Date: Wed, 27 Apr 2022 17:13:31 +0000
From: writer guy <premiershiplads@outlook.com>
Subject: Premiership Lads, Part 291

Part 291: Croydon Sleaze


It was all Luke's fucking idea, he thought, as the lads queued up -
their Lambeth-born right-back knew the area better than any of them, and
had been quick to boast that Croydon was the site of a great secret strip
club. The obnoxious neon signage overhead was hardly auspicious, but
he'd be kidding himself if he didn't admit to some seedy excitement for
what awaited them inside `Hustlers', and he had a good few beers in his
system by now, enough to dull Kalvin Phillips' faint anxiety of breaking
curfew - they should all be back inside their Croydon hotel right now,
not several streets away looking shifty outside a local nightspot.

Luke Ayling was at the front now, mouthing off companionably with the
hesitant security bloke, all waving gestures of his large hands and
raucous outbursts of seedy laughter; several of the other fellas were
bunched up behind the Leeds right-back, enthusiastically joining his
negotiations with the door-man. From here, the details of the
conversation were fragmented, but it was something to do with it being a
Monday night - the questionable strip club was supposed to be shutting
its doors early due to a lack of trade, the Croydon streets around them
being pretty much a ghost town at this point. But Luke, party planner
extraordinaire, was emphasising the wealth of the testosterone waiting
behind him, trying to assure or flat-out bribe the guy that it was worth
their while to stay open a little longer and allow the Premiership
footballers a nightcap and a little entertainment.

Phillips smirked admiringly at his good pal's gift of the gab, shoving
his grazed knuckles and heavy hands into the tight pockets of his dark
skinny jeans, hunched at the back of the gaggle of tipsy men, a little
more self-conscious than the others - it wasn't that the 26-year-old
midfielder was shy of a party or some goody two shoes by comparison to
his colleagues, but his prominence on the national team last year had
given him a bit more pause for thought. It was one thing being the local
hero and part of Leeds' recent improved fortunes, but he had a bit more
status and reputation now, and he was conscious that he couldn't be
quite the same beer-swilling party boy that he'd been allowed to in the
earlier years of his Leeds career. There were murmurings of a big
transfer for him this summer if he wanted it, though he couldn't bear to
discuss that idea aloud with the fellas around him here, or any of his
fiercely city-proud friends and family outside of the club.

With that vague pressure on his mind, he hunched thick arms at his sides
and glanced up and down the street again, confirming how dead the Surrey
town was, and then raising his eyes in vague half-surprise as Ayling
clearly triumphed: the bouncer was waving the Leeds players in one at a
time, and Kalvin bounced on in with the rest of them, out of the
descending chill of midnight after a bright sunny London day.

It wasn't even as if they were out celebrating a win, haha - it had been
a tight goalless draw at Crystal Palace tonight, rather than a splendid
away victory that might call for such curfew-breaking antics! The gaffer
had allowed them to stay up and drink at their nearby hotel, and a
general consensus had somehow let that drift from the hotel bar to an
expensive joint around the corner, and then... `I know just the place,'
Ayling had been crowing, and predictably, their captain Cooper had been
quick to support the idea. So here they were. `Hustlers'.

Stairs took the men down into the grimy dark of the bar, lined down one
side with an empty bar area - in fact, the whole place had been empty of
customers until their arrival - and with a boxy stage parallel to it, and
a scattering of chairs and tables cluttering the avenue between them.
Early noughties R&B pounded from speakers at all corners, and a couple of
exhausted looking barmen were dead-eyed at their positions, perhaps
reluctant conspirators in the venue staying open just for them. A
managerial-looking middle-aged women was in whispered conference with one
of them, and Kalvin realised they were probably flouting some licensing
laws to do it, adding to his vague discomfort that perhaps this wasn't a
totally great idea.

However, his attention was quickly taken in the same way as his
teammates': a couple of lithe young women who had been slouched
languidly by the stage area were slinking up to the silver poles and
flexing their near-naked bodies. Almost instantly, Liam Cooper and Stu
Dallas were in front of them with arms folded, practically drooling as
they admired the two dancers - a few other women were stalking out from a
door somewhere to join the show, and Kalvin knew two things: one, that
there was no way he was gonna shift any of these blokes back to the hotel
until they were kicked out by the manageress, and two, that he really
hadn't had sex in a couple of weeks. The latter fact made it tough to
pull his eyes away from the birds on stage as they writhed and twisted
through their pole-vaulting positions, and made him rub a frustrated paw
against his strong stubbled chin.

`Hustlers', indeed.


At the bar, he was charmed briefly by the lady in charge - her two young
barmen had disappeared, clearly refusing her demands to work overtime,
and the lady herself was taking charge of popping beer bottles and
sloshing out generous measures of spirit. Kalvin smiled knowingly at her
flirtations and banter as he took his own vodka drink in hand - she was a
funny South London character and full of stories, but her patter was a
thin cover what was going on here. This businesswoman had, fair enough,
just seen a bunch of sweaty cash cows traipse into her establishment at
closing time, and was now thinking about how much she could drain from
the ten men who had stopped by. Well, good for her, but some of us need
to keep a level head - Kalvin took an uncharacteristic sip of caution
from his tumbler glass and thanked her.

It was already his second in here, and how many beers had he enjoyed at
the last two bars? Not as many as some of the blokes, he knew that. He'd
insisted on a single rather than a double when she asked, but... this
tasted of a treble, as if they were out in fucking Newcastle. He flinched
briefly at the strength of taste but then laughed at his own boring
caution, and leaned his muscular back against the bar to survey the
dancing.

Well, the bar manager, who was now already flirting with the player next
to him as she mixed up the next drink, was certainly getting what she'd
wanted: the pack of Premier League neanderthals was hunched in seats
right in front of centre-stage, and a grand total of eight different
strippers were now cavorting and interacting on the stage in
brightly-coloured and arousingly skimpy gear. And true to form, Northern
Irish meathead Stuart Dallas was lunging up out of his chair with a
fistful of cash, which he proceeded to `rain' at the nearest stripper
as if he was an extra in a rap music video. Kalvin laughed and cringed
all at once.

