This story is copyrighted (c) 2002 to rugbystud@hotmail.com and first posted on the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive website. It may not be copied or posted or transmitted in any way except in its entirety and with this disclaimer.
Here's the fourth and final part of the Rugby Weekend Tour story. Sorry for taking so long but I hope that writing the whole story in detail has made it worth the wait.
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Baz smiled, leaned over and gave Mike a kiss, then did the same to me, giving me a hug as well. "See you both later then. God I must be out of my fucking mind leaving you two here."
He unlocked the door and left without looking back. I closed and locked the door behind him. I checked my travel alarm and saw that I had about two and a half hours before we were all out again. Such is life on tour.
"I've gotta get some sleep, mate" I said to Mike. He just nodded and motioned for me to get in to bed with him. I set my travel alarm for an hour and a half's time. Whatever either of us may have wanted to do in bed, within a few minutes I was asleep and apparently so was Mike.
An hour and a half can pass slowly or quickly, but that afternoon it flew by. I could have sworn I only blinked, but my alarm clock showed that an hour and a half had passed. Mike stirred next to me as I reached over and thumped the alarm off. I felt his hand sneak around my waist and grab my dick, which wasn't hard but was hanging long.
"Only a semi? I'll sort that out, if you've got time?" I turned back and smiled. He jumped out of bed and went in to the en-suite. I could hear water running then the taps being turned off. He came back in and saw my puzzled look. "Just washing any sweat away, mate, I want to test something out."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, still not clear.
"Baz and I have swapped a few stories boyo! I've heard that you get very turned on tonguing his arse, so I want to see and experience it for myself. Shift yourself down the bed a bit, if you don't mind that is?
"You two are turning me in to a rugby slut, both shagging me then comparing notes. But no, I don't mind, I like your arse and you sitting on my face sounds just about right. But only if you tell me why you were at the match when you told me in the bar yesterday you'd be working?"
He came over and knelt on the bed, gave me a quick kiss and said "Don't want to kiss you later and taste my own arse!" I punched his arm, not too hard though. "I swapped shifts so I could watch the game, after last night I wanted to see you and the rest in your kit! Then out of it of course."
He straddled me, facing my feet, then shifted backwards till his cute bum was over my face. He lowered himself, told me to stick my tongue out, then began to make fucking motions with his hips, making my tongue slide back and forth over his hole.
"Baz wasn't lying was he Dave?" I heard him say, the sound slightly muffled by his legs and thighs being either side of my head. No, Baz hadn't lied. I have to admit that tonguing a cute arse and licking a clean hole is one of the most incredible things and will guarantee me a cock that is bigger and harder than at probably any other time in my life. Don't know why it's that in particular by fuck do I throw a woody!
I felt Mike's hand on my dick, a classic wank hand-hold, his thumb rubbing slowly in circles on my piss-slit. I could feel how wet with sticky pre-cum I was after only a few minutes. Up until now, my hands had been cupping his arsecheeks, but he used his free hand (his left) to grab my left hand and guided it to his dick.
"Mmmmmmmfff" was about all I could manage, but with an impressed sound to it. Seems I wasn't the only one to get hard in no time. I felt Mike's weight shift and was disappointed for a second as I thought he was getting off me rather than getting off on me. But what he was actually doing was leaning forwards in to a 69 but he didn't shift his arse so I had the double pleasure of rimming him as I felt his mouth on my cock. He started to rock back and forth again, impaling his arse on my tongue as he moved back, then sliding down my cock with his lips and tongue as he moved forwards again.
He'd suggested a quickie and that's what he got. Against that kind of attack from both ends, I lost all control and any hope of holding out. My legs got straighter and my leg muscles felt like steel. My cock swelled and I came hard, fucking his face and burying my own face into the crack of his arse, pushing my tongue deep inside making him groan even as he swallowed every volley my dick pumped in to his mouth.
Almost at the same time, I felt his own cum splat out on to my chest and stomach and his legs clamp around my head. His dick had been rubbing through my chest hair and he obviously had got turned on by my cumming in his mouth and tonguing his arse. He collapsed next to me, kissing my thigh as he came down from his orgasm high.
