Part 111: Bachelor Birthday Bash
It was a small gathering, but it was still most definitely against the current rules. The flouted lockdown cast an enjoyable Prohibition thrill over the boozy soiree, even if it meant the music on the house's sound system couldn't get too loud or bassy, or held back the number and mix of guests, or put a reserved edge to some people's behaviour even after the dozenth bottom of bubbly had been trickled out into glasses. The players, their return to training bringing them physically closer, were more relaxed tonight, though a few of them were already on soft drinks, conscious of a brief training session tomorrow afternoon; others were ignoring this, giving in to both the occasion and their own social frustration, knocking back the pricy booze their hosts had invested in.
John Stones surveyed the `party' of his spacious lounge with a kind of cautious delight, a half-empty champagne flute in one hand and the remote control for the wireless speaker system in the other. It was going well, he thought, a bit surprised. He'd been wary when Kyle Walker first suggested anything at all, though not marking the day had seemed a weird and gloomy possibility. Discovering they shared the same birthday had been one of the many bonding moments when the two blokes were first roomed together on an England tour, a few years before both wearing City shirts. For John, this was only his 26th, not exactly a big deal -- he could have quite contentedly sat it out and settled for a nice meal out whenever that was allowed. But it was Walker's 30th, and he was really glad they'd been able to rustle up this discreet little bash for him.
If it remained discreet, that is; that was Stones' fear, as he stood tapping his toes to the music and feeling a little detached from the slurred drunken enjoyment of everyone else. They'd taken precautions, of course. John had been keen to invite young Phil, glad to be on good speaking terms with Foden again after the earlier trouble -- but Walker had insisted `Golden Boy' was too close to the boss, put his foot down. Other guests had been borderline: they'd hesitated over straitlaced Kevin De Bruyne, that responsible hero of the midfield, but right now the strawberry blond Belgian was curled up against his wife on a sofa looking very glad to be away from the kids for an evening, near-empty beer bottle in one pale fist. Arrivals had been staggered and cautious, and use of the garden strictly banned, to ward off nosy eyes; the last thing either John or Kyle needed was a call to the police or the press.
The party even had a curfew, a thought which the pair of current bachelor lads had cackled over when planning it all out a few nights ago. They were almost looking to the pantomime of shushing the guests away in staggered phases. Organised fun of the cringiest kind, really, but still...
John looked fondly to where Kyle was stood, arms bulging in his crisp white shirt, beer in one hand and champagne in the other; he was talking animatedly to Benjamin Mendy and a local pal of John's, his face alive with the secret rebellion of the night. It can hardly be the 30th birthday he pictured, Stones reflected sympathetically, but it's better than nowt. He couldn't help but grin at the fact he'd been able to make this all happen for his house guest, his best mate, his... well, just that, right. He beamed with half-drunk proud and decided some people might need another drink before it all began to wind down. He crossed the room, pausing as Kyle reached out to fondly slap his shoulder as he passed, giving him a cheery grin and turning back to the other lads.
Across the hall and in the kitchen, the party had spread out; Otamendia and Aguero were mixing some sort of noxious cocktail for themselves and somebody's wife or girlfriend (he couldn't keep track) was having a heart-to-heart with his mate's wife at the central island. He gave vague greetings and acknowledgments to the four of them and passed over to the fridge, fetching the final bottle of fizz from the massive overpriced stash that was essentially his birthday gift to Kyle.
`I take it you two won't be needing any bubbles,' he laughed awkwardly at the two players raiding his spirits cabinet and took a brief interest in the South American special Aguero was concocting before topping up the glasses of the two birds by the window, then moving back through to the lounge, host with the most.
He allowed himself a bit of a swagger, topping up glasses and carefully avoiding any sticky spillage on his bare forearms. Despite his growing calm and confidence in the event, he was sweating beneath the short sleeve funky printed shirt he wore; the house was hot and the reluctant refusal to use the big garden or have any windows open was taking a toll on the armpits and crotch of everyone's outfits! But still, better that than a dangerous noise complaint and the inevitable media interest...
`Top us up then will you, mate!' exclaimed one of the guests, brushing clumsily in front of him then like he'd perhaps already had too much. It was Raheem Sterling, a huge grin on his face; here was a lad who'd been missing the party scene a LOT during the anti-social months of the pandemic!
No bother,' Stones replied with a throaty laugh, tilting the emptying bottle and letting its fizzy contents fill the narrow flute; tipsy Sterling moved his hand away for second and a drop of champers rushed to the rug on the floor. Instinctively, Stones felt a surge of dread at this mess and potential stain, then remembered the bachelor reality of it all; his missus had gone and was in no rush to come back, still suspicious even though the police had backed off and his ex was pressing no charges about the spying' claim. He was, for all he knew, dumped and single. No woman no cry. He stared at the droplets on the rug, then Raheem's vaguely worried expression, and laughed. `Oops.'
To the birthday bachelors,' Raheem said quickly, clinking his glass against John's. Better top yours up too, John boy, it's your party too, not just big dumb Walker's, eh...!'
John readily did so, finishing the bottle off on himself, and clinking glasses again with the short Londoner in front of him, who was clearly way past tipsy but was a fun drunk to have around, bright-eyed and storytelling. He instantly vanished away to speak to a couple of other guests and John contemplated whether to interrupt the conversation and sidle up to his fellow birthday boy; but the blokes looked deep into a chat about the new grime artist playing on the speakers and it wasn't really John's cup of tea so he held back.