`Fucking great, isn't it?' grunted the bloke next to him, nudging his
arm.

The 26-year-old Yorkshire lad made an uncertain noise of agreement and
smiled across at his team captain. `It's a laugh,' he conceded
lightly, the two of them bulging muscular figures in tight-fitting polo
shirts.

`Oh, defo,' the 6ft1 centre-back confirmed gruffly. `More than that,
if we're lucky. Haha.' He slurped from a vodka-coke and bumped elbows
with him again, a big broad man who often looked more like he should be
working on a construction sight than at a top-flight football club.
`Reminds me of that place I went to in Glasgow, actually - have I ever
told you about that?'

Of course he had, Kalvin thought, as he glanced between his excited
skipper and the performance ahead - how many times was big Liam gonna
tell this fucking story? They'd all heard it before a dozen times! He
could almost have recited word for word as the Hull-born Scotland player
proceeded to regale him with the debauched scene: a whole load of
Scotland internationals in some underground club on the outskirts of
Glasgow, being hooked up with sex workers of their choosing in seedy
underground rooms. It certainly sounded a lot wilder than Phillips'
recent experience of the Three Lions, he had to admit, but he had long
suspected Coops of some exaggeration: he was not convinced that the
decadent narrative matched his perception of guys like Andy Robertson or
Kieran Tierney at all.

`I mean, that was more of a brothel, I guess,' huffed Cooper wistfully,
`and this is just a strip joint, so not exactly the same. Sadly. Ha ha
ha.' He shuffled about, flexing sore defender's muscles, and punched
Phillips in the shoulder. `Depends how much money we throw at them
though, huh?'

Kalvin smirked at him, still weighing up how true or otherwise his
supposed Scotland exploits really were, then joined him in loping across
the short distance back to the others, finding spare seats. Kalvin
positioned himself between Jack Harrison and Mateusz Klicj, taking a few
more sips of his heady vodka mix and turning to greet the two other
players warmly before joining them in turning his attention to the stage.

He'd got lucky with his seat - the nearest young lady was probably the
hottest of them all, a slim mixed-race beauty who was just his type, and
whose pert arse was very much on show. Mental photographs, he thought
playfully, thinking that he would certainly be needing to jerk one out in
the hotel tonight, and that the bar's talented cast would provide ample
inspiration - and there seemed a pretty good chance that his roomie for
the trip, Luke, would be totally passed out cold so that he could do just
that.

He felt a little stirring of the loins even now, a tingling of cock and
balls in the sweaty crotch of his dark grey skinny jeans, but he ignored
it and let it simmer, as a man must in these settings, whilst pushing his
muscles back against the chair and letting his strong bare arms rest
across his lap. Not that all of the others were capable of just relaxing
and enjoying the scene so quietly, haha - the Polish midfielder to his
right was hollering loudly at the same girl he'd been admiring, waving a
few £50s whilst his other hand grabbed provocatively at the crotch of his
chinos, making wild enthusiastic eyes at the dancer.

`He's losing his head,' tittered the lad on Kalvin's left, and he
turned to smile in agreement at the winger who had finally become
permanent after joining them on loan from City a few years ago. `I swear
we'll be kicked out in a minute,' Jack Harrison muttered through his
chuckles ,and Kalvin nodded to him.

`Aye, won't be long,' he grunted, `but it's good for everyone to let
off steam.'

`Sure is,' the 25-year-old Stoke lad said quite forcefully, sounding
almost as if he was trying too hard to sound excited and interested in
the performance - Phillips just grinned and nodded indulgently at him,
having heard a few mutterings from his best mates that the former City
lad's interests might be less feminine. It was his good buddy Bamford,
sadly absent from this away trip, who had put the idea in his head,
snorting something dismissive about Harrison last year, despite being the
least homophobic guy Kalvin knew.

And now, as if continuing this performance, Harrison was up out of his
chair, whooping and cheating for the next dancer along, he was slinking
off the stage towards him with catlike grace - performance, Kalvin
laughed to himself, probably just genuine enjoyment! There were always
little mutterings about so-and-so being a bummer, that was the kind of
stupid banter in their world, he had no reason to really think that the
25-year-old was any less of a pussy hound than himself, haha.

Jack was back in his seat now and the girl was strutting delicately into
his immediate space. Phillips realised that this was not the only such
departure, having not noticed another girl swing off her pole and begin
to award a similar lapdance to Ayling himself at the far end of the
stage. Kalvin's eyes bulged interestedly at the grace of the
blond-haired dancer now draping herself about Jack in a similar private
entertainment, and he joined in the general brash laughter of the men.
Glancing back at the stage, he noted that the girl he'd liked had
slipped the other way at Mateusz Klicj's excited encouragement, and was
dropping into his lap in the same provocative manner.

It was, Kalvin thought, just a bit too much to sit between! With enough
care not to appear TOO prudish or daft, the 26-year-old stud withdrew
from the scene, sliding his chair back a bit and then gulping the rest of
his drink for an excuse to visit the bar, leaving Jack and Mateusz to
their more personalised entertainment.

At the bar, he interrupted excitable chatter between a couple of the
others who were doing shots - it seemed as if two of the British players
were very focused on getting the squad's Brazilian star as drunk as they
could, with Raphinha tossing back the last shot glass just as he joined
them. The 25-year-old winger screwed up his face in disgust and looked
for a second like he was going to rush to the loos to throw up, then
burst out laughing and hugged young Joe Gelhardt to him whilst slapping
Daniel James roughly on the back and shouting something out in
Portuguese.

