Rugby mate invites me

Fear. Excitement. Lust.

I was feeling all three of these things as I was sat in the bar of the local rugby clubhouse on a wet Saturday afternoon.

I’ve always been fascinated by rugby. How can so many men can spend 80 minutes knocking the shit out of each other on the pitch then sit in the clubhouse for hours knocking back pints as if they’re best friends. What’s really caught my attention though is the players themselves. Those thick, muscular thighs. The bulging biceps with veins that just let you know that they are true alpha studs. Then there’s their faces. Slightly weathered, bruised and battered. But, they are attractive. These men are studs, and they know it. They could pick you up with one hand. They could crush you with their hard muscular bodies. But they don’t. They’re kind, jovial, generally good blokes.

Back to now. I’m sat in the bar. The match is about to end. My pulse is racing. It all started when my friend Callum drunk messaged me last week, let me tell you about Callum. We’ve been friends since sixth form. He knew I was gay way before I told him. He didn’t care. He wasn’t phased. All he did was give me a quick hug and told me he didn’t care what I did in the bedroom. I think it helped that he’s played rugby since he was a toddler. The values of the sport are founded on integrity and inclusivity. There’s a place for everybody on the rugby pitch.

For years I’ve teased him about how hot he looks in his kit. He’s 6”2, with jet black hair and is built like a god. His legs and arms have a light covering it back hair, I often go and watch the clubs matches, and always stay for a beer afterwards. As we’ve been sat in the clubhouse sinking pints we’ve spoken about our types. He likes a woman with a big round arse. He likes firm tits with big nipples. And he likes big juicy lips. That’s when we realised we have the same type, only I like those things on a man. He jokingly said that Henry on the team had all of those things. Oh, and an eight inch soft cock as well. He was a bit taken aback when I told him he’d got it in one.

Henry is in his mid twenties. Plays with Callum as a wing. He’s dark haired, 6”1 and is very pale skinned. I see him most weekends and have to stop my mind wandering when he’s running onto the  pitch in those tight shorts. I’ve thought about sneaking off and checking out his kit bag during the match. Finding out what brand of underwear he wears. What colour socks he’s got. Whether his trainers smell as good as I imagine they do. But I don’t. The team like and respect me. They treat me as a supporter and a friend. I would never compromise that.

Back to the clubhouse. Callum and I have had a few more beers. And a couple of shots. We’re exploring our sexual sides now. Callum is quite vanilla. Likes it doggy style and prefers to keep the lights off. He can see the look of shock on my face. Shock and disappointment. I’d always imagined that he’d be a bit of a kinky bugger. He asked me what I like to do. He’s open minded. I know I can’t shock him. I told him that I appreciate a man’s body. Particularly the things that gross most women out. The smell of pits after a workout. The taste of a man’s taint. The dampness of a gym kit covered in sweat. The warmth of a man’s golden flow. Oh, and their feet. The stench and taste of a man’s feet has always turned me on. He just sat there. He wasn’t shocked. He didn’t judge. But he’d just never realised that people could get turned on by these things. He said that I’d love the changing room after a game. I find him he didn’t know how true that was. I’d thought about it for years. But again, I’d never done anything about it. We carried on drinking and moved onto talking about our mates upcoming stag do in Prague later this year and how we’d have to get him a stripper sorted. We called a cab to get home. Callum was crashing at mine that night, we had another beer and went up to bed. As we pulled off our clothes to get into bed Callum joked that after what I’d told him he would have to be careful. He could see I was a bit worried. Thinking I’d ruined our friendship. He realised straight away and said don’t be fucking silly mate. I love you as a best friend. And I always will. What you do in bed with a shag is totally different to when we share a bed. He jumped under the quilt and asked why I wasn’t getting in. He gave me a spoon as he always did. I felt safe in his arms.

