Date: Wed, 20 Mar 2024 21:33:30 +0000 From: writer guy Subject: Premiership Lads, Part 397 Part 397: The Return of Big Joe The shared hotel room rang with the crackle and bass of the blue-tooth speaker on the bureau, playing the other footballer's Spotify tunes whilst he changed out of the official England merch that he'd worn to dinner like everyone else, and pulled a simple white vest over the broad heavy muscle of his upper body instead. Bearded and impressive, the 6ft2 Londoner tugged the white top into comfortable position and then adjusted the fit of the loose black shorts he'd pulled on over his boxer briefs, changing into these thin comfortable clothes to settle down for the second night in the room. His assigned roommate for the camp was muttering along to the lyrics of the dance music on his speaker whilst he finished tidying away his things at his side of the room, having been quite lazy with his personal effects when the pair of them checked into the shared room yesterday as two of the later Three Lions arrivals to Southgate's spring assembly. The two bulky men coexisted for the moment in a comfortable quiet, everybody rather chatted out after the team dinner that had taken place downstairs for the second night in a row, and the pretty intense full-day training that had welcomed them to their national duty under a cloudy March sky. The big muscle-bound Liverpool player was quite comfortable to lounge now on his bed and flick through some apps on the screen of his iPad, half-listening to the way the other England national was grumbling along to lyrics and punctuating it with snatches of chat about the day they had shared at their respective ends of the large squad: it should be Joe Gomez who was excitable and verbose about this week's action, really, given that it had been a god four years since his last disastrous visit to the England camp, enduring a career-threatening injury within twenty-four hours and missing out on more than a season of first-team football in his mid-20s prime. However, big Joe was doing his very best to approach the entire week with the laconic ease that made him such a trusted and respected tower back at Anfield, and had made him a valued young defender in his earlier outings for this national side; it was his roomie, Ivan Toney, who was springing quite lightly about the suite as he unpacked his socks and undies, and propped a few personal pics on the picture rail over his bed, as if the pair of them were moving into a boarding school dorm rather than a few nights' stay at a Surrey hotel before two minor international fixtures. Joe turned his attention back away from the 6ft1 Brentford forward, who had experienced his own controversial career interruptions to be fair, and looked through his emails and a couple of different social media platforms, giving all appearance of a resting giant, his huge muscular form slumped comfortably across the bed and his vest and shorts making him look pretty read to clamber underneath the sheets and get snoring - but big Joe's eyes slipped repeatedly to the time in the corner of the tablet screen, and once or twice to the digital watch around his wrist, and even then up to the traditional analogue clock on the wall above the hotel room door, ticking away the seconds. Curfew had passed, and Gomez and Toney were up here now under the orders of the England boss, like everybody else - early starts and early nights, just like any other intensive training camp, bookending the heavy physical work and the organised `fun' of team bonding, and of course all the inevitable media duty. Joe himself had been one of the stars of this afternoon's interview rounds, questioned about his past experiences here and how it felt to be back reclaiming a spot in Southgate's plans, having missed two big tournaments in recent years. With one of his big-shouldered shrugs and wry grins, the 26-year-old defensive footballer had dismissed the hype and pressure and pledged his gratitude to both Southgate and the mentorship of his club gaffer, refusing to make a big deal out of his return and giving them just a relaxed optimism to quote and scrutinise. Joe realised that Ivan was speaking to him, and tried to tune back in - misunderstanding his slow response, the other player turned down the speaker, and lunged this way, sitting on the edge of the other bed to address him. `You're not going to sleep yet, are you?' the marginally older player demanded brightly. `I was gonna suggest we play a game of cards or something.' Joe smiled vaguely at him, still swiping fingers across the screen. `Hmm? What game?' `Oh, I dunno,' grunted the Northampton-born guy. `Just feeling a bit bored and restless. I know today was tough work but fuck it was good to be out with everyone and just getting stuck in. You know how much it means to be here this week, with those fucking Euros around the corner, bruv.' Gomez nodded slow agreement, not quite looking up at the 28-year-old. `Sure,' he said loosely, glancing again at the time. `I just got that energy, y'know?' Toney informed him, laughing a bit awkwardly at himself