Part seven: Ross the Boss
`Howz it goin @ footy babes?'
Ross Barkley smiled at the message notification on his smartphone, before swiping to unlock and punching in his quick response, on his way out onto the training pitch with his squad mates on a bright, chilly winter afternoon in southwest London.
`Gd gd, just bored n thinkin of u!'
He slid the phone back into the pocket of his waterproof coat and broke from walk to jog as he'd fallen behind a bit. He unzipped the coat and tossed it aside like everybody else, down to the close-fitting training top and sports leggings they were all wearing to stay somewhere approaching warm as they got started on today's training, a big London derby with Spurs looming at the weekend. Ross smiled faintly to himself as he got to work, initially slightly distracted by the message but quickly getting his focus back: he was a really dedicated, hardworking player and not about to get totally slack just because his hot girlfriend was a bit bored at work.
He'd been going out with Zoe for a while but things were still fresh, which was good as in the past he'd really struggled to get relationships going – girls often seemed put off more than really drawn by his rugged good looks, for some reason, and the whole `bad boy footballer' persona that floated around even though he was a pretty steadfast guy.
Training carried on, with the guys' youngish manager Frank Lampard, much respected for his local experience, barking out the orders and the lads doing their best to keep up. There was a short break as they shifted from whole-team work to smaller groups based on skill and position; with some thoughts of the missus ticking along at the back of his busy brain, Ross shuffled over to the discarded coats and kit bags to kneel down and fetch his phone for a moment. He let his breath blow out in a misty plume whilst he swiped open the phone to check.
`Thinkin of u 2 hun!' read the message, and there was a picture attached – holy fuck! – he gazed adoringly for a moment at the close up of his girlfriend's cleavage that dominated the selfie, grinned cheerily, and paused awkwardly over his reply.
`Looking gr8 hun... wish I could get my hands on them'
Ross bit his lip excitedly while the message sent, and glanced up briefly at a hurrying shout from his fellow midfielder Mason Mount, who was dashing over to join some of the other pacey players in some sprint exercises. There was a ping and vibration as Zoe's response arrived: `u not gonna send me something back?' Fuck's sake, haha. Ross took a cheeky selfie of his lusty grin, sent it, locked the phone and shoved it in his pocket before hopping to his feet and lunging quickly after Mason to join the midfielder exercise.
The training afternoon ticked on: Ross's powerful legs did their work and he breezed through some challenging activities that had his slower teammates panting and aching. Ross's strong thighs were the envy of many lads on the squad, and anyone who'd seen him dash back and forth across the field like a machine. Soon both he and young Mason Mount were really working up a sweat all the same, and during a brief respite, Ross couldn't held but glance longingly over to where he'd dropped his coat, wanting another peek at that titty pic from his girl.
What's up with you today?' the 20 year old Pompey lad piped up, knocking elbows for a minute and panting out shots of misty condensed air. Your head not in the game?'
Mm, oh, nothing much,' Ross mumbled back in his raspy Scouse accent. All good, Mount.'
`If you say so, Boss,' Mount replied, using the boys' affectionate nickname for their powerhouse attacking midfielder, recently turned 26. Mount in particular, a fellow recent addition to the team, really looked up to and idolised the Liverpudlian beast.
Head in the game,' Ross quipped cheerily, and slapped Mason on the back. Head in the game. Back to work.'
And on they went, back to work. The coaching assistant leading their group was a bit whistle-happy and the pace picked up even more. By the time there was another proper break, both Ross and Mason had glossy sweaty brows and their skintight kit was clinging to wearying muscles. When Ross padded his way back to check his phone, risking a bollocking or even a fine by their pretty strict new manager Lampard, Mason trailed idly after him.
Just a selfie of your face???' and then Wanna see more than that babe!' Ross read the messages and raised his thick brows in amused enjoyment, then flinched when he noticed Mount leaning up next to him trying to sneak a look.
`Oi, buddy,' rasped Barkley a bit irritably, paranoid, and leaning over to shove his phone back away.
`You got a new girl on the go or something, mr phone addict?' chuckled young Mason with a wink.
No, no, just Zoe,' Ross said earnestly – he was a very faithful guy, no time for cheaters, hated even the joking insinuation that he might. Leave it, mate,' he grunted.
Soz,' Mason said brightly, still grinning, just a joke. Fuck, this is getting intense, innit? They must be fretting about those fucking Spurs.'
Dunno why,' Ross said confidently, we'll smash them.'