He moved back towards the long windows, twitching the blinds and eyeing the neighbouring mansions with a touch of lingering caution. All it took was one nosy cunt to spot something was going on, and... But no. All quiet out there. Drunken fun in here, as controlled as it needed to be. He needed to relax and enjoy himself; Raheem was right, after all, it WAS his own birthday, his own party too! Tonight wasn't just about Kyle enjoying himself...
The detached thought rose a new panic that had been hovering in the back of his mind, and he stiffened up his posture a little, pulling at the collar of his tropical-print shirt and glancing back down the long lounge of friends and teammates. His eyes found Kyle in the fray, now moving over with Mendy to greet Aguero, who was coming to show off the outrageous Argentinian cocktails he'd been mixing for them to try. John checked the time on his Rolex before trying to push forward and join them and finally let off some steam; good couple of hours before they needed to start seeing off the first few guests, drip-feeding them into the night to avoid alerting anyone to the size of the gathering... Yes, seeing off the guests, that would be the next anxious hurdle, he thought, and he could relax and just enjoy his own 26th birthday until then, surely...
And when the guests were gone, he remembered with a nervous little shudder, that was what really worried him, if he was honest...
Almost two weeks had passed since the big new house became an extended bachelor pad. The first couple of days had been grim, a series of ignored calls and attempts to speak to his hopefully current girlfriend; and vice versa, a series of calls and angry messages from his definite ex that he was doing his best to ignore. He'd eventually managed a meet-up in a park with Olivia, and managed to head off the most obvious and pressing issue: the fact she'd walked in on him and Kyle, erm, enjoying each other.
It had been a triumph and a disaster all at once. His attempts to explain it away as first a bit of manly comforting and then as a silly playfight had both failed. Somehow, though, he'd seemed to push her towards being a little less shocked; he hadn't even really known what he was saying, but he'd created some sort of impression that maybe it was the kind of thing lads did a lot, when they were stressed out or upset, or... Oh fuck, who knew what she'd bought and hadn't bought? The real disaster was not that: his earnest efforts to explain away what she'd walked in on had led him to be blunt and crass. You can't tell anyone,' he'd said gruffly, sat next to her on a bench in Sale Water Park, watching the Mersey drift by. I can explain this shit to you, babe, but not to a reporter or some scum on the terraces, or...' She'd laughed off his panic and assured him that she had about as much intention of leaking his sex life to the press as she did of moving back anytime soon; it turned out his earnest explanations and defence of what she'd walked in on were what pushed her to take some space' and put their relationship on hold'. `You're more bothered about what I might tell people about you and your best fucking mate than you are about US,' she'd cried shortly before they parted.
She was right, and for a couple of days it had left him low. He'd struggled to engage in the City training schedule or pick up on Walker's attempts to cheer and support him. It felt like his relationships were just in tatters, he couldn't help but see himself and Kyle as two arrogant fuck-ups who had pissed away their private lives. He'd hit rock bottom and got pissed on his own in the games room one night, and then... Well, miserable and drunk and lonely, he'd gone upstairs and chose the guest bedroom over his own. Tiptoed in, fought back some lonely tears, and crawled into bed with Kyle instead of facing his own, alone.
Kyle had half woken up, grumbling distantly; at the time, John hadn't been 100% sure that his guest knew what was happening. The way Walker grabbed at him and pulled him into a spooning cuddle, it seemed like he was in the midst of a dream and thought he was reunited with one of his own complicated ex-partners. But snuggling together under the warm sheets, Walker had leaned over and whispered in his ear. `You still got me, buddy, you still got me.' Stones was ashamed to think about the silent tears of relief that he'd leaked into the pillow as he listened to that groaning whisper at his side.
And for the week or so since then, they'd shared a bed. Kyle's bed, to be specific. The following night, Walker had suggested they sleep in the master bedroom instead, with it being bigger and comfier and... `But it's hers,' John had mumbled awkwardly, and Kyle seemed to understand. He was so much more emotionally sensitive and mature than people gave him credit for. He didn't raise the question at all and just tidied up the pigsty of a room a bit to accommodate his own host.
For the first two nights, it really was just sharing a bed. Okay, a cuddle, but not more. Waking up in the morning after night two though, John had felt an alien hand somewhere on his midriff. He'd resisted it for a little while, pretending to be asleep or disinterested, but his boner had given him away. And so the mutual handjobs -- and the kisses -- had begun. As the days ticked by, it leaked from the bed to other parts of their temporarily shared life. Three days ago, they had got home from a short but intense group training session with the City coaches, and Kyle had been fondling him before they even got out of the car, grabbing his leg and crotch in his tracksuit bottoms and making lewd jokes while Stones parked the car. He'd had to slap away groping touches on the driveway in case a neighbour saw, but then they 69d on the hall floor and ended up lying beside each other on the wooden boards until midway through the evening when Walker decided to call a takeaway.
And then, two nights ago, it had... developed.
