's shoulder instead. `Aye?'

In a wavering voice, Luke made his futile protest. `Maguire, mate, we
really need to talk about this... you've got a fiancée and...'

`Ssh,' Harry cut in with a shake of his big head. `Just shush. Dinnertime.'

Crackling with sexual tension, the two strong defenders tidied away their
crap and headed out of the hotel room to make their way down to the team's
communal dinner before an enforced early night. Stepping out into the
equally generic corridor of this Hilton hotel on a Hertfordshire motorway,
Harry saw the door opposite them opening and their parallel pairing
emerging together: he met eyes with fresh-faced Daniel James, who
immediately blushed and stared away, and coming out behind him, young Mason
Greenwood, an 18-year old upcoming forward who was getting some attention
for his short appearances at Old Trafford. Harry grinned broadly at both
younger lads, and let his imagination run wild: maybe tonight could be
really fucking fun, then, and maybe Bulging Ben could get his video clip
after all...

Little more than an hour later, they were coming back up. Harry strolled
down the corridor with a paw at the shoulder of young Greenwood, who he'd
ended up sat beside at their simple dinner of pasta and nervous pre-match
banter. `Yeah, yeah, totally true,' he agreed enthusiastically with
whatever the boring little bastard was one about. He liked Greenwood but he
was very young in his chat, though at least he was Bradford-born, another
Yorkshireman in the squad. `Hey Mason,' he said, slowing his pace, `why
don't you come hang out in our room for a bit? I know Ole said curfew but I
think it's just on this corridor so who'd fucking know?'

Mason, traipsing along cheerfully, enjoying the attention of the senior
defender and all-round giant, nodded his head. `Can't do any harm,' he said
keenly in his similar Yorkshire accent. `I'm not that tired yet anyway.'

`Same, same,' Harry said, patting him in the centre of the back. `And see
if that sour-faced roomie of yours Danny boy wants to join, too.'

`Aye, aye, I will,' Greenwood agreed with another firm nod, `I dunno what's
up with him this week, he's normally life and fucking soul, eh? Cool well
let me just go drop my stuff...'

`Yeah, give us a knock in a bit,' Maguire said with strained casualness,
and they parted. He turned to the room door and fished for a key in his
pocket, but Luke Shaw had caught up, and beat him to it. They eyed each
other cautiously before the door was unlocked and opened and in they went.

`What are you playing at?' Luke hissed at him immediately.

Harry smiled benevolently down at him. `I'm getting us some company,' he
said calmly and firmly.

Luke looked stressed out. `I tried speaking to Dan that night, you know,'
he said in a dark mutter, `and he was totally freaked out by what went
on. Poor fucking lad. He'd never done coke before, he'd defo never touched
another cock before, and...'

`Either had you,' Harry snapped, cutting him off, `til I let you- right?'

Luke stumbled for what to say, just looking very frightened. `What even is
all of this?' he asked in a pleading tone, perhaps speaking for them all,
asking the question that haunted big Maguire in the early hours and at
random solitary moments in his training days. It was a question he was
really pushing away, and he did the same now.

`It's all you fucking want, Lukey,' he snarled, daring the nervy submissive
to deny it. `Now get yourself freshened up in the shower, okay. Make
yourself smell nice for... daddy.' He chuckled at his silly kinky language
and watched Luke's cheeks flush, then let him silently go about his
business of undressing and collecting his toiletries. Harry sniggered, and
started undressing himself. He tugged off his polo shirt and then trainers
and socks, and then slid off his joggers, down to the same pair of CK
briefs he had been accidentally posing in that other night, in another
hotel, another country. Then he did the important bit: he picked up his
iPhone and slotted it onto the dresser in the corner in what he guessed was
a fairly discrete position, and pressed record. Luke's bold question
drifted into his mind for a dangerous second: what the hell was he really
doing here??

Then a short, sharp knock at the door. Still just in his undies, Harry
strode over to open it, and there they were: smiling young Mason Greenwood
and skulking behind him, a very apprehensive looking Dan James, both in the
same branded Manchester hoodies and joggers that he and Luke had been
wearing.

`Come in, lads,' Harry said with mock formality that contrasted his state
of undress, which clearly did not go unnoticed by the younger players on
their way past. Harry idly adjusted his package and shut the door firmly
behind them, then locked it with a click.

`Sorry to disturb you guys,' Mason said politely, standing awkwardly in the
centre of the hotel room, seeming to note the watery roar of Luke's shower.
`Should we come back in a bit...?'

