Date: Sun, 20 Sep 2020 22:04:42 +0000
From: writer guy <premiershiplads@outlook.com>
Subject: Premiership Lads part 183: The Hat Trick

Part 183: The Hat Trick


Three shots were lined up in front of him, one for each of his fantastic
goals in today's game against West Brom; the young striker laughed and
twisted his face a little at the smell of the sambucca being tinkled into
the shot glasses, then looked pleadingly at the older player beside him,
but the team's goalkeeper just grinned forcefully and shook him by the
shoulder. `Get them down you, kid,' the gruff northern drawl of the
England no.1 keeper assured him, and he was pressured to do just that.
One down the hatch, ugh, two down, yikes, third one sweet and sickly
against his lips and tongue, jesus...!

Behind him, the bar was crowded and cheery and people were doing a poor
job of keeping distanced. It was a lock-in of sorts, a real traditional
Liverpool pub owned by the family of one local teammate, Kenny. It was
the perfect place for a little early season piss-up to celebrate a 5-2
win for the Toffies, and their triumphant young striker turned gladly
from the lingering smell of the aniseed spirits and surveyed the cheery
gathering of their teammates, friends, a couple of younger coaches, a
scattering of players' WAGs.

Dominic Calvert-Lewin himself was frustratingly single: a pandemic was
hardly the best time to be broken up with the latest in a string of
casual girlfriends, as it was hardly an ideal time for hooking up. The
handsome 23-year-old Sheffield lad had not exactly lived like a monk this
year, but he had noted with caution the way other footballing men were
quickly outed in `sex scandals', most recently the drama for some of
his younger rivals out on England duty. Dom could not help but resent
being overlooked for such an opportunity, but he empathised with the
likes of Greenwood and Foden, it was tough being a horny young bloke
right now when there were so many restrictions and hooking up with the
constant menu of hot young women could be so quickly frowned on as
quarantine-breaking! Mind, didn't those two dirty dogs have girlfriends
at home? He was genuinely alone, he thought with a note of self-pity
against the evening's celebrations, and chanced an envious look back
over his shoulder towards the brash goalie who had forced the shots on
him.

Jordan Pickford was cuddled up again to his missus, an attractive little
blond of about 23, supposedly his childhood sweetheart although there was
something so deeply unromantic about the Everton keeper that this phrase
amused Dom a little bit. He dared to let his eyes linger on the low-cut
top Jordan's younger partner wore, the curve of her breasts and plunge
of her cleavage, nestled up to the 6ft1 footballer who had one pale arm
thrown about her shoulders and his chest puffed out beneath the tight fit
of his D&G tshirt. Then suddenly Pickford was looking this way again with
that same bullish grin with which he had `offered' the shots. `Oi,'
the Mackem goalkeeper barked, `stop eyeing up her tits, Dominique, you
little slag...'

Calvert-Lewin laughed instantly, plastering friendly charm over his
obvious guilt, and just making a queasy face at his more experienced
teammate. `Hardly, I can't see straight after those sammies, you
twat,' he returned lightly, and pushed away from the bar and Pickford's
possessive leer, worried the heavy-drinking Sunderland lad might force
another round of shooters on him.

Instead, the tall 23-year-old forward swayed through the room, glad to be
without a drink for a minute, just basking in the celebratory mood among
the boys. True, they'd conceded a brace of goals and West Bromwich
Albion were newly promoted underdogs, but their victory still felt
exciting and, much more poignantly, his own hattrick felt like a stellar
opening gambit to a new season. A real fuck you to Southgate for snubbing
him again in his latest England lineup. It was the club's third win in a
row since the 20/21 season had begun and the 6ft2 young athlete buzzed
with his own promise and potential tonight.

He found their indirect host momentarily alone and sidled over to him,
sliding onto the high wooden stool opposite him at one of the tables
jutting from a wood-panelled wall. `Alrighty,' Dom called at the local
lad, bumping elbows and then craning over to see what the quiet Scouse
fella was doing on his phone, looking so isolated at the edge of the
little Everton party. `Oh, bit of swiping, pal...'

Jonjoe Kenny let out a rattling little laugh and pulled his phone
privately back, scowling playfully at him and then planting it
screen-down on the wooden table. `Mind your beeswax,' he chuckled.
`Lad's got to do what a lad's got to do...'

`Lads like you and I don't need Tinder!' Calvert-Lewin assured his
fellow 23-year-old, relaxing onto his stool and grinning with faux
arrogance, actually quite humble about his big salary and youthful good
looks. He worked incredibly hard on his tight physique for the sake of
the sport but got very embarrassed when the lads would jokily praise his
six-pack or girls made a big deal out of his body in bed. He dropped his
voice and bumped fists with the other young player. `Jokes, I run out of
swipes every morning... just looking for The One, y'know... haha.' He
shrugged.

