Winners and Losers

After our victorious match against The Cock Inn, the team played South End Harriers, who beat us 5-0 in a pre-season friendly. They were unbeaten so far in the league season and had clearly marked us down as a guaranteed three points but Dmitri scored the winner in a 2-1 win. I felt imperious as my dick slid past the lips of the smarmy sod who forced me to fellate him in his team's victory a few weeks previous.

The gagging of the footballer as I rammed my cock into his mouth and gripped the back of his head to impale my erection deep into him was fantastic. I felt invincible, before flipping the angry man onto his front and thrusting my cock deep into his barely lubricated arse: his choice, not mine.

The hot stream of pleasure built as he wailed and squealed. Their unbeaten record had not seen anyone in that team have to succumb to the losers under the league's plans, and he wasn't taking his buggery like a man.

Every angry cry was met with a threat or abuse, and I responded to every unwarranted word with deeper and deeper thrusts. I revelled as my powerful grip on his waist helped me pound his arse to my scintillating climax; grunting as my cock spasmed with glorious sensations.

He left our changing room sheepishly, and I was certain that our return match later in the season would be a feisty affair.

Indeed, the notoriety of the league's plan had certainly spread and I was interviewed on an Internet radio station. My girlfriend teased me relentlessly afterwards, suggesting that I got my fame by sucking men's cocks, which wasn't totally untrue.

I was glad she was OK with what we did; she said she found it "funny" but in truth I know it made her horny. Me recalling what I did in the changing rooms always made her feel flushed and we'd finish the evening in the bedroom fucking like rabbits. Combined with the football matches, I was getting a lot of sex, one way or another!

We, as a couple, also spent some time with Dmitri and Sam: we lived close to each other and the two women had a shared hobby in jewellery making, ensuring that they became friends quickly. This also helped Dmitri and I to become mates, which helped the team with our burgeoning understanding as the midfield axis.

We took a break from the league games for the following weekend with a cup game against a lower division side -- Majestic Amateurs. They had travelled around twenty miles to our ground and their team appeared to be made up of overweight middle-aged men. They were rooted to the bottom of their league. This was no great surprise.

The league authorities were keen to throw in some interesting variations during the season, and a couple of weeks after the successful public sex shows, the first round cup games would be used for a "bukkake the losing captain."

Our captain, the blue-eyed stocky central defender was unmoved by this decree as our manager read the league notice in the changing room; if we could not beat a lower league side in the cup then we all had big problems.

Indeed, the game was a little cagey for the first half-an-hour; what they lacked in fitness and skill they made up for with enthusiasm, charging around the pitch with wild abandon and throwing themselves in front of crosses and shots. Dmitri opened the scoring, before our star striker added a couple more in the second half to finish a comfortable 3-0 victory.

It was good-natured and fun; their team hadn't expected to win and both teams piled into our cramped changing rooms to witness the humiliation of Paul, their captain. He laughed and joked with us all; he expected to be doing something, and knelt on the floor by the drain with his faded light green top on, while a couple of his team-mates got him to pose for pictures.

It didn't feel like we were seizing victory or forcing a punishment onto him, because we weren't. This wasn't the humiliation it sounded like; he was taking it in his stride. But as we lined up around him, I realised that him and his team were used to dishing out sexual favours for poor footballing ability. This was part of their football matchday now: play football, lose, give blowjobs. They knew nothing else.

Our captain slid his shorts to one side. The loser's eyes widened as the cock bobbed in front of him, moving forward to kiss the tip. "You're such a fucking slut," one of his team-mates called. "Suck it!"

And he did, sliding his mouth over the tip and gleefully running his tongue over the slit, causing Ralph to groan instinctively. So often did he have to blow the winners that I don't think he wanted to do anything any differently. Instead as Ralph's loins convulsed with pleasure, and his prick twitched, he pulled out of Paul's mouth and coated his face with his pearly jism.

Lee was next. The losing captain licked his lips of the male cum on his face and then impaled his mouth on our young striker's prick. It was hot; the room was full of groaning and squealing, grunting and heavy breathing. Jostling too; we all wanted to watch as the loser's hands felt for the dicks in our hands and started jerking them as his eyes focused on Lee's pubic hair and his mouth around his cock.

My erection was clear, my arousal desperate. As Dimitri blew his load over Paul, covering his hair and his face in cum, the rotund captain took my prick in his hand. I mewed slightly as his fingers rubbed the swell of my cock, panting as his tongue flicked at my frenulum. He knew how to excite a man, and I involuntarily ground my hips as his mouth worked eagerly on my cock.

His movements sent ripples through my body: my mind agog with the liberating energy flowing from my prick. He sensed the spasming in my cock, the quiver in the mews of my voice and the tensing of my muscles, sliding my prick from his mouth and clamping his fingers over my glistening cock.

He pumped, sliding his hands down my shaft as I rode my climax; savouring the swell of arousal until it peaked into a cyclone of pleasure and relief, sweeping through my body and expelling several waves of cum onto the gooey face of the loser.

He looked like a glazed doughnut, the sheet of cum dripping from his face and onto his shirt; wet patches adorned his clothing with the biggest dollop over his team's badge.

He looked a mess, but I wasn't the last. Several more men, including our coach and the referee, had cocks slipped between the sucking lips of Paul before coating his glistening face with another dose of cum. He must have felt the rivers of silky goo sliding down his face, the masses of splotches in his hair and the dozens of wet patches on this clothes as he finished.

A few more pictures for his humiliation and he was done. "Thanks guys!" Was all he said as he left, leaving me unsure if he was gay or just a very good sport. Either way, it was three victories on the bounce for us and our away trip to top-of-the-table inner-city AFC Kerlon couldn't have come at a better time.

We were confident, we were sated and we were going to win!

To be continued ...