All The Lads Agree
by Paul Penn
After a bad-tempered, muddy, sweaty rugby game, the players clattered towards the changing rooms, bantering, jostling, steam rising off their soaked jerseys.
“You should’ve passed, you little twat,” snarled Johnno aiming a firm but friendly slap at Harry’s head but missing by a mile.
“Didn’t think you’d make it,” said Harry.
Johnno was mad as hell because his team-mate, five foot two, dark haired hooker, Harry, hadn’t passed to him in the final five minutes and their team had missed the chance of a much-needed victory.
“Take that smirk off your face, ya runt,” said Johnno. “Or you’ll know what for!”
“It’s only a game,” said Harry.
Johnno grabbed the short hooker and pulled Harry tight against his own six foot two tank of a body. The rest of the players whistled and jeered but carried on walking, ignoring the two arguing lads.
“We’ve only got two games left before we all split up to go into jobs or to college. It might only be a game to you, but some of us care.”
Harry, hemmed in to the bigger lad’s grip, had instinctively reached up to rest his palms on Johnno’s beefy prop forward biceps.
“I care, Johnno,” said Harry, sensing that his cock was filling with blood and filling the front of his muddy shorts. He could feel that there wasn’t an ounce of fat on Johnno’s body and he could see a muscle pulsing in Johnno’s neck.
Johnno looked a bit confused at the hooker’s rough, angelic face and was aware that his solid body was pressed against the shorter lad’s frame. Was that Harry’s dick chubbing up against his thigh?
“Show it, then, show you care,” grunted Johnno, pushing Harry away and heading left to the troughs. He pulled open the cord on his shorts and pulled down the elastic waistbands of his shorts and jockstrap over his sizeable junk. His tube flopped out and he pulled on the shaft two or three times. With the other hand he cradled his hefty balls and relaxed so he could let rip a stream of waz. As the flow began, Johnno pulled back his foreskin to avoid spraying and his cock swelled as he emptied his bladder.
Locked in his languorous piss, Johnno felt his shoulder tensions easing and he regretted grabbing Harry so roughly. Harry was right – Johnno had no idea whether or not he could have made it to the try line. It was a judgement call and, in the heat of the game, hooker Harry had made a rational decision.
“Sorry, Johnno,” said Harry and Johnno turned to see Harry standing close to him at the communal urinal, leaning one elbow on the wall and gazing up at Johnno’s face with a pleading look.
“S’all right, pal,” said Johnno. “I was out of order. Ya not pissing?”
“In a minute,” said Harry. “I’ll watch you first.”
“Perve,” laughed Johnno.
The hooker watched the prop as Johnno swayed his hips and showed off, sending his wide stream in arcs of steaming yellow across the back of the stainless-steel trough.
Johnno finished his main piss and gave his dong a good few shakes and pulled the foreskin backwards and forwards a few times, spattering the back of his hand which he wiped off onto his shorts. He stood with his balls and cock still exposed and put his hands on his hips and looked Harry in the face.
“Wanna watch me?” asked Harry. Johnno nodded.
Not taking his eyes off Johnno’s big balls and dangling cock, Harry pushed down his shorts and pulled his cock out of a rancid-looking jockstrap. He let his decent-sized tool rest on his palm as if showing it to Johnno. Johnno smiled a look of approval and nodded permission, as if to say, “All right, Harry, you may piss in my presence.”
Johnno noticed how wet with sweat Harry was. The hooker had been working hard on the pitch and deserved a decent bladder empty. Johnno inhaled male body odour, embrocation, mud and piss. Harry’s slash began and Johnno noticed the smaller lad didn’t pull back his foreskin but the stream was still constant and even.
Harry edged nearer so the two players’ arms were touching. Johnno reached his arm protectively around Harry’s shoulder.
“Glad you two’ve made up,” said the team’s captain, Barry, as he came to stand next to Harry and take his own piss. “You need to get a room, though.”
Harry and Johnno both smiled and pushed their bodies even closer together at the urinal as Harry’s pissing subsided.
“Seriously,” said Barry, chattering away, “all the lads agree, you two fancy each other’s arses. It’s why you’re always bickering. Everybody knows. Get over yourselves and tug each other off, why don’t ya?”
Harry and Johnno had both finished pissing but hadn’t yet moved away from the urinal. Johnno looked confused but Harry’s brain was working overtime.
“It’s fucking true,” thought Harry. “I’ve always known it but never fucking dared to say it. Now fucking Barry’s saying it, fucking out loud, like every fucker knows. It’s now or never. There’re not many games left. I might never see him again”
Out loud, Harry said “I will if you will.”
“Will what?” asked Johnno and time stood still.
Barry had left the toilets and the two players stood facing each other at the brink of a momentous decision. Their manly tackles were both on show, pushed away from their bodies by the elastic in their waistbands so they seemed bulbous and swollen.
Both lads had had sex with girls, Johnno with many. Both had had buddy jerks; both had been together with the rugby team in a mass circle jerk. But neither considered themselves gay, although Harry had entertained it in his fantasies, especially in the ones he had about Johnno.
“I’ll tug you off if you want,” said Harry. “You don’t have to do me.”
“You will?” asked Johnno.
“Or suck you if you want,” said Harry. “Or you could fuck me. Whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want,” said Johnno.
“Whatever,” said Harry.
