At the outset I must make the disclaimer that this story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of these rugby union players or any personal knowledge about their private lives. I hope it gives some sustenance to readers during the World Cup. Email me your thoughts and recommendations.
Marcus came into the locker-room, despondent. The preparatory matches for the World Cup were proving pretty disastrous for the England team. Today had been his opportunity to shine and prove his worth and yet despite all his best efforts, the loss to Ireland had been brutal. He'd had a good summer, largely spent with his girlfriend until training recommenced, and he had been thrilled to be chosen for the England squad. His fans were countless and he had spent a good deal of time signing programmes and clothing before making it back to the locker room - a bid, even in a small way, to make it up to the fans for another loss before the squad went to France.
By the time he reached the locker room, only a few of the other boys were still there but, among them, his Harlequins teammate Danny Care had just come out of the showers. Danny had been like an older brother to Marcus since he'd joined Quins and they were immensely close, Danny a role model he aspired to in every way. This was true physically too. Danny was a fair bit older, not far off retirement, but his tight physique, broad back and thick thighs were all evidence of a decade of hard work, discipline and serious squats. As he walked out of the shower, stroking his hair back, his nicely proportioned cock swinging between those thighs, Marcus couldn't help but admire the man he, in a strange way, had come to love as a close friend and like a brother.
Danny, too, felt tenderly towards Marcus. He'd remembered what it was like to start out in rugby and his first World Cup - the tension, the expectations, the extreme disappointments. Marcus had a long way to go and he could see the worry on his face as he came in.
`Mate, don't beat yourself up. It's gonna get better. Come here'.
Marcus walked over, not even thinking about their respective states of dress. Marcus had actually chucked his shorts at a female fan before he'd gone into the tunnel so just had his compression shorts on with his shirt. They went in for a big hug.
`Fuck, Danny, we should have been so much better', he said, as they embraced.
`Mate, we were better; but the Paddies are on lethal form and we've got some way to go'. The hug was standard. They were immensely affectionate towards one another, Danny often ruffling Marcus's hair mid-game or Marcus slapping Danny's hard arse on the field. Standard rugby bromance.
But maybe they hadn't gone in for a hug before with one of them butt naked. Danny's cock was pressed, in a totally unintentional way, right up against Marcus's under his Lycra. As the hug lingered, Danny stroking Marcus's hair as a bro might, they realised their cocks were swelling against each other. Danny moved away a bit abruptly, blushing as he did so, coughing nervously but clearly holding a semi which he grabbed as he turned away.
`Christ, I need a pint', he said as he turned towards his bag, bending down to quickly find his Calvins. The sight of probably the finest arse on the English team didn't help Marcus either, whose cock was now fulsomely bulging through his Lycra.
`What the fuck is going on?', he asked himself as he also turned towards his own bench, just as Henry Arundell walked out of the showers, catching sight of Marcus's unavoidably large erection in his shorts.
`Fuck, someone clearly needs some pussy tonight', Arundell laughed, as he walked across the room. Marcus blushed deeply - not so much because Henry had seen it (they'd all seen a lot of each other in hazing sessions, not least Henry's which had involved him being compelled to ejaculate in public without anyone of the public noticing on a night out in Cardiff as a dare), but because Danny would himself hear Henry's remarks: the mutual realisation that they'd both given each other sustained hard-ons was not what either had expected coming off the field.
Danny, now in his briefs, which were themselves bulging handsomely, his full balls straining the fabric, turned round, eager to move on quickly and trying to move on from Arundell's twattish comment.
Mate,' he said, coughing nervously but also looking across and, without helping, down at Marcus's full groin, Um, mate, um, I'm, erm, heading out. Let's catch a drink later, yeah'. (What the fuck was going on?', Danny mused to himself, and why are you making such a tit out of yourself?')
Marcus looked through his fringe at the man who'd inspired him and supported him, and before whom he now felt stupidly coquettish. `Yeah, bro, yeah, let's do that. I'll see you at the hotel'. Fuck, this is awkward. The sooner we can move on from this, the better. Had Danny come over to him because he was naked? It hadn't occurred to him initially, maybe not to Danny either; nakedness was pretty natural on rugby teams, but this felt different, maybe because they were so close. He now couldn't get the image of those Calvin briefs out of his head either, that taut, perfectly chiselled body angling to that handsome package.
How was he thinking like this? He had a beautiful girlfriend; Danny had a hot wife. I guess the high emotions of the day were making them go a bit crazy, he thought to himself. Stripping down, he went into the showers, his cock still unmistakeably flush. I'll have a wank when I get back, he thought to himself. Get this out of my system. He couldn't get out of the Aviva quickly enough now, the loss of the match being hard enough, the embarrassment of having a hard-on up against the cock of Danny Care something else, for fuck's sake.
By the time he made it back to the Hilton, Marcus realised he had little time before they needed to be out for dinner with the Irish team, a kind of performative gesture of friendship before they all went to France. He could do without it and, what's more, Marcus was still riled up about the changing-room encounter and needing to wank quickly before he went out to this meal. He went straight to his bathroom, stripped down, and looked at himself in the mirror.
He was bulking up considerably, his pecs and abs now much more defined, his arms growing, his back muscles widening and, yes, a now very hard cock eager for release before he had to face Danny and his teammates for an evening of commiseration out on the town. He stroked his meat, his boxer briefs down around his thick thighs, looking proudly at its seven-inch length and handsome girth and scrolling through his phone for some stimulus.
His girlfriend had sent him a whole series of short videos stroking her pussy to keep him sustained while he was away and he quickly opened the separate album to bring back some focus. As he imagined sticking his cock into her tight pussy, though, his thoughts kept drifting. What if he were fucking her with Danny?
He imagined Beth with Danny's cock in her mouth as he looked across at Danny, thrusting, his pecs sweaty, looking into Marcus' eyes.
What the fuck? Where had this come from in his mind? But, fuck me, he thought, it's fucking hot. He imagined Beth welping as he thrust into her, his hand now stroking his cock furiously as he also imagined Danny's thick meat being slapped across her face. What if we came on her together? Fuck, yes, that would be hot, he thought. Their cream spattering her simultaneously as Beth lapped it all up. It was as he imagined Danny also moving in to kiss him however that his hand met his imagination to produce an eruption of the kind he hadn't known for months.
As sheets of his spunk flew up across the mirror, his back arched in pleasure, he heard the door swing open and then, in the mirror he saw, standing behind him, Danny standing topless in tight suit trousers. `Fuck', they both screamed, in astonishment. They both realised, with some horror - heightened by the sight of Marcus ejaculating wildly across the clean bathroom - that they were in fact sharing the hotel room....
To be continued.