A strange pattern had settled that seemed to be psychologically necessary for one or both of them: they never actually went to bed at the same time. Since that first emotional night that Stones had gone through into the guest room, it was always one or the other of them that went up first, in some weird invisible pretence that nothing was going on. (Who were they pretending for?) Either John or Kyle would wearily head up and the other, finishing off an online game or a late snack or a beer or a phone call, would head up a little later -- for John, this always involved a few minutes' hesitation on the landing, unsure if tonight he was ready to return to his master bed, to give a cold shoulder to this friendship with benefits.
But two nights ago, they'd been sharing a homecooked curry at the kitchen table, chatting away about their separate groups' training late that afternoon, bitching about a few guys and praising others. It had been a really comfortable atmosphere between them and John hadn't realised how happy he'd slowly become; he hadn't given up on his relationship but he was content to wait a while before bothering Olivia and trying to push for anything between them. He knew she needed time and space and he was content to let her have it, and see what happened. He was enjoying his bachelor days and nights, content with the light unspoken bursts of fun that came with it: Kyle's hands down his pants while he did the dishes, an unexpected blow-job in the shower, the gentle muscular cuddle when his heartbreak returned in the middle of the night. Then, sat opposite him at the table, Kyle had looked up from his empty bowl and smirked a little, and shattered the strange peace of it all.
I reckon we should take it further,' he suggested. John knew what he meant immediately but he played dumb for a little while, misreading it as a comment on their cookery or on the football club's strategy, or the whole country's lockdown, but... I mean, our fun,' the burly defender had muttered, grabbing the top of his hand across the table. `I reckon we should... you know, fuck.' The word sounded both ugly and poetic in his friend's lips. John had screwed up his face in uncertainty even as his cock throbbed in his jeans.
But later that night, Kyle coming to bed half an hour after him, creeping across the room smelling of the vodka he'd downed for false confidence... they'd realised a bit of a misunderstanding. There had been kissing, John both repulsed and aroused by the boozy taste of that muscular tongue, and hands under pyjamas. They'd both been rock hard, their excitement for further experimenting completely blatant despite the nervous and stammering conversation they'd both stumbled through over a beer on the patio. Here they were, in bed, willing to try new things, but... It was only when Kyle slid his hand down the back of John's boxers and gnawed at the side of his neck that he realised their different expectations here.
`You want to fuck me,' he'd muttered suddenly, half-accusing.
`Well... yeah... That's what we...'
`I thought I was gonna fuck YOU.'
`Wha'?! What the fuck -- seriously? But...'
Stalemate. The two City players had lain quietly in bed for some time, stroking each other a little then pulling apart again. The mood of casual fun was killed, the comfortable tolerance of this new friendship back on the rocks. Both of them had been talking at cross purposes earlier; they both thought they were gonna be the one crossing one line, while the other really submitted to a new experience. That night, they hadn't even wanked or sucked, they'd just slid apart and thought themselves into knots until sleep came. And no discussion of it for two days, until the car journey to training today, both of them hotly anticipating tonight's party.
You'll get your birthday gift later,' Kyle had said quietly and almost menacingly, pulling them into the City training ground car park. He turned and winked, seeming as aware as Stones was that they were sat in the same fucking sports car that they'd first intimately touched in, seated in the same positions, just warm and dry. Later, after the party, I'll give you a better present than a grand's worth of champagne,' Walker chuckled, and immediately turned away, letting himself out of the car.
Watching De Bruyne and wife quickly depart down the driveway to the discreet taxi that awaited them, John Stones turned the moment of dialogue over in his head again and again. He forced a smile and waved an anxious goodbye at them, then turned indoors. One by one, they were seeing off their guests -- some by taxi, some on foot, a couple of designated drivers. It was actually the most complicated bit of the party, especially since neither Stones nor Walker were entirely sober. Thank fuck he'd dissuaded the Sheffield party boy not to call his dealer!
John made his way back through the house, partly focused on who was still left to clear out, and partly turning over that birthday promise. You'll get your birthday gift later,' he heard that Yorkshire accent leer in the back of his mind, echoing against his insecurities. A better present than a grand's worth of champagne,' it added, as he picked an empty bottle off the hall floor and carried it through into the empty kitchen. Behind him came the slurred noisy goodbyes of Aguero and Mendy, and he heard Kyle stifling a laugh as he ushered them along, instructing them to drop their voices and leave carefully, keep up the illusion that there was no party going on...
It had to mean what he thought he did. He knew that mischievous look on Walker's face, that curl of smirk and little fire in his eye. It was the kind of leer he got from his mate just before he scored coke or decided to order a hooker or when he was planning some ridiculous trip to shag an ex on the sly. It was a look of trouble, one that had excited and invited him so many times, but tonight filled him with worry.
Why did Kyle assume HE would be the one to give up his arse? Why did they even have to go further anyway? Wasn't a bit of touching and sucking pretty fucking novel and exciting? It had certainly felt it! And couldn't they go slow? He felt a sickly confidence that he knew exactly what the gift' Kyle wanted to give' him was, knew every thick veiny inch of it. He stood alone in the kitchen, arse clenched in his tight black skinny jeans, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt. It was both their birthdays, but it was Walker's 30th; was that why he assumed he should get to be, ugh, `top'? Or was it just cos he was older, anyway? I mean, I'm bigger, John thought irritably, taller AND downstairs, so... Well, maybe that was another argument on Kyle's side, logistically speaking... He was getting flustered. The repeated glasses of fizz were not helping.