Then, with a whoop, the Brazilian ace was ducking away from them and
heading back across the narrow bar, mouthing off more in his own
language. `What the hell have you lot been downing?' Phillips demanded
through his laughter.

`I think it's mainly just sugar and flavourings,' the forward next to
him chuckled, inspecting the bottle that remained next to their regiment
of sticky empty shot glasses. `Here, try some,' Dan demanded, sloshing
some of the gleaming liquid out into the empties, and then knuckling one
in his direction.

`It's gross,' young Gelhardt contributed disgustedly, immediately
contradicting himself by snatching one up to throw back, making James
laugh eagerly. `Yup, gross,' the Wales player confirmed brightly, and
he clinked glasses with Kalvin before all three of them knocked it back.
`Yup, horrid,' the local Leeds hero confirmed readily, but Daniel was
already pouring refills, the drunken idiot.


Once Kalvin was seated again, he found himself pretty much face to face
with the very stripper girl who had got his pulse racing before, and he
hadn't even returned to the same spot - the guys were engaged in a loose
set of musical chairs as they popped to and from the bar, which was now
unmanned. The manageress had disappeared and the guys were just dumping
their rough guesses at cost in a dish - Ayling had shepherded them all to
cash machines on the way here, because `nothing says thank you like a
dollar in the G-string', apparently.

Dollars, Kalvin chuckled internally - what gangster film does the gimp
think we're in?

But here he was, seated in the midst of his Leeds mates, and the hottest
of the performing girls was poised just ahead of him, hunkering down on
the edge of the stage, and staring intensely at him. The 26-year-old
considered him still sober and sensible enough not to delude himself: she
was at work, and as desperate as anyone here to cream the max from their
loaded wallets, but... the hungry way she was looking at him now and
sliding manicured nails down her flat tummy into her crotch, it was as if
she was desperate to touch herself just looking at him, and his ego
swelled as much as his fat balls.

And now she was upon him, swinging a leg across and straddling his knees
- he laughed, a little uncomfortably, but reached out instinctively,
planting his broad hands just above her hips and helping as she eased her
light from onto him, their eyes still locked intensely. He sucked in a
deep breath and forgot to let it go, momentarily detached from the sleazy
spot and the leering eyes of his footballer pals, just lost in a brief
adulterous fantasy of the hot girl on top of him. But as she gyrated and
worked, his fantasy became frayed, and he was more conscious of being
just one of many louts in this place - she had wrapped athletic legs
about his sides and was grinding her crotch and ass against him, and then
pushing her tits in his face. He chuckled and grunted and shifted his
weight from buttock to buttock in the seat, both excited and
uncomfortable all at once.

Then she was sat facing away from him, grasping his hands and dragging
them to her now bare tits, and he could not help himself but rub and
stroke them... whilst her beautiful round bottom, pretty much naked in a
tiny thong, rubbed in little circular motions across the crotch of his
jeans, dragging threateningly against the outline of his swelling member.
Kalvin laughed and breathed, her hands guiding his in similar clockwise
motions across her tits, making his fingers explore and tweak her large
nipples. She smelt of sweat and coconut, and he wanted to take her body
in his arms and do way more to her than this.

`Excellent work, Kal,' chortled Luke Alying nearby, and the edges of
his fantasy became more torn and tainted - he really was just sat here in
a bar in this stupid artifical foreplay with a working girl who wanted
the contents of his wallet, and yet he couldn't help his cock get fatter
and firmer inside his underpants and tight denim!

For a moment, Phillips was more conscious of the other lads about him
than he was his own enjoyment or the attractiveness of the girl on top of
him - very conscious of sprawling 6ft Luke just to one side, a different
stripper girl draped across him in a cuddle, his face returning to
planting wet kisses between her bare breasts - and the skipper, Liam, now
sat on the stage itself, kissing and fondling a different stripper, his
shirt unbuttoned and her hands clawing across his bare chest; to the
right, one girl was still dancing on stage, but the others were all in
similar clinches, twerking and squatting against the seated or standing
forms of the footballing men. It was all so seedy and gross, but also...
so fucking hot and exciting.

And just like that, her body was removed from his, still catlike and
agile, poised over him and grinning demandingly with an expression that
asked: `How much are you gonna pay me?' Clumsy with arousal, he fished
notes from his wallet, he didn't know how many, and fed them into her
waiting hand. With his other paw, he writhed self-consciously at the
loaded crotch of his jeans, and shifted positions in the chair.

And then the girl - not personally interested in him at all, not really -
was stalking away, perhaps to rub her beautiful arse against one of his
teammates, and he was just sat awkwardly there with a semi, his heart
racing. And in front of him, he noticed again, Big Liam was really going
for it - the Leeds captain had one hand thrust down the front of the
girl's thong while they kissed, their bodies pulled together where they
sat on the edge of the stage. Fuck! For the first time, Kalvin considered
that the Glasgow story might be quite true after all, and maybe football
players in Scotland really DID get up to such crazy nights of shagging.

The atmosphere had changed, and Phillips suddenly felt drunker than he
had done. Things were going from `strip joint' to `brothel' fairly
rapidly, and he fumbled around for his drink, but couldn't work out
which one was his. He got up, still fidgeting with the outline in his
jeans that he hoped wasn't too obvious, and made his short way back to
the bar again.

Like most of them, he had a girlfriend, and Kalvin was a pretty
monogamous guy, pretty satisfied and wholesome in his relationship with a
long-time sweetheart of his teen days - and yet, he could hardly judge a
married bloke like Coops getting off like that, could he? Not after all
the birds he'd pulled last summer when drunk on the buzz of his first
big international tournament...!

For a moment, clumsily pouring himself an unintentionally strong drink at
the bar, the Leeds midfielder thought about the couple of summer weeks in
2021 where he'd abandoned years of steady loyalty and got his dick wet
with half a dozen different women, carried away with his own prominence
as the most consistent player in Southgate's finale-reaching England
squad. The climax of it all, he thought, had been when he and his horny
wingman Jack Grealish had actually shared a couple of the birds together
- he found himself picturing it for a second, remembering the two nights
near the end of the tournament.