in a pause in speech. `Not that I don't love playing for my club every week, you get me, but it's just different being out here, and being with all these guys - the big names and all that. You know what I mean, right?' Joe looked up and saw Ivan's uncertainty - `I suppose maybe it's different at Liverpool,' the attacking player mused. `Maybe every fucking week feels like the Euros in that love-in.' The 26-year-old just laughed this off and checked his watch, and then looked thoughtfully at the other tall black lad. `Something like that,' he said noncommittally. `I'll stop being a wanker,' Ivan laughed, sounding distant. `Honest, dunno why I'm so psyched to be picked this week, it don't mean anything for definite come summer, but still. It's just good that we're real contenders, huh?' A short pause, and then, `Why do you keep checking your watch, big man? Am I boring you that much, hey?' A slightly strained laugh, and the slapping sound of the big lad patting his hands on top of bare thighs where his shorts ended and exposed shiny smooth muscle. Joe looked thoughtfully at his 28-year-old roomie, not immediately answering, but locking the screen of his iPad and sliding it dismissively aside; he scratched at the dark curls of his distinguished beard and then propped himself up on his side, glancing from the other player - who was looking expectantly at him and fiddling with the zip of his hoody top - then at the door of their suite. Right on cue, making Gomez smile his lopsided smile, there was a bit of a knock on the door, and Joe waved a lazy hand in its direction. `Get that, will ya?' the Liverpool defender sighed self-assuredly. Toney looked a bit puzzled, which was fair enough, but gave him a light punch in the upper arm and then got up to cross the room. Gomez smirked and sat up properly, hanging thick arms across his knees, and watching as a confused-looking Ivan stopped to peer through the peephole before opening their door - their visitor had a similarly bewildered look on his face as he slid in, addressing the tall forward, but then shooting a furtive glance this way and smiling expectantly to Joe. `Hey, Joe.' `Howdy, mate,' yawned the 6ft2 man, giving a similarly casual nod his way, and then turning his own relaxed smile to his puzzled roomie. `I just invited Madders here to pop by and hang out, y'know. What? You said you weren't ready for sleep yet. Restless, did you say? Good, good - Jamesy here will keep us occupied for a bit, I'm sure.' Joe stroked his beard a little more and flashed warm playful expressions at both his blank roommate and the more nervous curiosity of a smirking James Maddison, Tottenham Hotspur's prized attacking midfielder. Joe had been in the training centre's indoor swimming pool when he first locked eyes with James in the late afternoon; he'd missed the final stage of full-team training due to his scheduled press interview alongside the gaffer, and so he'd opted for a half hour of swimming lengths to get some more exercise in, and somehow the short spry Midlander had come by and had the same idea. The two rival Premier League stars had shared bland chit-chat at the pool's edge, James explaining that he'd been rested from the full training due to a twinge in his ankle, and had the same idea as Joe; but they'd barely shared the pool in an overlap between their sessions, one diving in as the other called quits. But Joe had found himself lingering around the chlorine-scented pale blue of the pool-room, toying with his phone and a variety of messages, and so when he was showering down at the cool sprays near the poolside, rinsing pool-water off his big muscles without bothering to strip off his clingy soaked trunks, he'd ended up side-by-side with Madders at the next nozzle, smiling acknowledgements across at each other past the slim faint dividers. It had quickly occurred to Joe that James hadn't been in the pool for long, and the vain idea struck him that they weren't sharing neighbouring showers out of sheer coincidence: the former Leicester man seeming unable to tear his eyes away as Gomez rinsed his pecs and shoulders and one hefty thigh at a time, adjusting and fondling at the skimpy black trunks that hugged the outline of his dormant cock. When he caught Madders staring, he just grinned knowingly over at the 27-year-old family man, and gave him a simple subtle nod of firm agreement. Then he'd looked away, laughing, and finished washing the pool chlorine from his strong 6ft2 physique, before grasping a towel and stalking past the other football player - but stopping, towering over his slim pale body, and resting fingers briefly on his bare wet shoulder. Long enough to suggest a time of night and the number of his hotel room, and give a discreet wink to the cock-hungry Coventry lad being drenched in cool water. Madders had grinned at him then with certain desire, and the same look shone on his friendly face as he took nervous steps into the shared room, an England jumper tied about his waist and one of those simple white Three Lions t-shirts covering his lean torso. `It's after curfew,' Ivan Toney