In the hallway, he came face to face with his guest and friend and, well, lover. Walker had just shut the door behind those two, having successfully quietened their loudmouthed conversation, and he looked very relieved to have done so. He stood with his back to the door, a faint grin on his face, the slightly distant expression of too much to drink in his eyes. The newly 30-year-old bloke grinned more at spotting him; the joy of their being alone together gleamed in his white teeth and wide eyes, and it thrilled and terrified John all at once. It was strange how normal it had become: the two of them, alone. An endless overnight in a hotel before a match, it felt like. The match was a long time coming.
`That's everyone?' Stones asked in a low, cautious voice, crossing the big entrance hall of the house and trying not to notice the empty coat pegs and other tiny signs of his absent girlfriend, the life they'd been building until recently. Worse than the absences were the left-behinds: the lingering kids' crap from her little one, the feminine touches in the bathroom. Kyle must have noticed his note of drunken sadness because he reached out and squeezed his shoulder very tenderly.
I think so,' Walker said, not addressing the topic, must be, mate.' He spoke with a definitely drunk slur; he'd had a lot more than John had, of course.
John returned his smile, nervously. They'd have to talk. He couldn't go through with this. He knew his mate was curious and horny, but there had to be limits. And his virgin arsehole was surely one of them! He was just about to open his mouth and make some half-joking start at this difficult conversation when there came loud steps on the stairs and they both turned.
Mate,' whooped Raheem, taking two steps at a time in his quick descent, this place is a palace, the size of that balcony off the master bedroom, what the actual fuck!' Wide-eyed and buoyant, the 25-year-old Jamaican bounded at them, clapping his hands together and flashing his playful smile. `Where'd the tunes go, brothers? What's up?' Clapping a single hand each to their arms, the City winger strode by them and back towards the emptied lounge, beginning to sing a Weeknd song to himself that had been on repeat half an hour ago.
John turned with a suppressed groan and met Kyle's eyes for a moment. They shared a look of frustration and impatience, though for John there was a hint of relief too. But `curfew' was here, the party could not go on all night. This had been meticulously planned. Controlled fun. He turned with a light-headed rush of how much he'd consumed, and followed Sterling through into the lounge, Walker trailing after him.
Mate, we thought you'd gone,' John barked warmly, picking up a couple of side-plates and empty glasses on his way down the room. Raheem was in front of Kyle's iPhone at the speaker hub, about to play DJ to an empty dancefloor. The party's kind... over...' He paused, noticing just how drunk this last guest actually was as he swayed round to face him.
`Yeh, you heard the boss,' chuckled Kyle, swaggering down the lounge with his hands in the pockets of his tight chino shorts, his new white shirt half unbuttoned against the stuffy heat of the empty house.
Raheem grinned at each of them and shrugged. `Party ain't over til the fat lady sings, and neither of your mums are here so...' He sniggered. He was a different guy this wasted, not the grinning nice-guy of the training centre or the determined professional of match-day. John smiled a little, thinking that often it was the other way round; he'd be the lary drunk northerner and Raheem the gentlemanly London lad.
Rules is rules,' Walker said, dropping his mocking tone and clapping his hands together with an air of bouncer-like finality. Lockdown mate, you knew the plan.' He strolled over to Raheem, while John backed away and piled the things he'd collected onto a tray, noting the mess of the room and resolving that most of it could wait for tomorrow. The stains, the broken glass, the empties, the displaced furniture... it hadn't been THAT wild, how was the place such a mess?! Well, Kyle Walker could make a fucking mess of anywhere...
`Look at you, like an old married couple already,' tittered Sterling.
`Huh yeah, that's us,' Kyle was joking along.
Mr and Mrs Walker-Stones -- or Stones-Walker.' He burst out laughing at his own inebriated wit. I suppose it depends which one of you is Mr and which is Mrs, right?'
John paused just as he was about to hoist up the heavy tray of junk, leaving it on the coffee table. He found himself instinctively glaring at Kyle with a defensive tension coming over him. Mr or Mrs, he thought grimly, tonight might be the night to find out... Walker was just laughing roughly at this and punching Raheem playfully in the arm, enjoying the banter way more than John was. The joke felt far too close to home and now he just wanted Raheem out, the night over. He was gonna need to be quite severe and firm with the drunken lout of a housemate, especially if he thought he was gonna give' him a gift'...
Proper cute though,' Raheem continued, twirling away from the phone without bashing on the music he had planned. The young father-of-two was notably smaller than them, though his flashy tshirt and skinny chinos clung to the compact muscle of his 5ft7 build, especially the rounded shape of his low backside. Cute as hell -- pair of you living together like this, you're a teenager at 30 Walker, haha...'
This time Kyle sounded less amused. `So how are we getting you home, Sterlo?'
Cooking together, eating together, cleaning up after parties together... won't be long before you're sleeping together.' Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Sterling looked sharply from one to the other; Stones panicked automatically but there was no knowing insight in that expression, just giddy mockery. Not that I'd be judging you if you were, boys!' A loud cackle.