I still had just about half an hour before we were all out again, so despite being warm and comfortable, I forced myself to get up. I went in to the toilet to fetch a towel and wiped as much cum off me as I could. Mike watched me as I scrubbed his spunk from my chest and stomach.
"I probably won't see you tonight," he said. "I'm working in the bar downstairs and you lot are out and about till fuck knows when."
"I'll catch up with you in the morning, though," I replied. "And are you coming to the charity game tomorrow afternoon?"
"Maybe over breakfast. And Sunday lunchtime is a busy time in the bar. But I'll be out with you lot later tomorrow night for your last night here."
"OK, good. Uh, have you seen my pants anywhere?" We both dressed, cleaning each other as we sorted out clothes out. He leant over and gave me a deep kiss with his tongue playing around with mine.
"Mmmmm, I'm glad you lot came up for the weekend" he said. We hugged and he unlocked the door and left me to get myself ready for another night's piss up.
Saturday night was even more of a drunken night out than Friday had been. Despite Baz's team having to play a charity match after lunch on Sunday, we all managed to stay out till gone three in the morning. A lot of mooning went on and the clubhouse toilet floor was about a foot deep in piss. I'm sure I don't need to describe the state of the place or the people to anyone who's ever been on tour with the boys.
Walking home in a group of about five at half three in the morning was fun for us but probably not for the poor bastards whose houses we passed. We sang rude songs very loudly and out of tune, pissed anywhere that looked suitable (and probably wasn't) and did stupid stuff like leap-frog traffic bollards. Simon mooned the moon, which we all thought was hysterically funny at the time, as you do on occasions like that.
That's the point when my hormones started to play up. See, Simon has a very cute, round, smooth arse and I'd sobered up just enough to get horny, but not enough to be sensible.
As the five of us walked the last few yards to the bed and breakfast, I was walking with Simon, chatting away. The others were ahead of us and disappeared to their rooms. Simon's was on the first floor and was empty, his room-mate Geraint had got off with a student and had gone back to the local halls of residence for the night.
Simon wobbled on the stairs as we climbed to his floor, laughing to himself.
"Give us a hand mate" he asked, though why he thought I was more sober than he was, is beyond me. He slumped against the wall as I fumbled with his key and unlocked his door.
We went in and he began to half take and half tear his clothes off.
"Fuck I'm hot, is there anything cold to drink in the fridge?" I looked blankly at him as there wasn't a fridge in the room. He laughed again, realising his mistake. He'd got his top off and pulled his trousers and briefs down to his ankles, giving me another nice view of those smooth cheeks. Because he hadn't taken his boots off, he unbalanced and fell backwards on to his bed. Oh boy. In the moonlight I got a glimpse of his arse, then his cock and balls.
He gave up and lay on the bed laughing. His booted feet were on the floor, his briefs and trousers around his ankles and the rest of his fit naked body was on the bed. I have to say that alcohol and moonlight combined made him look like a black and white sculpted ideal of a male body. My mind was seriously wandering at this point.
I made a move to go back to my room, but he stopped me. "No mate, stay here and chat. Haven't seen you much this weekend. Stay here, Ger won't be back, he'll be shagging that blond piece all night."
"OK" I said, my dick having taken over already. I stripped down and lay on Geraint's bed and Simon and I chatted for ages. We'd known each other from school, same year and same village so we'd grown up together and knew each other well. Bar one thing, of course.
"I was tryin' to gerroff with Ger's piece's room-mate y'know" he said after a while. It was nearly 5 by now and the moon was making the room a contrast of silver and deep blue.
"Yeah, could tell, she blow you out then?" I asked. He laughed "Yeah coz I asked fr'a blow job and she blew me alright, just not what I fuckin' spected. I'd have loved a good hot mouth sucking me off . . . ." He was giggling as he said this, aware that he was bullshitting and talking in a porn film style. He did this quite a lot when we were out and pissed, leading many of the team to wonder how big his collection of porn film actually was.
