Date: Mon, 27 Apr 2020 19:56:27 +0000 From: writer guy Subject: Premiership Lads part 88: The Ultimatum Part eighty-eight: The Ultimatum In the front seat of his Land Rover, Harry Maguire held the phone limply to his ear and stared blankly out into the bleakly sunny supermarket car park. He let out his breath in a slow huff, then repeated his simple, wooden response. `What the fuck?' he asked again, and slumped back in the driver's seat, his muscular frame melting back into the leather as his confident posture wilted. `Yeh, that's what I said,' came Jamie's voice down the line, the older Sheffield-born footballer sounding more furious than shocked Maguire could pull himself to be. `I nearly gave the cunt a black eye. I coulda sworn he was gonna back down, the little prick.' More rambling angry swearing from Vardy over the phone; Harry half-listened and stared back out into the car park. Huddled pairs of shoppers drifted by in distanced queues. `He was deadly serious,' Vardy said after a while in a low grunt. `But...' Harry felt like he'd just been hit by a bus. `But we paid him the money. Twice. Both of us.' `Yeah, I know. He looked smug as fuck. But he's... he's dangerous, mate. Unpredictable. And I'm only repeating what he said.' Harry tensed up, sat forward a little in the driver's seat. He could see his brother approaching the car behind a trolley. He heard Jamie's slow, hesitant breaths down the line. `He's really gonna spill that footage? You think he'd do it...?' The Leicester player was slow to answer. `I really thought I had him, mate. But it's been a long time since... Well. We only played together a season. He had a mad look in his eyes, buddy. I'd watch yourself.' `You think I should...?' `I think you should think really fuckin' carefully about pissing this kid off.' Jamie sighed. `I'm sorry, mate. I am. And... well... maybe he was bluffing but...' `But what?' Harry demanded. He could hear the rattling trolley wheels pulling up alongside the car. He reached to undo his belt, found his big strong fingers jittery and useless on the button. `What else...?' `He's got footage of me,' Vardy said in a small voice. `Maybe he was chatting shit, but... I think if he don't get what he wants, big lad, then...' Maguire realised he'd never once heard the wiry striker sound nervous or afraid, not in all their years knowing one another. He sounded worried now and that in turn shook Maguire to the core. `I gotta go,' the burly United captain muttered down the phone, hanging up on the old friend who had so earnestly assured him he would have shit sorted out today. So much for that. If anything, didn't it sound like Vardy had made it ten times fucking worse?! He was distracted from this angry realisation by the drum of fingers on the window beside him, and he glanced out into the gurning smile of his younger brother. He tugged off his belt, opened the door and swung out onto the tarmac to help Laurence unload the shopping into the back of the car. He set to work in stunned silence, sure his face was blanched from its spring tan. He hoisted two carriers of heavy goods out of the trolley in zombie automation, staring unseeing into the contents of his boot. `Oi, what's that face for?' Loz barked at him, shoving two more bags in alongside them. `Nothing,' Harry returned in an empty voice, reaching down for the heavy milk cartons -- stopping as his brother's hand grazed his ankle and the other Maguire lad leant in over the trolley, staring at him in cautious interest. `You look like you've seen a fuckin' ghost, Haz,' the Chesterfield player muttered. `Mate... just get sat in the car. I'll do this. Go on.' Harry obeyed in heavy silence, his thoughts slow and unwieldy and depressing. He returned to the driver's seat, his limbs feeling leaden as he dragged himself in and pulled the door shut after him. Jesse fucking Lingard... what was wrong with that bugger...? What the hell...? He thought about the risks he'd taken in the past six months, the moments of stupidity that had led him here. More than anything else, that fucking zoom meeting that ran on too long; a fucking webcam wank with a pretty-faced young dad who he couldn't decide how he felt about...? He'd chosen that over his dignity, his reputation, his... virginity? His arse clenched just thinking about it. The other door opened and Laurence Maguire pulled himself up into the big motor, slamming the door shut after him and clapping his hands together with a sense of relief that the weekly shop had been successfully completed. He pulled a face-mask off his mouth and nose and grinned uncertainly across the car at his brother. Harry turned and looked at him, unable to hide his misery. `I've fucked up, bro,' he said. `Hey, mate...' Laurence reached across and patted him on the arm. `What's up? You can tell me, remember -- what is it...? What the hell happened while I was in