Kenny grinned back, scratching at his stubbled shin and shifting a little
in his stool. `It's been a long lockdown living the single life,' he
admitted. `That's for fuckin' sure.'

`Preach,' laughed Dom, lifting an imaginary glass and clinking it to
Jonjoe's half-finished pint, the two of them automatically turning to
survey the room of their mostly coupled pals, footballers and their
bleached-blond fake-titted wives. Instantly, Dominic's eyes could not
help but fall again on Megan, the 23-year-old Mackem babe now jokily
dancing with their goalie, who was guffawing into her and scooping his
large hands down her back to cradle her shapely bottom.

`Yeah, I think I know where ya looking,' sniggered the right-back on
the other side of the table, either hypnotised by the same image or just
sensing the expression of appreciation settling on Dom's handsome face.
He grinned bashfully at the other lad and the two 23-year-old athletes
laughed with conspiratorial enjoyment. `I hear Jordan is way fuckin'
possessive though,' muttered Jonjoe, supping from his warming pint.
`Careful where your eyes go there, eh...!'

`Hah. He already jokily warned me off.' Dom stroked the thin hair of
his goatee and then pulled his fingers through the loose afro curls of
his hair, overgrown in lockdown and not yet freshly styled. He sat more
upright, unable to actually stop staring at the figure of Pickford's
fiancée, but questioning whether she was even his type -- he tended to
prefer a more natural, low-maintenance girl if he was honest, not the
cliché WAG babe that now dangled against Jordan's muscular chest.

`He's a funny one,' muttered Kenny quietly. `Never know where I am
with him.'

`Hmm, I guess,' Calvert returned uncertainly. He knew just what Jonjoe
meant, but he didn't want to be critical or mean; there was something
uncomfortable about Jordan, a tall guy with a kind of inexplicable small
man syndrome, always on the edge of aggression and making jokes and
comments within team banter that felt a little off. Maybe it was just cos
he was a Mackem.

`Stay here,' Kenny said then, `let me get a round in.' He laughed at
the empty generosity of the offer, since he'd bought the boozer for his
working-class parents and didn't have to put any money behind the bar
for the drinks he took. He slapped Dom on the shoulder as he slid off his
stool and disappeared across the throng of Everton insiders, leaving the
striker to drum his fingers idly on the table and watch surreptitiously
as young Megan twirled and performed in front of her older boyfriend,
rolling her hips provocatively and making come-to-bed eyes at the almost
yobbish profile of Jordan Pickford. He was hardly a looker, Dom dared to
think for a self-absorbed moment, awkwardly aware of his own popularity
for small designer brand modelling and his reputation amongst the team as
a pretty boy.

He cringed at his own sneaking vanity and looked away, tapping his thumbs
together and grinning instead over the memory of his hat-trick. He felt
the other man's approach in moments and was surprised how quickly Jonjoe
had bustled through to pour their pints, but then felt the strong hand
clasp at his shoulder and realised it wasn't the Scouser returning after
all. It was Jordan again, looming beside him with an odd grin on his
face, and a highball glass stinking of vodka in the other hand.

`Alright marra,' he muttered. `You can't help it can ya?'

`Huh?'

`Lookin' at her,' Jordan said, with an edgy laugh to his voice. He
squeezed a little more at Calvert's shoulder and leaned in, taking a
long slug of the treble vodka from his glass, then dumping its icy
contents down on the table. `You greedy little boy, Dominic.'

The prolific striker frowned uncomfortably at his senior teammate, trying
to shrug off the hand while mumbling out his denial. `Dunno what you're
on about, J,' he said crossly, `who's been saying shit, I'm just sat
here waiting for-` The hand let go but came against his upper back in a
stinging playful slap, followed by harsh laughter.

`Just messing with ya,' Pickford informed him happily. `Silly cunt.
What did you think, I were about to call you out into the street for a
duel...?' He grabbed and ruffled at Dom's dark curls. `Fucking pretty
boy hat-trick wanker, what are ya...?'

The striker was rescued from a few moments of confusing awkwardness as
Jonjoe returned, hands loaded with two fresh pints of IPA, grinning his
greeting to Pickford and placing them on the table. Instantly, Jordan was
grabbing matily at him too, beaming at both of them in a slightly drunken
leer, and letting out another throaty laugh. `Pair of young players, you
two,' he muttered, `not yoked to a true lady like myself... drink up
lads and get out there on the hunt, haha... shame the nightclubs are all
shut, right...!'

Dominic looked at Jonjoe and tried to flash his bewilderment at the
behaviour of their goalie, but the Scouse guy was staring thoughtfully at
Jordan for a moment, as if trying to figure out what he was actually on
about. Calvert-Lewin picked up and slurped his pint, unable to actually
meet Pickford's slightly crazed eyes now, so hyper-aware that he had
definitely been checking out his prized `lady' in the centre of the
pub. And now, more oddly still, the keeper was pointing her out to them.
`Look at her move,' he said gruffly, `you two young uns would like a
slice of that, right...?'