I looked over and was slightly startled to see him idly tugging at his dick, which was definitely on the rise and lying upwards towards his stomach. As my dick was a few seconds later. I tried to think about something else but my mind wasn't disciplined enough under the influence of so much hormonal and alcoholic stimulation. In less than a minute I was totally hard and sticking up like a silver rocket in the moonlight ready for blast off.
I sat up quickly, lifting one knee up to hide my hard-on. But I needn't have bothered. Simon, the black and white sculpted ideal of a male body, was asleep. Or at least in enough of a drunken stupor as to make no difference. What was interesting though was that he was now obviously wanking - slowly and either dreamily or drunkenly but definitely wanking.
I remember thinking that he'd forgotten I was there; most teams in sports aren't shy around each other, but wanking in front of one might be a step too far for some people (which is a shame!). But as I was drunk and by now extremely horny, I just sat there and watched the show.
Simon was stroking his dick with his right hand, slow and long strokes so that his foreskin was pulled back every time, exposing the shiny head of his dick. His other hand was open, fingers splayed out and straight and he was rubbing his balls with the flat of his palm, rolling them around slowly in the sac. It was so quiet in the room - the only sounds were two sets of heavy breathing, and a faint rustling of his pubes as his palm travelled back and forth. In the moonlight, this wasn't pornographic, it was almost art.
Simon, lost in the moment, began to quicken his right-handed strokes and left-handed fondling. I moved from where I was sitting on Geraint's bed to kneel in front of Simon on the floor, watching ever move he made, fascinated by this unexpected performance. I could smell, well the only way of describing it is "man" - a mixture of sweat, cock, arse - that scent that makes me want to breathe in so deeply.
I was wanking myself slowly, watching my mate enjoy himself like this. I could tell by the way his balls were shrinking that he was going to come fairly soon and it didn't take him long to oblige me with the climax.
He'd been moaning softly every now and then and mumbling a bit in his semi-dreaming state. His moans got slightly louder as his hands brought him to orgasm. His back arched on the bed and I watched in drunken awe as streams of shiny cum pumped from his dick over his stomach, making a shiny, sticky fan shape of cum-streaks on his stomach muscles and chest. He wriggled a bit, then seemed to relax, still not fully awake nor apparently wanting to move.
So there I was, kneeling in front of my cum-covered mate, with a stiff cock and balls that were full to bursting. I wanted to lick Simon's stomach and chest and even suck on his sticky dick, but no matter how drunk I was, I felt it would be a violation of him as he'd seemingly gone to sleep. But then I had an idea.
A few more streaks of cum wouldn't be noticed, would they?
I slowly took off his boots and socks, then pulled off his briefs and trousers and left them in a heap on the floor. I could now move his legs apart and I stood between them, looking down at him and began to wank myself faster than I had been during his show. I didn't bother holding back, I knew I just needed to shoot as fast as possible. I doubt I could have held back for long as the silvery grey image of Simon being wanked over by me was such a turn-on anyway.
I got close to cumming, then leaned in over him, aiming my dick as best I could in the same direction as his had been. Then I came. Fuck did I come.
Shot after shot went over him, some on top of his own cum, others adding to the spray pattern up his stomach and chest. The first actually reached his shoulder, partly due to the fact I was higher than he had been and partly because the hornier the situation, the further I seem to shoot.
My knees were wobbling and I staggered back to Geraint's bed, for fear of collapsing on top of Simon and waking him. Once my breathing had got back to normal, I decided to go back to my room, so I gathered my clothes, pulled on my briefs and left. I made sure Simon's door locked behind me and then legged it up the stairs when I heard voices. I didn't want to be caught in the corridor in nothing but damp briefs barely hiding a stiff wet cock.
The following morning, not surprisingly, most of us overslept. When I finally got up, showered and made my way down to breakfast I could hear Geraint loudly telling everyone about his blonde student conquest and about a discovery he'd made when he'd got back to his room earlier that morning. I paused outside the dining room to listen.
"So I came back this morning, sacks well and truly emptied and what do I fuckin' find? Simon has done the fuckin' same thing only all by himself, the dirty little wanker"
Lots of clapping and cheers and Simon's voice telling everyone to fuck off.