`We can just leave it,' Dan chipped in, `if you're... busy...'

`Nah, nah,' Harry protested, waving his long arms. `Have a seat on my bed,
mates. We're just showering: long day, right? How you both doing? Dan, lad,
how are you?' he asked pointedly, as the Welsh international sunk to sit on
his bed next to Greenwood. Dan eyed him uncertainly, and for a second, both
men were transported to a disabled bathroom in outer Manchester. Dan looked
incredibly innocent and cute there, shorter by a few inches than even very
youthful Mason, who in turn was a good few inches than Luke, who Harry also
towered above. There was no doubt who the alpha male was in this room right
now.

`I'm ok,' Dan said slowly. `Just... nervous about tomorrow.'

`Watford?' Greenwood chimed playfully. `No fucking problem, boys.'

`Easy,' agreed Harry. `We'll smash `em. And I'm sure you'll get off the
bench to help, Mase.'

`Aye, hope so,' the young Bradford lad agreed with another of his keen
nods.

`I guess,' 22-year old James agreed more hesitantly. Harry was pretty sure
those wide, dark Welsh eyes couldn't stop flitting up and down his bare
legs and six-pack or to what lay between them at waist-height, but it was
hard to be sure.

Maguire tossed them the TV remote. `See what's on,' he barked. At that
moment, they were joined by Shaw. The thickset defender emerged from a
slight halo of steam in the en suite, towel about waist, his fairly smooth
loosely defined torso still gleaming with wetness and his hair a scruffy
damp mess as he joined them. Mason and Dan chirped their greetings and the
towel-clad footballer just nodded and waved vaguely, as if surprised to
really find them here.

`Good shower?' Greenwood asked innocently.

`Er, yeh, okay.'

`Dan here loves a shower, don't you?' Harry cut in, giving James a
penetrating look. The short handsome midfielder gawped and reddened and
didn't know what to say, and Mason just grinned quizzically at him until
Luke tried to save the moment.

`Harry, you better go wash off,' he put in loudly, `you stink of bullshit
at the moment.'

Harry stretched and flexed his big shoulders and nodded his agreement.
`Aye,' he said in a commanding voice, `I do need to wash off, been sweating
like a cunt all day.' He hooked thumbs into the waist of his briefs and
slid them down and off in one movement, then with a nod to their first real
encounter, flicked them right in Luke's face, which earned a hoot of
laddish laughter from their 18-year old guest and a nervous chuckle from
Daniel. Luke pulled the sweaty pants out of his face with a flustered
expression and Harry just stood there, bollock naked.

`God,' Mason said, `he ain't fucking shy, is he?' Looking amusedly to his
roomie Dan for agreement but seeming to find only shy quiet.

`Why be shy when you're this blessed?' Maguire questioned honestly.

`And his head is nearly as well-endowed,' quipped Luke anxiously from
behind him.

Harry just grinned at this and turned to give Shaw a smirk before swinging
back towards the two younger lads sat on the bed, watching them both unable
to resist a glance at his meat: he felt the same arrogant thrill as at
Luke's initial interest in him. He'd never realised this exhibitionist
streak in him before, but Luke's excitement for his big penis and Ben's
playful rivalry had both woken something up in the once self-conscious
Yorkshireman.

`Well,' Greenwood pointed out politely, `you best go shower, huh...'

Dan James seem to gulp nervously and tear his eyes away, back to the TV and
the channels he'd been flicking on. Harry shared a look with Luke, still
steamy wet and nervous-looking. `Hey, Lukey boy,' he said, `help these guys
find something good to watch' – knowing wink – `whilst I take a
shower.' Bollock naked, he strolled past and gave Luke a slap on one warm
shoulder before disappearing into the steam of the bathroom. What the hell
are you doing? Harry's inner voice screamed at him once separated in the
bathroom. He listened to the idle chatter of the three younger guys,
drowned out as he once more turned on the shower, and stepped in. He basked
under the blast and was unable to stop himself playing with his low-hanging
balls and thick sausage, enjoying thinking of the look on the other guys'
eyes when he'd whipped it out. Then, with a deep breath, he stopped the
flow and twisted the knob of the shower. He called through in a deep,
authoritative voice, the same commanding shouts that made him such a
presence on the pitch most days: `Hey, DJ – come through here a minute
will you?'

There was a pause and he couldn't really hear what was being said, but then
the bathroom door, left ajar, creaked a bit more open and in stepped Daniel
James, cute-faced, curly-haired, chewing his lip. Harry stood there
dripping hot water and soap in the big shower cubicle, and met his eyes.