It hasn't been THAT long since I were dumped,' John grunted, covering his panic with offence and giving up on the tray of shite, hugging his toned arms to his chest. Mate, I think-`
I mean, these things happen, right?' exclaimed Raheem playfully, jester-like as he darted between them in the centre of the room. I'm a man of the world, I know that.' John was trying to ignore him, sizing up the mess of the room and thinking that actually, getting it done before bed might be a good distraction for Kyle, maybe he could head off THAT conversation for now and- I mean, I used to share a room with Jamie fucking Vardy on England trips,' Sterling was spilling in a drunken rush, I KNOW what can go on between a couple of guys with no women in the picture, haha, you know what I mean?'
John stopped and for a second time in ten minutes, he and Kyle met gazes in awkward shared reaction; this time, though, there was a different curious excitement crackling between them and neither of them could quite believe what they'd just heard. In front of them, Raheem had changed topic, picking up a half-finished beer from the floor and looking about for a snack. He was muttering on about the fucking lovely mini burgers that had been going around two hours ago...
What was that, bud?' Kyle said loudly. What did you say about you and Vards?'
John, less abrupt and confident, just stared nervously between the two of them, bringing a hand up to stroke his chin. He saw Raheem's exaggerated expression of cheeky guilt; he knew he'd said the wrong thing but he was too drunk to care. He slapped a hand over his mouth, but it was play-acting; it turned quickly to a jokey finger over his lips and a loud `Sshh! Don't tell the missus, ya know... haha, was only a joke between mates, couple of years back, nowt more! Now... those sliders, buddies, you got any more burgers or...'
Joke between mates,' Walker grunted. What kinda joke...?' He looked John's way and his face was set in a lewd smirk of interest, taking a couple of steps closer to Raheem. John paused, blinking at the shock of this ambiguous revelation. But he followed Kyle's lead and took a step closer, watching as his mate threw a bulging arm about Raheem's low shoulders and hugged him close before speaking. `We're men of the world too, you see, Sterlo -- we love a good joke, we do.' His coarse laughter mixed with Sterling's cheeky giggle.
John felt sober compared to the pair of them, though he knew how much he'd had. It came through in his cheeks, a burning sensation, and the clamminess of his big palms. The 26-year-old defender took another step closer to the other two, wiping his palms on the thighs of his skinny jeans. Raheem, what shite are you talking?' he chuckled hesitantly. Jamie Vardy, we all know him well, I don't really reckon he would be erm... well... What is it you're saying?'
`Yeah -- you can tell us, Raheem, we're all mates here.'
Haha -- oh fuckin' hell, cat's out the bag now, eh...! Haha... What, Jamie Vardy? Jamie Vardy's havin' a party... bring your condom and your hard-on! Hahaha...' Raheem grinned widely at them both with his panto actions of secrecy. It was just a bit of fun between mates, nothing more! Nobody ever need know, NOBODY...' He seemed to realise that telling the two of them was the opposite of his sentiment and burst into more giggles. John watched Kyle gently squeeze his shoulders more, leaning over him slightly, a recognisable lust in his eyes.
`You and Jamie...?' Stone asked in a very low voice, feeling the tingle in the front of his jeans. Vardy, he thought, what a dark horse...! Mind, that fella was dirty as anything, he was almost as bad as Walker here for fucking any piece of skirt that came near a football team, and...
Hey Sterling,' Walker grunted slowly, maybe the party ain't QUITE over... you fancy a sleepover?'
John led the way into the guest room, pulling at a couple of buttons on his slim-fit shirt, gulping back some hesitations about this. Apart from anything, the other two were so pissed. But Raheem came bounding past him, whooping at some joke of his own, and then suddenly he felt one of Walker's hands resting on his back then slipping to cup his backside, pulling in close. `This is gonna be fucking wild,' came the leering whisper in his ear, and he trembled in agreement. Yes, it was.
Sterling had sat himself on the unmade bed, leant back a little, grinning around the messy nest of the gest room, maybe noticing how much stuff was in here and how occupied it really felt. Or maybe just fucked off too much fizz and wondering how wild exactly this was gonna be. If John for a second doubted that this visitor knew what was going on, he got his answer: Raheem grabbed the front of his pants and squeezed an already sizeable bulge, chuckling. I am SO horny, lads,' he announced with relish, and you two, fuckin' hell, pair of beasts...'
`Aye, we are,' Kyle agreed, and with an arm to John's waist he led them both two steps forward up to the bed, so that stood over around the corner where Raheem sat. Instantly, he knew what to do, and one hand each reached for their packages whilst he grinned excitedly up at them. John gasped, feeling the bloke's hand size him up through tight denim -- and Walker's hand creeping down to pat and stroke his buttocks. With his other hand, Kyle was undoing the belt and flies of his tight chino shorts and shoving them open, letting Raheem's hand reach into feel the bulge in his black CK briefs instead. The Jamaican Londoner cooed his appreciation.
`Oh yes mate,' he said.
`Have a good grab, lad,' growled Walker. He tugged at the remaining buttons of his shirt and off it came, tattoos and muscles out. John pulled at his own buttons in slow catch-up, feeling his dick twitch and stiffen. These jeans were tight, he needed them off. His shirt hung open off his long muscular torso, the tallest here by several inches. He backed off a moment to pull at his belt and the zip, but his focus was blurred as he watched Raheem's nimble fingers tug those chino shorts right down over decorated thighs -- and in he went, immediately rubbing his face to the well-stuffed front of those black briefs, nose and lips to the outline of Kyle's semi. Kyle groaned and muttered and Raheem made little gasps of appetite. John wrenched his jeans down and his shirt off, stripping to grey boxer shorts and squeezing his hardening dick in the front of them, almost drooling.