Raising one eyebrow, Kenny batted away his provoking banter. `Leave it
out pal,' the local defender muttered, `we ain't daft enough to rise
to that one, Pickers.'

`Rise to what?' said the goalie benevolently. `Just sayin', I know
I've done well...'

`Yeah, you have,' Jonjoe agreed, `so go keep her company, poor
bird...'

`Dom likes her, I can tell,' Jordan said to them, rubbing his palms
together in a villainous manner. `He really wants to slide into her...
DMs, is it? That what you kids say? Haha...' Only three years older than
them, the experienced England no.1 acted like they were teens and he in
his middle ages. He planted his hands back against the table flat in a
strangely businesslike manner and Dom, embarrassed, dragged his eyes away
from looking at the rear view of Megan at the other side of the bar,
curving like mad in her summery dress.

`You've had a few too many, mate,' Kenny chuckled.

`Nah, sober as a judge!' Pickford claimed. `Lads, let me let you in on
summat, okay...'

`What?' Dom asked slightly impatiently.

`Well, if you were up for it, I might be able to arrange it.'

`Up for what?' the striker asked.

`Up for your missus?' Kenny added in disbelief.

Jordan grinned at them now and tapped the side of his hard angular nose.
`Me and my Megan have some er, how shall we put it, relaxed attitudes,'
he confided, but quite loudly. `You know what I'm saying? Thing is, my
bird, she likes... well, she fuckin' loves it, she does, the attention...
and sometimes we...' He grinned, broke into suppressed laughter. `What
do you say to coming back to my place tonight, the pair of ya?'

Dominic stared at him, raising his trimmed eyebrows and pursing his lips.
He blinked, dumbfounded by the quick about turn of the yobbish Northern
goalie's speech. `Eh?' he asked. `Are you sayin'...?'

`Maaate,' laughed Jonjoe, punching Jordan in the arm, `you are one
hell of a wind-up merchant...'

`Lads,' grunted Pickford now, `this is no wind-up. Thing is, okay, my
missus needs... well, she likes...' He gesticulated wildly with both hands
then grabbed their shoulders, one each. `She likes a bit of rough,' he
said, eyeing Jonjoe meaningfully, `and loves a big slab of cock.' He
lowered his voice further. `I've been checking and you two aren't
doing badly down there!' Dominic blushed pink at this and stared in
confusion at the livewire man. `Also,' Pickford said with clumsy
racism, `she loves a, you know, mixed race lad.'

`That so?' Dom asked in mildly offended bewilderment.

Jordan shrugged. `She loves a good rogering, basically. Come on. It'll
be laugh. Let her have a hat-trick tonight, the pair of ya. Three studs
for one horny bitch.' He leered at them, hands still pressed to their
upper arms, standing by their table and looking worryingly sober and
serious in his proposition. Dominic couldn't help but glance around him
to his missus, who was turning around and seemed to be on the lookout for
her man. God, she was fit, like pornstar fit...

`For real?' he heard Kenny ask in his rasping local accent.

`For real,' Pickford confirmed.

`Alright,' the right-back announced in a low excitable voice. `Dom?'

He stared at him, perplexed by the suddenly relaxed attitude of his
teammate, and then at Jordan and his heavy smirk. `This is mad,' he
said simply, neither yes or no -- of course he wanted to pump the
goalie's missus, had fancied for ages before today's obvious attention,
but... `All three of us though? Bit weird, innit?'

`You never had a threesome?' muttered Kenny in genuine surprise. `God,
what's the point of having your good looks if you keep squandering them
on choirboy behaviour, DCL...!'

`Well, not as such,' he mumbled shyly, trying to look dismissive and
unfazed. He shrugged Jordan's clammy hand off his shoulder and looked
hard at him, waiting for the punchline of this joke. `All right, I've
nowt better to do -- back at yours, you say?' He shrugged his broad
shoulders and sipped more of his ale. `Easy. I'll give her any hat
trick she wants, mate.'

`Sweet,' gasped Jonjoe with unabashed interest.

`You two dirty dogs,' chuckled the keeper, patting them once on the
shoulder before making to back off. `I'll go tell her. She'll be
fuckin' chuffed. Don't move, okay? I'll get a taxi ordered for say...
half an hour? Aye? Sweet... haha...' And he was gone, bumbling away from
them in his drunken manner, and Dom just stared and marvelled at his
other young colleague, who grinned and giggled and knocked back about a
third of his pint in one go.

`We really doing this?' Calvert-Lewin exclaimed.

`Sounds like it,' the young defender answered. `What, don't you
wanna?'

