Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers apply. This story depicts homosexual sex acts and is entirely FICTIONAL. It is not intended to imply anything about the sexual orientation of any of the characters or knowledge about their private lives. If you are likely to be offended or committing an offence by reading this story, do not read any further.
As before, comments, feedback, etc. welcome. Admittedly this is a slight detraction from the premise of a purely rugby storyline, I'm hoping it will still entertain!
Part 3: Wimbledon
Life changed for Ben Cohen in the six months or so after the team had won in Sydney, both professionally and sexually. He and the rest of the team were instant superstars. But it had also seen the start of his relationship with Lawrence. That night in Dallaglio's hotel room had been the first time Ben had been fucked by a bloke and since then the two of them had met regularly to satisfy each other. Lawrence was an amazing lover. Every time Ben saw the older man, his heart started beating; his dick as solid as an oak tree. He had never cum as intensely with any woman as he did with Lawrence. And then there was the time Lawrence had fucked him in the showers at Twickenham, the water from the shower beating down their naked torsos, his experienced half-Italian hands caressing Ben's throbbing erection, easing him expertly towards the orgasm of his life....
July: Lawrence and Ben had managed to wangle much sought-after seats at the Wimbledon men's final between Roger Federer and Andy Roddick. They had perfect seats, just above the Royal Box so had a perfect view of the centre court action. Both were very excited, not least because of who was playing. Lawrence and Ben had been lovers since Sydney, although they had obviously had to exercise great discretion, but even so, they could barely keep their hands off each other.
It was a scorching hot day. Lawrence was wearing a tightly fitting white polo shirt that showed off his pecs and biceps to perfection. Ben was wearing a vest-top through which his chest hair was clearly visible. Both men were wearing very tight shorts that would very soon have trouble containing the wearers' manhoods. Towards the middle of the final set, Lawrence's right hand began wandering discretely. It slowly entered the gap between the two men's thighs, caressing Ben's thighs just how he knew Ben liked it. The younger man's cock instantly began to twitch, filling with blood just like it always did whenever Lawrence's hands started doing their magic, it was like a light was switched on inside. Ben looked at him, pleading for him to stop, quickly covering his rapidly swelling groin with his programme so no one could see. Luckily he was wearing sunglasses so the look of pleasure across his face wasn't immediately visible. But he was also in pain. He wasn't wearing underwear but his dick was getting so hard that he thought it would soon burst the zip on his shorts.
At that moment, Lawrence's mobile went off. It was a piece of skirt he'd shagged the night before. He excused himself, swearing under his breath. Ben was left there nursing his erection, slightly relieved but very very horny, his precum had already started leaking onto the front of his shorts, him sweating like a pig in the hot sunshine.
Watching the end of the game, he noticed both players changing their shirts during one of the breaks. He remembered he'd met Andy at a party a couple of years and snogged him. Ben's dick got hard again just thinking about it his tongue wrapped around the American's, imagining what it would be like having that tongue wrapped around his hot hard dick.
The game ended. Roddick lost to Federer. Ben wasn't too fussed. Both of them were pretty sexy so he wasn't bothered.
After the press conferences, Ben went looking for Lawrence in the VIP bar. He was horny and tense and needed release, the kind of release that could only be provided from Dallaglio's hot dick banging away at his G spot.
Lawrence was nowhere to be found. Bastard. Probably off banging the piece of pussy he'd picked up last night. Lawrence may have been a good lay, but he was totally unreliable.
Instead, he found Roddick at the bar. Looking fit as fuck in a shirt and trousers, although he was starting to look as though he'd drunk a lot.
"Hello, mate", Ben said, slapping him on the back, "Long time, no see".
Andy shook his hand, although the look in his eyes was certainly not platonic. Ben felt the unmistakable lust in his groin. He offered to buy the Yank a drink as a consolation prize.
15 minutes later...
The door to the changing rooms flung open, Ben and Andy's tongues engaged in a lethal duel, both of them moaning loudly in frustration: Andy at having missed a Wimbledon title and Ben from the stonking big stiffy that his useless lover hadn't followed through on.
Andy smelled great, Ben could taste his aftershave on his face, it totally turned him on. He'd forgotten what a fucking great kisser this guy was.
Throwing Ben on the floor, Andy tore off his own crisp white shirt, exposing his perfect American chest and body, his pink nipples standing to attention before the gaze of the sexy Brit he'd lusted after for some time, ever since they'd almost shagged at that party and certainly since he'd noticed his fit hairy body in the crowd during the match.
Holding Ben's muscled arms above his head, exposing his firm biceps, Andy ripped off Ben's top with a loud tear. Ben groaned with desire, his desire making Andy's erection even harder. He loved hairy guys, and kissed his way down Ben's torso, covered in a chocolate coloured forest, gently biting his nips, eliciting moans from Ben that were first soft and then increased in volume.
Rubbing Ben's stiffy through his shorts, feeling the size of his new lover and reveling in the feel of the river of precum flowing freely from his dick and staining the front of his shorts, Andy unbuttoned Ben's shorts and nearly fainted when he saw the size of the monster escaping from its cloth prison. He licked it slowly, listening to Ben groaning louder and louder and louder, more desperate for release, before ripping off his own trousers and massaging his own man-meat.
Andy needed release too. Now stark naked, with Ben on the floor, he sat on his new lover's face, allowing Ben's tongue to gently explore his American arse. Before long, the British tongue was expertly caressing Andy's butt while the American wanked himself with one hand and caressed his pert nips with the other. He moaned, softly and then loudly as Ben's tongue quickly hit his G spot.
They couldn't stand it any longer. Andy reached for a condom from his locker, tore off the packet with his teeth, and rolled it onto Ben's hard cock with his mouth, before riding him slowly but surely. It was the first time Ben had fucked a man, but he was so horny. And Andy's arse felt so good and moist and wet. Andy rode the Brit expertly, listening to his groans of pleasure, his own whimpers mingling with Ben's, caressing the rugby stud's stocky pecs, stroking and pinching his nipples the way he liked it, reveling in the sight of Ben's well built biceps straining as his arms held onto the bench behind them.
Exhausted, they both came, Ben filling the condom with his spunk and Andy coming all over Ben?s hairy chest.
They lay there briefly, before they were woken up by the sound of a male voice "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE????"