Sure we will!' Mount agreed firmly. Come on, warm-down time.'
Both lads skipped their way to join the rest of the full squad in a few warm-down exercises, and before long the afternoon was finally called to an end with a short evaluative speech from Lampard, and the lads and coaching staff dispersed: some towards the changing rooms already, some to the gym to do extra work, others to hang out in the training ground cafeteria for a bit first. Barkley pulled on his overcoat, slipped the phone out, and checked the next impatient message from Zoe: `Oi, u ignoring me hun???'
`Fuck no, just been so busy – sweating like a piglet hehe xx'
`Where's my pic back????' And yet again, there was an attachment – Barkley clicked it open and let out a little whistle of delight at the arty nipple shot she'd managed in the toilets of the salon where she worked. Fucking hell, she was in a right mood today, wasn't she!
`What's that?' chirped his 20 year old hanger-on, appearing at his side; Ross swerved the phone out of view and frowned at the youngster.
`What's with you today, nosey chops?' he snapped, but not aggressively. He did enjoy Mason's light-hearted company and had a lot of respect for the talented younger player. They'd spent time together on England call-up as well as here at Chelsea, and he knew the bright young joker persona hid a really fucking hard worker with a lot of unfulfilled potential. But still, Ross really valued his privacy and wasn't keen on the hint of intrusion.
`Oh, alright, be a man of mystery,' Mason joked.
Fine,' Ross sighed. Just my bird, trying to flirt with me while I'm at training. You know how they are.' He toyed with the locked phone, wondering what he was going to try to do to entertain her in response to that last shot!
Mason nodded along and seemed to take the hint to back off. Besides, a bunch of the other younger players were hurrying by on their way into the cafeteria, and Mount got swept up amongst them in a rush of post-training banter. Ross watched them go then made his way in through the other entrance, hastily thumbing in a message. `will send something soon hehe, if u still in mood!'
The reply was fast and exciting, and made entirely of emoji.
Ross lingered for a moment in to the entranceway, then strolled along behind some of the others into the changing rooms. The guys were scattered out and mostly in a hurry, so Ross made his way round to the other side for a spot of privacy. He slung his jacket on a hook and fished his bag out of his locker, and then found his way to a full height mirror in the corner by these lockers. Phone in hand, he tugged up about half of his long-sleeve training top, exposing a good view of his pretty defined abdomen, gleaming with training sweat. Snap, sent, winky emoji message attached.
Ross let the top drop, chuckled to himself, and sat down on the bench beneath the lockers to start unlacing his trainiers. On the wooden bench beside his thigh, the phone buzzed with a very rapid response – he leaned over a bit to check. `u kno I luv that 6pack but... is that ALL I GET?' Ross sniggered to himself at her dirty mind, and before he could even reply, a follow up message and attachment came: he let out another little whistle of desire at what he saw, a dark but revealing view down the inside of a blouse, the curve of tits and the hint of underwear down below. She must be so randy.
There were still a few guys drifting back and forth in this half of the training ground's changing rooms, and Ross exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before braving his next picture message. He got up, turned his back to the room, lifting his shirt a bit again for some abs, and pulled open the front of his running leggings a bit so he could take a photo of his lower abs and the waistband of his training briefs, a slight curve of bulge showing just beyond. She'd love that. He smirked to himself as he sent it and let the leggings twang back in place.
He tugged off his sweaty long-sleeve top and hung it on a spare hook, then turned back in the direction of the full-length mirror to take a cheeky side-view of his topless reflection, capturing a bit of bicep flexing along with the toned muscle of his torso before sending this second pic off to Zoe, who just replied with a slew of sexually suggestive emoji.
He laughed, glanced about him self-consciously to check nobody had been watching him take this pic, and then kicked off his trainers. `lookin good sexy boi, but wearing 2 muchhhh' He laughed at this, paused indecisively, then headed away back through the changing rooms and off to the toilet block at the far side. He slipped in, letting the door slam behind him, and sussed it was totally empty, the cubicle doors all ajar and no sign of life.
There was another big mirror in here, by the sinks past the urinal trough, and Ross paced halfway through the toilet block, popped his phone resting on a sink, and yanked the tight fitting tracksuit leggings down over his thick thighs to around his knees, so he was pretty much standing in just a pair of tight grey briefs that were bulging as thickly as he always did round the front. Snap, winky face, send.
