Winners and Losers

I had a brief chat on the phone with my fiancée when the team returned to the hotel; she had watched me on television at her friend's house and was breathless as she described how majestic I looked seizing the oral virginity of the young player. The day had been awesome, in every way; the double dosing of sexual relief coupled fantastically with the progress on the pitch and our exuberance at our success translated into several bottles of beer each and a roaring celebration in the hotel bar.

The Welsh team disappeared into the Palermo night, sulking after their defeat, but the players from Tallinn New Boys were in the bar to wish us the best of luck in the semi-final. We appreciated their sportsmanship and they joined us for a round of drinks, that soon became several.

They approached the game in the same relaxed, competitive and fair-minded spirit that we possessed and we all enjoyed their raucous company. I drank with the midfield maestro who hacked my legs away in the match and her team mate who had fellated me to orgasm. The Estonians, Julia and Daniel, spoke excellent English, although we taught them several authentic British swear words and traded stories as we drank; she showed me scars, I showed her a couple of mine.

We were flirting; in my drunken haze, I wanted her. I wanted the brown-haired minx coquettishly squirming in her seat with her teasing pout and subtly lowering the zip on her training top. There was a spark in her expression: a fire in the eyes, a lick of her lips and a fleeting touch on my hand. "We have some vodka upstairs," Julia offered with a muffled whisper. "We love to share. Everything."

I didn't compute her offer at first, not focusing on the hidden subtext of her words until she pouted seductively. "Sure." I accepted her unspoken offer as Daniel and I left with the Estonian midfield general.

Her room was as spartan as mine: they had two single beds squeezed together to make a double and Julia unzipped her training top the moment the door closed to show the breasts I had been entranced with at breakfast. "I wanted to pick you after the match," I drunkenly admitted when I saw them again, glancing at Daniel watching on the periphery of our flirting. "But Dmitri got to you first."

"And if we'd have won, I'd have picked you. You squealed like a baby when I tackled you, I want to have you yelling on the end of my strap-on."

I snorted. "My fiancée has one. We play with it often."

"I fuck, like I tackle."

"Mistimed?"

"Hard." Her voice snarled as she spoke. "Very, very hard."

"Well maybe later." She tried to read my evasive expression but there was nothing to read; I was happy to "go with the flow" but there was no way she was going to crack open her strap-on to pound my backside when I was cold; I needed to be touched, to fire the engine up and to relax. The alcohol had started that and the undressing continued it.

Daniel looked reticent, like he was being coerced onto a scary roller-coaster, but Julia slipped her hand into the waistband of his training bottoms and lowered them to the floor. He gasped as his prick bounced into view; she kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth until his reluctance was sucked out of him. She explored his wriggling body with her hands and slowly rubbed the end of his cock.

"I want you to go down on me." Her gaze flicked over her shoulder towards me; my cock tensed into an erection as I stared at her naked frame and lithe sexiness. She broke from her midfield partner, and pointed to the bed, positioning me across the duvet so my head was on the edge of the mattress before positioning her naked body over me. "Now fuck me," she demanded of her team-mate, as her clit fell onto my tongue.

I watched, in slow motion, as her partner's erect cock brushed against the top of my face: it smelt delightfully sapid and I ran my tongue instinctively across the base of his shaft sliding towards her. He tasted of man; taking me back to the debauchery of the office blow jobs and our changing rooms. He tasted of musky, sweaty, hunking brutishness that I just adored to have slipping between my lips and sucking until the owner squealed into a conquering climax to fill my mouth with cum. He tasted of sin and taboo: a teenage cock that I wanted to have on my tongue.

But it wasn't for me. Julia sighed as the cock parted her lips and not mine, sliding into her sanctuary with the sexiest of whimpers. His young balls bounced over the bridge of my nose as his shaft stuffed her pussy. I longed to kiss them or to suck them, but I had Julia's clit in my mouth, and swirled my tongue over her moist button. My fingers toyed with her nipples.

She was fragrant and sweet; a beautiful honey from the shores of the Baltic, squirming lust and juices onto my tongue. She writhed; her fingers poked gently at my balls before sliding a wet, slippery finger onto my perineum.