Waitrose...?!' Harry stared at him, unblinking. `Some things I can never tell you,' he said woodenly. Laurence's smile faded but there was a kind twinkle to his eyes. `Try me, Haz. Try me.' Jesse Lingard parked his car ten minutes' walk from the Maguire household. He'd found himself gripping the wheel and patting his toes against the pedals in a frenzy of anticipation as he drove out of the city and into Cheshire; now, leaving the car behind, he couldn't hold in a chirpy whistle and a little juggling of his car keys from one hand to the other, strolling up the quiet lane from the village to the new-build estate where his much-lusted captain lived. He'd only been here once, but he knew the way. The one barbecue he'd attended here just before the season began was imprinted on his memory; it had been Maguire's mild effort to welcome himself to the fold and ingratiate himself with some of the lads after a few pre-season sessions at Old Trafford. Lingard could remember it well, because Big Harry had sweated a lot over the barbecue, his white tshirt sticking to his back muscles and a distinct wedgie in his cotton shorts. Lingard had been with a hot girl he'd casually seen around then, but his eyes had played over the new United signing far more than her cleavage or lip fillers. He'd fucked her in his car before they drove back into Manchester, his mind's eye still roving over the alpha male at the barbecue, all nervous smiles and forced banter in his desperation to make a good impression. Lingard's feverish excitement had barely subsided since licking Jamie Vardy's load off his lips in his own garage. What had left him the bigger thrill? Returning for a moment to the mindless submission he'd enjoyed so much, on his knees for that dominant nasty fucker, or turning those tables and seeing the real fear in Vardy's eyes...? It was hard to say. But he knew he'd won; he'd tasted a dirty victory then hours before the text messages came from Harry in the evening, organising today. The 27-year-old had a bounce in his step as he approached the quiet lane of detached houses where the Maguires lived, though he knew Harry had moved east into Yorkshire to be with family during lockdown; he wondered what lies the other guy had been forced to tell to get here for this secret meeting, and found himself taking pleasure in that too. The idea of big strong Harry reduced to silly lies and hiding things from his family purely for HIS pleasure... Jesse felt a twitch of premature excitement in the tight black briefs he'd slipped on today, beneath his denim shorts and baggy tshirt. A gorgeous sunset was just glimmering in the sky and the birdsong was loud. The world felt fucking perfect right now, Lingard decided, imagining the pleasures he would taste this evening. Perhaps he could even stay the night. He realised that he especially wanted the deed to happen in the marital bed, oh yes, perfect! In a moment of villainous glee, the Manchester midfielder almost rubbed his hands together before stepping up to the driveway of the house in question, recognising its twee front garden and flowerboxes on the windows. He shoved his car keys in a tight pocket, patted his own firm buttocks to wipe sweat form his palms, made his way up the stone path to the front door. He enjoyed the cosy ding-dong the button evoked from within, sensing the suburban peace of the family home he was sneaking into here. Won't be the only thing I sneak inside, he told himself with a wicked grin. He pictured the moments of frustrated longing that had plagued him -- not just since Harry joined Manchester United, but back in those England trips when he'd first really noticed him. In his younger years, Jesse had been shocked by his own penchant for dick, dragged into realisation of it by Vardy's dominance; back then, though, Lingard had never actually found himself particularly attracted to another bloke. It had just been the naughty thrill of what was going on. But there was that SOMETHING about Maguire, wasn't there? Something that had become fixation for him in sweaty shared hotel rooms and on coaches and flights. Russia had been one tantalising glimpse after another; one ignored hint and initiating stroke after another. To find out now, a couple of years later, that not only was Harry Maguire swinging both ways, but in some kinda fling with Luke fucking Shaw...? It was too much to bear. There were footsteps on the other side of the door. To be irritating, Lingard pushed the button again; ding-dong, ding-dong. Click and twist of lock, gentle shake of the door in its frame, slow lurch of opening inwards. Jesse smirked, bit his lip, began to step forward. But the door didn't fully open, it swung in a couple of inches and stayed, as if in some irritable gesture that Harry Maguire couldn't be arsed to fully let him in. Sore loser, Jesse decided with another pull of naughtiness. He pushed the