Matt plays a game ... he's a very naughty boy. :)

[DaveMate]

great story very intriguing well done

What!?! Is it finished? Please say no...! I'm hard as hell and wanna shoot all over the place, but more I want to read more of this.....

Man..I was hard the whole time reading this story! I LIKE this story! Please write more chapters!!!!

Thanks guys. I've written a little bit of the next chapter. A lot depends on spare time.

 

[DonQuixote]

Do we need to send Taz from the Gold Coast over to Kiwiland to help give you a boost?

 

[jacksong]

I precummed in my pants reading this. And it takes a lot for that to happen.

 

[WolfCub]

I've just read both this and "Dave Mate" - about all I can say is "Wow" and "Thanks!"

 

[DaveMate]

Thanks guys for all the great comments. Yes ... it has inspired me to add another chapter.
What follows is a short addenda to Chapter 8 to get everyone back up to speed with the story and fill you in with what happened directly after the 'game'.
Then, within a couple of weeks, hopefully sooner, depending on time, I'll be posting Chapter 9, which I have already written 6 typed A4 pages of.
Have fun.

 

[DaveMate]

Chapter Eight (Addenda)​

It was cold outside, if not quite brass monkey weather. It was the breeze more than anything. It felt like ice as it caressed the drying sweat on my face and found it's way through the gaps in my shirt. I stood on the porch, just outside my front door. Matt looked at me from the street over the roof of his car. A streetlight illuminated his handsome grin and shone on his slick, freshly showered hair. He tossed the items from his shopping venture, the bottle of apple shampoo and the tube of toothpaste, through his open car door and onto the vacant passenger seat. It was twenty dollars well spent. Matt shook his head at me and shouted, "Man, that game was crazy!" I smiled. What Matt had yelled was like a code that no one else would understand. He hopped in, slammed the car door shut, fired up the engine, and tooted the horn happily as he sped off, leaving me standing there alone, waving goodbye to the rear of his departing car, not knowing if he was watching.

When I looked around, there was nothing except the dimly lit interior of my bed-sit flat and a few garbled noises coming from the neighbours. I peered back up the street in time to see Matt's car disappearing down a side road blocks away. If I could, I would have got him to come back. Suddenly I felt lonely. Weird.

I stepped back inside. No one would have guessed what had just happened. Unless they noticed Matt's creamy cum dribbling down the wall above my bed. I left it there, aware that it was beginning to seep into the wallpaper. I sat down in the chair opposite, gazing at Matt's ejaculate as though it was a work of fine art, which it was. I had to pinch myself. I still couldn't believe it. But it must have happened. I could taste the juices I had sucked from Matt's magnificent erect dick on my tongue. I slipped into a daydream.

Images of Matt's naked body flooded my mind. Most vividly, I pictured Matt's bare arse being thrust towards me. It would probably be imprinted in my mind forever, such was it's sheer beauty and because the thrusting was done out of his own free will. He had gladly offered to me what I assumed to be his gay virginity, even spreading his arsecheeks with his hand to tempt me. Well, it worked. I had fucked him good and proper. I had pounded my rod into him like there was no tomorrows, and Matt had begged me for it. What could be more satisfying than that? Even as I daydreamed about it, my penis began to stir inside my pants. "Come back!," I said. "Matt ... mate." I laughed quietly. We should really have talked. I knew next to nothing about him, apart from his mischievous grin and the fact that he believed his father was a wanker.

(Chapter nine will follow soon enough .. days)

 

[Kyanimal]

WHOA!, JA ... I mean DaveMate

Just that little snippet has me all riled up for the next chapter!

I shall eagerly be watching this space!

THANK YOU! in advance, Buddy!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[DonQuixote]

Dave, Mate,

What a reminder of the "game" and its "payout"!

Yes, more, YAY!!!!!!

 

[Craiger]

Really nice little tease chapter, DaveMate. The anticipation of chapter 9 is growing like other bits which will obviously lead to a huge explosion............ "Come back!," I said. "Matt ... mate." Yes, come back.

Craiger

 

[DaveMate]

Chapter Nine​

It was to be an important game. Everyone knew about it. It was in all the papers. It was our game against Brookvale, the defending Wellington rugby club champions. A top of the table clash. A game that could decide the championship.

Exactly one week had passed since that other game. The very messy one between Matt and I in my cosy little flat. Nobody knew about that one. It was in none of the papers. Matt and I hadn't even discussed it. He just grinned at me all the time.