I parted my legs further as her finger delved deeper, pushing at my ring of muscle and sliding inside with little resistance. Her touch felt cold and lubricated, wet and slimy. I relaxed, enjoying the slide of her finger against my skin and felt her trembling body cry louder at the lustful touches she adored.

Daniel's thrusting was deep and powerful, jolting her body forward with every ram of his prick into her dripping pussy. Her juices flowed, her cries vocal, as her body writhed with unrelenting zeal at her first orgasm.

Daniel came on her second; his cock buried deep into her pussy as his muscles quivered and pumped his semen into her trembling cunt. "Clean him," she demanded as Daniel withdrew his prick from her, covered in his cum as strings of his semen dripped from her hole.

My cock tensed; I wanted to taste him. I opened my mouth, and pushed my head back into the mattress as my lips savoured him for the first time. I swirled my tongue over his goo and sucked in his muskiness: a treat for the senses, an explosion of lust on my tongue.

He whimpered as his cock slid past my tongue and my lips cleaned his prick; she sighed as I returned to her dripping hole to suck the mess from her cunt. The ooze slipped into my mouth as gravity pulled the cum onto my lips and my taste-buds.

Her thighs squeezed my ears, my eyes focused on the dripping lust hanging from the midfielder's quivering cunt. The sucking of his cum from her luscious hole was too much for her, and she came again. A soft, low rumbling climax: her fingers stroked my nipples and then squeezed them, drawing pleasure into pain as her orgasming cunt fired the remaining cum into my mouth.

"Ouch," I moaned as she swung her legs off my sodden face and I soothed my abused nipples. I wiped her moistness on my face with my hands. She said nothing as she reached into her athletics bag to remove her strap-on dildo and harness.

I watched her with a wry smile as she lubed the condom-clad dildo. "I'm going to fuck you." I melted at those words in her Baltic accent; she was going to take me. Not asking to, or requesting it, but going to. I could not resist her demands and my arousal surged as she grabbed hold of my ankles to pull me towards her.

Her black dildo glistened in the under-illuminated room. She lifted my legs into the air as her right hand squirted Manlube against my hole. "We only bought this because you guys advertise it," she admitted, showing me the bottle before discarding it on the bed.

"Oh... ummmm!"

Her finger worked the clear goo into my anus before positioning her toy against my skin. She looked at me in the eyes, gently working the prick into my rear and beaming as I was penetrated. I gulped, feeling the smooth phallus slip inside me.

Her thrusts were gentle and smooth, her expression firm and unwavering. With each movement the cock slipped a little deeper, each thrust a little harder and faster. She was building up to her rhythm, and her movement while watching me for signs of distress. But it felt good; the smooth act of submission always did.

I drifted into her beat, savouring every slap of her skin on mine and delighting in the bounce of her strap-on against my prostate. My loins sizzled, my cock twitched with the thrust of her toy into my arse.

"That feels so good." It really did. I savoured every powerful thrust of her cock, every sinful slap of her thighs, every twinkle in her eye and every movement on my ankles. I whimpered, squealed and murmured at her rampant rodgering; she grunted and panted. Daniel's wide eyes breathed in the sight before him, gently stroking his cock, already erect again: the joys of being eighteen apparent.

My ass was being plowed. Without mercy or relief; she was fucking my butt like a woman possessed. My erect dick leaked pre-cum constantly, the clear viscous liquid rolling down my waist and pooling on the mattress below.

She barked in her mother tongue; her friend passed her two condoms. She threw one onto my hairy chest and passed one back to her team mate, gently withdrawing her cock from my butt. I rolled the see-through sheath down my cock as I missed her strap-on; I wanted to be filled again and Daniel lined up behind me instead, slowly pushing his cock into my open hole.

I groaned as the real cock occupied my mind, rubbing against my prostate as she swung her legs over me: the harness discarded obscenely on the floor of her hotel room. Her wrists grabbed mine and pressed me into the mattress, seizing control as she positioned her cunt over the tip of my condom-covered cock.

