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From: The Bawdy Bloke <john@bawdybloke.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Winners and Losers 03 (MM-oral, MM-anal)
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Date: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 03:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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If you have missed the previous instalments the premise of the story is 
that after a football match, the losing team must provide sexual relief 
for the victorious players.
Previous chapters for Winners and Losers are at 
http://bawdybloke.com/tag/winnersandlosers/
Chapter one is at http://bawdybloke.com/spank-z-fiction-winners-losers/
Chapter two is at http://bawdybloke.com/winners-losers-ch-02/
Chapter three is at http://bawdybloke.com/winners-losers-ch-03/
* * * * *

The second game of the campaign was another away match: our opponents 
took the name of and played in the grounds of a pub called The Cock Inn, 
which given the activities of the previous few matches could have been 
seen as a bit of an omen.

It was the first week of September and my defensive centre-back pointed 
to me in training, that as we lost our last four matches of the previous 
campaign, plus the Summer break and the match this year, it had been 
almost six months since our team had last tasted victory.

My girlfriend had teased me relentlessly since our defeat to Sunnyside 
Cross FC, as I had spent half-an-hour, along with most of my team-mates 
having the erect cocks of the victorious team in places where no 
straight man would voluntarily choose to have them. She found it funny, 
but also a lot arousing; we had had sex every night for a whole week as 
she liked the idea of me having a "bisexual side." In truth, I was 
curious and didn't find the sexual acts unpleasant experiences, but my 
pride was damaged: as sportsmen we wanted to win on the sports field.

Our opponents had finished only a couple of places above us in the 
league last year and we had high hopes of registering our first win of 
the campaign against them. They too had taken a battering in their first 
match, and the opening exchanges were dominated by a lack of confidence 
on each side. The scarlet-shirted opponents took the lead shortly before 
half-time and they doubled it as their muscular brute of a 
centre-forward towered above our defence to head home. We knocked in a 
couple of goals to level the match, but a final minute rasping drive 
after I failed to cut out a pass in midfield gave them victory and 
precious three points.

It also meant that for the third match in succession, my team-mates and 
I would be providing relief to the victors. There was mutterings of 
discontent in the changing room; player turned against player as tempers 
flared. I was not the only one at fault for conceding a goal, and we 
needed the coach to step in as our centre back squared up to our goalkeeper.

I was almost glad to get into our opponents' changing room. The 
temporary hut was small and rotten; a musty smell permeated everywhere 
and the sweaty odour of exercised athletes filled my nostrils. They 
jeered us as we entered; muscular men watching as our fragile confidence 
withered under their vocal humiliation.

I glanced around me, the benches surrounded us: several men were already 
naked, wanting to show off their cocks to the men who would be buggered 
by their impressive specimens. "Come on ladies," their captain shouted. 
"Might as well played the girls team, be more of a challenge."

"Fuck off," a voice cried and the origin of the outburst was seized from 
the line as we were jostled in the centre of the tiled room.

Jostled and manhandled, squeezed and pulled, crying out as the wanton 
winners descended upon the huddle. It was a free-for-all. They all 
wanted someone to fuck, someone to subjugate themselves to the sexual 
pleasure of the testosterone filled beasts. Hands grabbed me, my 
football kit was pulled and my body fondled for their pleasure. I was in 
the mass of a melee: an uncontrolled orgy as horny men desperately 
reached for someone to fuck.

It was a meat market. There was no consideration as to whom they were 
going to select, just a bawdy scream of cries from the crowd of horny 
men. All they wanted was holes; that's all we were to them, a couple of 
orifices to bring them guilty pleasure. To boost their ego and to feel 
the consequences of their victory.

I got pulled towards the bench by their captain: a bald-headed 
half-naked man of imposing muscles and a deep, raspy voice. His pectoral 
muscles glistened in the faint light of the changing room, sweat beading 
on his chest.