commented quietly. He laughed uncertainly. `I dunno if we should be visiting rooms at this time, lads.' He looked embarrassed to be speaking such boring words of warning, but then he was a guy who'd been in trouble with the higher powers of the FA, and perhaps he was once bitten twice shy about his career now. `Oh, don't worry,' Maddison told him, but he sounded a little cautious himself. `Just stopping by. My roomie is snoring already and it does my head in.' He played with the knot of the jumper around his waist and looked expectantly over this way - Joe grinned at him and shrugged, knowing just what the Hotspur slut must be thinking - sure, he'd imagined somehow getting the room to himself too, or finding another safe space in the confines of this team hotel, but... Wel, Ivan HAD said he was feeling restless before bed, right? Joe thought he had the measure of the tall broad forward and he was too focused on his own needs to overly worry about what the Brentford man had to say. With a jaunty little whistle, the big defender unfolded his body from the bed, rising up to his feet, a little taller than Toney and towering over 5ft9 Madders. He grinned from one man to the other and then, very unceremoniously, grabbed the package in the front of his thin dark shorts, stepping into the centre of the suite, between them both. `James here liked what he saw by the pool,' he said simply to Ivan, nudging at his guest with an elbow, and then throwing a powerful arm about James' slim shoulders, grabbing and shaking the handsome and gregarious ex-Fox who was one of the most liked figures in today's training squad, and as far as Joe had been able to discern, his best chance of getting his dick wet. He held one arm about James' shoulders and continued to grab and squeeze at the front of his shorts, giving a serious look and then brief wink to Ivan Toney. `Ha bloody ha,' declared Brentford's goal-scorer. `Are you sure about this, mate?' murmured Maddison - it wasn't clear if his question was more general or specific to the presence of a third. Joe just laughed them both off, and squeezed a firm hand on the back of James' neck. `Get down on your knees, then,' he told the Spurs player, and he pushed down the front of his shorts until his big fat cock was spilling loose over the waistband - as he did so, he didn't take his eyes off Ivan's alarmed face. James could hardly resist his powerful touch, and so the other player was down on his knees on the carpet, low down at his side like an obedient pup, and taking it in his hand. `Shit,' gasped Toney. `Sorry,' Gomez told him simply and confidently. `You rather I went into the bathroom and fed this hungry slut in there?' `Huh- wah? Oh- Er- Mate, are you for real?' `Fuck,' purred Madders, `it's as big as I thought. God. Can I suck it?' `Is he really gonna-? I mean- fuck's sake, lads, what are we...' `Sure,' Joe growled, `it's what you came for, right?' With both hands, he lifted his vest a little up his firm dark six-pack, giving James more access to his crotch, and smiling as the kneeling white man shuffled about to be in front of his strong legs and bringing his mouth in to kiss and lick the heavy dark shaft that was already getting thicker and harder. Right there in front of the other England call-up, Joe stood with relaxed confidence, and let Maddison take his prick in his hungry mouth, and Toney's jaw almost hit the floor. Joe smirked at him and let out a pleasured sigh, reaching one hand down to stroke the mousy brown hair of James' head, whilst the other stroked up his tummy and back down to his waist. `What, they don't have cock-suckers at Brentford FC?' he demanded, then let out a long gruff laugh. `Relax,' he told the 28-year-old simply. `A mouth is a mouth, as they say. And I'll defo share him with you if you stop looking like you've crapped yourself, Ivan.' Joe's boldness was not totally typical for him - he was fairly secretive about his on-off exploits at home in Liverpool, where he felt more pressure to prove himself and maintain his position, and he'd kept hidden his various encounters with the likes of Trent, Robbo and, most recently, Darwin. They weren't a big deal to him, after all, just much-needed moments of release and indulgence. But here, back in the England fold, the 26-year-old felt emboldened and reckless, and what did it matter what Ivan Toney or slutty Madders really thought of him...? He'd seen the wild hunger in James' eyes back in the pool-house, and suspected a flirty tone from the other Englishman all through the first twenty-four hours of the training camp - he was here to enjoy himself. And right now he was certainly doing that, enjoying the way James' mouth caressed every inch of his hard black cock. Madders was a skilled and confident sucker, more-so perhaps than the awkward bi-curious lads that Gomez had tended to claim as his own for these private moments of selfish pleasure. Certainly, the Spurs player was doing a better job of servicing his thick manhood than his current Uruguayan buddy - Nunez had to be repeatedly told to mind his teeth, and always needed reminding