It was the grunts behind her, of Daniel, plowing my arse with his teenage cock that I felt and adored. The plundering of a straight man by choice by another man was a mindfuck; the fact he was fifteen years my junior made it even hotter.

Julia impaled herself on my cock as I was pounded by Daniel; every penetrating thrust vibrated my body and made my loins dance with delight. He was a good fuck; pressing firm and hard as he rammed into me. I wanted more; I longed for him to go faster, go deeper and plunder me. I wanted a cock in my mouth and another two in my hand. I wanted to be taken and degraded in a debauched orgy of bisexual lust.

My mind wandered - Dmitri, Lee, Emit and a dozen other men stood watching: staring and commenting on the filthy sight in the hotel room. They teased and condemned. Taunted me, as one of them fingered my fiancée to orgasm. She was taken too, in front of me, satisfying her to howls of climatic lust before I ate the cum pouring obscenely from her cunt. I was coated in spunk, a thick glazed sheen coating my hairy body as man after man took turns with me, fucking me like a ragdoll until I could take no more and succumbed to came with an orgasmic scream that troubled the dead.

Only it wasn't a crowd of my friends but Julia and Daniel; her bouncing body and Daniel's long thrusts had brought me to a deafening climax with a fierce tingling satisfaction that I rarely experienced.

It took a few moments for my body to function again, my desperate pants giving way to total exhaustion. Julia and I kissed briefly; we cuddled for a bit longer before I dressed and stumbled towards my room.

"You lucky bastard!" Dmitri exclaimed when I finished telling him about my evening. "You lucky, lucky bastard." I was indeed, but there was something troubling me. I just couldn't work out what.

The following day, I received a naked picture message from Julia on my phone of her and her strap-on. "Win. Or else your arse gets it."

I had to smile. Our semi-final was in a packed top league stadium: 30,000 people were watching our match against Amethyst Lions, a team from western Ireland that had progressed with a win and a draw. The other match was a game between AFC Kerlon and New York Champions from America.

To call the game spicy would be an understatement; the tone for the match was set when two players were yellow carded for brawling within two minutes of the start and they had a man sent off inside the first ten minutes for a dreadful tackle. I picked up so many bruises but when playing football I always drop into the zone, and pain is barely felt as my attention is dominated by the play.

I never saw the bulges in the shorts or the muscular frames. Or the hint of jockstrap, or even the fiery expressions. I saw nothing, just the whites of the eyes in the heat of the battle.

Dmitri scored with two minutes of the match remaining; they equalised inside a minute and the game went into extra time. Both teams finished on nine men; I was red carded for retaliating to a vicious tackle from their midfielder that could have broken my leg. I tried to hit him and we were both given our marching orders.

The coach was furious with me, and Lee, and we watched from the changing room as the game went to penalties and Woodford Wanderers won 4-1. Our victory caused another brawl in the centre of the pitch and I wondered if they might abandon the triumphant fucking. But GaySportsTV had us on primetime and they wanted some gay action for their schedule.

I apologised to the team for my behaviour on the pitch; I was banned from the final but I had also let my team-mates down and the latter hurt a lot more than the former. "Yeah, and ya didn't even twat the fucker," our captain joked. "You missed. If you're gonna get sent off, do some damage when you do!"

It broke the tension. As did filing into the victory tent where the defeated losers waited naked for us. They scowled as we entered; the cameras picking up every reaction from the Irish team of disgust and loathing.

Our stocky captain didn't even wait, grabbing hold of their captain by his long, red hair and pushing him onto his knees. "Suck it, you fucking faggot!" The anger in his voice was electric; the cameras loved it and the Irish team stepped back in shock. He rammed his erect cock into the mouth of the gagging loser, grunting as he face fucked their startled star.

It was a cue for us all. The room was full of desperate, raw penetration with gagging, panting and crying. I had my nemesis: the guy who I brawled with, sucking and fellating my cock with a disgusted expression on his face.

He hated it; I loved it. He wasn't a good cocksucker but his submission was the sweetest of victories; more so, when I pushed him onto a mat and drizzled lubricant onto his hairy crack. He prepared himself for me: the losing man rubbed the slippery water-based lube into his arsehole for me, subjugating himself and readying his body for my penetration.

