This story is copyrighted (c) 1999 to rugbystud@hotmail.com and first posted on the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive website. It may not be copied or posted or transmitted in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer.
Here's the usual warning - don't read this if you are a minor, or live in an area were this is illegal, or find male/male sex offensive (how come you got so far before deciding this wasn't the site you wanted?).
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With the Rugby World Cup on at the moment, I'm in heaven. I love the game, the drinking but God do I love rugby players' legs. With the cream of international rugby playing at the moment, my cock is like a steel girder 24 hours a day. I live in South Wales, so I get to see a lot of rugby matches, but I also used to play for a small, local team. This story happened about five years ago when one of our players had arranged a match between our team and his cousin's from the North of England.
Part One - The Game
It had pissed down all week so by the Saturday, the rugby pitch was just mud as far as the eye could see. Not that that would ever bother a real rugby player, because rugby is meant to be played outdoors, but I was really pleased because it meant that both my team and the opposition would need a really long bath afterwards. Yes, that's right a bath. Our team was still using an old bath-house for our changing rooms, no showers just a sunken bath about 15 foot square. It was also the only one, so both teams would share the hot water experience after the match.
I always had to be careful because none of the team knew I was gay. Scrumming down with your team-mates is one thing, but if they suspected that someone in the scrum enjoyed being so close to sweaty crotches, a brutal murder may have followed. Though of course, later on in the club house when the whole team is roaring drunk, there would always be plenty of hugging and "you're my best fucking mate, you are" kind of bonding. We'd all seen each other naked so many times that we might as well not bothered with clothes at all. I doubt if they would have understood that even though I was gay, it didn't mean I wanted to fuck every one of them; they were my team-mates and that was more important.
I played on the wing, which meant that although I still needed to be well built, I didn't need the physical bulk of some of the other players but I did need more speed. I've been told that my legs are two of my best attributes and I suppose that all the running I did kept them lean.
The game kicked off at 2.30 and it was a rough one, but we were more organised and I knew we'd beat them. I only had one problem - my opposite number, Baz. By half time he'd tackled me four times, bringing me crashing to the ground. And he seemed to hold on for longer than was necessary, pressing me into the mud. I was covered by now and he'd ripped my shorts along the back seam on the last tackle which meant my arse was covered in mud too because I only had a jockstrap on underneath. The fifth tackle though, got me mad.
Just after the second half kicked off, he came for me again when I had the ball. I was determined to get past him, just as he was determined to bring me down. He made one grab for me but I pushed him off. But the mud caused me to lose my speed and my footing and he lunged sideways to grab me again. A few things seemed to happen at once. He grabbed at my legs, a low tackle that sent me down again, but I heard my shorts rip even more and then tear away. And as I fell, his weight and mine caused my legs to buckle and twist in the mud, wrenching my knee almost to the point of breaking.
So there I was, in the pouring rain, wearing only a rugby jersey, jockstrap and boots, in a fair amount of pain. The ref was yelling at him, my team and his were squaring off at each other. And him? He was just kneeling over me with a very odd expression on his face. The first aider asked if I could walk and I said yes. So I hobbled slowly back to the changing room, feeling the cold rain, especially on my now exposed arse, but I felt better knowing that I'd get the bath to myself for at least half an hour and the water would be clean. I could feel him watching me as I left but I didn't turn back. More shouting began.
I got in, took off my jersey and sat down on one of the benches, now just in my jock and boots. The bath wasn't quite full yet (it took about an hour to fill up) but it was fine for one person. My knee was throbbing and was about twice its normal size. I bent forward to undo my laces but couldn't bend my leg enough. I was well pissed off by now, but then heard the click of studs on tiles as someone came into the changing room. Good, I thought, one of my team mates and he'll take my boots off. But it wasn't - it was him.
"What the fuck do you want, Baz?" I asked.
Part Two - The Suck
He just stood there for a second then came closer.
"I told the ref to fuck off, so he did the same and sent me off. Need any help with those boots, Dave?" he asked. He still seemed to have that odd expression on his face and I wasn't sure about him. Mad though I was, I couldn't help noticing that he was fucking gorgeous, especially covered in mud. His legs were long and lean and the shorts he wore showed that his arse was very muscular. He had a broad chest, powerful arms, short black hair and big brown eyes, that were still staring oddly at me. I was still in a temper though.