door more fully open, stepped out of the burnt sunshine into the cool dark of the hallway, and leaving the door ajar behind him as he took several long paces into the house and paused midway down the corridor. The man of the house stood several metres away, at the foot of the stairs, arms folded, eyes on him, sullen indifference on his hewn face, and- But something wasn't right. The guy was bigger than Jesse, but wasn't Harry taller than that? Had the big fucker bleached his hair in lockdown boredom? Why did he look so... young? Jesse blinked and took another step forward as the jarring dissonance became clearer and more obvious to him. That wasn't Harry stood in front of him, but it did look almost like an impossible twin. What the fuck...? That's when the hands behind him gripped his wrists tightly, jerking his arms back together and wrapping something tightly around them. Hot breath on his neck and cheek as the familiar voice grunted into his ear: `Jesse, mate... you never met my little bro...? Jesse, this is Loz. Loz, this is... a fucking bitch.' And Lingard, his wrists tied together, was pushed harshly forward, stumbling towards the grinning younger figure of Laurence Maguire. In the passenger seat, Laurence had stared silently into the middle-distance as he listened. When his beloved older brother finally rolled to a pause, he risked a glance his way. He could see the deep blush in Harry's tanned cheeks, the heaviness in his eyes. He looked at one of his brother's big hands, white-knuckled in its clench on the wheel. `So you and Shaw,' the youngest Maguire brother said quietly, `you're... what... seeing each other?' A wordless grunt from Harry. `The phrase sounds childish,' Laurence muttered apologetically. `But I mean... it's more than just... messing around, right...? By the sound of it.' He watched the slow nod of his brother's big head and shifted a little in his seat, suddenly hot with second-hand anger as the story he'd been told ticked into place in his head. `And Lingard, he's... Fuck. He expects you to...' `I've messed up,' Harry said quietly. `This is gonna ruin me.' `Unless you...' `Unless I... yeah.' The two men sat in complete silence for a while in the supermarket car park, trolleys rattling by at sporadic intervals; cars coming and going. The family were gonna begin wondering where the fuck they were. But Harry hardly looked in a state to drive anywhere, he seemed to be in shock. Laurence thought about suggesting swapping places, but he also knew how fucking precious his big bro was about his vehicle. He glanced thoughtfully about the inside of the Land Rover, at his brother, at the dull scene around them. Unwanted memories surfaced for him: he should have known something more was going on, but he'd thought the little fumbles on his birthday and the other week were... What? What had he thought? Laurence took an accusing look at himself in the rearview and weighed up his awkward inner dialogue of these past weeks. The first time, he'd thought it was mainly the drink, that's what he'd thought; but it had also seemed oddly natural. And then, that silent night in the family home, it had been... over-spilling tension in a mad situation? The 23-year-old footballer was slowly realising how much more open-minded he needed to be about the world. Things were a whole lot more fucking fluid than he'd ever considered... `And Jesse Lingard, fuck, he has some kinda... what, crush on you?' A vague grunt that could have been a yes or a `fuck' or whatever. Laurence leaned over and looked at him more intently. `And he thinks he wants to bum you, is that it?' he asked hotly. He saw the alarm flash in his brother's face at his choice of words. `Mate,' he pressed on, leaning over a bit, `if he's so mad for ya, is that really what he's after...? From what you've said, and what I know, he's a bit of a... Well, you know, he's kinda dweeby, ain't he, and you're like... so big, and...' Blushing himself, he gestured towards his brother's crotch. `You sure it ain't just THAT he really wants a bit of...?' The memory of his own fascination with the big piece came back to him and he gulped nervously, but he could see the cogs turning in Harry's head. Slowly, the older footballer straightened up and his blank expression of shock seemed to harden into one of readiness to fight. `You know what bro,' he said, `you might be onto something there...' `I know what you said to Jamie,' Harry Maguire said, sprawled in the big armchair in his lounge, legs apart, hands resting on the arms of the chair, eyes trained on the centre of the room, `but I think that's fuckin' bullshit. Is it my arse you've been craving for the past two years, Lings, or just this?' He lifted his right hand off the arm of the chair and rested it on the crotch of his gym shorts, giving a gentle squeeze and pull to the prominent bulge there. He watched Jesse's shifty