The pillaging of his vulnerable arse, given meekly to me after he lost the battle.

My sheathed cock slid easily past his ring of muscle; he was loose and he groaned as I rammed into his backside. Pre-cum dripped from his prick as my cock slid against his prostate. A camera focused on us, watching his expression of deep revulsion as I plundered his masculinity, relishing every fiery spark in my cock.

A reminder that we had won.

And with a desperate squeal I came in the condom; he couldn't get away from me quickly enough. In the six months since the new rules had come in, I do not believe I enjoyed a fuck as much as that one. It was revenge of the highest order, and I knew it would make fantastic television.

It was a raw, passionate battle that was unscripted. It was a real conflict with real energy that had seen real men forced to submit to other real men. No acting, just desperate sportsmen plundered.

We watched AFC Kerlon lose to New York Champions; we cheered when they conceded their third goal as they had been so confident of victory on the plane. It set a story for the final: Europe vs America. Akin to a Ryder Cup or Weber Cup, only the consequence for losing was greater.

I had to watch from the stands as Woodford was outclassed: although 1-0 down at half-time thanks to Dmitri, New York Champions showed the resolve of champions to score twice and win the trophy. We got a silver medal each and I had to then watch as my team-mates were sodomised by the victorious team.

Lee and I were stripped naked and made to watch: we couldn't play in the match and we couldn't partake in the party afterwards. Forcing us to see the consequences of our bans were greater than any other punishment they could have offered.

The cameras caught our torment: I would happily have taken those cocks as I watched my team-mates squirm and whimper as they were pounded mercilessly by the victorious muscle-clad footballers: awesome specimens of masculinity and strength.

But aside from the pangs of lust, they were my team mates. They were brothers and friends, weakened on the pitch because of my stupidity and forced to submit to New York because of it.

When our team finished, they spanked us. Lee and I were thrown over a bench and all of my team mates spanked us on our bare bottoms with their hands as punishment. The cameras loved it, our coach looked on satisfied as the pelts rained down pitilessly on our reddening arses.

Neither me nor Lee begged for forgiveness or respite, closing our eyes and accepting the fierce brutal agony of the revenge from our team mates.

Justice done.

In truth, they weren't that upset with us. "We'd have lost if we had you on the pitch anyway," our captain decried. "We just spanked you for fun!" I rubbed my abused arse as I left the shower and he winked. "Well, we've both got sore arses now. That player who fucked me was hung like a bloody elephant!"

We caught a late night flight out of Italy and most of my team-mates slipped into a tired slumber as the plane reached cruising altitude. It left me alone with my thoughts as I pondered the activities of the previous two days.

I had openly wanted Daniel to fuck me in that hotel room. I had let him. I had fantasised about being taken, humiliated and degraded. I had thought about men when Julia was bouncing on my cock and I wanted to be fucked when my team lost. Plus, I was still unsure what the blowjobs to my colleagues meant and the lust swimming inside of me. What did it all mean?

Could I accept the obvious explanation?

If I opened my phone to look for pornography, what did I want to see? I tried it, checking to make sure a cheerleader getting gangbanged still gave me an erection. It did, but it didn't flag when I changed video and it was a barman at the centre of the gangbang.

Suddenly I wasn't sure of my sexuality. In my heart of hearts, I knew it but it wasn't an answer I wasn't entirely comfortable with.

I opened the door to my house at midnight, walking into the brightly lit hallway as my fiancée wrapped her arms around me. "I've got something to tell you," I muttered.

"What?" She whispered. "I think you were so hot on telly. That spanking was..."

"I think I'm bisexual," I blurted out as she held me tightly. "Well I keep thinking about fucking men and women and I just want to fuck both," I admitted. "I love you, but I like playing with men too."

There was a pause for a moment as I waited for her response. Just how would she take it?

* * * * *

Due to personal commitments it is more than possible that there will be a two week break between chapter ten and chapter eleven of this story; sorry!

To be continued...