"Don't you even try and be mates with me you stupid bastard, you nearly broke my fucking knee. And you owe me a pair of shorts and a clean jockstrap".
I got really mad then because instead of apologising, he started laughing. In temper, I stood and took a swing for his chin, but my knee couldn't take it and gave out. As I fell, I did have the satisfaction of bring him down as well, as his boot studs gave him no grip on the tiled floor. He ended up half on top of me and there was a minute's silent pause.
"Now you're getting the idea" he said and leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth; mud, rain and sweat mingling with two sets of saliva.
My temper hadn't subsided much but my body had other ideas. In my jockstrap, I felt the thud of blood into my cock and the shaft started to swell. His hand reached down and he slid it under the waistband and grabbed my thickening cock.
"I knew I wanted this as soon as I saw you. That's why I've tackled you so much, I just wanted to feel my arms around you and you beneath me. It was a bonus though, seeing your arse in that jockstrap."
"Well you could have just asked, instead of nearly putting me in casualty" I answered, angrily. My body again had other ideas though; by now my hands had started to roam down his back and into his shorts, eager to grab those tight arse cheeks.
"We've only got about twenty minutes so, d'you fancy a blow job?" he asked.
"You don't waste time do you?" I answered, but my hands had moved to my jock and it was already around my knees. I shifted on the floor but then winced as pain lanced through my leg.
"Let's move to the bath, the hot water will help soothe that knee and we can both be more comfortable." he said. I didn't argue, partly to ease my throbbing knee and partly to ease my throbbing cock. His shorts had bulged outwards quite a bit too and I really wanted to see what he had.
He helped me hobble over to the bench, took off my boots and jockstrap, then stripped himself. Whereas I'm blondish and have virtually no body hair except under my arms and a thick bush of pubes, he was covered in black fur - his arms, chest, back, legs and especially where I was staring now, thick glossy black pubes surrounding a thick, dark cock and big hairy balls.
My cock was at its full 7 inches and was beginning to dribble. His seemed to be about 8 inches and stood at more of an angle to his body. We got in to the water and I could feel my knee ache a bit, but then his mouth slipped over my knobhead and that was the only sensation I could focus on.
His hands were under my arse, supporting me in the water and his mouth bobbed up and down my hard shaft, his tongue licking my balls every now and then. He was clearly in no mood for a lengthy session and I was so turned on at the thought of being sucked off in the changing rooms that I couldn't hold out for long. I think my earlier temper had helped as well. Within a few minutes, I was filling his mouth with a huge load , as if I hadn't cum in weeks. He gulped down the whole load then settled back in the water grinning from ear to ear.
"Do I get seconds?" he asked.
"Fuck yes, but later - now it's your turn." He stood up in the bath alongside me so I could half-float to keep pressure off my knee. I didn't waste time either and buried my nose in his pubes in one motion. He moaned as he felt his leaking cock ram the back of my throat. I sucked, licked and half swallowed his cock like crazy, running my hands up and down his hairy legs, his crotch and every so often, around his arse till I gently rubbed his hole. This seemed to get him going even more and as I rubbed him there, his cum erupted in my mouth and he collapsed into the water.
After he recovered, he moved over and sat next to me, half under water.
"I'm fucking sorry about the knee" he said sounding a bit sheepish.
I smiled. "I still think you're a stupid bastard, but you've more than made up for it. And just in time too." A clatter of boot studs in the distance meant that more of the team was coming back. Paul, one of my team saw us both in the bath.
"Kissed and made up have you, you sad bastards!". Both teams laughed and started to strip to join us in the bath. Baz and I just laughed with them, knowing we'd more than kissed. Both teams got totally drunk that night, to no one's surprise. Baz and I got to the hugging "best fucking mate" stage quite quickly for some reason.
I was off work for a week afterwards because of my knee, but I had loads of visitors. And one frequent visitor, who had decided to stay in Wales for a while, had few loads from me too.
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