The first of those nights, he remembered, had just been the two of them
shagging in the same room, fucking their different female partners in
parallel beds, and occasionally shooting mad glances at each other and
shouting crude encouragement to the other naked athlete as they enjoyed
the bodies of the women they'd picked up so easily in the hotel bar -
but the second night had been more literal sharing, and it was definitely
the dirtiest thing Phillips had ever done. He still reeled a little bit
remembering it now, if he was honest, him and that famous fucker, the
pair of them going to town on one hot bitch together, position to
position in a sweaty crumpled bed. He'd been mortified the next day when
they all woke up, and he was sure Grealish must share the same
embarrassment, the way they'd seen each other fully in action like that,
their bodies way too close...! Not that any lines had been crossed, he
reassured himself, as he'd had to that morning - no hands landed in the
wrong place or anything mad like that, ha! Shit like that must happen
though, he'd supposed, and all the more reason to behave himself from
now on!

Kalvin had never confessed those seedy encounters to his missus back in
Leeds, and he was in no rush to - but he'd sworn to himself that it was
a naughty phase that he didn't need to repeat. He'd just been
over-excited by making it big in the England team, a boyhood dream, and
the fact that he was getting such kudos as the steady centrepiece of the
high-performing team.

But here he was, he thought with a dollop of self-criticism, with a
throb-on in his pants and sweaty pits over some girl, and the other
players were getting way more than just friendly with the bar's crew of
strippers. He glanced critically at the nearby dish of their cash,
overflowing with notes that spilled across into the sticky drink stains
on the bartop. Jesus, what a night of sleaze - imagine this hitting the
front page of the Daily fucking Mail, he thought.

He glugged from his self-made drink, and wondered if he should stagger
outside on his own and find his way into a taxi. But... no, he couldn't
just abandon the other guys. They were all having a good time, clearly.
Too good, probably. Nah, best to just hunker down and control himself. He
was NOT gonna cheat on his loyal girlfriend with some Croydon stripper!
The lasses here were stunning, but... probably riddled, he thought
misogynistically, and he threw back some more of the drink. Had he even
remembered to pour some mixer, or was this just neat vodka?

Two figures scampered past him, and Kalvin steadied himself with both
hands pushed against the edge of the bar. He watched as captain Cooper
hurried on, hand in hand with the stripper he'd been kissing and
fingering - the skipper's shirt was off, baring his long broad back, and
the girl was totally naked. Liam caught his eye and winked as he and she
disappeared away through a little door beside the bar that presumably
took them into some backroom to actually fuck.

Well, er, good for him.

Phillips drained the last of his neat vodka, wiping the back of one hand
across his mouth. Coops was hardly the only guy going that far with one
of the girls, and for god knows how much cash - in the seat nearest to
him, that girl was still on Luke's lap, straddling him while they
snogged and grappled with each other. She was riding against his body and
Kalvin was momentarily unsure if it was just dry humping or if she was
actually riding his buddy's cock - he didn't want to know!

And actually sprawling onto part of the blocky black stage, Raphinha was
making out with another girl - THE girl, the one Kalvin himself had
really fancied - with hands all over each other, and the Brazilian's
clothing being peeled away as he got down to business.

Others had some of Liam's `shyness' though - Klick came barging past
him with a girl at his side, and he stared questioningly at him as if for
help. `Where can I take her to fuck?' the Polish player demanded
bluntly. Phillips just had to laugh, unsure why his teammate would think
he might have an answer to that; the other midfielder just barged on,
going to the other side of the bar and another door that looked like just
a store cupboard. And Dallas, he realised, the smooth charmer that he
was, had found another weak semblance of privacy - he was disappearing
behind the bar itself with a particularly busty girl from the stage, the
pair of them disappearing out of sight and presumably about to copulate
on the dirty sticky floor behind there - jesus.

Suddenly fatigued with it all, the midfield beast of a man staggered
away, moving back towards the foot of the stairs that had led them down
into here - to the side of it was a cushioned booth of seating and he
slid into that, slouching into the corner of it and burying his face in
both clammy palms. He'd drank way too much too quickly, bugger.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't actually alone here - for a second, he
thought it was going to be one of the girls, maybe THAT girl who had
rubbed against him and got him so horny, and he braced himself for a
really battle against temptation - but no, it was actually one of the
other fellas, dropping down into a seated position just beside him,
wearing an expression of mild horror on his boyish face that seemed to
match Kalvin's own mood of disapproval.

`What the actual fuck?' hissed Dan James, the boisterous Man Utd reject
who had so quickly become a popular figure in the Leeds squad in the past
year and a bit.

Kalvin turned to look at him and shrugged his own bulky shoulders.
`Crazy,' he agreed in a slur, trying and failing to pull his big
muscular body into a more sober-looking upright position like sprightly
Dan. He rubbed his face some more and stared for a moment back down the
length of the bar - fortunately, the lighting in here was too hazy to get
a better look at what all of the others were up to, and yet he could see
ENOUGH.

`Hope none of them moonlights at a tabloid paper,' quipped James
quietly, and both lads burst out into drunken laughter in an instant.

`This is just mad,' Kalvin grunted. `What are we doing here?'

`Maths,' chirped the Wales player in his faint mixed accent, a
Yorkshireman like himself really by birth and upbringing. `There's
eight strippers and ten guys. I know we footballer lads ain't famous for
our brains, but... I think we can both do that sum. Haha.'

`Strippers,' Kalvin muttered vaguely, `or... hookers?'