"No, no, I have to be fair" I heard Geraint say, "He must have balls like petrol tanks and a dick like a garden hose, coz I've never seen so much fuckin' spunk in all my life. I was well impressed and I for one will be calling him Spunky Simon from now on." More cheers and laughing and though no one could see, a big smile from me too. And true enough, Spunky is what everyone calls Simon now, though only the boys on tour know why. And only I know really why!
After a late breakfast or early lunch (either way it was a huge meal), we trooped off to watch the charity game. Of course we went early enough to have a few pints in the clubhouse first. Baz's team played marginally better than they had against us the previous day, but not by much. The charity was a local one to help raise funds for sporting equipment for some local schools, including specialist stuff for disabled and special needs pupils, so we were all only to happy to contribute.
It was a pleasant afternoon, the weather was better than it had been for a few weeks, it was cold but clear and dry and besides, I was basking in the glow of so much unexpected action over the weekend. After the game, everyone returned to the clubhouse and, yes, more pints were drunk. Baz and I decided on Guinness and blackcurrant for some odd reason; what an interesting combo that was.
The rest of the day went quickly, a quick shit-shower-shave before a kind of farewell dinner in the clubhouse. Another excuse for a piss-up really but as the bus was returning us home late on the Monday morning, we decided we might as well enjoy the Sunday evening to its fullest.
We had a mock awards ceremony and some pretend trophies, just for a laugh. Paul won Biggest Knob of The Match, which he took in good grace even though his slurred acceptance speech pointed out he had the biggest knob anyway, so it was only fair. Simon went a kind of radioactive red colour when Gareth Jones the coach read out that Simon had won the Best Shot of the Weekend - he was confused because Simon hadn't kicked the ball, but those of us who knew what the award was really for were roaring.
Mike, Baz and I walked back to the bed and breakfast at about 11.30. Mike had to be up early to make dozens of cooked breakfasts and Baz was back in work. So no chance of any overnight fun between us. Baz and I sat outside on the fire escape in the cold air, the moon was out again and it felt frosty. Mike was sitting on a low wall facing us and after a while stood up.
"I'm gonna have to go, too much to do tomorrow." He walked over and gave me a big hug, crushing me. I crushed him back then started laughing as I felt a familiar rod of steel poke me in the leg.
"Baz, he's a horny little bastard, feel this."
Baz reached up and rubbed the bulge in Mike's jeans. "How about I pop over later in the week to sort that out?" he said. Mike grinned but I said "I won't have the chance, so I'll have to sort it out now".
I dropped to my knees, popped the buttons and dug his dick out. I wasn't gentle, but as he was a bit pissed too, he didn't mind. I sucked his cock for a few minutes as Baz watched us in the moonlight. After a while, with only my slurping breaking the silence, Mike's legs began to tremble then my mouth filled with hot sticky spunk as he rammed his cock deep in to my throat. I swallowed, licked his dick as clean as I could, then stuffed it back in to his jeans.
Mike leaned down and kissed me, then Baz, gave me another hug and left to go inside, without saying a word.
"He's a nice kid" said Baz.
"Kid? I asked, "He's not that much younger than us you know!" Baz took my hand and pulled it down to his crotch. Another bulge.
"Got enough room for seconds?" he asked. I smiled.
I knelt down again, unzipped Baz's trousers and dug out that familiar 8-incher. It was soaked at the end and he's obviously been turned on by me blowing Mike.
He sat back on the fire escape as I went down on him, eager for his cock despite having only just slurped up Mike's best efforts in that department a few minutes ago. I was lost in the rhythm of sucking and licking and the whole world went away, until Baz jumped.
"Wassup?" I asked, from between his legs, "Apart from this", I grabbed his dick.
"Thought I heard something," he replied, "Probably a cat. Who said you could stop?"