I was envious: he possessed a definition I could only dream of achieving 
and his strong grip left me with little hope of escape, if I wanted to. 
I could see an impressive bulge in his grass-stained white shorts. "Best 
give it a kiss, lad!" I glanced around the room at my team-mates, most 
of them were already on their knees fellating pricks.

He made eye contact with me as I fell to the cold, tiled floor and 
slowly pulled the drawstring on his muddy shorts. He said nothing as I 
lowered the flimsy garment, hooking the waistband of his stained 
jockstrap with my thumb as I brought both items to his ankles.

His circumcised cock bobbed free inches from my eyes. A smooth, erect 
shaft with a mass of pubic hair at the base was waiting for me to impale 
my mouth on. Both the room and his cock smelt of manly sweat: the odour 
of exertion and competition.

My heart pounded as my tongue poked forward to flick the purple head of 
his prick; I was doing it again. I had not touched another man's cock 
until last month and now I was on number three. I felt shamed and 
exhilarated. Degraded and humiliated yet excited. It was taboo.

He looked down at me swirling my tongue over his frenulum. "Suck it 
boy!" The middle-aged man cried. I felt his fingers firmly grab my hair. 
He impatiently pulled the back of my head forward, to impale his six 
inch cock towards my gag reflex. He filled my mouth as I wrapped my lips 
around his shaft, gasping for air.

But he wanted to face-fuck me and the sounds around the room told me I 
was not the only person from my team getting abused in this way. He 
grunted as he slammed my face into his musky pubic hair, rocking his 
hips and forcing his cock deep into my mouth.

He was guttural and raw, thrusting harder and faster as I tried to 
regulate my breathing to stop the gagging sensation. He was panting, 
breathing deeply when he withdrew, pulling me by the hair over the 
changing bench. "I'm going to fuck you."
Not a question, request or demand. But a statement of fact. He was going 
to do it. It felt like I had no say, and I didn't. I wouldn't have 
resisted anyway; I played the game and I lost, but I wanted to 
experience his cock. He was rough with his movements, forceful with his 
actions. He was going to seize his victory and subconsciously I liked that.

My shorts were painfully stripped; angrily ripped from my waist to my 
ankles. My underwear likewise. He already had a condom in his hand, the 
cool lube he drizzled down my butt crack, forcing his fingers into my 
waiting hole to smear the clear liquid into me.

I waited expectantly. My cock had betrayed me by being hard as I waited. 
I knew what was coming. He rubbed his cock between my butt-cheeks and I 
gave a slight groan. My mouth felt empty; after being pounded by his 
cock I wanted something between my lips.

But that feeling was short-lived: he put pressure on the whorl of my 
bud, firmly forcing his cock past my resistance and then slowly slide 
into me.

Like the week before, I felt incredibly full: it didn't hurt or feel 
particularly uncomfortable but there was a deep feeling of pressure from 
the sodomy. His manhood rubbed against my prostate, I was eager for 
more. My traitorous cock leaked pre-cum onto the bench and I wanted my 
own pleasure, but I was about to be used. Nothing more than a fucktoy 
for their captain as he rhythmically slid his cock in and out of my arse.

It poked my prostate; pleasurable yet so very dirty. My mind spun, 
desperately confused as he started to pound my arse. His hands gripped 
my hips as he forced his cock deeper and deeper into me, faster and 
faster, harder and harder.

He was fucking me. I existed just for him and he was taking advantage of 
his victory, groaning as his sheathed cock rammed into me.

I heard him grunt, and his cock twitch; my arse the reason for him 
filling his condom with cum. He withdrew slowly, not looking at me in 
the eye as he tied a knot in the latex sheath and tossed it into the bin.

My team-mates were being fucked; screams, cries and groans filled the 
room as The Cock Inn claimed their victory.

"Come have a drink with us?" The captain added with an awkward smile. 
"There's a pub next door. First drink is on us." I declined. I had no 
ill feeling towards him or his team; we would have done the same, but we 
had lost the match. It had been a crap day. I was not in the mood for 
drinking. I just wanted to get home to my girlfriend and have my cock 
sucked.

I'd earned it.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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