Again, the two drunk players tittered and shook, slouched in the
cushioned corner together, and Kalvin feeling a little more relaxed for a
moment - there was no point worrying about the scandal of it all, in this
seedy lock-in they'd encountered, because the landlady who had
facilitated it surely had more to lose than they did. Well, unless she
was keen to sell a story... And as horny as he'd felt, he hadn't
ACTUALLY cheated on his girlfriend tonight, like so many of his pals
clearly were - for a moment he felt attuned to the sounds of it, hearing
a high-pitched girlish giggle, or a loudly barked `Fuck yeah' from
someone, maybe Cooper... and then it just mingled with the throb of a
Black-Eyed Peas song out of the speaker overhead, and he turned a drunken
frown towards the 24-year-old.

`Did you get a lapdance?' he grunted at the young forward who had
slotted so neatly into the Leeds attack force, yet failed to get them the
points tonight at Crystal Palace.

`Nah,' the Wales star muttered disinterestedly, `none of them were my
type.'

`None?' Kalvin slurred vaguely at him in distant surprise.

`Not really. You?'

`One I liked,' he muttered, hearing his own wistful resentment in his
voice - he shouldn't have let her go, should have initiated something
like the other horny buggers did, but how should he have known what kinda
place this was? Like something out of Cooper's Scotland stories. He
shook himself and tried to focus on what Danny boy was saying, but it was
hard to hear over the speaker above - `My Humps' was noisily
transitioning into Flo Rida and Kesha spinning `Right round'.

`Here,' he heard the former Old Trafford hopeful giggle, realising that
Dan was shifting towards him on the cushioned seating, `I bet it's
really easy...'

All Kalvin could do was bark with hoarse laughter as he realised what his
buddy was up to - clearly as stupid drunk as him, James was crouching up
on the seating and swinging over to him as if to give him a lapdance of
his own! It made the midfielder cackled, always as entertained as anyone
at the boisterous Wales player - Dan was a lively and jovial addition to
the Leeds crew, always full of changing room dances and stupid
impressions of other players, always up to something...!

And now the self-appointed club joker was straddling him, one hand
gripping the back of the sofa, whilst gyrating his lean 5ft7 body,
bouncing up and down as he crouched over Kalvin's thick legs. `What
d'ya think?' yelped James, pressing forward and resting the heels of
his hands in against Phillips' big shoulder muscles - `Reckon I could
be a stripper?! Haha!'

`Ho, yeah,' the more thickset Yorkshire lad barked playfully, at first
going to push him away but then grabbing roughly at the sides of his
slim-fitting black t-shirt, holding the warm sides of his body and
shaking him a little. `You're always shaking your booty in the changign
rooms, you little slag.' He didn't really know what he was saying, his
mind was shifting hungrily back to the lapdance he'd received before -
the smell of her and the feel of her body, the way it had made him bulge
and throb against the confines of his pants.

But Dan was wriggling above him, turning away in the way that the girl
had done, and pushing back against him, sitting on his lap. `Oi,'
Kalvin laughed at this, planting his hands against his sides again, and
moving to push away at him... but Dan's hands, the lad cackling and
mouthing along the lyrics to the song above, resisted, pushing their
bodies together. Kalvin pushed some more, but their bodies were in an
awkward position, and he couldn't exactly throw his friend roughly off
him without sending the other footballer sliding across the table in
front and hurting him - so for a few slow giddy moments, he had no choice
but to let the guy joke about, and...

Dan James' strong rounded buttocks bulged through the fabric of jeans as
tight as his own, rubbing provocatively back and forward in such a
similar way to the hot stripper girl before, grinding across his crotch,
rubbing with SUCH curves and... mmm... the feel of a hot firm ass, he
thought, the way she'd danced against him, the slim lightness of her
between his hands, he would have loved to- `Oi,' he burst out in a
strained laugh, collecting himself and breaking the meeting of fantasy
and present - Dan James was still grinding playfully against him and
giggling like an idiot, and he gripped his body more forcibly, trying to
push him away.. But his cock was reacting differently, a woken sweaty
animal in the tightness of his denims.

`Oi, mate,' Kalvin grunted, and Dan yelped a `Sorry!' - their
athletic bodies slid and tangled between the cushions and the table,
knocking noisily into it as the forward's light compact body slid away
from his, but only just, falling to the side with their legs still a
little adjoined. Kalvin reached forward and steadied himself against the
table, making it groan a little more against the floor - he felt
self-conscious about the noise, as if it would make the whole room stop
and stare and realise that, for a moment there, he'd been getting a
stripper's lapdance from Daniel fucking James! But the idea was stupid -
the main noise in this basement space was the throb of mediocre music,
and from here now he could barely see what anyone else was up to, as if
all of the other players had crept to different discreet spots between
the bar, the tables, the stage... taking their enjoyment with the bar
employees in whatever nook or cranny they could.

His eyes wandered back to the lad next to him (still VERY next to him,
realised) and he felt a brief flash of drunken annoyance at him - why had
he had to take the joke too far like that and REALLY rub against him?
Probably Dan had felt how hard and bulging he was in his jeans, how
embarrassing! Stupid prick... but then he was laughing too, a rolling
goofy noise, because he was drunk and confused and the other football lad
was just giving him a lopsided smirk, slouched against him and giggling.
`Where's my cash then?' James hissed at him playfully in a voice that
he lip-read more than heard. `Bitch, where's my money?' the stocky
little forward pushed, and he grabbed loosely at the tight material
against Kalvin's chest, pulling on it a little, a hand against the heat
of his covered pecs.

`Fuck off,' Phillips mouthed lazily back at him, still embarrassed by
how hard he was becoming in his jeans, but figuring that the other lad
was either oblivious or didn't care - but one of Dan's legs was still
locked over his, and it nudged a little in that direction, so that again
more rough denim-on-denim was rubbing, and part of Dan's leg was
touching the edge of his bulge, making him squirm and laugh awkwardly...

`Did you like that, then?' This time he definitely heard Dan's voice,
barked directly into his ear, their bodies pulling close on the couch.