`Well... aye, yeh, a bit, but like...' He laughed, because it was all so
preposterous. `Well, to Pickford and his missus, then, I guess...' He
lifted his pint and they clinked them messily together before taking long
greedy gulps, and then both looking over the room -- to where Jordan had
cuddled his arms back around his petite woman and leaned in, seeming to
nuzzle her but probably whispering in her ear. Dominic say her twist her
attractive head to look this way, a little grin playing on her red
pouting lips and in the flutter of her heavily made-up eyes. Oh my
fucking god, he thought, this is for real?



The taxi ride was surreal. Jordan himself sat in the front, in the
passenger seat, making loud inane conversation with the driver, a thickly
accented Scot who was giving him jokey grief about the England football
team, and playing loud pop radio -- while in the back, Dominic was being
gently but assertively handled in the front of his tight dark jeans,
Megan squeezed in between he and Jonjoe and rubbing them both up at
sporadic moments.

She smelled good and was even prettier up close. Dom could feel his cock
awakening to her faux accidental brushes as she dragged her manicured
nails over his thigh and briefly but repetitively rested her hand against
the folds and mounds between his legs. He kept turning and grinned
awkwardly at her, leant slightly into the side door and resting his elbow
out into the brushing night air as their Uber zipped through the edges of
the city.

Kenny, he realised, was relaxing into this a bit more, parting his
denim-clad legs as much as he could and guiding Megan's left hand right
in, closing his own bruised knuckles over her delicate paw and winking at
first her and then Calvert. For her part, Megan giggled and twisted
between them, saying little but seeming to enjoy the close muscular feel
of their young bodies on either side of her while her husband-to-be
prattled on in the front.

Dominic's head swam with the excitement of the night, edged with a sort
of wary fear. He wasn't able to quickly write off his generalised
uncertainty around Pickford just because he was feeling horny and this
weird exploit suited his appetite very well right now. There was some
wild corner of his imagination that expected the goalie to command the
taxi into a side-road at any moment, remove a pistol from the glovebox
and lead he and Kenny out into the shadows to punish them for their
covetous laddish ways.



They made it to Pickford's place without anything of the sort taking
place, and into the smallest of several reception rooms in the downstairs
of the big suburban home. Before long, Dom was standing by the windows of
this room with a glass of something strong, tugging a little at the semi
in the front of his jeans and watching as Jordan made a fuss of getting
some wine open for his missus.

The Sheffield-born striker watched this, sensing the almost nervous
tension of Pickford's actions, his desperation to smoothly decant the
chardonnay and please his fiancée, even though he'd literally brought
her here to... what was the word, share her? The whole set-up felt so
fucking strange. But he was excited, sure he was, just look at her...
she'd kissed him on the neck just before they got out of the taxi, and
he'd realised how many weeks it had actually been since he'd felt a
lover's kiss!

`So,' said Jordan now, cutting into his thoughts, `who's she snogging
first?'

`Mmm, don't I get to pick?' Megan tittered, hanging off his arm and
knocking back a mouthful of her white wine. `Mm, actually, how could I
pick... both so fucking HOT, boys...' She seemed to thrill in the
perversity of complementing them while cuddling and groping at her man,
who leered and kissed her cheek and shoulder.

Jonjoe, who had flopped into one of three curved leather armchairs,
nodded forcibly this way, nursing his gin and tonic in both hands and
crossing one skinny jean leg over the other as he sat there. `Give Dommo
here a snog, he's gagging for it,' the Scouser suggested coolly, `and
I'll wait my turn, heh.' Dom looked at him with a touch of resentment
-- he suspected that Jonjoe was as secretly scared as he was to go first,
conscious of Jordan's rumoured overprotectiveness and the fragility of
this playful scenario.

`Sure thing,' the girlfriend said, leaving Jordan and crossing the room
to him.

One of her arms slid about his waist and then she was right up against
him, close but short so he had to stoop for anything to happen. He could
feel the soft weight of her breasts press into his tummy as he pulled an
arm about her and leaned in, stopping himself from a nervy glance at the
host. No, he just went for it, tilting his head and planting his lips to
hers in a series of gentle snogs before she giggled, pulled him tighter,
and kissed a bit more passionately. Fuck, she tasted good!

In seconds, he was almost forgetting he was being watched by two Everton
teammates, just holding coyly onto the short girl and working her mouth
with his, one arm wrapped about the back of her summer dress and the
other stiffly aside to hold his drink. The glass was prised from his hand
though to loosen him up -- Jordan, he assumed -- so he wrapped that arm
about her too and leaned in closer, taking real control of the French
kiss and pushing his tongue in against hers. His dick stirred at even
this stimulation and she could probably feel it against her tummy. Her
hands clawed up his neck and into his hair, loosening the band that tied
some of it back, freeing up the wiry curls and stroking his scalp in a
way that made him shudder and moan into her mouth.