He looked admiringly at the photo on his own phone, allowing himself a moment of vanity at how good his muscular silhouette actually looked in the shot, and grinned eagerly at the arrival of her response. `phworr, big boy barkley ... Hehe... but lemme see dat ass' Ross could have groaned: he found it weird and frustrating how obsessed girls got with his big muscular rear, and he took a fair bit of banter from lads on the team about it too. A popular joke on the team revolved around him taking out Ass Insurance with his first professional paycheck. Yes it was big, but it was cos he did all his exercises properly unlike them!
But he didn't wanna spoil the run of dirty messaging, thinking about how fun things would be when he got home to the missus in a few hours. Ok, ok. He turned about and, with awkward flexibility, leaned around with the phone to try and get a rear pic reflected in the same mirror – there it was, the prominent mound of his strong glutes, framed in grey briefs that could barely cover each cheek, tensed beneath his strong back and above thick fluffy thighs. Snap, then – a loud flush, and footsteps as Mason emerged from one cubicle, in the middle of sending a text.
`Who, Boss!' the young lad cried in bewildered surprise.
Ross spun round and almost tripped over the tight tracksuit pants around his shins as he reacted to this disturbance. What the fuck,' he barked, where did you come from? How long you been in there? Jesus...' Ross tugged the leggings up but without much luck, as they were tight and bunched and his tensed muscles were getting in the way. This resulted in him hopping about for a mad minute in just the bulging briefs. Mason burst into quiet laughter and waved a hand apologetically.
Sorry, sorry, what the hell,' giggled the young Pompey boy. I just had a piss and then was sending some texts before I flushed... I wasn't like HIDING or... What the hell you up to, Barks?'
I... was... just...' There was no good cover for this. Ross sighed. Just sending a pic to the lassie,' he snapped. `Fuck's sake...'
Of that big ass?!' remarked Mason. God, you poser!'
It was what she asked for,' Ross moaned back embarrassedly, tugging again on his leggings. And trust me, you smug twit, there is no easy way of taking a good ass pic without a mirror! STOP sniggering at me, little prick...'
I ain't sniggering,' Mason said but could barely finish the comment without bursting into more soft laughs. Awww, sorry pal, just such an awkward moment... you gotta admit! Chill bro, chill...'
Ross just groaned his response, leaving his pants at the top of his thighs, briefs still exposed, and turned back to look at his phone – well at least the girl had responded to the pic that had earned him this mortifying moment! `oh yes boi, there it is... now get those briefs off bad boi hehe xxx' and the picture with it... fucking hell... a close up of her knickers and... was that a little wet patch of excitement over her...? Oh my god.
What is it?' pestered Mason. Oh wow, that's the shit she sends you? No wonder you're in here doing a little fucking photoshoot you big poser...'
`Oi stop looking,' Ross complained, but his vulnerable embarrassment made it hard to really get angrier at Mount, who had caught him being such a dick in here – and Barkley knew that Mason could easily make great fun of this by bursting through those doors and telling anyone else what he'd caught the mixed-race midfielder up to in their communal toilets. Ross's high cheeks burned and he just glowered at the 20 year old's admiring smirk.
She want more ass pics, does she?' Mason muttered cheekily. You might need a cameraman!'
Oh sure,' Ross spat sarcastically, like I'd want you perving on me!'
Mason seemed to have been joking one minute, then half-serious the next. I wouldn't be perving,' he protested quietly, it's just you said how difficult it was to take!'
`Well, difficult to take without making a prick of yourself,' Ross whined back, rolling his eyes.
Mason seemed to pause and think for a minute and then nodded into the cubicle. Come on, it'll just take a minute,' he said casually, and my phone has a much better camera than yours, old man. You need to move with the times.'
Ross gave him an are-you-serious look, but also became very aware of the door behind him and the still-busy changing rooms beyond. Last thing he needed was some other cunt wandering in any minute, and he still hadn't quite yanked up his leggings, so... Maybe Mason was right anyway. He did need to upgrade his Samsung. He followed the casual youngster into one of the cubicles and pushed the door shut behind them, and as he did, rethought the whole idea – this was gonna be fucking weird.
Alright,' Mason said quietly, am I doing an arse shot or...?'
`Er, yeh,' Ross mumbled.
`Okay, okay, lean on the cubicle wall... yeh like that... let me just... right...'
Barkley leant his forearms onto the divide of the cubicles, tensed his torso, and pushed his backside out a bit, the training pants sliding down a bit so most of his grey-clad arse was out and on view. He leant his head round to watch Mason take a couple of quick snaps with a thoughtful look on his fresh slim face. `Oi, don't need to stare at me so much,' Ross hissed self-consciously.