A few weeks passed. We didn’t really talk about that night. Until last Saturday. He called me about 11pm. He was on tour with the team. They were drunk. Very drunk. He’d told Henry about our conversation. My heart sank. My relationship with the team was over. He said that Henry was into the same things as me. We’ll, kind of. He loved it when women asked him to piss on them. He loved them sucking his cock the night of a game. He even liked his own smells. He’d told Callum he wanked to the smell of his own boxers after a workout. But he’d never tried anything with a guy. Henry was open minded. He was the first to pull his trousers down in the clubhouse. He grabbed your cock at the urinals. He’d slap your arse. I’d always hoped he might be curious. But never thought it would happen. Until now. He told me Henry wanted to try out a few things. If I’d let him explore his curiosity, Henry would let me explore his body after next Saturdays match.

That’s how we ended up here. My heart was racing. I knew I was about to live out so many fantasies. But Henry could have changed his mind. He might freak out half way through. He might tell everyone. But I’d agreed to it. And I wasn’t backing out. I was waiting. My cock was throbbing and my mouth was dry.

Callum had said that Henry would hold back on the pitch and get changed last. Let the rest of the team get bathed and dressed and then go into the changing room. Callum would come through to the bar and pat me on the back. That was the sign that Henry was ready for me. The rest of the lads walked into the bar. Then I saw Callum coming through. Looking amazing in his tight cream chinos and his slim fit blue shirt. Of course he had the club tie on too. He went to the bar, ordered us both a beer and walked over to the table. I shivered as he patted me on the back. I knew the way to the changing room. I’d walked through it loads of times over the years. But never in the same context as today.

I stood up and started to walk over. My knees were trembling. Knowing I was about to live out my wildest fantasies with a man I had lusted after for years.

I reached the door. I pulled it open and walked into the changing room. The smell of deep heat assaulted my nostrils within seconds. The team had left the place in a state. Kit lying all over the place, mud all over the floor.

I couldn’t see Henry. Maybe he’d backed out. Maybe he was winding me up. I walked up to the showers. That’s when I saw him.

He had stayed pitch fresh for me. He hadn’t even taken off his boots. His gumshield was still in his mouth. He was covered in mud, some of it was starting to dry on his face, but he was still slimy and dripping wet.

He smiled at me, and grabbed his crotch through his shorts. Then I knew that this was really happening. I was about to get what I’d wanted for so long.

He asked how I wanted to do this. I asked him what it was he wanted to explore. Turned out he just wanted to see what it felt like having a man suck his cock rather than a woman.

I said that seemed like a pretty small thing given what I wanted to do with him. He said it was fine, he’d always wanted to just try it with a guy, and everything I’d told Callum he got off on anyway.

Then he reached forward and hugged me. I didn’t care that my clothes were going to get dirty, I had spares. I reached down and grabbed onto his cock. I could feel it through his damp shorts. It really was 8 inches soft.

As I hugged him back I could smell the sweat on him. He’d played the full 80 minutes and you could tell. He was ripe. I moved my head down and started to nuzzle his pits. I was in heaven. He had deliberately not worn deodorant this morning so I could get the full effect of his sweat. I could see a few of his hairs poking through the sleeve of his rugby shirt. They were matted with sweat. I moved over the the other pit. It was just as good. Warm, wet and ripe.

He groaned. He liked it. I peeled his shirt up. His torso glistened with sweat. He didn’t have a six pack, but he was toned and solid. I pulled his shirt over his head. Then I went back to his torso. I scraped my tongue over his abs. It tasted salty. I was tasting Henry’s sweat. Wow. How is this happening. He grabbed my head and pulled it up, dragging my tongue over his body. I went back down to his bellybutton and licked another strip upwards. I worked my way up his whole torso, then did the same to his toned back. He was wincing in pleasure with every lap of my tongue. I suddenly realised that I’d been doing this for fifteen minutes and I might lose his interest if I didn’t start work on his cock soon.

I moved down onto my knees. Even through my jeans I could feel the cold of the hard concrete floor of the shower area. Henry suggested I took my jeans and shirt off so I didn’t get too dirty. I pulled them off and threw them onto the pile of sweaty kit just outside the showers.

I was ready to carry on with my rugby boy. I got back onto my knees and was at eye level with his crotch. I could see it had swollen a quite bit since he first grabbed it. This was it. I was finally going to get to taste a man fresh off the rugby pitch. I was going to make the most of every second.