And then she was pulling away, lipstick smeared, eyes wild, turning for
some kinda intimate approval from her man, stood awkwardly close to them
with his own drink in one hand and Dominic's in the other. `Is he
good?' Pickford demanded, a sort of weird competitive anger in his voice
despite the big grin on his flushed face.

`Let me try the other,' Megan insisted, staring intensely at him, not
looking back at Dom or over at where Kenny was getting up from his chair;
it was clear that the two of them were just pawns in some relationship
game here, actually she wasn't even that into them, was she? It was all
about what her man go to see or not see, what bothered him or didn't
bother him... Dominic felt a curious mix of disappointment and liberation
at this.

Calvert-Lewin felt a stupid stirring of jealousy as he now watched Jonjoe
get up and take over his role, cuddling up to Megan and then pushing her
surprisingly into the wall, his shorter height allowing him an easier and
more natural embrace with the blond beauty. The striker stared fixedly at
them and felt Jordan's bunched muscles close over his shoulders, leaning
in to whisper: `God she's a slut, ain't she? Dunno why I put up with
her, do you? Dirty fuckin' bitch... mmm...' His words were angry but his
tone was excited and a bit, well, pathetic.

Dom stared at him and nodded slowly, then took a big gulp of his drink.



In the master bedroom, things felt even stranger -- led into it by her
hand, but patted on the upper back by Pickford. Dominic undid the buttons
at the neck of his Ralph Lauren polo shirt and began pulling it up over
his body, insanely warm in this overheated house, hearing a wet snogging
sound beside him as she and Kenny began to kiss yet again. A leering
sinister chuckle from her fiancé just behind him. Dom almost felt his
horniness subside at the awkwardness but then she was reaching for the
front of his jeans, squeezing his outline, pulling him in and letting go
of Jonjoe, pushing the short Scouse defender away and turning her body to
Dom instead...

`God, this six-pack,' she whined, scratching her long nails up it and
grabbing excitedly at the ridged muscles of his tummy, the abs he'd
spent all summer sharpening with intense home workouts even before
football training was allowed again.

Again, Dominic lost himself in a kiss rather than second-guessing the
lurid scene. He stooped to snog her and she rose to meet him, and she
guided his hands onto her tits. Behind her, Kenny was undoing her dress
for her and it was falling loose so that he felt first bra and then bare
flesh, cupping his hands about her breasts and playing his thumbs over
her broad nipples. He heard another sleazy wheezy laugh from the
goalkeeper and tensed up slightly, but then she squeezed the outline of
his hard cock even more and he just needed to get those jeans off!

The four of them danced about the big white expanse of the bed. Megan
threw herself onto it, laughing and letting her pendulous bosoms loose,
down to black lacy knickers now as she stepped out of her heels and
dragged her curvy limbs up with her. Jordan hung back from the bed but
made a couple of encouraging comments: `Go on lads, she's ready... get
your kit off, boys... come on!'

With a turn of speed, Calvert pushed down on the dark blue tightness of
his slim jeans and scampered forward onto the bed, kicking them away from
his ankles and crawling beside her in just tight grey boxer trunks that
bulged ridiculously around the diagonal hardness of his erection, which
she instantly seized while he leant down to kiss her neck and chest. And
Jonjoe was there too on the other side of her, kissing and cuddling,
making him freshly uncomfortable with the fact his wrists and knees would
brush against manly muscle from time to time rather than the luxurious
softness of her feminine body.

This weirdness was counteracted by her hand in his trunks, taking hold of
his big young cock. Dom moved more onto his back to giver her better
access, propping up on one elbow and looking down the hard defined
muscles of his chest and six-pack to see her cute hand disappearing in
there and playing with the constricted monster. He grinned shyly and
sighed at her tenderness, then looked over to see that his teammate was
doing the same to her: Jonjoe's rough hand was filling the front of her
lacy knickers and disappearing into her privacy as he ground up against
her, still in white tshirt as well as his black boxers. And past him, by
the bed...

Dominic saw something that went some way to explaining it all. Jordan had
pulled off his shirt, baring his smooth pale upper body, surprisingly
full in the chest muscles, and down had gone in his pale chinos and
underpants. He loomed at the beside looking at the three of them and
played with himself, and Dom's inexpert eyes were caught by something:
the equipment the brutish goalkeeper played with was definitely at the
smaller end of normal. Not like freakishly tiny, but notably smaller than
Dom might have expected if he'd ever given it thought. Something about
the whole scene seemed to click for him, seeing this, seeing the arrogant
goalie teasing at his short thin hard-on and standing by, impotent
against their muscular virility. There was some issue with him satisfying
her, then, or with his ego about it...?

