Stories : After The Rugby Match
Rugby players have the hottest sex. That’s what I learned when I got to college and picked up the sport. I’m used to being the only fag on the team, so I’ve grown immune to the attractiveness of other players (though, my general type/scene is athlete/jock). Sometimes, my club will host a scrimmage against the grad schools or the older guys and afterwards, in the great tradition of rugby, we head to the bar and get stupid drunk and sing to our heart’s delight.
It was just another drink-up after a scrimmage. At 6’3”, he towered over me (5’6”). Jeez, what a build on this guy. He was solid, not ripped—built like a true man. And that accent. He was fresh from the shores of the Emerald Isle. He was handsome, 30 years old; he was everything I wanted in a man.
What started off as innocent banter ended up with my ankles at my ears. We were drinking with the rest of the players, challenging each other like we did on the pitch during the match. I had been drawn to him not only because he radiated sexual energy; his proximity to the beer was more attractive at the time. After a couple more rounds of booze and conversation, I glanced quickly at his crotch. He was rock hard under the bar. The shape of his beautifully shaped, and might I say gigantic cock didn’t give his zipper any relief as it throbbed through his jeans. I felt as if he had been friendlier than most guys. But I said, ‘Hey, fuck it. I’m enjoying the convo and this guy is clearly straight’. At the sight of his erection, I stopped listening to him and paid attention instead to the thoughts running wild inside of my head. I pictured him whispering in my ear, “I’ll see you in the bathroom, boy”. I’d stand up and he’d follow. If anyone asked, we both had to use the bathroom really bad and the other one was occupied. He’d bend me over the dirty toilet in the ill-lit dive bar bathroom, cup one hand over my mouth while the other clasped my throat, and slamfuck the living Jesus out of me. Where would he choose to cum? Would he dare pick me up and fuck me up against the wall?
Coming back to reality, I realize I’ve been looking at his bulge too long. I look up and see that he has one eyebrow cocked. Fuck, he knows I was checking him out and not paying attention. He’s going to fucking knock me out. I better get ready for a fight. I was panicking. He smirked, downed the remainder of his beer, grabbed me by the arm and said, “C’mon let’s go”.
“Huh?” I replied in a strong low voice, ready to fight.
“Let’s get out of here,” he retorted.
“Why? Is the team headed out to another bar?” I asked innocently.
“No. We’re going to head over to my apartment around the block and uh…play out whatever scene you got running through your head.”
“I’m gonna fuck you, boy.” He aggressively whispered in my ear. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten so hard so fast.
He was right. His apartment really was right around the corner. Now, I’m well aware of the Irish curse. However, this guy was blessed. As soon as we got into his apartment, he threw my bag in the corner of the room, forcibly pushed me to my knees, and unleashed the Krakken.
“Suck it, boy,” he barked as he beat his semi-hard cock up against my cheek. Inside my mouth, his beautiful, uncut wonder grew to 9×6 thick, throbbing inches. Instantly, I became a slut. I started taking in every inch, forcing it down my throat and ignoring my gag reflex.
“Fuck yeah!” he growls. He growls louder as his hand reaches behind my head and he steadily forces his cock in and out of my mouth, down my throat, slapping across my face. Pre-cum everywhere, spit everywhere, tears here and there. I stood up and he swooped down to start tounging my throat deep. He was pleased with his boy.
Suddenly, I felt him violently spin me around and now I was facing the wall. He took both my arms and pinned them above my head.
“Don’t you dare touch yourself. Don’t touch your fucking clothes, don’t touch your fucking dick. UNDERSTAND?!”
“When’s the first time you got fucked, boy?”
“19.” My response, for some reason, drove him insane. I had recently turned 20, so the thought of such a tight, ripe hole waiting for him instantly led to him tearing off my clothes. I was still in partial gear from the game, so now all I had on was my compression shorts and my rugby socks. He starts rubbing his still rock hard cock up against the outline of my ass crack. All the while, he’s nibbling on my neck, my ears, the top of my back, his hard cock pressing harder and harder against me.
“I’m gonna fuck you right, boy.” He wraps his hand around my throat. “You like gettin’ fucked, boy? Huh? You like getting fucked hard?”
“Attaboy.” My laughter is met by a growl. Before I know it, I’m in a full nelson and he chucks me down to the floor. Ripping off the shorts, he starts slapping my ass, my bubble cheeks greeting each hit with a warm jiggle. Being Hispanic, I’ve been blessed with a well above average ass. Needless to say, my man was all revved up. He instantly dives in and starts munching on some boy hole. Since neither of us showered, we were still ripe from the game. The smells of honest effort and sweaty ass made us both gaga for each other’s anatomies.
“Fuck yeah, big guy. Eat that fuckin’ boy hole,” I moan in pleasure.
“Shut up,” was all I heard before I felt his dick ripping through my hole. The pain was debilitating. I loved it. This guy hit 0-60 in 3 seconds, pounding away at my ass. He pinned my hands on the floor above my head—a punishment for trying to run from his cock, for trying to push him way.
I felt every inch sliding out, all of a sudden. Before I know it, he picks me up off of the floor. Throwing me over his shoulder and walking into the bedroom, I felt my back slam against the mattress. Within two seconds, my legs are at my ears and he’s entering me again. I loved watching every pulsing muscle along his torso, every wince or grimace his face contorted into as he drove in deeper. This guy was hitting my prostate like a champ. He was trying to get me to cum. And I did. My little cock gushed all over my stomach, my chest, and, believe it or not, drenched most of my face. I didn’t even touch myself. Noticing the cum dribbling off of my lips, he swooped down and licked up every drop of jizz from my face to my throat. And then he kissed me. I felt all of my cum sliding down my throat, intermingled with his spit. Mmmmm. Smirking, I looked up and said, “Your turn”.
Smiling, he pulled out of my ass, shoved his cock down my throat, and bliss. An explosion of Irish cum oozing out of his cock and coating my throat. Looking down at me, he laughed in pleasure.
“You’re a little cockslut,” he chortled.
“I always find ‘power bottom’ is a better way to put it,” I laughed.
“You tired?” He asked me.
“Not really,” I said.
Once again, in less than 3 seconds, I found myself on my stomach as his cock slid deep inside of me. And he fucked me another two times that night. Man, I love rugby.