Johnno reached his long arm out to palm the side of Harry’s mud-streaked face. He gently tugged Harry’s cock with his other hand and Harry stepped closer and reached both hands out, one to cradle Johnno’s balls, one to wrap around the expanding tube of meat.
“What if someone comes in?”
“I don’t give a shit,” said Harry.
“I’ll do to you whatever you do to me,” said Johnno.
“Sounds good to me,” said Harry and dropped to his knees and dragged down Johnno’s shorts and prised the prop forward’s jockstrap down his muscular thighs. Harry breathed in the close-up sight and pungent scent of the prop forward’s private parts in silent worship.
“Do you like my stink?” asked Johnno. Harry nodded.
Johnno’s thick cock was now at prime seven inch mast and the glans had burst out of the foreskin to swell to fat proportions, glistening and shining with expectation.
Harry leaned in and gripped the bottom of Johnno’s shaft and began licking the shiny head and prodding his tongue into the piss slit. Johnno held the side of Harry’s head, gently, not forcing his cock deeper, just letting the smaller lad take his time, licking, nuzzling and finally sucking the top third of Johnno’s beast.
Precum began to leak into Harry’s mouth, giving the hooker an almost ecstatic desire to just carry on and swallow every bit of Johnno’s insides. Harry’s own cock trailed a thick droplet of precum which hung suspended between his foreskin and the floor of the bathroom.
Harry gripped and released the fat cock in his possession, gazing with love at the veiny trace of blood serving the erection, rubbing his forehead when he went deep on his pal’s wiry bush of pubic hair. He couldn’t help but reach down with one hand to start pulling on his own pulsing dick. He was feeling his orgasm approaching but it was an orgasm of the mind and whole body, so enraptured that his fantasies were coming true and his sporting hero’s fat dick was inside his mouth.
Johnno was aware that, as Harry swallowed deep, the hooker sometimes gagged, so Johnno tried to help his friend by pushing and pulling his tool with care and tenderness. The nerves in every millimetre of his cock were pinging and exploding with zing. Any moment he would spew his cock wad into Harry’s gullet. But he pulled back deep within himself, desperately trying to prolong this best blow job of his young life.
Harry felt Johnno’s shaft pulsing and expanding, widening the stretch of his lips. He noted the big balls rising and tensing and he cupped them to feel their weight and power. He had an idea of how to prolong the experience so he slid the dick out of his mouth and hoisted it vertical so he could tongue the underside, up and down, catching the precum flowing plentifully down into his greedy lips. Johnno was now spasming with pleasure.
Johnno was aware that at least three team-mates had gathered in the doorway to the bathroom to watch what was happening. Like Harry had said, he didn’t care if anyone knew about them having some fun; and he felt even more turned on by the fact that he was putting on a sex show for his mates. They were all quiet as they stared, no doubt chubbing up themselves.
Harry returned Johnno’s meat to inside his mouth and slid his lips down and back along the shaft, firmly but gently, again and again. Johnno started to judder and grip the hair at the side of his head, so Harry knew his pal was close to exploding.
Johnno’s right leg began to shake, a sign, he knew, that he was about to erupt. His breathing sped up, his stomach muscles clenched and then a string of spunk shot into Harry’s mouth. Harry pulled off and another rope splattered across his cheek and right eye. A third spurt covered his chin and Harry swallowed Johnno’s cock again to catch the rest – another four or five significant shots of goo before the orgasm peaked.
Before Harry had time to think, Johnno pulled him to his feet and cradled him from behind and began wanking Harry’s turgid cock.
There were now about a dozen lads’ faces at different heights staring through the bathroom door, some kneeling, two hoisted onto backs, one sitting on someone’s shoulders, some cradling their own swelling baskets, some still in muddy kit, some half-dressed, some fully nude and showered. They had seen Johnno’s sexual climax and they now anticipated Harry’s gun to go off.
“Enjoy,” grunted Johnno in Harry’s ear as he instinctively responded to Harry’s shivering body and moans of pleasure.
Harry’s six and a half inches were well lubricated with precum, so Johnno’s hands could slide easily up and down its length. Both lads could see their audience were grinning and egging them on. Johnno completely encased Harry with one arm completely around his front and Harry cradled in the big length of the prop forward’s body. Harry was completely relaxed in his lover’s protection, mentally connected only to his ever-expanding cock and Johnno’s hand bringing him to the brink of rapture. Harry’s cum came fast and furious.
“Johnno,” cried Harry as three long ropes of thick, white jizz shot across the bathroom floor. Another one dangled from the tip of his cock as the lads started to cheer and Johnno turned him round.
“Nice one, Harry,” said Johnno. “Excellent shots.”
Harry reached up and daringly pulled the prop forward down for a kiss which meant smashing their faces into syrupy spunk. But they didn’t care. Johnno’s semen smeared around their cheeks as they snogged and rolled their tongues into each other’s mouths.
Their team-mates gathered round them to pat them on the backs, slap them on the butts and shout things like “horny bastards” and “about time, ya benders” and “lucky buggers.”
Harry and Johnno smiled into each other’s lives, faces pressed close, the smell of jizz filling their nostrils.
“You should have said before, you little twat,” said Johnno.
“I didn’t know you felt the same,” said Harry.
“Take that smirk off your face, ya runt. Or else….”
“Or else what, ya big ox?”
“Or else I’ll invite you round to Mam’s for Sunday dinner.”
“You scored, Johnno.”
“You converted me, Harry.”
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