eyes follow his hand and stare intently at what lay between his parted legs. The blackmailing troublemaker was on his knees on the rug, hands tied behind his back by the short cord Harry had twisted into place there; Laurence was stood by the lounge door, posed like a nightclub bouncer, arms still folded against the thin Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. His expression was one of controlled aggression. Harry felt a pang of great affection for his loyal younger brother, here to support him in this most extreme and unexpected of scenarios. `Well come on,' Harry grunted at their opponent, `come get it.' He pulled up on one leg of the black sports shorts, under which he wore no boxers or briefs, and let his soft cock and ball fall out against his thigh, flaccid and weighty. He saw Jesse's eyes bulge and his lips quiver. But then Lingard stared up at Loz, still clearly bewildered and angry at the way his visit had sharply turned. `This ain't funny,' Lingard snapped impatiently. `Untie me now. Fuck's sake, who do you's think you are... the Mitchell brothers? The Krays...? Fuck this...' Harry took his left hand and stroked his package gently, letting it fall more openly from the skimpy sports shorts and hang alongside his leg. He saw Jesse's eyes flash back to it, then once more at Laurence, then back at the loose prize. `Jesse,' sighed Harry, `is that a weapon in your denim shorts, or are you just excited to be here...?' `This was NOT what we agreed,' Lingard hissed through gritted teeth. `No,' Harry agreed in a complacent sigh, `but it's what's gonna happen. Get here now.' Almost instinctively, Jesse shuffled forward on his knees, off the rug onto laminate floors, skittering to Harry's feet and almost falling forward into his lap. He hovered between his knees, staring down at the lazy spread of bollock and dick hanging out of the shorts, then up to meet Harry's steely gaze. Laurence's voice cut in. `Show him respect, you stupid prick. Nobody messes with Maguires.' Harry grinned, seeing the fear and excitement on his captive's face. `He's right,' he said, still in an almost bored voice of dismissal. `Nobody fucks with me and gets away with it. You thought you were coming here to shaft me, you greedy prick...?' He reached out, grabbed the top of Jesse's curly hair, and shoved down. `Eat cock.' He pushed Jesse's face into his crotch and, immediately, felt that tongue flick out and caress his dick, his ball. He heard Lingard's sharp breaths, saw his eyes wild with a mix of fear and lust. Harry loosened his grip, but Jesse's face stayed where it was, tonguing at the hem of his shorts and trying to get around the flaccid meat. `That's it,' muttered Loz with surprisingly relish, `suck it, you dirty fucker.' `Look how much he likes it Loz,' Harry said with a cold laugh. `Mr Blackmail ain't calling the shots no more, is he...?' Lingard hurried up the stairs two at a time, hot with a giddy mixture of embarrassment, annoyance and overwhelming lust. His prick was rock, straining the tight briefs under his denim shorts, and sweat was beading at his pits and neck as he reached the landing and looked back at the Maguire brothers following him up the stairs. `In there,' Harry boomed in his gruff captain's voice. Jesse nudged open the door with his shoulder, hands still tied at his back. Oh yes, he thought, the marital bed... Just then a rough hand, who knew which brother's, caught him in the lower back and shoved him forward across the room. Unable to regain his balance, he tumbled onto the pink floral bedspread and felt the mattress bouncy beneath him. He rolled over, stared at the ceiling, twisted his neck to view the two burly lads. Harry's top was coming off; his long torso of potent muscle wasn't as white as always, pink with sunshine. And with an almost nervous look for approval at the alpha male, `Loz' did the same: almost tearing the buttons of his colourful resort shirt and exposing a defined chest and stomach that was a slightly deeper shade of tan brown. But what were the two men doing now? Harry was going into a bag on the dresser, he couldn't quite see what was happening for his awkward position; trying to get up was difficult even with his strong core, so he just rolled over onto his front and lost view of both men. When they returned to his sight, both lads had black balaclavas pulled over their heads -- this, with their ripped shirtless bodies, gave them a surreal look of Mexican wrestlers. Jesse was on his front on the bed, feeling the awkward tensile strength of his boner against his clothes and the mattress, wriggling his wrists at his backside; but it wasn't just that holding him in place, Harry was climbing onto the bed, all grunts of exertion, whilst the younger Maguire took up position at the side of the bed, just in front of him, undoing the fly of his chino shorts and tugging down. Lingard lifted