I got back to my pleasant task of Baz-blowing, doing my best to deep throat his thick, long rod. I've had plenty of practice on him over the years. I got him to stand up, then despite the frosty air, pulled his trousers down slightly so that I had better access to his balls and arse rather than only having his dick to play with. I slid my hands over his cheeks, keeping them warm as I sucked his dick in and out. I felt his thighs tense and his arse cheeks shift and I knew I was about to get my second load of the night. More sucking and he began to shake and fuck my face, then came blast off.
If there had been a cat prowling nearby his grunts would have scared it off.
I like them though, and the reason he makes them. He came his usual big hot load that I make every effort to swallow. His dick is always tender after he cums, but I make sure I gently suck out any last drops and I always make him shudder one last time as I like to swirl my tongue under his foreskin to make sure he's nice and clean.
I stood up as he pulled his trousers back up and zipped himself after stuffing a still semi-hard dick back inside.
"Stay" I asked. "I'll set the alarm early so you can go home to get ready for work. But stay."
Baz looked at me for a minute, said nothing, then took my hand and motioned his head towards the front door. My smile was brighter than the moon.
Back in my room, we got in to bed and I drifted off to sleep tangled up with Baz. I was warm, satisfied, my breath smelled of cum and I had a rugby player in my bed for the night. I was happy.
Morning came too quickly. Baz and I woke, but had no time to do anything other than chat for a while, still entangled in bed. He left before the rest of the guys started to wander around. I think we cracked each other's ribs during our hug goodbye.
I showered and went downstairs, thinking that as I was awake I might as well have the pick of the breakfast selection. My stomach was growling with hunger and I could taste cum when I burped, so I knew I needed food badly. By the time I'd finished my cereals I could smell bacon frying.
Some of the rest of the team had surfaced and were making their way down to the dining room.
Paul nodded to me, but his expression was very intense. "Morning Dave, cold night last night wasn't it?"
"Morning mate, yeah I suppose it was." I remember thinking at the time that what he'd said was odd for the first greeting of the day. But I had to wait till the following weekend to find out what he'd meant.
I got up and went to the kitchen door to see if the cooked breakfasts were nearly ready. There, slaving over a hot stove, was Mike. I checked no one was around and sneaked in behind him.
"You look sexy in an apron mate!" I whispered loudly. He jumped, then laughed.
"Morning Dave, you two sleep well?"
"Don't miss a fucking thing do you" I answered, laughing in return.
"Saw him leaving, thought you two would have a last night together." He looked about then kissed me quickly. "I've enjoyed this weekend, hope I'll catch up with you again?"
"Oh yeah, and I want full details of anything you and Baz get up to in my absence. I'm betting he'll be around in a day or so to see you."
"Not jealous then?" Mike's expression was suddenly serious.
"Fuck no," I answered, a bit surprised. "Baz and I've known each other for years, but we both like you and it'd make me happy knowing you two were still getting together till I visit next time. Which will be soon of course!" I winked lewdly at him and licked my lips, a real over-the-top pervy action that made him crack up.
"Bugger off and let me finish the brekky, you dickhead!"
I left the kitchen, walking backwards and rubbing my crotch at him, still in perv-mode. It was nearly my undoing as I walked backwards into one of the cleaning staff.
Mike called after me and said he'd be out to see us off after we'd eaten and packed. As it turned out, I didn't get the chance to say a proper goodbye to him, the food kept him busy and then it was time to pack and head for the bus.
As the team boarded the bus, Mike waved me, Simon and Gareth Jones the player over to the back of the building.
"These will be out of date tomorrow or the next day - best you have them for the bus!"
"Mate!!" was all Simon could say, which was one word more than Gareth or me.
2 crates of lager were waiting for us and they disappeared on to the bus in a flash. Mike was deservedly cheered as we drove away, me cheering the loudest but with a touch of something sad mixed in too.
All I could think about on the way home was what a fantastic weekend I'd had. The only troubling aspect of the drunken bus journey was Paul, who kept staring at me in an odd way. I was to find out the reason why the following weekend, but for now, I just settled back in my seat in a happy lager and sex fuelled haze and smiled for miles.
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Any comments you have about the final part of this weekend tour story or any of my other rugby tales are always welcome (the hornier the better!!), so please e-mail me at rugbystud@hotmail.com