I kinda do!' Mason protested. Right, did she want them off...?'
`Er... well... yeh... but...'
`Oh mate – how many times have we showered together? No need to be shy!'
Ross huffed a bit, but conceded. He reached down, hooked thumbs into the waistband, and slid the briefs halfway down the twin globes of his behind. Mason let out a playful breathy whistle. `Fuck you,' Ross responded firmly, but lost sight of Mount as the lad slid round behind him to get a good pic of the tensed big cheeks.
Pull em down a bit more?'
`What?! Okay, okay...'
`Yeah, that's better. Fuck, you really are the J Lo of Stamford Bridge...'
`Oh, fuck you.'
And then the clatter of the door and the raised voices of two teammates – Alonso and Zouma – bursting in to the use the urinals. Ross looked instantly to the lock of the cubicle door to check it was firm, then twisted his head to glare accusingly at his young companion, as if the ridiculous predicament was all his fault and not his own. Loud banter echoed over the cubicle door from the two pissing footballers, and Ross carefully turned around to face Mason, trying to avoid any creaking noise, and really glaring down at the shorter, slimmer midfielder in front of him. But Mason just smirked, lowered the angle of his iPhone, and took a snap of the view offered: Ross's broad firm pecs leading down to the valley of his six pack, and the briefs at the front tugged down slightly by his big rump, exposing the hint of a penis outline and the furry growth where he hadn't shaved his pubes in a while.
`Great pic,' whispered Mount.
`Shh, fuck's sake...'
The echoing metallic noise of two active lads pissing in urinals echoing about the room amidst laughter over some inane joke. Mason leant in a bit to take another pic. Ross looked down, fuming, as Mason leant way too close to his midriff and bulging crotch. But fucking hell would these pics do it for his sexy missus when he got hold of them and sent them her way!
More loud laughs from the other two lads beyond the thin plyboard door, and Mason was on his knees to get a really good close-up. Ross reached down and really grabbed his package for a hot image, squeezing and pulling on it while Mason carefully tilted the phone to the right angle and snapped away, and... The slamming of the door, and a sense that model and photographer were really alone in their cramped cubicle, Mason on his knees phone in hand, Ross poised awkwardly against the divide with his legs apart and his package in hand.
`That does look good,' Mount chuckled as quietly as he good.
`It better!' Ross hissed down.
`You gonna get it out?' Mason asked in a careful whisper.
`Huh?'
`Well, don't you wanna send her a... dick pic, too?'
`Yeah, but... I don't want you taking it...!' There was a long awkward pause. But it was such a daft moment that Ross wasn't sure what to say or do – he'd just let the stupid young twat photograph his bare arse, and like he'd said, they'd showered together so often that... Oh, hell... He reached more firmly and pulled down the front pouch of these tight briefs until out flopped his soft meat, a circumcised monster dangling towards the camera, and towards young Mason...
Mason didn't make a noise, just tensed and crouched and angled the camera a few different times. Er, you wanna move it a bit for a better angle,' he breathed awkwardly, and Ross uncomfortably did as told, playing with and shifting his thick flaccid snake a couple of times, but then stopping irritably, no idea how the pics were looking and what Mount was really after, or if he was just taking the piss after all, the stupid prick... No,' Mason muttered, `like this' and just like that, he pushed Ross's cock up a bit and pulled the pants more to show a bit of bollock, lifting the cock up more impressively. Ross flinched and tensed and gritted his teeth. Snap, snap...
`Enough,' Ross snapped, a bit louder than he wanted, and straightened his body up.
Mason shot upright opposite him so the two men stood face to face in the very narrow space. Mate,' he whispered, these pics look so fucking good, I'm an artist, hah...'
Shut up and whatsapp them to me,' insisted Ross in a dark mutter, giving him a prod to the chest, standing a good few inches over him, then remembering his cock and balls were still out. He stuffed them awkwardly away into his undies and tugged his leggings up firmly to protect whatever shred of dignity remained: in front of him, Mason was still flicking through his camera roll. How many fucking pics had the stupid kid taken, for god's sake?? And once you send them,' Ross urged suddenly, `make sure you bloody delete them, you perv.'
`Yeh, I'll send them now,' Mason said, nodding furiously.
