Football Fuckers 2 -- On the Coach
"Fuck!" Trent Alexander Arnold gasped, as he was literally caught with his hands down his pants on the back of the Liverpool coach. Looming over him was the captain of the team, Jordan Henderson, who'd already given him an earful that day.
"Having a cheeky wank, at the back of the bus are we?" Hendo laughed. "Fucking perv... Thought I caught you looking at us lot in the showers."
"Mate", Trent stammered, "It wasn't like that ... I wasn't thinking about you lot at all."
There was nothing Alexander-Arnold could do to deny the fact that he'd had his hands down his pants. The 21-year-old starlet of the greatest Liverpool team of 21st century had had one hand stroking his thick, 7-inch meat under his trackies, and the other tugging at his hairy brown balls. He couldn't get much more caught red handed than that. The only thing he could do was deny he was thinking about his other teammates.
"Yeah, yeah," Hendo said, sitting down next to Trent. "I felt the semi, before, in the changing rooms, and I see you checking us out all the time."
Trent felt himself growing redder and redder in the half-light of the coach speeding down the motorway.
"Shush mate, come on," Trent said, suddenly worried about the other team mates in the rows ahead. "It's not like that."
Henderson looked him up and down, a dirty smirk crossing his chiselled face. For a blond he was anything but innocent. In fact, he was one of the team's biggest shaggers and alpha studs. He led the charge on away days, when wives and girlfriends were hundreds of miles away. He'd let almost anyone have a go apparently -- he was that much of a horn dog.
Eventually, Trent's puppy-dog eyes and pleading face seemed to do the trick. Hendo swung into the seat beside him and gave him a squeeze on the leg. In his true, Jekyll and Hyde style, he was suddenly all smiles.
"No worries, lad," he said. "We all get a bit horned up, especially after a big win like that."
"Yeah," Trent laughed. "That's all it was."
"And I know what it's like to be 21," Hendo continued. "I was raging all the time. I didn't give a fuck who I put it into. Actually, I'm raging all the time now, and I'm not 21 any more."
They both laughed at this, and Trent felt some of his tension ease away.
"So I've heard," he said. "About you being raging horny, that is."
Hendo flashed him a look and Trent suddenly panicked, thinking that he'd gone too far. But Hendo just let a devilish smirk play on his lips. "Oh yeah. What exactly have you heard?"
Trent figured he'd gone this far and hadn't been knocked out or grabbed hard in the junk again, so he ventured a little bit further.
"Just that you're a bit of a lad, you know. You get around." he said. "And that you've got the biggest cock in the club."
Hendo loved that. His face went into full shit-eating grin mode and nestled further back into the leather seat. He popped his head up and over the seat and looked into the aisle, then back at the innocent-looking face of Alexander-Arnold.
"And what if I do?" he whispered into Trent's ears. "What's the use of having the biggest cock in the club if I've got another lad sat here with me?"
Trent froze. Hendo was so hot and cold that he didn't know how to play it. Plus, they were on the coach back to Liverpool, with 30-odd people in front of them. True, half of them were dozing and the other half had the headphones on, but still. This conversation was taking a turn for the fucking horny. The familiar feeling of his chubby fighting for attention against his briefs was returning. His dick was practically leaking pre-cum, with all this chat about Hendo's big dick.
Hendo chuckled, sensing the youngster's inexperience. "Look, lad," he said. "Remember what I said before. This is a team. Team mates help each other out, right?"
"Uhh yeah," Trent agreed.
"And besides, don't you want to get me back for squeezing your knob earlier?" he cajoled. Then, leaning in further, until Trent could feel the tip of Hendo's tongue right in his ear. "Don't you want to do as your fucking captain fucking tells you."
Hendo withdrew, and spread his legs wide. There was no denying what he wanted, and Trent was practically bursting out his trackies at the thought of giving it to him. He peeked over the rows to double check there was no one coming their way, then reached a hand over onto his captain's thigh. Hendo nodded his encouragement as the hand travelled further, brushing over what felt like a metal rod encased under the shiny fabric.
They rumours weren't wrong, Trent thought.
He reached in under the waistband and pawed at the huge bulge, feeling the heat cascade off it. It was absolutely raging already; Hendo was one horny bastard. The captain lifted his backside up slightly, and pulled down his tracksuit bottoms. Then, with an equally quick movement he yanked down his red, Liverpool-issue briefs, and his huge, creamy-white cock with a bright pink tip thwacked off his toned abs with a satisfying wet thud.
"Fuck," Trent hissed. "That's gotta be 9 inches at least."
"Yeah and the rest, pretty boy, it's at least 10," Hendo hissed, the urgent horniness apparent in his tone. "No good just looking at it how big it is, though, lad. It's about time to get to work."
Trent wasn't about to be told twice. He wrapped a hand round the throbbing dick and pulled the white foreskin away from the shiny pink head. Hendo let out a moan of pleasure as the young lad tugged back and forth, slipping the foreskin over the wet bellend and sending waves of relief shooting through Hendo's body.
"Yes, boy," he moaned. "At it like a pro. You know how to treat your captain with the respect he deserves."