`Fuck off,' Kalvin laughed gruffly, grabbing at the lad beside him and
in one jerky motion, both pushing away as if to send him sliding off the
seat, but also grabbing him back to him in a laddish headlock of a hug...
and then feeling, oh fuck, Dan's hand slipping loose and reaching
between his legs to hold the rigid outline of his hard-on. It made Kalvin
freeze, pressing tightly back against the cushions, and twisting his head
to stare at the provocateur, unsure about this latest jest - `Mate,' he
coughed, feeling Dan's fingers test the vivid imprint of his excitement
through the dark grey tightness, `mate, haha, don't-'

`Fuck, you're rock hard.'

`MATE.'

`It feels amazing-'

`Mate!'

Dan's hand began to squeeze and he reached down to push it away, and
with the other hand, pushed the slighter lad away from him, but only
half-heartedly - what was he gonna do? Jump up with this throbber in his
skinnies, and storm out into the street, or swagger over to rouse the
other lads, who were so OBVIOUSLY busy...? He grunted in confusion and
frustration and stared blearily at the other lad; he let his hand loll
against his hip and Dan was immediately stroking him again, rubbing the
sensitive hugeness in his jeans. `What are you doing?' he demanded, but
his voice rough and quiet, so that Dan must have had to lip-read him
before smirking back and just winking once. They sat there, their bodies
slumped comfortably behind the table, and Dan's hand slid back and
forward, tracing the shape of it down there, really squeezing and
exploring it - and Kalvin making a low uncomfortable groan of uncertain
responsiveness.

Then Dan was shifting adventurously, and Kalvin just slumped back to let
him - the joke was back, he thought, but it didn't feel like a joke. Dan
was straddling his legs, but facing him now, and behaving just like the
cynical girls from the stage - hunched over his middle, holding his
strong shoulders, and rolling his bottom across that lap, rubbing those
pert cheeks down over Kalvin's trapped erection. What if one of the guys
saw this? Wait, is that all you're worried about? You can see this
happening, is that not enough?

He groaned, a deep animal sound that was half confused annoyance, and
half raw physical need. When he grabbed his hands about Dan's hips, he
didn't know whether he wanted to throw him forcibly off, smash him back
against that table, or to pull him down and make him drag that butt even
more forcefully over him like the girl had before. So he did neither,
just holding the lad's body over him, and pressing his overheated face
into his chest - but there were no gorgeous plump tits there, no bosom
for a pillow, and so his sweaty brow just rubbed against hard pecs
through thin black cotton, and Dan's arms encircled his fade-trimmed
head, cradling him. Kalvin breathed in and out deeply, tasting the more
masculine scent of a lad's aftershave, rather than the cocoa butter
sweetness of the girl who had writhed against him before.

What the fuck was going on? Everything was a strange blur, except for the
urgent rigidness of his cock - it felt sore with excitement, and with the
skinny-fit tightness of his jeans. Holy shit.

`Mate,' he groaned. Dan's hand was down there again; grabbing him,
stroking him. He hunched forward against his crouching form, holding him
in place with a strong arm reaching across his sweaty back. `What are
you doing?' he grunted plaintively again, but it was clear what Dan was
now doing: unbuckling his belt. He felt the waist loosen, felt the relief
of it, then felt fingers fumble with his button fly. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Dan's face pulled around and was close to his, though Kalvin kept his
eyes hooded and averted, unable to face their true closeness now. `Just
let me help you,' hissed the Wales player's voice in his ear. `Yeh?'

Kalvin nodded his head once, and felt the tight weight of Dan's body
slide away from him - for a moment, he wasn't sure quite what was
happening, but Dan had drifted back down, disappearing under the table
until he was crouching on the floor, and bringing him to just the right
height... Kalvin let his legs be parted a bit and his flies fully undone,
denim being peeled away. He felt another man's fingers tug at the
elastic of his trunks, but all he could really focus on was the relief of
his thick hard meat being freed from its prison that it slapped upward
against the bottom of his tummy, dampening a patch of his pale polo-shirt
with a little stain of pre-cum that he would only notice later on
tonight.

Kalvin just sat there, muscular back pressed against the cushion, and
arms straight down at this sides, hands splayed to the warm seating - his
thick legs parted and his cock now freed from his jeans, a thick veiny
monster rising up and held in Dan's curious fingers. Not just fingers,
not now. Now lips. Oh god. He opened his eyes, stared down - the other
Leeds player crouched beneath the dubious cover of a sticky wooden table,
resting between his legs, and sloppily kissing the top of his erection
with a wide-open gob. Fuck, fuck. `FUCK,' he growled, the third
expletive not staying inside his head.

And then he was being properly sucked off, like he hadn't been in AGES -
his girlfriend hated doing it, and the last blowie he'd had was from one
of those fan-girl sluts of last summer, someone Jacko had helped him to
pick up in a bar between Euro matches. Holy fuck, holy fuck. The mouth -
he couldn't quite define it as DAN'S MOUTH - felt so soft and wet and
warm, so enveloping and attentive. His cock tingled. His body burned.
He'd been so turned on by the lapdances, both of them, and now his cock
was being tended to so beautifully and gently, so teasingly, fuckkkk...

Fingers found his - Dan's hands interlocking with his down beside the
bulk of his thighs, clammy skin connecting, and all he could do was grip
back, holding and squeezing the lad's paws in his, holding them to his
sides, and letting his mouth continue its work. The rest of the strip bar
had vanished away from his mind, but not far away, Raphinha was noisily
fucking a stripper right on the stage, and god knows what else. It was
irrelevant background noise, blurring with a Katy Perry hit on the
speakers.

Then Kalvin dragged his hands up, slipping his fingers out of Dan's, and
he grabbed his head, instinctive and rough, and pushed his face down into
his crotch, forcing all of his thick length into that greedy service
mouth - it didn't matter, in those moments, that it was a lad on the
team rather than a stripper, it was just a mouth, a fucking skilled
mouth, just like it hadn't really mattered whose booty was rubbing over
his crotch before. God, Dan's arse really had felt like a girl's, so
big and round, so pert and firm... shit, he shouldn't be thinking like
this at all, should he?

