1.
Alan Murdoch held the cup above his head, a radiant smile of pride on his face, while his team mates clustered round him and the fans roared and chanted their admiration at the team's latest success. Granted, it was just a five-a-side match underneath the roof of the Melborough Sports Arena but, as every soccer player and fan in the land will tell you, five-a-sides are just as important as full league and championship matches out on the hallowed turf of the pitch.
Alan had recently been honoured with the captainship of Melborough United and it was he who had scored three of the four winning goals in the five-a-side, seeing off the opposition from Dundore Rovers in almost one fail swoop. The losing team had already made their exit, trooping dejectedly back to their own changing room while their supporters had left to the nearest pub to drown their sorrows and discuss the whys and wherefores of how it had all gone wrong.
It had gone wrong, of course, simply because Melborough United were superior in every way and it was not for nothing that they had won the English Premiership two years in a row. Their ball skills and their passing were second to none and Alan had sent his first goal crashing into the back of the net within the first three minutes of the game starting. Gary Nightingale got the second four minutes later and then Alan added two more with Dundore getting the ball in the back of the net for a consolation goal seconds before the final whistle went.
Gary and his team mates, David Mapperley, Ian Rollinson and goal-keeper John Richards were now making their way back to the dressing room with the shouts and screams from the supporters ringing in their ears as the adoring fans followed in the wake of the Dundore supporters but not to drown their sorrows. Quite the reverse since almost before they were out of the arena's doors, Melborough's fans were dancing and cheering as they celebrated another fantastic win.
Alan and the Manager of Melborough United, Sir Tom Chappell, stayed behind to speak to a couple of reporters for the t.v. sports programme on which edited highlights of the match would be shown that evening. Sir Tom went on and on as he always did and Alan was starting to get impatient, anxious to join his team mates in the dressing room and celebrate their success as only they could.
Mercifully, the reporter interrupted, cutting off Sir Tom in full flow, and turned back to speak to the camera. Now that they were out of shot, Alan and Sir Tom moved away.
"Enjoy the celebrations, son," said Sir Tom, shaking Alan by the hand, "sorry I can't join you but the wife and I are off out tonight."
"That's OK," said Alan, glad to get his hand back from Sir Tom's vice-like grip and even more glad to see the back of him. He hated the way the Manager called all his players "son"; as far as Alan was concerned there were only two people entitled to call him that and that was his own mother and father who had been sitting in the stands watching the match and, as always, both overcome with pride in their offspring's sporting prowess and revelling in the success of his chosen career. They had been over the moon, to coin a well-worn footballing cliché, when Alan became captain of Melborough United and also picked to play for England.
Alan's parents would have left for home now, a large detached house in the English countryside their son had bought for them with some of the fortune he was still making from football, but Alan would meet them there for dinner later that evening and discuss the match with his father while his mother fussed over him. Now, however, he had more pressing matters on his mind as he watched Sir Tom disappear through a side door, held open for him by his chauffeur, before quickly making his way to the changing room ...
2.
After scoring three goals and helping Melborough United to lift the Five-a-Side Championship Cup, Alan was looking forward to being well and truly rewarded by his team mates. Already his prick was stiffening inside his shorts at the prospect of the celebrations that were to take place and he was immensely grateful that Sir Tom had slung his hook now and not come in to give them another of his interminable pep talks, which would only have delayed the action of a quite different kind to what had taken place in the arena. "Great game, Alan," said Gary as Alan entered the room, his eyes going straight to the appreciable bulge in Alan's shorts, "you played a fucking blinder."
"I fucking well did, didn't I?" replied Alan, laughing and putting the cup he had just been holding above his head on a shelf, "saw those morons from Dundore off well and good, eh?"
"Yeah," said Ian. "Mind you," he added, after appearing to think for a few moments which for him was quite an achievement, "that Joe Barrett's got quite an arse on him in those tight shorts, don't you think? It ought to be a Grade 1 Listed Structure."
Everyone giggled at that.
"Not as nice as Alan's arse, though," said John, when the laughs had subsided, "I could hardly keep my eyes off it all through the match. Looking at all those lovely footballing arses in their shorts is why I play the game."
"Yeah," said Ian again, ever laconic, "Alan knows it as well."
"Knows what?" asked Alan.
"That you've got a great arse," said John.
"Sure fucking has," said David, his hand straying to his crotch. He began to fondle his prick through his shorts.
Away from the fans in the sanctity of the changing room, they were now free to do what they had been looking forward to even before the game. Playing football was a brilliant way to earn a living and gave all of them a sensational rush of adrenalin with so many people watching and treating them as heroes but even those thrills paled into insignificance compared to an after match orgy and which none of the fans would possibly imagine, not in a million years.
"I'm pleased you like my arse so much, lads," said Alan, turning his back on his team mates to treat them to an unrestricted view of his shorts-clad posterior. The material of the white shorts stretched taut around his ample buttocks, enhancing their succulent curves and the long cleft of his arse crack. His blue and white striped team shirt was tucked into his shorts and somehow seemed to give added emphasis to the protrusion of his bum.
Gary, Ian and David moved into position alongside Alan while John stood back to admire the arses of all four of his team mates. He was a dedicated arse worshipper and had a passion for athletic sportsmen like his team mates in tight shorts, something he had been addicted to ever since schooldays when he had first noticed how beautifully erotic some of his class mates' arses looked in sports shorts during P.E. and games lessons.
Right now, John just couldn't take his eyes off the four tightly-clad soccer bums of Alan, Gary, David and Ian being showcased to scintillating effect in front of him. There was nothing more erotic to John's eyes than guys in football kit and his team mates were all too aware that the goal-keeper was clocking their bums. They were all dressed in the same team strip of blue and white striped shirt and white shorts, reiterating a long held view by gay and female fans of the sport that football was a very sexy game.
Sexy in lots of other ways, too. The Melborough United Five-a-Side team of hot sweaty footballers were about to embark on a gay sex group orgy that would rock the homophobic world of football to the core if ever the media should find out and it was this sense of perceived danger which gave the proceedings an added thrill. Alan smiled as he thought of what the fans would think if they could see them now ...