`What do you want?' Daniel said in a furtive whisper, pushing the bathroom
door almost shut behind him and wafting the steamy air as it enveloped
him. He added, in the same low voice, `I'm not gay, you know. I was
just... really fucking high.'

`You enjoyed yourself though,' Harry said, lathering suds across his broad
chest. Daniel didn't answer that accusation, just stood there.

`Luke is putting on porn,' Dan said, a bit less defensively. `Says it's a
good idea, really chill. Mason just shrugged. I know what you're trying to
do.'

`Do you now?' Harry said, running his hands down the length of his abdomen
and stroking soapy water over his semi. He pushed the transparent shower
door aside with a creaking slide, and beckoned with two fingers. `Come help
me rinse off. Get your clothes off.' He leaned both hands on the white
frame and stood there, tall, powerful and dripping.

It took Daniel what felt like a long minute to know what to do, but to
Harry's pleasure, he began pulling his thick hoody up and off, and then the
thin white tshirt beneath. His slim, toned body was tanned and prickled
with the hot moisture of the room. `And the joggers,' Harry said in a
quiet, gruff voice. `But leave on yer tighty whities.' James quietly and
shakily obliged, kicking off trainers and sports socks and stepping up to
the shower in only tight fitting and quite old-fashioned white briefs that
hugged his package and perky arse. Harry nodded invitingly, and in stepped
the 22-year-old.

Dan placed two shaky hands on Harry's chest, looking up at the
significantly taller bloke, and gently rubbed the hot soapy water over
until his fingers found the tight, hard nipples. Harry grunted and made an
amused face, then reached up one hand to stroke the tousled curls of dark
hair on Dan's head. The youngster moaned at this affectionate gesture, and
his face looked really petrified now.

`It's okay, DJ,' Harry breathed down at him, `it's okay to enjoy this.'

On the TV screen, a group of over-tanned, bleached-blonde generic bimbos
were all seducing a Latino teen jock in another cheap, gaudy porno scene.
The background music was an embarrassing cliché. Sitting on Harry's bed,
Mason Greenwood snorted derision. `It's fucking naff, ain't it?' he
remarked, looking over to where Luke was sprawled on the other bed, towel
still about his waist. Luke gave him a funny look, then shrugged.  Mason
glanced back at the screen, then at the bathroom door, getting a bit
confused by it all. `What are they even doing in there?' he asked in amused
disbelief. His youth made him naïve, but he knew this was all getting a
bit... unorthodox.

`Er, dunno,' Luke said, a crap liar. `You should go, if you feel
uncomfortable.'

`What, why?' Greenwood laughed back. `I'm chill. Porn is cool. Is this what
you guys get up to on away games? Funny as fuck.'

`Not if the porn isn't turning you on,' Luke said thoughtfully.

`Oh... I mean, I said it was fucking naff... didn't say I didn't wanna bang
every lass on the screen!' The teen laughed to himself and adjusting his
jogger bottoms a bit, flustered, looking back to the action. `Might take my
hoody off,' he added, warming up.

`Go for it,' Shaw told him. `You mind if I wank?'

Mason started but then shrugged, in the middle of tugging off his hoody,
tshirt riding up. He shoved it aside on the bed and scratched his short
curly afro hair. `Er, yeah, I guess that is the point!' he said vaguely.
Opposite him, Luke sat up a bit and undid his towel, exposing the strong
thighs, speckled with surprisingly dark hair, and the dick laid out below
his neatly trimmed pubes. Mason averted his eyes politely to the screen to
avoid staring too long.

The bathroom door pushed more fully open again, and in they came. First
Dan, slick wet with his curls in a frizzy fringe down his brow, red-cheeked
but looking a bit calmer, less anxious than five minutes ago; still wearing
his tight white undies, which were soaked through, and mildly tented by
some excitement in the front. Both Luke and Mason looked up at this, away
from the porno unfolding on the mounted screen. Behind Dan came Harry, also
glistening wet, towel draped casually over one shoulder, and a very obvious
and prominent semi bouncing between his strong legs.

`Jeez,' laughed Mason, `you two are soaked. What are you...?'

`Just getting fresh,' Harry laughed, patting Dan on the back. `Right, what
do we have here? Oh, cool... looks a fun scene...' He stepped right into
the centre of the room, dripping wet, looking over at the TV, and then
passing the towel from his shoulder into Dan's hands.