`Phwoar,' was Sterling's verdict, as he pulled close, and the lad could get his hands back on a second package. John knew he was rightly impressed; he was even better-hung than his best friend, and Kyle's was a decent size. He boldly threw a bare arm about the warm muscle of Walker's shoulders and sighed happily as Raheem reached into his pants. The short 25-year-old licked his red lips with obvious hunger, squeezing and pulling and playing with two big enclosed cocks; in seconds, they were out and in his hands, harder by the second.
`Bigger than Vardy's, I bet,' cackled Walker meanly.
`Much,' Sterling confirmed lustily.
I don't believe it,' John mumbled, still struggling with the idea of seedy, erratic Jamie Vardy indulging in a bit of guy-on-guy fun, even with his wild party antics and questionable attitudes to fidelity... Fuckin' hell, guys... Oh...' The `oh' came as Raheem's lips found his cock, choosing his over Kyle's for the first blow-job. And oh god it felt good. Better, maybe than Kyle's? The lips were so full and so tight and the tongue so darting and clever. Shit. He was pulled into a breathless kiss by the man on his left, their dicks sucked and pulled down in front. Neither of them seemed to care if Raheem noticed their long full snog, the wet smacking of their lips. Oh hell, John thought, this is too much, this is too good.
`Hey, ain't it my turn, lads...? Shift over, Raheem, get your lips round this...'
`Fuck yes, birthday boy, oh yes... Mmmm...'
Shit,' Stones muttered, pulling a hand to his slick wet boner, he loves a bit of cock...'
He fuckin' does, the little slut,' grinned Walker, and -- oh yeh -- he knows what to do with it...'
Raheem alternated between them with heady enthusiasm. He spent about a minute at a time taking the thick cocks into his mouth as fully as he could manage, flicking his tongue against their cock heads and spitting lube onto the shaft. Whoever he sucked, he wanked the other with long lazy pulls, so that Walker and Stones drifted from intense to subtle pleasure, sharing sporadic kisses and squeezing each other's thick muscular backs with one arm each.
We gonna try out his other hole, then?' Walker asked suddenly, eye-to-eye with John. His determination and excitement were palpable. He reached down, cupping his hand over the short afro hair so he could pull Sterling more firmly on his thick member, then pushed him away, sliding onto the bed. Sterlo, lad, you up for a good fuckin', are ya?' And to John's shock, Raheem was moaning his consent, a series of hell yeah', god yes' and `oh boys'. He felt Kyle grab his wrist and drag him onto the bed, and then they began to hastily strip their plaything. John pulled on his socks one by one then realised he was still wearing his own. Kyle had pulled up and thrown away Raheem's noisy print tshirt, baring his smooth brown torso and toned arms. John leaned him and helped him undo the front of his chinos then yanked them, and the undies beneath, down over his big full bottom and his sturdy thighs.
Soon, the winger was naked, and so were they. Three of them on the double bed, Raheem held between their bodies. He was kissing John's chest, licking his nipples, and tossing Kyle off with one hand. John's own cock tingled as it brushed and slapped the firm brown muscle of Raheem's thigh. Kyle was taking control, of course; pulling and pushing Sterling's body up and almost tossing him onto hands and knees between them. The lube,' Kyle barked impatiently, and the johnnies...' John pulled away with heavy breaths, lounging across the bedding and down off the side to fumble through the ubiquitous `sex drawer' of important things. He felt hands, both of the other two, paw at his strong back and hairy thighs and slap his bare buttocks. He found the tube of lubricant and a couple of condoms, tossing them over his shoulder before rolling back into the mix.
Kyle was fast and impatient. He'd clearly decided who was getting first go on their new pal. He squirted lube onto his index finger and pushed it gamely between the round chunky buttocks of Sterling' arse, grinning over at John as he did. Stones knelt beside the doggy-style third partner and felt Raheem's head reach over to tongue and kiss his cock. He shuffled forward to feed it to him properly, still unable to believe how excited and needy their fuck buddy was. He'd known Raheem for years and never had any hint of this side of him. He groaned sluttishly as his hole was fingered. It looked like Kyle had two digits up there already. Fuckkkk.
`I'm gonna fuck him first, you next,' Walker panted.
`Of course,' said John almost sarcastically, his earlier worries leaking into his voice.
Mate,' cackled Kyle, he needs me to ease him in before your fucking whopper, okay!'
John blushed at this logical explanation and watched as his big sexy friend got into position, reaching down to angle his thick bone and shoving it between those greased up cheeks. John could see every distinct muscle of Kyle's big body tensed beneath the lattice of tattoos as he pushed up and began to mount the lad. Raheem squealed and kissed the bottom of John's six-pack. Oh fuck,' he whispered against the flesh of John's tummy, that is MASSIVE... Oh god yes, ohhhh...' Wow. Stones marvelled at this bottom slut between them, dick tingling. He couldn't wait to follow.