I didn’t know if I’d get another chance at this, so I wasn’t going to miss anything off my list of fantasies.

I got onto all fours, and undid the laces of his black adidas rugby boots. I then pulled his left boot off his foot. I was hit by the acrid smell of sweaty feet straight away. I pressed his socked foot up against my face and inhaled deeply. Then I moved to his right foot and did the same. I massaged his calves in sync, and he started groaning. At least I knew he was enjoying it. I took his boots and sniffed them, I stuck my tongue into one of the boots and could feel the warmth. More than that I could taste Henry’s glorious size 11 feet. He’d clearly played in these boots for years. You could see the impression of his heel in the insole. At this point my cock was ready to explode. But I knew that my time to cum was once Henry had been served. Not before.

I peeled his socks down his muscular, hairy calves. I could appreciate just how muddy it was on the pitch now. I could see his pale calves contrasting with his thighs which were caked in mud.

The hairs on his shins and calves were damp, clearly tired after the exertions of the tough match the team had just played. I had to taste the sweat. It tasted cleaner than his pits did. I ran my tongue up and down each inch of his legs, licking every bead of sweet yet salty sweat from the matted hairs which had been covered by his tight black knee length rugby socks only minutes before. I could see his knees shaking with either fear or ecstasy. I was happy that his legs tasted more of my saliva than his sweat now.

I moved my face closer to his once white silky shorts, which were caked in mud, and could feel the warmth radiating from his crotch. I could see the outline of his cock tenting the front of his shorts, he was obviously enjoying this. I could smell the distinctive aroma of a dirty cock - stale piss, sweat and dried cum. I knew he hadn’t showered before the game. Bliss, sheer bliss.

I pulled his shorts down, revealing his tight white base layers. The bulge was straining the tight damp fabric. I could feel the cold sweat in the fabric as I peeled them down, revealing that straight cock I’d been lusting for. 9 inches of thick, pulsing cock. I can only describe the smell as ripe. The kind of sourness that only a blend of dried piss and sweat can create. I had to have it. I had to lick it, taste it, swallow it. I started by running his foreskin over my lips. Then all over my face. I wanted his scent to mark me. I opened my mouth, and slid the head of his cock in. He groaned in pleasure. I felt his cock pulsing as I took it deeper into my mouth. Eventually I got it all in, my nose was in his damp pubes. Henry couldn’t believe it. He said girls couldn’t swallow him. And they’ve never gone near him after a match, insisting he showers before they’ll even think touching him. He warns me he’s about to cum. I pull his cock out of my mouth, I wanted more than just cock today. I wanted to enjoy his kit, the teams kit, their boots, scrum caps and their socks.

I told Henry that I wanted to smell his kit. He told me he wanted his own to huff, but I could grab some from the pile. Right at the top I spot Callum’s shirt. I’d been around his sweaty gear so many times, but never gone near it. I wouldn’t have ever tainted our friendship. I decided I’d take my chance. Callum knew what we were doing in here, he’d set it up. He wouldn’t be shocked by me sniffing his kit.

Henry took his shorts into his hands, and started sniffing the crotch. I could see his clock twitch. I pressed Callum’s shirt against my nose, right into the pits. I got harder than I’ve ever been before.

Henry said he needed to piss, and did I still want to taste it? He pointed at the chewed cap of his match bottle, and said he’d drunk it all, knowing I wanted to see his flow. I said I don’t just want to se sit, I want to taste it.

I got onto the floor, on my knees. He asked if I was sure. I nodded, desperate for his nectar. Without further warning he let go. I couldn’t believe it. I’m covered in Henry’s sweat, on my knees in the showers of a rugby changing room. I heard the first stream coming. Then I felt it. His golden flow on my face, lips, in my hair. I put out my tongue. The taste was sour, sweet, it felt warm on my tongue. I’d waited so long to do something like this. I was savouring every minute.

It was then the door opened. My heart started pounding. Then I opened my eyes to see Callum stood there.