his chin and looked into the exposed semi; it wasn't as massive as he suspected Harry's to be at full mast, but it was quite a size. Fuck. He almost drooled. `Open your gob...' `Yeah, come on, suck me...' Jesse almost had to fake a shred of reluctance, unwilling to reveal just how thrilled he was. He opened as wide as his awkward position was and wrapped his lips around a dick much thicker than Vardy's tool; and judging by the shuddering moan from above, a dick much less used to male talents too! He edged himself forward, wriggling in Harry's pressing grip, and sucked hungrily on the fat dick in front of him, enjoying the noises that spilled from this lookalike. `Good little slut,' came Harry's growl, `this is what you get for fucking with me... Lick it up, you little bitch... Vardy told us what a bitch you are, now we see for ourselves...' `Ohhh,' groaned Laurence with less confidence or certainty, `that is... ohhhh...' Could it be this lad's first fucking blowie off a dude?! Jesse wanted to whimper his excitement, but he had his mouth full. His cock ached and throbbed. Harry's weight and big hands felt even more exciting against his arms, his back, his curly short afro. Then spanking his arse in his denim shorts, oh wow, so firm and controlled... ohhhh... `Hey Loz -- didn't this prick say he wanted my arse...?' `Huh... yeh, bro, I think he did...' `Should I give him it...?' `Yeah bro... fuckin' show him what he's missing...' Jesse was pulled away and for a moment he felt a bitter disappointment to lose the feel and taste of that gorgeous dick in his hungry mouth. He was rolled onto his back, manhandled and made to feel as light as a feather by the strength of his captain. Then he was lying on his back, face to the ceiling once more, and Harry was standing on the bed, standing over him. He stared up the shorts leg at the heavy balls he had licked downstairs and couldn't hold in the groan in his mouth. `Oh sir,' he whimpered before he knew what he was doing. He'd never called anyone but Vardy that title, he thought. Harry's shorts were off and kicked across the room -- the big man was naked but for the off-white trainer socks about his ankles. Jesse stared up in surprise as his captain squatted down overhead; he opened his mouth eagerly for a taste of those full bollocks or the semi-hard prick dangling in front of him, but they were not coming his way. Nope. Without any grace or explanation, Harry Maguire sat on his face, resting his balls on his forehead and hanging his crack over Jesse's mouth, hairy and musty. Oh fuck! Laurence stared in mild horror. He hadn't expected THIS. He was just about getting his head around the fact he'd had his nob in another lad's mouth, but now he was watching his nude brother crouching over Jesse Lingard and having his arse-crack licked by this pathetic blackmailing scum. He stroked his own boner idly, feeling Jesse's damp saliva on its veiny length, caught up in the excitement of the event. He clambered up the side of the bed for a better view, fascinated despite his reservations. He rested one knee on the edge of the bed and stopped in front of them, looking down at Jesse's sweaty brow beneath Harry's ballbag, unable to believe what he was seeing. He rested a hand on one of Harry's tensed thighs and looked up the bare torso to his partially hidden face of extreme pleasure; eyes closed, mouth twisted into a satisfied smirk, sweat glistening on his lips and eyelids. The guttural moan that burst out of his older brother's mouth told him all he needed to know: this kinky madness must feel GOOD. Harry groaned again and leaned forward, then grabbed onto Laurence's shoulder for support. `Oh fuck,' he panted, `oh fuckkk...' He pushed away and leant back, sitting more firmly down on their captive's face, twisting his hips, then shot up off him and gripped his rising boner in both hands as he laughed, `You're good at that, Lings, you whore... Loz mate, your turn...' Laurence stared at him, eyebrows raised beneath the cover of his balaclava. He hesitated, but he'd seen how much pleasure this could give. So, tagged in like a fellow fighter, he climbed the bed and, opposite direction to Harry, squatted down. He spread his legs and let his knees rest pinning down Lingard's shoulders as he dropped his gooch to the wet tickle of a man's tongue. He shivered, stroked his cock, felt his bollocks tongued from below, then shifted forward... ohhhh... oh fuck... The lad's tongue brushed up his crack and he fought back loud grunts of excitement. Harry, big hard cock swinging, had come around the bed to the other side. Loz could barely stop watching the bounce and swing of that big erection, remembering how huge it felt in his hand. As Harry knelt on the bed facing him, he reached out for it, and the men's eyes met. Harry smirked his consent and Laurence gently tugged on it, unseen by the dirty lad beneath