He rested on his haunches and watched it like his own private porno. He'd watched Kyle fuck before, of course, both secretly that one time, and more openly, as they shared a paid lass in a hotel room. This was even hotter, seeing the 5ft10 brick of a man mounting stocky little Raheem. He held the lad by the hips and pushed into him, making animalistic groans. Raheem's squeals were muffled as he took John's massive cock into his gob, spit-roasting him between the two powerful defenders. John watched with excitement and pleasure and still a note of dread: he couldn't help but imagine himself as the one taking that rod and think that he never wanted to be in that position, it must be AGONY...
Not that Raheem seemed agonised. He gasped and yelped and kissed at John's cock, pushing his big brown arse back into the crotch of Kyle Walker. Walker was thrusting and shoving -- not as roughly or energetically as Stones had seen him pound fannies in the past, so he must be a bit nervous or unsure of himself. But still, he gripped Raheem's smaller body tightly and pressed his dick in and out with a slow but forceful rhythm that shook the double bed beneath their combined weight.
A reluctant shift came in Kyle's face. `You ready to fill him up, Stones?' he asked in a slow growl.
Oh yes,' Sterling exclaimed below, looking up from a sloppy lap of hard-on, go on, John, FUCK ME, buddy, FUCK ME HARD...'
The dirty talk was all he needed. He crawled over, seeing Kyle pull his greasy rubber-clad dick out. He picked up the other condom packet but found his hands sweaty and it slid from between his fingers as he clambered over into position. Walker was laughing; he leaned over, kissed him briefly but tenderly on the lips, then snatched the dropped condom from the bedding. His own fingers were greasy but he put it to his lips and bit through the foil, then stretched the rubber johnny about his fingers. John loomed up on his knees as his live-in lover helpfully tugged the tight prophylactic onto his long thick meat, then slapped him encouragingly on the arm.
John grabbed and rubbed at Raheem's big buttocks, pushing the tip of his thick one at the lubed crack and feel the tightness he would soon enter. Walker was taking a now position, flopping onto his back with his head and shoulders to the pillows, pulling Raheem down to his crotch to suck him off, leaning his short back and sticking his beautiful arse up in the air. The angle was perfect. Stones pressed his cock in and felt that hot tightness, but also its readiness. He ran his hands up Sterling's lower back and made cautious prods with his tool until he felt it begin to open just a little. Oh wow. It was sort of difficult, and almost uncomfortable, but hell... The feel of this sexy little bitch opening up for his big tool, knowing Kyle had just rammed it happily.
Yes lad,' Walker boomed, get in there.'
Mmm, lads,' whined Sterling, fuck yes...'
John found his cock sliding in a little and he bore forward with a gasp, squeezing and pressing at the knotted muscles of the short winger's back. His cheeks spread and his hole opened and in went Stones' big manhood. He paused, pulled back, then pushed in more, finding his confidence and rhythm. His eyes met Kyle's intensely over the bed, so that it felt like in some weird, metaphysical way, he was really fucking his best friend, not just this toned muscular substitute. Every time he thrust his cock an inch deeper inside Raheem, the blowjob on Kyle's dick got more intense, and Walker rolled his eyes and groaned out his enjoyment. The bed squeaked and trembled and their bodies were sticky with lube and sweat.
John began to fuck hard, much more aggressively and quickly than he'd seen Kyle do. He knew how hung he was and how difficult it must be to take. Raheem actually sounded like he was in pain now, but his screams were positive. `YES MATE, OH FUCK YES, RAM IT UP ME, OH LADS...' Stones was so invested in his fast, hard fuck that he didn't immediately realise Walker was already coming. He had his hands on Sterling's head and he seemed to be fucking it, pressing his hips up and spilling his juices in an eager mouth. John could only tell from the pulsating of his chest and biceps and the look on his face, the familiar ragged whimper.
He realised he was close himself and he thought, fuck, I should stop, I should pull out, but... He couldn't stop himself. He was holding Raheem's hips intensely and slamming his cock in and out so hard it almost hurt him. Raheem was pulling back from Kyle and so he tugged his smaller frame up against himself, holding his black body against his own reddish tan. Both of them on their knees, John fucking wildly. Kyle leant forward, still gasping, and grabbed Raheem's own oversized hard-on (oh, wow) in one hand. He leant in and around Raheem's gasping face to kiss John, snogging over a shoulder as they pleasured their bitch from either side. Sterling made a gurgling cry that signalled his own climax and then, a hot minute later, John came in him, or in the condom at least, squeezing his and Kyle's bodies tightly in his arms as he made his final weak thrust.
Oh shit,' he cried, oh fucking hell...'
Yes,' whispered Raheem, his voice faint now, yes boys...'
When their sticky sweaty bodies disentangled, Raheem fell aside with a sleepy giggle. John climbed back off the bed, peeling the dirty condom from his prick and tossing it dismissively to the scruffy carpet, trying to catch his breath, feeling sweat pool and trickle against his muscles. Suddenly Kyle was off the bed and reaching hands about his waist, kissing the side of his neck. Oh buddy,' the dirty Yorkshireman chuckled admiringly, you really went for it...'
Stones wanted to ask if Raheem was okay, thinking about just how intense that had got, but the same big drunken grin was on his face as he rolled over, tangling the matted duvet over him and kicking out his short powerful legs. His eyes were closed already and his breathing shallow. Kyle tugged at John's softening cock and kissed him again, on the cheek. `He'll be reet.'