With comic timing, Dom's own large hard-on was whipped free at this
moment, released from his undies by Megan's hand and pulled back so the
foreskin tightened and his pink head shone freely -- but only for a
minute cos then all he could see was the mane of her bleached hair as she
went down on him, and he closed his eyes in a long pleasured sigh of
surprise. The bed squeaked and bounced a little as the third man joined
them on the mattress and there was a subtle rearranging of bodies, then a
tight jealous voice -- `Suck me, Meg, suck me!' Something needy and
pathetic in Pickford's voice as he insisted, as she happily complied,
pulling away from Dom and sliding over to slap those red lips around his
undersized hard-on instead.

`Now,' grunted Jordan, hands on his hips, `one of you play with her
pussy and one the arse...'

Dom's inexperience at kink must have shown in his reaction because
Jonjoe was laughing and shoving him in the arm. `Get to work on the
clit, dumbo, I'll take the back door,' he muttered. The girl was in
doggy style facing Pickford with her arse in the air, and the Scouse
scally was lifting onto his knees and peeling out of his tshirt, then
pushing a finger in between her cheeks. Dominic rolled over a bit and
slid under her instead, disappearing from the other two as he brought his
face in between her legs and planted a kiss just above her labia.

Kissing her cunt was like kissing her mouth -- delicious and distracting.
He lay on his back beneath her, oblivious to his two rivals or teammates
(both?) for more passionate minutes as he pushed his face up into her
crotch and did what he thought he did best, lick her out and flick his
skilled tongue back and forth over her clit. He wanked himself as he did,
pulling at the swollen hugeness of his caramel cock, hearing the manly
moans of Jordan as if from a great distance.

`That's it,' he heard Pickford's voice grunt, `get her nice and wet,
boys...'

There was more shifting of bodies, he kissed her thighs as they parted
from over his face, and rolled over onto his hands and knees, excited and
a little confused. Megan was pulled up to Jordan himself, kissing him and
ignoring them, and it felt weird: he and Jonjoe were just crouched naked
on the bed now, their boxers halfway down their thighs and their dicks
out. Kenny was, he couldn't help but notice, amply equipped, a similar
size to his own, maybe even thicker, and more exaggerated in appearance
given the wiry figure of the 5'9 right-back bloke.

`Look at those big tools,' mumbled Pickford, looking at them over his
girlfriend's shoulder, `she's gonna fucking love them in her...'

And he was turning her round, kissing her neck, fondling her tits,
holding her to his own naked body, but beckoning the lads with one hand.
Dom hesitated but Jonjoe didn't; the Scouser scampered forward on the
bed and took hold of her even as she rested there back into her future
husband. Kenny was taking hold of his thick swollen prick and pushing it
against the wetness of her pusssy, where Dom had licked and kissed. He
lingered by, gripping the bedsheets on either side of him, and watched as
his mate pushed inside and began to very gently fuck her against the
support of Jordan's body. From here, he had more of a view of Kenny's
short stocky frame and surprisingly hairy buttocks than of the girl
herself, who was a bit lost between the male forms!

Still, he readied himself by grabbing and pulling at his own firm dick,
and waited his turn anxiously, eagerly. Jordan made it happen rather
fast, pushing back on Jonjoe's broad shoulders and dismissing him from
the job -- Dom caught another look at his fat dick, slick with cunt
juice, removed from her, before shuffling forward to take over. He was
excited to fuck her but the position was so strange, he could feel
Jordan's strong hands and forearms as part of the embrace. He kissed her
on the lips as he slid inside her, distracting himself with that and
enjoying the loose grip of her fanny on his rod, then jolting a little
when he felt Kenny pat his back and squeeze his shoulder and let out a
series of filthy giggles close by, clearing jerking himself off.

In this weird position, Calvert couldn't really get going. His huge cock
deep in her, he pulled assertively back on her body and fell onto his
back on the bedding, so that she was pulled with him into a cowgirl
position on top of him, more fully his, gyrating over his prick with all
her energy, freed from Jordan's hold. But his voice rang out, urging,
`Kenny, come round and fuck the other hole, you dirty scally!' On his
back, Dom was enjoying himself too much to worry about this sharing, even
as he felt his and Jonjoe's legs brush and rub and squash, and then it
was happening. The girl was on top of him, leaning forward so he could
reach up and squeeze her tits, and she was jolting and grinding on him at
the opposite thrusting of another man behind her. Dom realised that his
and Kenny's cocks must be a tiny distance apart, pushing into her
arsehole and pussy at the same time, with the greedy bitch just whining
and sighing between them, and then... a third cock.

Jordan was feeding his small prick to her again, which also meant he was
kneeling right by Dom's chest and tummy, a bit awkward, stooping over
him to fuck his girlfriend in the mouth while she rode two younger and
better hung men simultaneously. It was so weird for Dom to lie there,
enjoying so much the pull and grip on his nob, but alarmed to be staring
right up into her body connected at Jordan's crotch, a close-up view of
a blowjob he had no desire to see!

