Previously:
I, Craig Ray, got accepted into the Small Town Rules Rugby team the Purple Headed Warriors. Small Town Rules is a bit of a niche sport, a lot of people don't know about it, but it's just like regular rugby. With a couple of pretty big differences.
You play naked.
You play hard.
You literally fuck the other team after the game.
A lot of small towns in Australia know about it, but it's not exactly going to be on the news in the sports section. Still, mum and dad and my girlfriend were stoked when I got in. The girly nearly wet her panties when I told her I'd be out there in the field, under the lights, getting my hole slammed by a bunch of big burly blokes. Just as well she's into that kind of stuff, coz I fuckin love it.
The last few weeks have been a blur. First I had my physical check with the other new guys on the team- Herman, Gordon and Oli. We had to get fucked by the team coach, Davie John, our team doc Marco and our captain, Sidney Green. I say "had to" but I would have done it anyway.
Since the physical we've been training with the rest of the team. I thought I was pretty good but these guys are next level. Between the workouts, the special diets and all the fucking, I've been exhausted, coming home every night with an arse full of jizz and just falling into bed. But lately my tolerance and fitness have gone up, and I reckon I'm ready for tonight, our first big game...
First Half:
I ran out of the tunnel with my team mates, cocks flapping free. Some hard, some semi, some still soft from the cold night air. I emerged onto the grass under the big lights of the stadium to cheers and applause. I still couldn't believe it. I was one of the Purple Headed Warriors, the premiere Small Town Rules rugby league. My cock sprang up at the site of everyone in the stands, decked out in the team colours. Scanning the crowd as I waved, I saw my folks and my girl. Mum and dad were wearing the team beanies and scarves and nothing else. A lot of the real hardcore fans were like that. My missis had on my Purple Headed Warrior jersey. I'd leant it to her before the game, since she'd get cold and there was no way I was gonna be needing it for the next couple of hours...
The excitement and adrenaline helped to distract me from my already-uncomfortable bladder. Coach has told us to smash the water before the game. Partly to stay hydrated, and partly because the only way to win a conversion was to piss in a pint glass. There had been a lot of controversy around this one, since holding in a piss is not great for your health in the long run, but for now it was still the rule. I tried to distract myself and focus on the other team as they jogged out onto the pitch.
The Catoomba Cock-Gobblers were a force to be reckoned with. They were a collection of big lads, including a few Islanders and a couple of imported poms. I felt my dick swell even more and my arsehole started to twinge as I saw Billy Andrews, the big British unit, saunter onto the field. Even mostly soft, his dick was thick as a tree trunk and a good eight inches. His bum was the definition of a bubble butt too, and I was seriously hoping I'd get with him at the end of the match, one way or another.
The ref gave us a talk before we started, but it was all a blur to me. I was flicking between nervous, excited, aroused and uncomfortable. I needed to piss badly, but I did what coach said and used that to motivate me. The sooner I got a try, the sooner I'd get relief.
Suddenly it was on. We dove into the scrum for the ball, my mates' nut sacs and arseholes all around me. I couldn't believe it when the ball ended up in my hands. I sprung away, sprinting like a mad man. No one was catching up to me and the crowd was going mental. This was impossible, I wasn't even going to get tackled-
-like a tonne of bricks, Billy Andrews came out of nowhere and connecting with my torso, pushing me back. He was joined by two more of his teammates a second later. I struggled and pushed but the combined mass of the three big fellas was slowly bringing me down. Finally, dragging against this anchor of naked man muscle, it happened.
I lost control of my bladder, warm piss cascading out of my cockhead. Onto the field, onto the players holding my legs, onto me. It saturated my socks, and I could see it soaking into the hair of the player who was locked around my left thigh. I sank to the ground, defeated and embarrassed, and still the stream of hot wet piss flowed. It made a little puddle of mud around my dick, bit of wet earth sticking to my shaft as I rose.
"Fuck." Was all I could muster.
To my surprise, Billy the big British bulldog clapped me on the shoulder.
"Don't worry about it mate, happens to everyone the first few games."