John nodded, cuddling an arm to Kyle's sweaty side. He looked at the bed, cute little Sterling spreading out in it, groaning and stretching his limbs... He looked so fucking comfortable. Let's leave him to sleep,' he whispered, sliding his fingers in to lock with Kyle's now, and moving toward the door. Come on...' He saw the but' forming in Walker's mouth as he dragged him out onto the landing, their dicks swinging and streaking cum to their thighs -- But...' But he pulled him across and shoved open the door to the master bedroom, turning to snog his man. `Fuck her, she left,' Stones muttered contentedly. He grasped Kyle's big heavy body and backed into the room and together they fell into the floral sheets of the master bed, untouched for almost two weeks.
They both woke at the same time in the crystallised morning light, the curtains annoyingly open in this reclaimed bedroom. John was lying on his back with Kyle curled heavily into him, limbs locked and heads resting side by side. They were woken by heavy steps and a croaky shouting voice. Lads? Lads?' exclaimed Raheem Sterling somewhere on the landing. Oh fuck I'm gonna vom -- Lads? Where are ya?'
John Stones groaned begrudgingly, listening to the very quiet chuckle of the man whose muscular weight pinned him to the mattress. He dragged himself from beneath Walker and climbed out of the bed, up onto his feet, bollock naked and stinking of sex. He found a robe hanging on a wardrobe door, laughed when he realised it was a cherry pink silk thing belonging to his bird, and dashed out onto the landing in it. He was confronted with a dizzy, red-eyed Raheem, pausing at the top of the stairs. He had on his pants and his chinos, open at the front, and a tshirt piled under one arm; trainers dangled from the fingers of his other hand.
`Oh there you are,' he grimaced.
`You okay mate?' laughed John, slowly waking up himself.
`I feel so sick,' Sterling announced.
`Well -- you were pretty wasted, so...'
I don't remember anything,' Raheem said. He said it quickly and forcefully -- and not convincingly. He was staring with bloodshot eyes. I feel so gross. I was SO drunk. I am sorry mate -- dunno what I let come over me! God, I'm gonna be in trouble with the girlfriend, so... ugh. I feel so ill.' He rubbed his face, almost dropping the trainers. `I need to go. Go now. I'm ugh... so... hung... over... ugh...'
Yeah,' Stones said slowly. Erm, take a minute mate, let me get you a cuppa, and...'
Nah, nah, I should go,' Raheem said, stepping onto the stairs, turning away. I feel so rank, mate... ugh... I seriously can't remember a thing... erm... where did everyone go, eh...? Mmm...' And he tottered down the broad staircase talking to himself, watched by John Stones. He watched worriedly, thinking his hungover friend might fall. Somehow the messy lad made it to the bottom, where he finished dressing and then rushed out of the front door, slamming it after him. He disappeared into the sunny early morning.
John turned back into the bedroom, letting the pink silk fall off his broad shoulders, tugging back the duvet and crawling into the musty heat of his friend and lover's body. He dragged the covers over them and pressed himself in against that comforting warmth, that rich sweet-sour smell of sweat and aftershave and cum. He reached a hand out and gently stroked Kyle's rugged face until his eyes re-opened irritably and he chuckled again.
`Raheem okay...?'
`Fuck knows. I'll ring him in a bit.'
`Huh. Good man. Dear god... last night...'
`I know...!'
`What a... fuckin' hell... what a birthday...! This is 30...'
Yeah... wow... and, heh, you didn't even, erm, need to give me your present...' They both laughed, stroking at each other's arms a little. I couldn't have took it, mate,' John admitted in a furtive whisper. `I couldn't, sorry... I know you were so horny to do it, but...'
Huh? Hmm... Er...' Kyle peered at him through one red-rimmed eye. What do you mean?'
Your gift,' Stones told him blearily, I couldn't have taken it and...'
Mate,' laughed Walker sleepily, closing his eyes again and patting John on the cheek. The gift wasn't my fat Yorkshire cock, you daft prick. The gift was gonna be my arse.' John paused, suddenly opening his eyes more fully in their sweaty nest. The gift was gonna be fuckin' taking one for the team,' laughed his muscular lover, but... no need now, is there?! We got a new hole to share haha, perfection... so no worries... no gift needed!' He laughed himself back into half-sleep and rested his heavy hand on the side of John's neck. He let out his breath in a frustrated sigh, confused by his own sense of shock, relief and -- disappointment? He'd totally misunderstood the birthday present that might have ended last night...
Kyle was right though. It didn't matter. They'd lucked out. They'd found Raheem. A one-off, perhaps, but an insanely exciting one. They'd both tried it, fucking, being top, and they'd had a fucking fantastic time, and... It didn't matter that the `gift' had never been offered up, did it? Nah, course not. Not at all.
John lay thoughtfully in the waft of this older man's snores and dared to imagine what might have been without Raheem Sterling there to share.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TWO OF OUR FAVE PREMIERSHIP HUNKS... YEP, REALLY ON THE SAME DAY, WEIRDLY! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU MAKE OF THIS AND THE OTHER RECENT STORIES, AND ANY IDEAS FOR FUTURE ADVENTURES...