He stopped grabbing roughly at Dan's hair and lounged back, his heavy
5ft8 body squeaking against the fake leather of the cushions, and his
thighs parting even more, giving Dan better access to his raging cock,
wanting his sweaty balls played with and licked. It felt SO good.

When it stopped, he felt a surge of impatience and anger, and he blinked
his eyes open, kinda shocked to remember exactly where he was - Dan was
off his cock, which hovered wet and hard from between his legs, and the
lad was pulling himself back up onto the couch next to him. His lips and
the skin around them glistened wet with drool or pre-cum, and his eyes
were wide and alert. His smirk was infuriating. He'd left the job
unfinished, and Kalvin wanted to punch him.

`Fuck me with that thing,' hissed Dan's voice suddenly and alarmingly
in his ear, and yes, he wanted to smack him and push him away and tell
him to fuck off - but he was also immediately thinking about the way the
lithe 24-year-old had writhed and twitched against him like a strip club
slut, and... oh, shit...

`What?' was all he could grumbly, as if appalled - or as if ONLY
appalled, and not totally horned up and insatiable at the same time. Then
Dan was grabbing his hand, tugging on it. Where did he think they were
going? Kalvin went limp for a moment, shuffling after him, sliding off
the couch at the other lad's direction, stumbling to his feet and
staring wildly about them - just beyond this table there was a cupboard
door, a panel of wood cut into the side of the entrance staircase, and
Dan was tugging it open. A tall narrow space lay beyond it, not much,
but... enough.

Kalvin stood alone between the booth and this, his cock still free and
hard and glistening wet where it had been lavished with the lad's
sluttish mouth. But he hesitated, Dan's dirty demand playing over in his
head: `Fuck me with that thing'. But then another voice, a real voice,
cut into his head - loud shouting, muffled by booming music. `Oi, Kalv,
come get some of this,' someone was calling, and he stared hard at where
Dan James stood, hovering by the rattling loose door of the understairs
cupboard space. He stared with a brief moment's clarity at 5ft7 forward,
in his tight-fitting black t-shirt and pale skinny jeans, licking his
lips and fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

And then, fearful, Phillips lurched away, his cock bouncing, and he
followed the other voice - it was Stu Dallas, behind the bar, accompanied
by one of the girls. `You want my sloppy seconds?' the Northern
Irishman mouthed at him, and Kalvin didn't bother answering - he just
stomped behind the bar with him, into that messy narrow space, and he met
the eager grin of the girl who had obviously just been fucked by the
left-back. It all passed about him as a blur, her cool remark of
`That'll be another £100, lads' and Dallas' gruff laughter of `You
should be paying HIM, he's our prize stud, this lad'. And then Kalvin
was fucking her, this girl who'd already ridden Stuart, shagging her up
against the bar and pulling her hair while she squealed, his wet cock
slipping in and out of her loose cunt.

Stu, obnoxiously, was right next to him, cackling gruffly and slapping
him on the sweaty back of his polo shirt as he did the deed, and he just
closed his eyes and cracked on, ramming it into her pussy from behind,
hoisting her body up for a better angle and handling her hips
commandingly until, quite quickly, he was ready to empty his load inside
her. His grunts must have given away his readiness, because he was being
pushed back and told to cum on her back instead, where off-white patches
of the other man's seed were smeared... Hmm, romantic.

Kalvin Phillips unloaded and staggered back, knocking into a rattle of
bottles and glassware as he did, but stopping himself before causing an
expensive avalanche of the bar's wares. His broad chest heaved and sweat
patches were hot and damp in his clothes as he stood there, cock sagging
and cum dripping from the head. He hung his head and rubbed a palm across
his face whilst listening to the giggles and kissing sounds of the girl
getting back with Stu right beside him, but only momentary. There were a
lot of noises of movement around them, and then quite suddenly the music
cutting out.

`Right,' he could hear a harridan voice shouting somewhere close by,
`party's over lads, you've had your fun now... any more noise and it's
more than my license is worth, okay...? Oi, what's this one doing behind
my bar? That wasn't in the deal... get on with you, you idiot, get out
from there...'

The midfield player staggered out from behind the bar, shamefaced as he
tucked his equipment away and fumbled with buttons and belt - he expected
more annoyed squawking from the manageress woman as they passed each
other, but the sexual antics were clearly far less important than the
immediate geography of bodies to her, as she just laughed and squeezed
his arm then patted his rump as he passed her. `Any last tips before you
go?' he could heard her shrill voice demanding as he staggered drunkenly
into the fast-moving huddle of men heading for the stairs. Others were
pulling up pants and fastening shirt buttons, and there was much rough
loud laughter as the guys spilled up and out into the relative cold of
the Croydon street.

`You fucked her GOOD, lad,' hissed the bristly Northern Irish tones of
Dallas, an arm about his shoulders as he was steered down the pavement.
Kalvin turned and glared silently at the 31-year-old, who just frowned
and laughed and shook him. `What? Was she not as good as the first bird
you had, mate?' And then Stuart was just playing experimentally with his
tight braids and dashing ahead to clumsily piggy-back onto their
staggering captain, who was singing some club song that had been starting
up as they left.

Kalvin blinked his eyes against the cool air until they stung, feeling
the sweaty dampness of his armpits and down his back, and his cock still
aching uncomfortable inside his trunks and jeans. He cleared his throat
and took deep sniffs of night air, disoriented and unsure if they were
even going the right way to get back to the hotel. He took stock of the
lads around him, watching as Cooper swayed and struggled with hoots of
laughter beneath the piggy-backing Dallas; Ayling was rushing at them to
try and unseat the defender from the captain's shoulders, probably about
to lead to a team-ruining injury if he wasn't careful! Ahead of them,
turning the corner and getting them onto the right route for the hotel,
Klicj and Raphinha were leading the way.