But there was only one game on our minds when we sauntered out onto the field. It was a must win. So when the crowd buzzed with excitement and shouted their support, all that stuff from the previous week was forgotten, for the meantime. Matt and I were psyched. We waited in our positions, side by side. We were poised for kickoff, nerves on edge.

Matt pointed to one of the Brookvale players. He shielded his mouth with his hand, hiding his words from the opposition and he leant over towards me. "Hey Jeff mate. Watch that blond fella. Number twelve. That bugger's good man," he informed me.

"Scotty? Yea I know."

Matt looked surprised. "You know him?"

His real name was Tristan. Tristan Scott. He seemed to hate being called Tristan. People who called him that were labelled dorks. It was Scotty, or Scot at a pinch, or nothing. He was good looking. Blue eyed and snowy haired, bleached even blonder and curled at the ends by hours of sitting on a surfboard out off Castle Point.

"Yea, I know him," I replied. "I've played against him before. He's weak in the legs. Tackle him around the legs Matt. He hates that. It shuts him down. Don't give him any space. He'll run rings around you."

"Mate, that's crazy. No one runs rings around me. I'm marking the centre anyway. Blondie's your man. Don't stuff it up whatever you do. We can't get our butts kicked by these arseholes. Stay on my shoulder," he added. "I'll run through their line and set up a try for you. Man, it'll be too easy."

"Just do the basics Matt. What we did in training. Remember what Gary told us. Nothing too flashy. You'll only make mistakes. Concentrate on your tackling and passing. Defence Matt. Defence."

When I looked over at Scotty, he lifted his eyebrows and flicked his head up to acknowledge me. I saw his mouth say "howzit."

I replied similarly, smiling at him. I winked. Just a sly one to let him know that I had his measure. I turned my head to Matt. "Don't worry. I'll take care of Scotty."

Scotty and I go way back. Since we were little nippers in short pants, marking each other in the under ten's regionals. He was cute back then. He still is as a matter of fact. Blond hair curled at the ends just above the ears. Slightly suntanned complexion. An athletic physique. A typical surfer if there ever was one. He wore clothes to look the part too. Faded jeans in winter, boardies in summer, and a bright patterned casual shirt that he never tucked in. Yep, laid back and carefree, that's Scotty. I was surprised when Matt pointed him out to me. I thought he must have given up on rugby. You see, it was a while since I had last seen him. Three years to be precise. At his house, when we were both just nineteen. Let me explain.

Firstly, if you're a young bloke and living out in the sticks, as I was, there really isn't that much to do with your spare time. You can play rugby, which I was into, and you can chase girls, which I wasn't. So being selected for the Wellington Country under twenties against City was pretty much the pinnacle for me.

Secondly, if you're selected for Wellington Country, as I was, you end up on a bus to the game in Wellington, dressed in smart navy blue blazers, your boots in your bag and needing a bed for an overnight stay. This meant being billeted to the family of your opponent. And guess what? Scotty played for Wellington City.

That's how I ended up at Scotty's house. Scotty was my opponent. I was to stay there that night. But that's only half of it. Not only was I to sleep at the Scotts but I was to sleep in Scotty's room. Not that I would have preferred it any other way. They only had one spare bed. Greg had made it up for me, complete with clean sheets and duvet. Greg was Scotty's father. It seems impolite to call him that, but he insisted. I saw nothing of Mrs Scott, or even if there was one, except for the decor, that no male could have chosen.

Scotty's room contained few surprises when he showed it to me. He sure loved his wall posters. Mostly rugby players, but there were a couple of Pink Floyd, and a giant one of a surfer crouching on a surfboard inside a wave, his hand skimming the water. The beds were pushed against opposite walls, about a three metre gap between them.

Scotty jumped onto his bed face up, landing on it in a heap, clutching a rugby ball. He yawned and looked blankly at the roof, tossing the ball up and down as though he had it on a string, and in between times cleverly rotating it in his hands like a Harlem Globetrotter. "Twenty two to twelve. Bummer," he sighed.

I dropped my bag onto the top of Scotty's dresser and tentatively sat down on the edge of my bed, facing him, a little bit nervous "You look shagged," I said.

"Yea, well, how can you blame me?," Scotty said, his eyes unmoved, almost staring a hole in the roof above. "You guys were awesome. Twenty two to twelve. Brutal! Totally brutal. Your team must be stoked. And you. You were totally awesome dude. You've never beaten me with the outside swerve before. You were in the zone. How did that happen?"