Trent loved being praised, it made him grip the shaft even harder and ramp up the pace. He was tugging on Hendo's meat like his place in the team depended on it -- which it probably did. With his right hand he pounded away at the captain's rod, and with his left, he reached under a gave the big plums a tug as well. Not surprisingly, Hendo let out another stifled moan.
"Nnnggh," he groaned writing in his seat, his body wriggling around like a dog in heat, but his cock firmly grasped in place by the young star. "That's fucking it, lad, do your boss proud."
Trent pumped his fist up and down, determined to give the hand job of his life for his horny, mean bastard of a captain. Hendo couldn't sit still, he was shifting his arse around in the seat as if he hadn't come for weeks. All thoughts of who else might have noticed them at it were gone. An explosion couldn't tear Trent away from this prize dick or Hendo away from his hand job, so there was no chance either of them would have seen the swarthy face and curly-haired figure peeking out from the seats in front.
"Mmmm yes boy," Hendo continued, his eyes rolling back in his skull. "Fucking jack that big mackem dick. You're a lucky lad, getting your hands on this."
Trent sat up for a second and whipped off his own tracksuit bottoms. He had to get a hand on his own dick; the tension was killing him. He sat bare legged, his cock sprung to attention, dripping pre-cum all the way down the shaft to the hairy brown balls. His hand slid down it like a greasy pole, giving himself a couple of strokes worth of relief.
Hendo looked up and frowned, as if to say `why the fuck have you stopped'. But Trent had no intention of stopping, instead, he was going to go one stop further.
"Relax, cap," he said. "Sit back."
Before Hendo had a chance to say anything, Trent leaned down and opened wide. In one fluid motion he slurped Hendo's big bellend into his waiting mouth, and sucked on the wet tip. He spat at the cock, lubing it up even further, and dived down until he could feel the thick shaft way past the entrance to his mouth.
"Nnnngh, Jesus fucking Christ," Hendo hissed. "Fucking hell, you cocky cunt." He was really writhing with pleasure now. He grabbed the seat in front of him with one hand (narrowly avoiding the figure in front), and clamped the back of Trent's head with the other, urging him on.
Trent's tongue swirled and dipped, lapping up the mixture of spit and pre-cum and the manly musk of the Liverpool captain's cock. He was barely touching his own dick, but it had never felt so ready to burst in his life. Fuck the goal, fuck the assists, this was the dream, choking on premier league dick, pervy as fuck in the back of the coach. It was enough to make his balls tighten and his ass twitch ...
He felt his dick thrusting forward and spurting out wad after wad of cum. It flew everywhere, coating his tracky bottoms, the back of the seat, and even flying up and over it. His body shuddered with the most intense orgasm his young self had ever experienced.
Hendo saw the cum flying from Trent's cute brown cock, and felt the young star's throat tighten. He couldn't hold on any longer. He'd been so horny it wasn't gonna take much for his huge dick to let go off his massive load. His big hairy plums rose up and his shaft filled with thick, manly spunk.
"Fuck this is it, lad," he hissed, "It's coming."
Hendo thrust forward and clasped Trent's head right down onto his lap, as he pumped a load of salty cum into the waiting mouth of Alexander Arnold. Trent gulped down as much as he could, but the loads kept on coming, filling his mouth, until he couldn't swallow fast enough to keep up. Eventually, after 6 or 7 spurts of hot, salty seed, he peeled off Hendo's mouth, and swallowed a final time. The trembling cock kept spurting, coating the back of the seat in front of them and arcing up into the air, finally landing back in Hendo's lap.
Hendo and Trent looked at each other and just laughed.
"Wow," Trend said. "You really are a horny bastard."
"You too, pretty boy," Hendo laughed. He wiped his cum-covered cock clean and offered his hand to Trent, who quickly lapped it up. "What a fucking slut."
Trent didn't care, he licked each of Hendo's fingers cleaned and wiped the cum from the edges of his lips. It was just what he'd needed after the amazing victory, and he couldn't have felt more relieved and satisfied than at that moment.
Hendo did something that surprised him then, he leaned down and gave his own cock a quick peck. A rumble of pleasure jolted through him as the rough tongue lapped at his softening dick.
"Laters, lad." he said.
Hendo got up and went to join the more senior players at the front of the bus, and left Trent to tuck his dick back into his pants, and try and clean up some of the mess they'd left back there. Any cum he found, Trent greedily lapped up, to help with the cleaning process.
Eventually the coach pulled into Anfield, and each of the players got off, separated into their own cars and headed home. Trent climbed into his own Jeep and checked his phone before setting off.
Horny bastard, the text read, off Hendo. Next time you don't waste a drop, though, boy. You either swallow it or take it up the arse.
Trent popped another woody at that, and smiled. What a fucking day. And it sounded like there was more of them to come.
Meanwhile, another Liverpool star, Egyptian, Mo Sarah, climbed into his Ferrari. He wasn't a vain guy, but he checked himself in the mirror anyway before he set off, heading home to his wife. He spotted something in his curly hair and quickly went to get it out. It was sticky and white, and felt silky between his fingers.
"The fuck...?" he wondered, before the penny dropped and he started to chuckle.
Not a man to waste a drop of spunk, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and cleaned it off. He took out his phone and flicked through the recent photos. He knew exactly where that'd come from.