Next to him, Gelhardt was drifting along with a gaping face, his mouth
hanging open and his eyes bulging in their sockets - the innocent
19-year-old scouser looked scandalised by the world he had just entered
and left, and according to Dan's maths, the stunned young substitute
must have got a shag in with one of those strippers himself. If Kalvin
had been a bit more centred and calm, he might have laughed at the lost
innocence of young Joe staggering alongside him, looking almost as if the
Scouse teen had just lost his virginity back there to one of those
writhing performers. Joe was being steered along by one of Jack
Harrison's hands on his shoulders, and Kalvin glanced between them, and
then over his shoulder - Dan James was trailing after them with a
distracted look on his face. Embarrassment hopefully, Phillips thought -
what had the stupid lad been playing at back there?! What did he think he
was doing?!

For a second, their eyes met, Dan scuffling along slowly at the back of
the group, and Kalvin stomping along at its centre - immediately he tore
his gaze away and ignored the other man, staring ahead of them and
feeling glad that they were on the right road, the big hotel and its
glowing signage rising up ahead.

Suddenly, making him tense up and clench, Dan was passing by, nipping
between him and Joe - but speeding on ahead and bowling playfully into
the others, joining the weird drunken wrestling that Dallas and Cooper
were engaging in, bashing into a rubbish skip and almost spilling over
the kerb into the traffic-free nocturnal road. Kalvin stared at the
smaller lad as he wriggled competitively between big Stu and Liam, and
then he tore his eyes away and gritted his teeth painfully.

`That got heavy!' he heard Jack hiss thoughtfully.

`I've never paid for sex before,' Joe's quiet young voice sound
mournfully. `Is it allowed?'

`We didn't pay for sex,' Harrison muttered thoughtfully, `we paid
for... entertainment. The er, sex was... a bonus.' A low regretful groan
from the 19-year-old between them, and then Jack was shooting a
meaningful look at him over the kid's shoulder. `Right, Kalv? They
weren't prozzers, it wasn't like that - we were just giving the bar a
lot of money for staying open for us.'

`Huh. Right,' the 26-year-old grunted disinterestedly on them, still
conscious enough to pick up on Harrison's well-meant selectiveness with
the truth. `Right,' he repeated, reaching over and patting Joe on the
arm, `we didn't do anything too dodgy. Was just a party, kiddo.'

`Oh,' Gelhardt said vaguely, sounding unsure what he believed.

`Which one were you with, Kalv?' demanded Jack's voice then.

He kept his gaze fixed on the hotel ahead, his face burning hot and
sweaty. `What?'

`I mean, which girl did you go with,' Harrison was insisting.

`I - er - I shagged the same lass as Dallas,' he mumbled.

`Oh, nice,' chuckled the winger in a sleazy tone, `but what about
before that?'

`What?' Kalvin grunted irritably.

`What were you up to before that?' the other Leeds star was saying,
irritatingly close to him, still steering dazed Gelhardt along as the
three of them caught up with the others in the glow of the hotel lobby,
raucous outdoor voices switching to embarrassingly loud stage whispers as
they stumbled through automatic doors into the foyer, risking waking up
the wrong member of the management.

`There weren't enough girls to go around,' Harrison was giggling next
to him, excitable and verbose, and Phillips swung round to face him with
sudden force as they passed through the threshold of the hotel. `And
what of it?' the midfielder barked aggressively at 25-year-old, squaring
up to the mildly shorter guy. `What the fuck are you getting at?' the
Yorkshireman barked fiercely down at the dark-haired Stoke guy.

And then he stopped himself, seeing the way poor Joe backed off in alarm,
and the awkwardness on Jack's own drooping face. The two stared warily
at him, and Kalvin glanced ahead to the lifts, where the other guys were
huddled but had turned to look back this way - including, of course, Dan
James, who was slouched against big Liam for support, arms folded to his
chest and the usual impish smirk on his face. Kalvin wilted under his
meaningful glance and he stared irritably from guy to guy, then groaned.
`I'm gonna be so hungover on the coach,' he announced to the gathering
at large, and immediately the awkwardness shifted to a mumbled conference
on that matter - similar outbursts of fear and revulsion as the guys
piled into two separate lifts and whizzed up through the hotel to their
various shared rooms, everybody full of very specific regret as they
anticipated the consequences of too much drinking and an early drive back
to Leeds tomorrow.

But that wasn't really on Kalvin's mind, or not centrally, as he
marched one way down the corridor with Luke Ayling, who he had to keep
grabbing to stop from knocking on other room doors and waking up other
hotel guests. Grabbing and steering his Londoner buddy, he looked back
over his shoulder again and stared after Dan, who was moving in the
opposite direction with his roomie, Raphinha. And Daniel was looking this
way too, it seemed, if only for a moment.

Dirty little bugger, Kalvin thought bitterly, angry that he'd let
himself be turned on and handled like that - jesus! Being debauched and
horny was one thing, having a bit of fun, pushing some boundaries, but-
Ugh! He grimaced and shoved Luke irritably ahead of him, clearing the
final short distance to the door of their short room, where the London
man seemed to calm down enough to find a key-card and let them in. One
last glance down the corridor before following his roomie in, but there
was nothing to glance at - Dan had vanished away into another suite, the
hotel corridors echoing with the men's terrible attempts to be quiet and
discreet. There would be hell to pay from the gaffer tomorrow, for all of
their exploits tonight. All of them, Kalvin thought uncomfortably... if
only they knew!




'Writer guy' - Premiership Lads on
Nifty https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/celebrity/premiership-lads/

Amazon Wishlist here if you wanna say thanks LOL
  https://www.amazon.co.uk/hz/wishlist/ls/26BW3WSABBHNM?ref_=wl_share