RUGBY LEAGUE – PART EIGHT (LAST ONE!)

Daz let rip with a bellow that announced he was coming to the whole of northern England, and the seminal bead in the eye of his cock suddenly disappeared in a hot, thick white spurt. Trev was watchingly intently, seeing the first few spurts of semen travel from his mate’s prick into my open mouth. I loved the fact that Daz was still copious, a few good thick squirts jetting out. I managed to catch the first few slimy ropes in my mouth, the last few drips landing on my chin and I waited with my gob open until his climax had passed, his spurts stopped and I heard his loud sigh of relief. I felt his spunk, thick and sticky in my mouth, the taste heavy and a lot sweeter than I’d been expecting. I wanted to suck his cock, and slurp out any spunk left in it, but he had other ideas. Reaching under my arm pits, he pulled me to my feet, still light headed with my climax, effortless again with his immense strength, his face still red and flushed from coming. He held me up tight to him, locked in a powerful bear hug, the coarse black hair on his chest tickling.

I caught the look of deep satisfaction in those brown eyes, as he loomed in, his mouth on mine, and his tongue slid straight in, lapping round for his sperm pooled in my gob, spreading it onto his tongue, tasting his own come, the sweet cloying fructose of fresh semen. I returned his snog, tongues wriggling and smearing his slippery gunge round our mouths. We parted, swallowing hard, washing it down. Daz ran his knuckles gently under my jaw, brown eyes staring intently into mine. There was a quiet moment. Nothing but the showers, and the beating of my heart and the gentle brush of his spent, softening cock against my thigh.

The moment suddenly ended.
“Owwwww! Fuck off!” roared, Daz, releasing me from his bear hug, turning round like an enraged Rottweiler. I realised that Trev, wet towel swinging in his shovel hands had just given Daz a stinging flick on the arse.
“Hurry up you two daft buggers. I’ve abaat ten pints o’ bitter wi’ my name on ‘em waitin’ for me!”
“Allreet, allreet, mate, were done!” Daz placated. He gave me a last quick snog, and ruffled my hair before letting me go.
“Thanks fer that mate!”

I took a few seconds for a last contented rinse off, before I turned off the showers, the air steamy, but rapidly condensing in the February evening chill. Trev was quickly towelling himself dry, the cool air raising goose bumps and the ruffling of his towel had raised up the fur all over his stocky body. I had a good look for a moment, remembering the feeling of his hairy arse on my cock. Daz handed me a threadbare towel and I suddenly clicked why he’d taken two out of his kit bag. I was grateful for his consideration. I took it thankfully and dried off, very gingerly drying my arsehole. It was bloody sore, and felt about 6 inches wide, with a couple of loads of spunk still up it.

I headed out of the showers, wet feet slapping on the floor, and glanced round the changing rooms. The floor was a bomb site, with dirty