"Dunno. Just training. Our coach is a hard task-master. And running around on the farm doesn't hurt, I guess. So ... you're a Pink Floyd fan then?"

Scotty tilted his head back and looked up at the poster above his bed, catching the ball without looking. "Pink Floyd? Yea. They're cool. You like them?"

"Sure. Dark Side of the Moon. I have that. Great album. Best thing they ever did. Every track a masterpiece. You know, I read a survey in some magazine that said it was the best album to get stoned to."

"They're not wrong." From where he lay, Scotty blindly threw the ball at the trash basket on the floor where it hit it's mark perfectly, rattling inside it before sinking to the bottom.

"Wow, nice shot!"

He turned onto his side to face me, puffing up his pillow and using it to support his upper body with his bent arm sunk into it. "You want to try some?"

"Try some? Oh shit, you mean pot? That's what you're talking about isn't it? Marijuana?" I had never tried it. The epitome of innocence.

"Yea, I scored a tinny from a guy at the pub. It's totally good stuff. Greg says so too."

"You mean, as in ... Greg, your father?"

"Yea. We had a puff the other night. We should get wasted. Do you want to?"

"Oh ... um ..."

"I'll throw that album on. It's epic."

I gave Scotty a blank look. It was the type of look that said it all. The kind of look like there was no way I wanted to get 'wasted' and like I was too chicken to say.

"Don't be so bogus dude. Speaking of Pink Floyd, I went to a rad screening of the Wizard of Oz once. Have you seen it?"

"The Wizard of Oz? Yea sure. When I was a kid."

Scotty laughed. "That's not the version I'm talking about. The one I saw had the film going on the screen but they played Dark Side over the top of the soundtrack. It was totally radical dude. Everything on the film, like all the acting and shit, followed what the band were playing on the album. It was like synchronicity. Most excellent."

"No way!"

"It's true. It totally freaked us out. Dark Side was planned that way by the band. That's what I heard. Check it out."

"Really? You think so? I can't imagine that. Pink Floyd wouldn't do that. It was probably just like ... random. It must have been just coincidence. How did they know where to start the music anyway?"

"At the third roar of the lion at the start of the film. I'm telling ya, the band planned it dude. Do you think it's all like, bogus? As if! You should check it out. You know that song Time? When all the clocks chime at the start? In the film, some ancient looking old lady comes out riding a totally lame bicycle. And at the exact moment when the song Money starts, the film turns to colour. It was wicked."

"No way. That's freaky!"

"There's much more than that. When Brain Damage is playing, the scarecrow is dancing, acting like a dork with no brain. No way was it bogus. They planned it."

"Amazing!" I was quite content to watch Scotty talking. I'm not sure what it was that was attracting me to him. It may have been that he was just too plain old sexy for words. His face could have been lifted out of a magazine advertising male sportswear or something. His pose was more like Easy Living magazine. He lay casually on his side. I could see his abdomen. Three buttons of his bright red shirt were undone and the whole thing rode up above his belly button. He lightly stroked the upper part of his pubes with his fingertips as he talked, probably not even aware he was doing it. His treasure trail was much darker than his hair, a contrast I liked. I deliberately caught myself a fleeting glimpse of the folds at the front of his faded jeans. They revealed nothing in terms of shape, but it was obvious he was at least averagely endowed.

"And that song, The Great Gig in the Sky. That plays during that humungous storm, you know where that girl spins off in the house? The storm gets more aggro whenever that babe on the record wails. We were freaking out big time."

"Really? I'll check it out if I get the chance." I reached for my bag and took it from Scotty's dresser. I placed it beside me on the bed and rummaged through it. My mother had ironed and folded all my clothes and neatly piled them on top of each other inside, as is her want. I pushed my pyjamas to the corner of the bag. There is no way I'd be wearing those. Then I searched further under the assortment of shirts and pants. Far too much stuff for a one night stay. Even then, there was a monumental stuff-up.

In the meantime, Scotty got up, crouched on the floor and thumbed through his record collection stacked inside his stereo cabinet at the foot of his bed. He took one out. "Here it is!" He stood up and held it out in front of him to show me. "Shall I put it on?"

I ignored him, more concerned with the contents of my bag. "I don't believe this! Shit!"

Scotty placed the album, still in it's cover, on top of the cabinet. He sat back down on the edge of his bed, facing me. "What? Dude, you looked pissed off. What's happened?"

"Oh shit ... nothing. Just a bit of a cock-up with the packing."