not to ignore the balls. Maddison, on the other hand, was lavish and wet, slobbering easily up and down his shaft, taking it quite deep in his throat, and stopping now to wank it whilst he lapped and kissed at the wrinkled skin around Joe's full heavy balls. `You wanna take a picture?' Joe laughed at Ivan, who was still stood still and staring. `Honestly, I can take him into the en suite if-' `You're letting him blow you?' Toney demanded, as if he needed verbal confirmation of what he'd been watching for two minutes, and Gomez laughed at him - `What does it look like, nobhead? Come on, get your whopper out, seems like he enjoys a big black dick in his throat. You want another one, Madders? Yeah, look at him nod and drool, the slag. Come here, mate, he'll do you too.' Of course, the 28-year-old forward took little persuasion, though his face was stony with reserve and judgement. But Ivan was like many hot-blooded footballers, especially attacking players, and Joe grinned with certainty as the 6ft1 Northampton lad muscled in next to him and fumbled with the crotch of his shorts - and then James was doing the fumbling for him, groping into his shorts whilst still gobbling on the first big treat. But one Ivan's semi was out and being stroked, Joe was happy to take a handle on his own stiffy and press Madders' face towards his roomie's cock instead - `That's it,' he grunted, `give Ivan a suck, show him what you can do. I knew you were a slut, Maddison, but I never expected you to be THIS good, bruv.' So the two tall muscular lads stood there side by side and shared the third on his knees. Ivan's face was a picture of shocked and wary ecstasy, whilst Joe just laughed and groaned, and gave the occasionally light slap to the side of James' face, showing him how dominant he could be, and upping the dirty talk - `Suck us good, you little slut, and maybe you'll get even more - yeh? You like that, don't ya? Two big black cocks inside ya? Fucking slut, go on, suck Toney some more, he loves it.' And the Spurs player was really relaxed about it, which was quite new and enjoyable for Gomez - he was used to a lot of bluster and panic from the curious lads he shared his body with, and he liked the gusto with which Maddison blew them both and giggled playfully between choking on the two bare tools. Yep, this was a good slut he'd discovered in his new England line-up - was he surprised? Not really, James gave off that kinda energy, and Joe could always tell when someone fancied him. `Hey,' he growled at the Brentford player. `You make yourself comfortable, on the bed, and just let him suck on your big balls, hey?' He wasn't just being generous here - by getting Ivan to lounge back at the foot of the bed, with his big dark legs open and James lapping at his bollocks, it meant that Joe could loom behind him, giving his arse a good few spanks through his thin white gym shorts, then pulling it down and admiring the faint pink handprint that lingered on the white skin. He gave a few firmer smacks to each cheek, turning pink to red, and then he spat on a finger and began to slide it in to find and explore the slag's knotty hole. He licked his lips and stood there, frigging the Hotspur's arse, whilst making grinning eye contact with an ecstatically panicked Ivan on the bed. `Fuck, nice little cunt on him,' Joe growled. `You're going to... fuck him?' `Why not? See if his arse feels as good as his mouth.' `But...' `Tell me you ain't enjoying him, haha.' Joe spat on two fingers and stretched the hole more, jerking back and forth on his thick member with the other hand. He pushed James further up onto the bed to get the height right and then he began to slid his cock in between the fuzzy cheeks, teasing his head against the tight little hole whilst James continued to stoop and slobber between Ivan's big thighs. Toney groaned and panted and Gomez felt just as excited, beginning to push himself in against that yielding ring, knowing with certainty that he was far from the first to penetrate the gifted goal-scorer. He loved the firm grip enclosing his cock, and he loved the wide-eyed panic and pleasure that met his gaze on Ivan's face - he loved the slutty way that Maddison jiggled his bottom and pushed back, keen to be impaled on a big cock. Soon Joe was really fucking him, holding his hips and slapping into his pale fuzzy cheeks, humping deep into him too hard for him to keep sucking - instead, Madders kissed and drooled up and down Toney's six-pack and around his nips, and the big firm hands of the forward roved up and down his back until they were kneading into the spread white buttocks, feeling the soft sexy arse cheeks that were accommodating Gomez's thrusts. It wasn't long before they were swapping positions - `Is it really that good?' Ivan gasped at him, shaky with excitement - and manhandling the Spurs player between them - `God, you two are fucking hot,' whined the midfielder eagerly, precum flecked on his scruffy goatee - until Joe was on the bed guiding his mouth back onto his cock and watching as his backside was mounted by the other black