I hadn't played organized soccer in years, but joined an indoor league after I started coaching my kids because my interest had been piqued again. I was getting into my late thirties, and found an over-35 league, so I signed up to give it a try.
I had always been a big fan of the team aspect, and loved having a couple beers after the match with teammates. Turned out the team I got assigned to didn't have many of the post game beer type of fellas. A few guys would come out the odd time, but myself and a guy named Paul went for a beer after every match.
Paul was 35, English, about 6' tall, lanky with a bit of a beer gut, clean shaven, with balding brown hair. He was divorced and had no kids. We would get a pint and shoot the shit, and then head on our way.
The times when it was just the two of us, he started mentioning how randy he always was after having a run out, and how he would have to go home and have a wank because he had noone to take care of it for him. We'd laugh about it, I would sometimes mention that I was always horny, or sometimes lament that having young kids meant chances for me to get taken care of were rare. A couple times he got kind of suggestive. Something along the lines of, "Well lad, would you take one for the team, as it were?"
I would chuckle and sort of reply in a, "Well, if it's for the team..." kind of way. In my experience, guys can speak kind of like that, but not really mean anything by it, but, I am secretly bi, so I would kind of wonder if there was anything to it. I would never press the issue though, as far as I was concerned, it was just a bit of banter between lads.
After one match, Paul asked who was planning on coming out for a pint. It seemed nobody was in but him and I once again. Paul and I walked out to the parking lot together, and he said, "Why don't we have a pint at my place instead of the pub? Beer's cheaper there, especially for you!"
"If by that, you mean my beer is free, then I am in. I'm not one to refuse someone else's beer."
"I may charge you something, we shall see. Follow me."
As I followed him out of the parking lot, I was thinking that this was an interesting turn of events. I figured my best option was to play it cool, and see what Paul had planned. At the very least, I would have a free beer or two, so would be coming out happy and ahead regardless.
Paul pulled into the driveway of his townhouse, and I parked on the road in front. I hopped out quickly to follow him up his front steps to the door. We got in and he sat down on a chair just inside the door to take off his shoes, socks, and shin pads. I had already switched to flip flops after the game, so I slid them off and wandered in.
The main room was just a big open concept kitchen and living room. There was a couch facing a big tv, hanging on the wall, with a coffee table between them. A chair to the right of the couch, turned to face the big coffee table, with a small table in the corner made by the couch and chair. To the left of the couch was a big front window, which had the curtains drawn shut. On the big coffee table was a closed laptop, with an HDMI cable stretching along the floor from it to the tv. On the small corner table, was a lamp, a box of kleenex, and a bottle of lotion.
Paul walked past me towards the kitchen area. He had no shirt on. I turned to see that he had discarded his jersey on the chair inside the door as part of his gearing down. I followed him into the kitchen. He grabbed two pint glasses from a cupboard, set them on the counter, and opened the fridge. Pulled out two cans of Guinness, cracked them, and turned them upside down to empty into the glasses.
Paul hadn't said anything, and I was at a loss for words. He threw the cans into a bin under the sink, picked up the full pints, turned and handed me one.
"Cheers!"
We clinked the glasses together, and each took a swig.
"Thanks! A bit heavier than I normally go post-match, but it'll do."
"Get your nutrients back up lad! Let's go sit on the couch and relax."
I let Paul lead me back to the couch. He sat on the side closer to the chair and small table. I stepped past him to the other end closer to the front door and window. He had kind of sat sideways with a leg up on the couch, turned towards me. So I did similarly. I took a few gulps of my beer and set it on the table beside the laptop.
"I like your setup. I suppose this is what you come back to after our pints at the pub?"
"Oh yeah, I come back here, put something fun on the telly, give myself a couple pumps out the bottle and have at her!"
I laugh. "Thanks, I had kind of gathered how the process worked."
"Right, sorry then. Want me to throw something on?"
"What? Like... a shirt?... or porn?"
"Porn, yeah! What do you fancy?"
I was quickly getting hard, and thought I noticed some twitching down there for Paul as well, in my quick glances. I was faltering with my response. Where to go from here. The pause dragged impossibly on. Oh well, just go for it.
"I don't need anything on the tv to get me excited, and you're always randy already anyways. Besides, I thought you were hoping for a someone to take care of it for you for a change. Someone to take one for the team?"
Paul smiled at me. "Well, was hoping maybe we would build towards that, yeah. This how you'll be paying for your beer then?"
"Maybe. How about you get me warmed up a bit first, and maybe then we can put that lotion to better use than you normally do? Maybe I'll fancy letting you shag me."
Paul was processing what I had just said. I was worrying that I had gone too far. Maybe he was just thinking of jerking each other, possibly hoping I would blow him, or we would blow each other, but I had just gone way over the top. So much for playing it cool.
Finally, "I'd quite like that alright, but I have no rubbers, if that changes anything."
"I know I'm clean, if you can say the same, I trust you."
"Yeah...yeah, I'm good."
"Well then..."