"What is it? You look like you've found a snake in there or something."

"Nah. It's nothing. My mum's had a brain fade, that's all."

Scotty laughed. "Awesome. Dude that's epic. You get your old lady to pack your stuff. Wicked! What did she do?"

"Damn! It doesn't matter. It's just ..."

"What?"

"... well, it's a bit embarrassing. It's just that she forgot to pack any clean ... you know ... oh shit ... underwear. You know ... oh damn ... undies."

"No undies? Big mistake! Doesn't your old lady realise us dudes need our clean undies? You're going to have to just wear what you have on. That's sweet. I don't change my undies every day."

"I can't. Just before half time, one of your forwards raked me across the ... you know ... my backside with their sprigs. They ripped my shorts to threads. They're a complete right-off. But he tore a hole in my underpants too. Didn't you see me? I had to change my shorts during the break."

"Wicked! Is that what you were doing? I saw you going off the field grabbing your arse. Awesome!"

"Maybe for you Scotty. I can't wear those underpants to bed. The hole's huge. They'll probably be history by morning. It's right over ... well, you know ... the part between my cheeks. You know what I mean? Shit ... how embarrassing. Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"Far out! You wear undies to bed then?"

There was no good reason to tell him that no, I don't wear undies to bed. I wear pyjamas. So I lied and said "Yea, of course. Why? Um ... yea, I wear underpants, usually. A t-shirt too, if it's cold."

"Cool. How big did you say the hole was again, dude?"

"Pretty big. I don't know exactly." I felt my backside through my jeans with my hand. "Three inches, at least. Man! How embarrassing."

"Epic! Show me."

"Show you? Show you what?"

"The hole in your undies. It sounds wicked."

"Get off the grass! No way. The hole's right in the centre, not just over one of the cheeks. You'd see ... everything." I laughed, not knowing whether he was serious. "I don't know what I'll do. Um ... what do you wear to bed then?"

"Me? I hope you don't mind. I totally sleep in the nude. You should try it dude." For a few seconds there was an awkward silence. "You don't have any kind of beef with that do you? I mean, you won't freak out or anything?"

I really wouldn't know until it happened, but to save any possibility of being called a dork I said, "Ah ... freak out ... oh ... nah. Don't be stupid. Why would you think I'd freak out? It's fine with me."

"Awesome. I can't get to sleep wearing bogus undies. Not that I think it's lame or anything." Scotty got up and walked to the dresser, which stood between the two beds. He bent down and opened the bottom drawer, which had one half filled with socks, most of which seemed uncoupled, and the other an assortment of boxers. He took a pair from the drawer and, hooking the elastic waistband with his thumbs, he stretched them out in front of him, proudly displaying them to me as though they were prized possessions. "What type of undies do you wear dude?" Before I could answer, he threw that pair back into the drawer and just as quickly took out another, and showed me.

"What type of underwear? Argh ... man ... briefs actually." I laughed nervously.

"Sweet as," he said. "But I only have boxers." He took out a third pair. A light blue pair made of cotton which were shaped in the front, with a closed fly, but obviously offering nowhere near as much support as I was used to. He displayed them, front and back, and then chucked them to me, where they landed in my lap. "They're the closest to briefs I've got. Try those for size." He looked down to where I was seated. "Awesome. Our arses look roughly the same size. They should totally fit you. You have to pull them down at the front to pee."

"Oh ... um ... that's handy to know," I laughed feebly. I left his underpants in my lap, sprawled out randomly over my crotch, somehow thinking it too rude to touch them. "You mean, you reckon I should wear them? Isn't that a bit ... you know ... weird?," I said with another nervous laugh.

"As if! Do you think they'll make you look like a dork or something? I wore those babes yesterday. I wear them all the time. They're smokin dude. They'll totally hold your package together. Don't you like them?"

"It's not that. It's just, well, I thought it would bother you if I wore your underpants. Aren't they your favourite pair?"

"Chill out dude. For real, I'm not bothered. What damage could you do? Trust me, there's plenty of room in there for your morning wood."

I couldn't believe he had said that. There was a reason why I kept laughing nervously. It was because the picture Scotty was painting had got me thinking. You know ... about sexual stuff. About how it would feel wearing his undies. About him sleeping nude in the next bed. About doing stuff with him. And now I was starting to get aroused. That was inevitable. My penis grew fast. My pants bulged. There was only so much free space in there.