But nothing lasted for long in the sweaty blur of the pre-marital bed. No
position seemed to satisfy anyone for more than a burst of minutes, all
of them greedy and randy in different ways. One moment Dominic was on his
back being ridden cowgirl and staring up into Jordan's tight weighty
ballsack, the next he was in missionary, ploughing her against the bed
with fuller possession of her body, until Kenny was pushed forward by
Pickford and being sucked off so that, once again, the horny athletic
striker had no choice but to stare right into the sight of another veiny
shaft being pleasured, rather putting him off his usually talented
stroke.

He was offered his turn on her arsehole but shyly hesitated. He'd never
met a girl into anal and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it
yet. Her pussy just felt so great on him already and- `Oh come on,'
Jordan was barking in his face, wanking himself and practically punching
him in his rigid six-pack, `shove your massive brown dick up her bum,
mate, she'll go mad for it, please!' His fervent excitement was jarring
and terrifying but also hard to argue with. Dom found himself in a
reversal of his first position, pushing his dick nervously against the
wet tightness of her ring with his knees pressing into the splayed thighs
of the right-back. Kenny was on his back being ridden and he was pushing
into her other hole, mounting her from behind so that they were fucking
her in direct inversion -- except that Dom now stared eye-to-eye with the
manic face of her fiancé, who must be squatting right over poor Jonjoe's
face in order to shove his dick right into Megan's messy lips. Fuck!

Dom had to admit that anal felt special, as he'd heard brasher lads
boast at footy and in his circle of friends. It felt so much more
muscular and intense around his length, he could barely get all of his
meat into her, even though she'd somehow already taken Kenny's! He
pushed quite clumsily into her, struggling with the angle and feel of
this new experience, but gratified by the wild squeals she made in
between slurping at Jordan's little cock and his big balls.

But when he needed to cum, this wasn't enough. He pulled out, jerking
rapidly at the base of his own nob, and pulled hopefully at her body. On
cue, she turned away from her partner and rolled his way, pulling her
glistening cunt from Kenny's rod and coming close to him. It was only
midway through kissing her that he remembered where else her lips had
been, but it was too late. All the same, he pulled away, unsure about
that right now, and pushed her head downwards, wanting her lips on his
dick, wanting and needing to blow his load in her greedy mouth, which she
seemed more than up for. And now Kenny was fucking her from behind as she
went down on him -- he didn't even know if the dirty Scouser was
shagging her pussy or her arse now, but he was slamming hard into her so
that her blowjob was clumsy and a bit toothy. Still, he came fast,
spilling his load on her tongue and her smeared lipstick and over her
dimpled chin. He whined out his orgasm, shocked at the speed with which
it had all taken place, loving the sight of his oozing manly load
dirtying her pretty face and sticking to strands of her bleached hair.

Almost instantly, she was turning from him, dragged over onto her back so
that Kenny could fuck her even harder. Dom swayed on the spot and watched
it in a kind of vivid slow-mo -- her beautiful body on its back below
him, his cum still allover her mouth, and Kenny pumping in and out of her
with all of his laddish strength, his arms and torso tense and his face a
sordid mask of intense climax, eyes clenched shut and mouth a snarl of
energy. He came inside her and Dom grabbed at his own tingling dick,
feeling as if he shared in his teammate's peak.

And then it was Pickford's turn, and the two 23-year-olds were just
lounging aside, their bodies shaking and their chests heaving while
between them, the engaged couple fucked in passionate missionary, all
flailing mutual limbs that brushed and shoved and even grabbed at
Dominic's body. He felt hands on his leg and his abs and couldn't
decide if it was Megan's or Jordan's, just lying there in a post-coital
daze that might also be the beginnings of a hangover. He heard the
aggressive goalkeeper growl out his orgasm and the almost performative
wails of Megan's multiples, and at some point after that he fell
asleep.



When he woke up, it was just him and Jonjoe Kenny in the bed, no couple.
He was lying the wrong way round and on top of the sheets, naked but with
his grey boxer trunks tangled about one hairy ankle; he'd passed clean
out after all the shagging and not moved from that position once in the
night. He stared at the ceiling for the few moments through the haze of
his headache and then at the grey morning light peeking about the furled
edges of a curtain. Then he kicked a foot gently into the hunched,
tangled body of his teammate beneath the covers, and Kenny made a vague
sleepy snort. He kicked him again, and a dry Scouse accent asked, `Who
is that?'

`Its me,' Dom hissed, then helpfully, `Dominic. Do you remember where
we are?'

Silence for a while, then a bit of a groan. `I hope I'm wrong, but er,
yeh.'

`What the fuck?' Calvert asked to the world in general. He looked over
his naked body, the pale brown glisten of his bare muscles and his
flopping dong. Then he pulled his legs about to get a grab of the undies
and began to pull them on, staring almost accusingly at the flopping
heaviness of his own nob, remembering how huge and special it had seemed
in his drunken lust, especially compared to their hosts. Had Pickford's
really been so small, or had he imagined it and exaggerated it? Ugh.