`Well it's ok,' Mason said quickly, `it's naff but... I mean, Luke seems to
be enjoying it!' The teen waved jokingly over the room to where Luke was
laying comfortably on his side and beginning to play quite openly with
himself. Dan looked back at Harry just as Dan really got to work, patting
and rubbing and drying with the towel. `What the fuck...?'

Harry just let out a slightly patronising laugh, and shrugged. `Dan knows
who his boss is,' he announced. `Are we having a whack off to this shit or
not, then?'

`I'm game,' Luke said loyally, gripping onto his now throbbing
erection. Mason's eyes flitted from that, back to the screen, to the sight
of Dan James sinking to his knees to dry Harry's thighs and calves. The big
Maguire dick seemed to getting fully hard now too.

`Well yeah I guess so,' Mason said, reaching nervously into his joggers.

Harry, still not fully dry, stepped over to the bed in two strides, and
flopped down onto his back beside Greenwood, pulling the pillows to him for
support behind his bare shoulder muscles. Greenwood laughed and looked
uncomfortable but didn't move away or take his hand out from his
joggers. Beside him, Harry propped himself up one elbow and reached his
other hand to start playing with his hard-on. `Get on the bed, lads,' he
called to Dan and Luke.

Naked Luke ditched his wet towel on the other bed as he crossed the room,
cock in hand, and Dan James clambered on next to Mason, who looked
questioningly at him.

`Mase, Dan wants to see your cock,' Harry announced. `Get it out for him.'

`You guys are fucking kinky!' Greenwood trilled in amazement at these
developments but a mix of loyal obedience and youthful vanity seemed to
push him to agree: he yanked his pants a bit down over his hips and pulled
out his growing, stiffening cock. If these big, older blokes weren't gonna
be shy about their tools, Mason was not going to embarrass himself by being
prudish or shy. But almost immediately, Dan James reached for it, taking it
in his warm hand.

`Just let him,' Harry said, resting a hand on Mason's shoulder at this
point, while his other arm pulled a naked Luke to him so their warm
muscular bodies rubbed and overlapped. `These bitches love a bit of
Yorkshire cock,' Maguire announced. To his right, Luke leaned in to take
his big dick in hand, whilst Dan gingerly stroked on Mason's. To
Greenwood's surprise, it felt incredibly good, and he was fully hard in
seconds. His coffee-brown cock could not compare in size to Harry's or
Luke's, but he had nothing to be ashamed of – but how weird was it that
his teammate pulling on it could feel so good!

As this went on, all four blokes looked alternatingly from the mounted
screen to one another: as the orgy progressed on the gaudy TV, so did the
mutual wanking on the ruffled bedsheets. When Greenwood let out a long,
awkward groan of delight at Dan's quickening pace, Harry realised it was
time to step things up. He brushed Luke's greedy palm away from his cock
and squeezed Mason's shoulder. `Go on, your turn,' he hissed.

`What?' Greenwood said thickly, staring him in the face then down his
body. `But I've never...'

`No problem, try it,' Maguire said forcefully. Beside him, Luke continued
to play with himself and began kissing hesitantly at his shoulder and pec
and nipple. In the midst of this strange sexual group, Mason nervously
consented, and reached for Maguire's tool. His face showed his surprise and
curious arousal at the feel of the big thick weapon in his fingers, and the
continued enjoyment as on his other side, Dan continued to toss him
off. Harry just threw back his head and really groaned, with Shaw tonguing
his right nipple and Mason hesitantly stroking on his big erection –
through narrowed eyes, Harry spied the earlier positioned phone camera and
imagined Ben's reaction.

`Oi, Dan,' Harry moaned contentedly, `give my balls a good lick, will ya?'

Dan looked up and his face seemed both thrilled and alarmed. Without much
pause, he clambered over, dangling off the edge of the crowded bed, and
hunkered down on all fours between Harry's long parted legs. As he knelt
down and began to lap his tongue over the big defender's heavy balls, both
Luke and Mason leaned in to watch, with expressions of eager interest. In
the centre of this, Harry let out louder and louder of moans of
pleasure. Luke leaned over and put his lips to Harry's monster with the
skills he had developed that night with Memphis. Mason's eyebrows lifted
high in amazement and he just lay there entranced, reaching to tug his own
dick as he watched the two heads bobbing around Maguire's crotch. He looked
up at the heterosexual world of the porno but found it so distant and alien
to the warm, muscular flesh beside him that was so much more immediate and
pleasing.