Ross rolled his eyes, unlocked the door, and escaped out of the cramped space – it had been getting more claustrophobic and weird by the second, and now he was sure it had been a stupid idea. God, all this for a bit of a giggle with a girl he could already make cum easily when he wanted, why was he even bothering?! Her pics had been fun, but... oh, yeh... He grabbed up his phone from where he'd rested it on the toilet roll holder, and checked his messages whilst Mason drifted past him flicking through his phone.
`come on, send me some fun... I'm really ready for u now hun...' And there was a video attached. Fingers at work in her cunt, only 5 seconds of it, but holy shit. Ross bit his lip and let out another sigh. He needed to finish up here and get home from work asap for fuck's sake. His phone started to ping like mad as Mason forwarded one after another picture message.
`Good job I sent them to you direct and not in the group chat by accident!' quipped Mason, but Ross just shot him a dark look, and stormed past to swing the door open and back out in to the changing rooms. He heard Mason call something apologetic after him but he couldn't be fucked with the funny young lad right now – taking pics of your mate's arse and cock might be fun and games to some weirdo on the south coast, but it was not how lads played on Merseyside, and sometimes Ross got really fed up of the weird lads down here in Chelsea!
He grabbed his things, took a quick shower, and got changed fast. Then he began to drip-feed Zoe the pictures from Mason's work: they really were good, much better quality for the other phone, and for Mason's steady hand, and for the better angles another bloke could reach rather than trying to use a mirror! And best of all, Ross thought, getting into his motor in the car park, none of them were positioned to look like someone else had taken them, so no way would he have to admit to his lady that he'd enlisted another player's assistance, thank god! On the way out of the footy ground and across busy South London to his girlfriend's apartment, Ross sent a pic every 5 minutes or so to Zoe: first some angled shots of his brilliant arse, then a few arty poses of his big, packed bulge, and then the nicely framed shots of his soft cock... Soft! It wasn't soft no more, he could feel the erection in his skinny jeans as he raced to meet her.
When Ross reached her apartment, she'd only just got back from work herself. She buzzed him in, he hurried up to her floor, and once in the door, took her in her arms. It was an amazing shag. The tension and expectation of the picture messaging made it somehow doubly electric. Ross was always a rough and powerful shag, but this evening he really went for it, and nearly broke her bed. He made her cum three times before letting go himself, and they fell into the sweaty satisfied sleep of young lovers.
It was a good few hours when Ross woke up, alone in her tangled sheets. Muffled music from the apartment's small kitchen told him she was preparing their dinner, and a window had been opened to air the bedroom which stunk of rough sex. Ross lay there naked for a minute, feeling the breeze on his bare skin. Then, somewhere on the floor near the bed, a phone – his phone – buzzed and vibrated and began to ring.
Ross crawled his naked body to the edge of the bed and reached a muscular arm out to grab up the phone. Aha, it was Mason Mount. Hopefully the prick was ringing to apologise for being a pervy weirdo this afternoon! Although to be fair, Ross was gonna have to thank the lad for his photography skills, after the wildness it had brought out in his girlfriend, so... Ross swiped to answer and held the phone up to his hear.
`Alright?' he drawled in a sleepy Scouse voice, full of the satisfactions of the flesh.
Ross,' hissed Mason urgently down the line. Ross, mate...'
`Hey, Mason lad, what is it...'
Ross, I got mugged,' Mason cried a bit pathetically down the line. Walking home from the tube, got fucking jumped by some blokes, they took everything...'
What?' Ross groaned sleepily. Oh shit pal, you okay...? Did they hurt ya...?'
`No, no, not too much... well, a bit, but... fuck, mate, they took my PHONE,' Mason whined.
`Yeah, and your wallet? How much money did they grab? Have you rang the police?' Ross asked sympathetically, starting to wake up.
Ross,' repeated Mason in a desperate voice, then a long pause. Ross mate, they took my phone... buddy, I hadn't... Mate they have my phone and it has all those pictures of you on. It wasn't even locked, I was in the middle of...'
Ross lay there, dangling at the edge of the bed, phone in hand, listening to a panicked and presumably very distressed at what had happened to him, gibbering on. Some pricks out there had just mugged the slight young man, took his wallet and his phone, and on that fucking phone... It all settled into place in Barkley's slow, sleepy mind. Holy shit – what would happen if the robbing cunts found his photoshoot?
*HOPE YOU ENJOYED... COUPLE MORE GUYS ADDED TO THE MIX, PLENTY MORE TO COME FROM THESE TWO I RECKON. FEEDBACK APPRECIATED AS ALWAYS!