He struggled with the simple physical task of getting the underpants up
his calves and thighs and around his sticky privates. He realised Jonjoe
was blearing watching him and he scowled shyly at the other lad, then
managed to drag the undies into place around his pert cheeks and loaded
package, the waistband twanging into his skin with a little slap. Then he
rolled off the bed and stared about the deserted master bedroom. Where
were Pickford and his bird, then? Where had they sloped off to sleep
after generously leaving this four-poster to their toyboys? Fucking
hell!

`We should go,' he grumbled, pulling at his disturbed afro of hair,
looking at the bed and experiencing a juddering series of flashbacks to
what they'd all done in it in such close proximity, sweaty bodies
gliding side by side and worse.

`What, now?' muttered Jonjoe, stretching and whining in the bedding,
rolling around so his face was buried into a pillow and all Dom could see
was his short dark hair and the bunched muscles of his upper back. But
then he too scrabbled out from the bed, murmuring some pained agreement
with the plan, baring his hairy buttocks for a minute before finding and
dragging up his loose black boxers.

`I feel shit too,' Calvert mumbled at him over the fucked-up bed,
`but... do you wanna sit and eat cheerios at the breakfast table with
those two? Fuck...' He pulled a clammy hand over his face and searched
out his jeans and top, the other young lad doing the same thing until the
pair of them were passing each other socks they found under the bed and
sitting side by side to pull them on. They stopped, looked each other in
the eye, and burst into low, quietened laughter.

`Did we really...?' Dominic asked in guilty shock.

`Bloody hell we did,' Jonjoe muttered. `Jesus Christ. That was...
full-on.'

`Shush,' Dom muttered back at him, sensing the volume shift in his
voice. `Let's get out of here before they wake up and we find Jordan
coming in with an axe or something for fuck's sake. Come on. Your phone
got any battery? We need a taxi ASAP!'



They were stood on the pavement three streets away waiting for the
hastily summoned taxi, surrounded by the pale 7am silence of the suburbs.
Kenny was sat down on the kerb, hugging his knees in his black skinny
jeans, but Calvert stayed on his feet, scuffing his trainers at the edge
of the pavement, hands in his pockets as they spoke.

`What's is his issue?' Jonjoe muttered up to him. `Just cos he's got
a small dick he needs other lads to...? I mean, it's pretty fucked up,
ain't it, so...'

`You weren't hesitating last night!' Dom pointed out hastily, then
laughed guiltily as the same was pretty much true of himself. `You're
right, it's so weird. How the hell are we gonna look him in the eye at
training this week? Bloody hell mate... She was so mad for it, wasn't
she? Wow. Do you think she really fancied us or just likes him getting
all jealous and excited...?'

The Scouser shrugged. `I'm no sex therapist,' he grumbled. `But I
hope neither of us is invited to the wedding, I know that.' They
laughed. `Still, fun fucking night, huh? Jeez. My nob hurts, I must have
gone pretty hard on her all night, or summat. She was wild, you're
right.'

`You fucked her good,' Dom mumbled appreciatively at him, picturing it
for a dangerous moment.

`Huh, yeah, you too!' the other lad returned, climbing up onto his feet
and grinning at him.

`Well, we both did our best, then,' Calvert giggled nervously back.
`I'd never, er, fucked anyone in the arse before, so...'

`Ugh, come on, less detail, I'm hungover,' chided the Scouser
playfully, punching him in the bicep. `And just on time, there it is.'
He nodded down the road with a grimace, a little pale and blue in the
face. `If I puke in this taxi, just shoot me or dump me in the Mersey,
okay...? God knows what STDs we caught in that dirty lovenest, haha. Come
on... come on...'

Dom nodded with an uneasy laugh, following him out onto the road and the
slowing approach of the car, moving around to the other side of the back
seat, both of them piling in, making the interior stink of their hangover
and spilled drinks and the musty odour of sex that clung to their bodies
and clothes even now. The space between them on the backseat felt odd
without Megan's form filling it and groping at them both, and Dom caught
the other lad staring across with what looked like the same creepy
thought, making him snigger and wince and wind the window down further.
The taxi scooped them quickly away from the quiet streets of Pickford's
neighbourhood and the mixed pride and shame of their nighttime adventure
together, cuckolding their goalkeeper for his own manic lust, and sharing
one gorgeous women between three cocks, a hat-trick of horny action for
her.



*NEW TEAM AND NEW CHARACTERS OFR A NEW SEASON...! AND SOME NEW IDEAS, I
GUESS... LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT, LOVE TO HEAR FEEDBACK ON THE
LATEST STORIES. NOT MANY LEFT UNTIL WE HIT 200 NOW - WHAT OTHER NEW
TERRITORY DO I NEED TO EXPLORE, AND WHICH FAVOURITES NEED TO BE REVISITED
SOON?*