Harry saw this and took more control, pushing Dan's head away and to the
left. James reacted willingly, and climbed aside a little. Mason pushed his
body up a bit to lie fully side by side with Harry, both propped up on
elbows and mounded pillows, and each looking down their bodies as a
submissive footballer began to suck them off. Harry's loud, dominant groans
spurred Mason on, unable to resist letting out his own vocal reactions to
the clumsy licking and sucking going on at his crotch. Harry got rougher,
running fingers through Luke's hair and really pushing his cock in to fuck
that mouth; Mason impersonated this, delirious with the sense of power it
gave him. This seemed to go on forever in a vague blur of confused
pleasure, slurping moans from the other two.

`C...c...can we swap for a bit?' stammered Greenwood very nervously, awed
by Maguire's commanding presence at the heart of this, but seeing how much
more comfortably and eagerly Luke was working on the well-hung alpha. Mason
stroked Dan's hair softly in case he was offending his roommate, but Dan's
eyes seemed to be lighting up at the prospect of moving to the bigger dick
in the bed.

`Aye,' Harry agreed. `Dan, come suck me off; Luke, make this teenage
wannabe shoot his load.'

The men swapped position in a tangle of limbs and erections, and Luke took
the challenge seriously. He reached down and tugged up on Mason's tshirt to
strip the young striker, then really pulled down on those joggers until
they were about his ankles, then began to kiss at the lad's firm, lean
chest and tummy before eventually applying his pouting lips to the already
slick shaft of Greenwood's wood.

But Harry seemed to have new ideas, and clambered up onto his knees to
tower over the other three, looking down with a dazed grin at Mason's
gurning face, and Luke's bobbing head, and Dan following his cock about on
hands and knees to carry on lapping at it whatever position Maguire got
into. Harry leant one hand down on the Welshman's head as he noshed on, and
reached the other round to give a gentle slap to Luke's exposed behind. He
struck it again, squeezed a cheek, then pulled them open a bit to run an
experimental finger in along the crack. Luke's back arched and he moaned
through a mouthful of Greenwood. The lad's behind felt as warm and damp as
any lass's cunt, but surely even tighter. Harry pushed Dan aside to free
himself, and stepped off the bed.

`Dan, help Luke,' he barked.

Both subs were almost fighting over Mason's dick now, kissing and licking
at it and his tight balls and his furred thighs. Harry positioned himself
behind them, and tugged Dan's tighty whities down a bit, so their bobbing
arses were exposed in front of him. He applied a hand to each, and ran his
index fingers down two cracks, feeling the difference in their arses and
their temperatures. Both lads gasped into Mason's crotch and Greenwood
watched over their heads, meeting Harry's gaze wide-eyed and almost
orgasmic.

Harry did it in sync: with each middle finger he found the tight virginal
ring, and rubbed it firmly. With each middle finger he pushed his way in,
feeling the tight muscles about his digit. He slid them in as far as he
could, which at this moment was not much, and then pulled out, and in, and
out... The sensations were too new and exciting to Dan and Luke, who could
no longer service an awestruck Mason between them. But Mason was too close
to stop: he grabbed his dick and pumped on it furiously, all his teenage
lust burning up at this surprising new pleasure. He felt Dan and Luke kiss
at his hair shins and up his thighs, and he looked up at Harry's dirty
commanding smirk, and exploded with orgasm.

`Oh, fuck,' he almost screamed, and it was a fucking good job they were the
only rooms used on this corridor; anyone next door would have heard that
climactic yelp from the teenager.

Harry, spurred on, pulled his finger out of Luke, whilst still firmly
poking Dan's hole, and gripped his rigid erection tightly, feeling climax
near. He frigged Dan and jerked his dig in the same rapid, urgent motion;
Luke wriggled about a bit to watch, whilst also stroking at Mason's
throbbing boner, squeezing out the last of his cum. In turn, Mason reached
under Dan's body and found his similar-sized cock, giving it a few awkward
pulls. The combination of this and Harry's questing finger seemed to be
enough to push him over the edge, and he too screamed out his pleasure,
squirting his juices all over Mason's hand and wrist. It was the sight of
this that did it for Maguire: withdrawing his greasy finger from Dan's
hole, he tugged his rod with both paws and shot a massive, much-needed
load, splattering cum up Dan's back, over Mason's chest, and down Luke's
side, and letting out a series of ragged, bestial breaths.