his arse cheeks; he grinned appreciatively at his hero and then watched as Harry reached down and yanked open Jesse's shorts. His denim and briefs were pulled forcibly down to his ankles, stripping him. Jesse's boner sprang up and confirmed his enjoyment of this rough handling. `Don't touch it,' Harry purred. `This prick doesn't get it played with.' `Nah,' Laurence agreed, `he gets nothing.' He pushed back with his hips and felt his cheeks spread on the lad's face, the strange tingling lick running up and down his furry arse until his cock felt like it was gonna start leaking cum. Harry's hand was offered towards him; he grabbed it and was tugged out of his crouch and back onto his feet, leaving Jesse gasping and panting on his back, spluttering out loud. `Sir,' Lingard was begging, `please feed me your dicks...' Harry tugged loose the cord around his blackmailer's wrists and tossed it away before pushing him into position. He gripped his hips and hoisted up his bare caramel backside so that Jesse was doggy style on the bed between them. `Go on,' he grunted at his younger brother, `he wants to suck you off, Loz...' Jesse leaned forward on all fours and was lapping at the younger dick in seconds. On his knees at the head of the bed, Loz gasped and groaned and pulled his arms up behind his head, flexing his tight biceps and baring his hairy pits. Jesse kissed his lower six-pack a few times before fully going down on his hard-on. Behind him, Harry used one hand to rub his dick, and spread Jesse's cheeks with the other, spitting on his fingers before pressing them in and finding the tiny hole. He suspected Lingard had been fucked before but he couldn't tell; if he had, perhaps not in ages? Still, he didn't take it easy. He pushed one and then two thick fingers into the man's ring, patting and stroking at his back as muted comfort whilst stretching his hole as quickly as he could. He paused, feeling the tightness of Lingard's entrance, but also sensing Laurence's excitement and openness. `You wanna go first on him?' he asked, enjoying ignoring their shared slut and speaking over him like the toy he was becoming. `Huh?' `Come on,' he urged. `Fuck his cunt.' They changed places. Harry grinned encouragingly beneath the vaguely criminal mask and sat himself against the throne of pillows. He grabbed Jesse's head roughly and pulled it down to lick at his huge boner, realising just how badly Lingard had wanted this tool to play with. He found himself momentarily comparing this slut with his precious Luke; for all their passion, he'd never seen a guy lick and kiss at anyone's privates with the frantic energy that this obsessive fuck now attended to his boner. He immediately felt a twinge of guilt for even comparing the blokes. He lifted his eyes from this and met Loz's over the bed. `Go on,' he said, `look how much he wants it...' Harry felt so excited watching, partly because it was almost like a mirror or an out of body experience; he knew how similar he and this 23-year-old brute were in looks and physique, even if the proportions were a little off. He knew how much he'd enjoyed fucking lads and he wanted Loz to share in that, since he seemed so turned on by a blowie off Lingard and having a quick rim... He held Jesse's head to his dick and slowly fucked his mouth whilst he watched Laurence position himself behind their sex toy and uncertainly press his cock between strong thin buttocks. Jesse thought he was going to wake up any minute now. This couldn't be real. Two Maguire dicks for the price of one. His arse was slowly opening up to the clumsy, inexperienced thrusts of the lad behind him, and his mouth was stretched around the huge dick he'd long fantasised off, ever since a first glimpse in an England international changing room, swinging about across the shower block from him. He bobbed his head up and down, desperately. A dangerously optimistic thought entered his head: maybe he would suck this dick so good that the big dumb fuck would leave that pretty boy wanker Shaw and stick with him instead...? Shut up, an inner voice told him, this is it, just enjoy this while it lasts... He tore his lips from Harry's monster and let out a few pained cries; he hadn't been bummed in a while and the young Maguire was both thick and unskilled, poking his girthy tool into his aching hole like a teenage virgin. Had he never taken a lass up the arse, even? Lingard braced himself and lifted his arse higher, pressing it back, doing his best to relax -- ah yes, that was better, the lad was finding his stride now... Back to sucking Harry's cock. It was even bigger and more amazing than he'd dared to imagine. He kept his eyes open, staring at its veiny length, lapping his tongue around the swollen head, licking the foreskin, tickling the balls and longing for their contents. Behind him, Laurence seemed to finally know what he was doing and... it