I lifted Scotty's underpants from my lap, picking them up between the tips of two fingers. I dropped them on the bed beside me and then placed my hand calmly over the front of my pants, hoping to hide my bulge. Although slightly red faced, I was warming to the idea of wearing Scotty's undies very quickly. In truth I was actually dead keen. Erections don't lie. I couldn't think of what to say without making me sound creepily enthusiastic. In the end I just said, "Ok then, sweet. Thanks."

Scotty picked up the Pink Floyd album from the cabinet, opening out it's familiar prism design gatefold sleeve to read the track listing. "Awesome. What shall we do then? Shall I put this on dude?"

My bulge stuck out a mile. I coolly untucked my shirt and I let the shirt tales dangle over my crotch then I placed my hand back in my lap. He said nothing, but his bright blue eyes watched over the album cover. He must have wondered what I was doing. Perhaps he saw it. Perhaps I was paranoid. "I'm shagged actually Scotty. Do you mind if I get an early night. I was up at five this morning. I think I'll pretty much go out like a light. Are you sure it's ok for me to wear your undies?"

"Sweet as." He placed the album back in it's designated slot in the stereo cabinet. "I think I might join you. I'm totally beat myself." He took the ball from the trash basket, sat down on his bed and tossed it to himself again. He could make that ball talk and he could do it all with his eyes closed. But he chose to glance over at me occasionally, like he was checking me out or something. I sat there like a dork trying to work out how to get his underpants on without him seeing anything.

Eventually, he attempted another shot at the trash basket. This time the ball hit the rim and bounced back into the middle of the room, where it came to rest. "Bummer!," he said. He gave me a quizzical look which I interpreted as 'Well, when are you going to change into my undies?', then bent over and untied his shoelaces. As he pulled a shoe off his foot, he tilted his head up to speak. "Dude, you guys were totally awesome. You played like psychos out there. Twenty two to twelve. We were wasted." He pulled off his socks and kicked them, with his shoes, under the bed. "So," he added, as he sat up. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "I'm beat. I'm getting ready for bed."

That was worth knowing. He had already explained what he wore to bed, so I knew exactly what getting ready for bed meant.

He placed his fingers on the top button of his shirt and paused. "I hope you don't mind?," he asked, waiting for an answer.

"Nah, go for it," I said, before looking away briefly, as if admiring the posters on his wall.

With that, Scotty slowly unbuttoned his shirt from top to bottom. Eventually he pushed it off his shoulders and it slid like silk down his back and arms onto the bed behind him.

When I saw him half naked, I felt the tip of my erection pop out of my underpants. With my fingers I quietly adjusted it, pushing it back in and outwards so that it angled to one side in my pants. Then I kept my hand there, attempting to cover it.

Scotty's unshirted front was trim and smooth, hardly a hair in sight. Of course, he had some under his arms and there was dark, downy stuff below his navel, which he rubbed, as he stood upright and gave his body a stretch. Then he looked down at his forearm and stroked it, his other arm folded over his chest. Then he just said it bold as brass, "Are you going to change into those undies then dude?"

I looked down at them beside me. "Oh ... yea." I picked them up with my free hand and laid them out in my lap as extra camouflage.

Facing me, Scotty continued to undress. He calmly unhinged his buckle, leaving the ends of his belt dangling. Then he unbuttoned his jeans and sedately unzipped his fly. He looked at me briefly and gave his jeans a gentle push. They fell to his knees. Bending over, he peeled them down his calves and pulled them off completely. He tossed them onto the bed behind him, leaving him standing there in only a pair of plain crimson satin boxers.

I felt kind of guilty being there, and watching, while he was getting naked like this. We should have at least turned out the light or something. I guess he didn't realise I would take such an interest. I tried not to make it obvious, shifting my eyes away from the action when I sensed him looking, which was often. He knew I was watching. And I knew that he knew. And still he continued undressing, and still I sat there on the bed looking like a dork getting exponentially more horny with every item of clothing he removed.

Scotty wasn't stopping either. He hooked his thumbs into the elastic of his boxers and with his front in full view, lowered them down his legs, stepping out of them and throwing them on top of the jeans and shirt already sprawled on the bed.

I wasn't surprised when I saw his dick. He was uncut and reasonably well endowed. I had sensed that would be the case. I don't know why. The skin, especially his foreskin, looked smooth and velvety, even moreso, I'm sure, if I could suck it for a bit. I could retract his protective hood easily with my lips and then swirl my tongue around the sensitive head of his cock, and the loose part under the slit. I would make him moan, no question, as it throbbed in my mouth, and I swallowed his juice. Wishful thinking.