Exhausted and groaning, Dan fell onto Mason in a kind of cuddle, which to
all their surprise, the teen recipocrated with appreciative moans. Harry
knelt forward on them, catching his breath, feeling his own wet stains over
their bodies as they embraced beneath his weight. And then he realised that
only one of the four guys had not peaked: Luke was lying on his side, eyes
lit with frustrated excitement, pulling at his dick and basking in the
sordid glory of it all. And Harry felt urges he could not define: it was
that beautiful, curious young lad who had woken all this up in him. He need
to repay it. He clambered over the panting, shaking bodies of Dan and Mason
dismissively as if they no longer existed, and rolled off the bed.

Kneeling at the foot of it, he reached out and grabbed Luke's ankles to
yank him into position, and then planted his forceful hands on each of
those fluffy thighs, and ducked his head down in simulation of how he had
seen his submissive mates behave: he pressed uncertain lips to the head of
Luke's throbbing dick, and then slurped his thick tongue over it on one
fluid motion. Luke gasped in delighted and surprise. Harry met his eyes and
he could see just how shocked and grateful the lad was that the dominant
brute was getting more involved.

Harry wrapped a big strong hand around Luke's member and licked at the head
more as he wanked him off, knowing he didn't have the skills, but knowing
how close Shaw was. The other two weren't watching, and Harry was glad; he
felt himself sinking, lowering his powerful position, but suddenly
desperate to please, to satisfy this handsome little fucker who had become
so unexpectedly important in his life. He took some of Luke's cock right
into his mouth and it felt surprisingly big. He tugged at the base of the
shaft and there it was.

`Oh god, baby,' Luke gasped, throwing his head back. He spilled his cum
into Harry's mouth, and Maguire grasped onto his legs so tightly it would
leave a bruise, as he sucked up every drop of Shaw's salty juices, as
eagerly as going down on his beautiful fiancée. He curled his tongue
about the slick wet dick-head and then pulled away gasping for breath, and
released his tight, bruising hold on Luke's thigh muscles. Luke was now
collapsed back in almost the same mound as the other two, and Harry rose
shakily to his feet to survey the sweating heap of manly flesh.

He turned, and glanced momentarily at the phone cam, no idea if it was
still doing its job, but no longer really caring. He climbed the bed, and
pulled Luke to him, and flopped down between him and Mason so that all
three men were clutched to him in one sticky embrace, and let out a long
satisfied sigh.



He must have fallen asleep, because he was woken by the feel and sounds of
Dan and Mason extricating themselves. Harry decided it was better to feign
dizzy sleep and not acknowledge the two footballers, just watching them
through half-open eyes as they scurried about the room grabbing up their
discarded clothes, muttering inaudibly to each other in some confused
conversation about what the fuck had gone on. They seemed to take forever
to find all clothes, to dress, to reach an agreement about what to do, to
fuck off and leave. Once they had, Harry sat up and then got out of bed. He
looked down at Luke, who in his sleep looked like a fucking cherub.

Harry paced over the room, dick swinging, and checked his phone. The camera
had long since timed out, but something had been recorded. For some reason,
he didn't even want to check how much. He just loaded up his chat thread
with Ben Chilwell, and sent the birthday boy what he could.



And now, sat on the coach home, the sting of defeat on his mind, Harry
Maguire checked his phone for the dozenth time: no reply from Chilly. Had
he gone too far? Had Ben been kidding? Had somebody else seen it? Fuck, so
much could go wrong: what had possessed him?

And things were shit: it had been a bad loss, and he knew he was partly to
blame. The four of them had been like zombies at breakfast after fitful
sleep. Yeah, their orgasms had sent them into comas of contentment to begin
with, but they had all clearly woken at different times, they were all
clearly a bit troubled by their night-time experiments. Teenaged Greenwood
looked shaken and Dan still looked a bit glazed over by his newfound
submission. Only Luke had looked fairly happy with himself, but Harry had
ignored him before the game, and the lack of affection had sent the lad
into a real sulk. And so the team had played poorly, not just the four of
them, but they had been part of it. And United had lost, to fucking
Watford. And home they went, in a quiet, moody coach.

Harry flinched at the vibration of his phone. Probably just yet ANOTHER
nagging text from his fiancée back home about what they were doing
tomorrow on their Christmas shopping trip. Leaning away from his neighbour
a bit to check his phone more discreetly, he slid it out, unlocked, tapped
the notification: NEW MESSAGE FROM CHILLY. Fuck. Harry loaded it up, and
there was a selfie... not just of yesterday's birthday boy, Bulging Ben,
but... what the hell? Jamie Vardy? They both had stupid grins on their
faces, and below, the caption...

`Thx for the vid m8 – Vardy + I fukkin luvved it!!!'