lad. Casually, the two of them spitroasted him, the 27-year-old caught between their big weapons - Joe thrusting up into his mouth and choking him whilst Ivan pounded into his arse with a shocked look on his long handsome face, both of their darker muscled physiques glossy with sweat as they shared the clammy white Midlander between them. `How's that feel?' he grunted at James, ignoring the fact that the lad couldn't talk whilst choking on his girth, and getting an answer from horny fucker Ivan instead - `He's so tight,' whined a man who had clearly never done anal before, and Gomez just laughed delightedly. He liked watching the rippling darkness of his friend's muscles as he pounded into their shared white boy, admiring the lean strength of the 6ft1 forward, but he quickly became jealous and needed to take over again - so they kept swapping ends, spit-roasting Maddison across the bed and barely giving him a chance to say anything but `God, yes' as they swapped ends and filled him up. At intervals, Gomez even turned to look at the full-lengthy mirror on the wall - identical to that in other parallel rooms of their corridor, where just yesterday evening Jude Bellingham had posed in the new England shirt and irked his DILF roommate into confrontation - so that he could enjoy the sight of their spitroast, seeing slim smooth James poised between their bigger thrusting physiques, sharing him in rapid bursts, making so much noise as they slapped against his pleasingly soft backside or fucked his gagging throat. Ivan, for all his claims of nervousness and caution, really went for it, a hard dirty fucker, loud gasps and moans, but none of Joe's confident dirty talk - Joe was excited by the energy and ferocity of his newly-converted ally, glad that he hadn't misjudged the Brentford bloke when he risked inviting Madders up here for this sesh. Ivan hit his climax before Joe did - he was in the middle of withdrawing his cock from Madders' arse, hassled along by an impatient Gomez, but he was so caught in his pleasure that he couldn't stop jerking his greasy prick, and he shot messy puddles over those cheeks and Maddison's lower back, making a high-pitched whine of something like embarrassment as he peaked and emptied. When Joe grasped hold of James' body, he just fingered some of the other lad's cum into the wet slippery hole and shoved his own thick monster inside, then told James to lick the rest of it off the source - he could heard the fap fap of Maddison jerking off whilst licking Ivan clean, his arse pounded by more rapid thrusts from Joe himself, who soon emptied his own bollocks and bred the Spurs lad deep inside, cumming inside him and then slowly withdrawing in a steaming heap of sweaty dark muscle. Joe lay there in a cum-happy daze, listening to the slurps as James went on sucking off sensitive Ivan's spent member, and then loudly enjoying his own orgasm between them, so that all three sweaty bodies were piled together on the same double, damp skin rubbing damp skin and gently staining the off-white sheets below. But James quickly became chatty, commenting on their big cocks and powerful bodies and how he hadn't factored on having such a great second night of England camp - he complained loudly about how quiet and frustrating his first night had been, listening to Maguire's snores, and how he was gutted Jack Grealish wasn't here. For his part, the Brentford player had gone awkwardly silent and had regret etched on every inch of his face; Joe was more blunt in his behaviour, and he told James it was time for goodnight. Without dressing, the 6ft2 Liverpool hunk steered the 27-year-old off the bed and back into his clothes, resisting attempts of a cuddle or kiss, and guiding his sweaty slim frame to the door. He gave him a reassuring pat or two on the arse when Madders asked `Same time tomorrow night?' but didn't verbally commit to anything - he just saw the chatty twunk out of their suite and then shut the door behind him, standing naked and playing with his floppy soft cock and tingling bollocks, then looking across at the beleaguered look on Ivan's worried face. `Don't sweat it,' he told him firmly, before going through to take a solitary shower and properly clean his big powerful body. When he returned to the main suite, Ivan was still hunched in a seat by the window, hands clasped ruefully over his face, muttering to himself in a manner that sounded suspiciously like prayer. `Just don't worry about it,' the Londoner barked across at him, irritated by silly notions of sin and restraint. `We all had fun, didn't we?' The 28-year-old gave him a strange worried look and then mumbled something unclear about `Just restless' - then they both began clambering into their separate beds, Joe swapping the sweat- and cum-stained duvet for a fresh one from the closet before flopping contentedly down and rolling onto his side, his body and cock spent and satisfied. Yes, he thought, same time tomorrow night does sound about right, whether or not his roommate wanted to join in, ha. Big Joe was back on the England squad, and he was here to enjoy himself.