felt good. He couldn't even concentrate on sucking off his dream dick. He leant forward and rested his head in the big man's lap, kissing his thighs then the treasure trail beneath his naval, listening to the slap of flesh on his own buttocks and feeling the deep pleasure of giving up his hole. But it didn't last, because it was tag team time once again... He hovered on all fours as the balaclava thugs swapped places. He felt sweaty and tingling all over and was dying to touch his cock. He was about to ignore instructions and reach down for it when he felt Harry's big hands on his backside. Oh hell, this was gonna be next level... but yes, it was all he wanted. Oh god how he wanted it. What had made him think he wanted it to be the other way round...? Then it was happening: his hole was aching about that mighty weapon and he was kissing at Laurence's erection. He whimpered at the effort of taking it, wondered if he'd pass out from the burning sensation. Laurence was a bit gentler than Harry; he pressed his dick to his trembling lips but stroked his cheek and his curly hair and his sweaty shoulders. Lingard looked up at his face and saw just how shaken he was by the whole thing; god, this really must be his first time at any of it! Bloody hell... oh! That thought was abandoned as the bigger Maguire thrust into him. OH FUCK... Just before he came, Harry pulled out. He spanked one of Jesse's thin bony cheeks and reached round for his tight six-pack, flipping him over onto his back and kneeling over his waist. He gripped his dick in his right hand and began pulling on it, long tight strokes of his meat. He knew he was seconds away from blowing; he looked up and his brother seemed the same, red-chested in his excitement and jerking furiously over Jesse's face. `Ohh yeh,' Harry groaned, and fired his creamy load up the lean wiry body of his teammate. He covered Jesse's six pack in glittering globs of his seed. `Oh fuck, yes... oh yeh you stupid little slut...' He watched Laurence's even heavier load spurt onto Lingard's face and then his slick shiny dick pushed back into his mouth from above. Ohh... `You're gonna delete that footage,' Harry groaned. `You're fucking ruined, Lings. You'll be lucky I don't demand YOUR fucking salary next month, you stupid shit...' He rested back, hand on his aching cock, his body aching from the force of his fucking and the effort of throwing this dickhead around the room at each stage of their pleasure-seeking. He swayed on his haunches and enjoyed the fuzzy warmth of his orgasm. It seemed he hadn't fucked anything with such fierceness in a long while. He was reminded of his first forays with men: the bathroom and at Luke's flat, using cute young Dan. Had he let things get a little too romantic with Luke...? Was he missing this wild dominance...? Again, guilt. Again, push the thought away. He needed to piss, but he didn't move. He stayed there, held his big nob, and went for it. He didn't even really know what he was doing. He saw Laurence's eyes widen, saw Jesse lift his head, lick his lips, gasp in shock. Harry's golden piss splashed off his six pack and onto the bedsheets. He sighed, finished, shook his dick. `That's all you are,' he snarled down at the boyish-faced older lad. `A fucking rag for our cum and piss.' He got off the bed, glanced anxiously at his brother, wondering if that last bit had been too much. Laurence looked shaken, but of course he would; he'd just fucked a guy for the first time. Harry then looked at the bedding and thought, fuck's sake, one more chore. He went to the windowsill and hit stop on the phone camera that had recorded the whole thing. On the bed, he saw Jesse's head tilt with a dazed look; he saw the penny drop. With a sneer, Harry pulled the balaclava up from his face and dropped it to the bedroom floor. `Aye,' he grunted, `that's you fucked ain't it, blackmailer?' The Maguire brothers stood in the porch of the house, arms folded, watching Jesse Lingard limp down the path and onto the street; just as they had stood, silently threatening, whilst he deleted all evidence from his cloud drive and showed them it; just as they had glowered ominously whilst he logged into his online banking and returned every ill-gotten pound to Luke and Harry's details. When he disappeared around the corner, Laurence heaved a sigh. `You okay, bro?' Harry asked quietly. `I dunno. That was heavy.' `He deserved it. He fuckin' enjoyed it. You saw that, right? He wanted it.' `He sure did. But... Shit. It was a lot.' `Yeh... er... sorry, mate...' `Huh. It's not like I was gonna let you get your arse ploughed, was it? Fuck.' `No, heh... god, no... I ain't ever taking that.' `Nah, not like that little bitch did,' Laurence chuckled. Harry patted his shoulder. `I can never thank you enough.' `You can,' Loz pointed out gently. `You can pretend this never. Fucking. Happened.' In they went.