Although not jet black, his pubes were considerably darker than his hair, and more neatly trimmed, might I add, especially around his balls. They were big low hangers, his stunning flaccid dick nestled squarely between them. Scotty was a very lucky man.

My undies were now a total mess. They had a gigantic hole in the arse of them which expanded every time my dick twitched. My erection was stretching them to kingdom come at the front. Getting into Scotty's undies was very appealing. But there was still the matter of doing it without him seeing me naked and aroused.

It wasn't stopping me seeing everything of him though. When he turned around I could appreciate his unclothed back view without him knowing. What I saw was near on perfect. His blond locks bobbed freely across his neck. The muscles and bones of his shoulders rippled through his upper back as he moved his arms. His arse was flawless. Round and firm. Practically hairless and without a single blemish. I glimpsed the underside of his scrotum through a gap between his legs. My penis ached.

He picked up his boxers and threw them to a corner of the room where they hit the join between the walls and slid down into a laundry basket. Then he picked up his shirt by it's collar in one hand and he turned. My heart skipped a beat when I thought he was walking completely naked towards me, but he veered off towards the wardrobe which stood, sideways on, at the foot of my bed. My head had followed his genitalia all the way, his low hung balls pushing up his flaccid cock so that it bounced. But my neck was twisted awkwardly now, so I turned my seated body towards him, one leg folded up onto the bed, the other hanging over the edge. Scotty continued on, either not noticing or not caring what I was up to. When he opened the mirrored door outwards and began to shift clothing around on their hangers in the wardrobe, I had a great side on view of his naked body.

For the second time, I picked up Scotty's undies from my lap and laid them out neatly on the bed. I glanced across at his beautifully shaped dick, then down to the crotch of his favourite undies. In the meantime, Scotty took out a coathanger and proceeded to hang his shirt on it, letting it dangle around his naked front as he adjusted it. When I looked up at him, and our eyes met, he smiled faintly. He glanced down at his undies on the bed in front of me and then continued adjusting the shirt on the hanger.

Somehow I realised that it was ok to ogle him, even his private parts. So I kept watching, now unashamedly. Even when he saw me staring. Scotty's task really was taking much longer than he needed. He placed the coathanger, with the discarded shirt draped over it, onto a rack. He shuffled one item of clothing to another position on the rack and then put it back. Then he pushed everything to one end and then spread them out again.

Suddenly there was something different. There appeared to be a gap between his cock and his scrotum, where a few moments earlier they had touched. His dick began to jut out, curved like a banana downwards. It began to lengthen. For the first time, I saw glimpses of it's shiny head and it's slit as his foreskin peeled back unassisted over the tip. I looked up at his face. Nothing. He kept on, his eyes trained ahead on his task. And still his dick got longer and fatter. It began to straighten and become elevated. The head of his cock slowly protruded out, his foreskin unable to contain it. Then suddenly it popped out completely. His foreskin gathered just under it's ridge. His cock extended out about seven inches, it's shiny and slightly moist glans standing tall and proud. Scotty had a full on erection pointing straight into the wardrobe. It was magnificent.

I looked up. Our eyes met. He smiled. I smiled back. He closed the wardrobe door, his stiff cock swaying with every slight movement. He turned, his hard cock front on to me, it's spongy head aimed at my face, and he said, "Dude, I'm going for a piss. I'll be back in a minute." Apparently unflustered, he calmly turned and walked slowly towards the door. Out of pure lust, I eyed his smooth, round backside as, with every step, the cheeks rubbed together down his hairless crack. Scotty disappeared naked, with erection, into the hallway. My heart pounded. My penis throbbed uncontrollably. And it all felt really good.

I stood quickly, extremely aroused by what I had witnessed. I walked to the door and poked my head out, looking down the hallway. There was no sign of him. I closed the door carefully, not wanting to alert anyone. Walking back to the bed, I discarded my clothing. Probably just in time. My underpants were hanging together by a thread, stretched to shreds. The hole at the back was huge and most of the material that remained intact was pulled out between my legs by my erection. Even then, my excited penis was desperate to break out. When I peeled my mangled undies down, it sprung out like a jack in the box.

When I pulled Scotty's favourite undies up my legs and manhandled my erection into the front of them, I found them just as cramped. My eight inches have always been a challenge. I had to force my erection out to the side and up towards my hip, otherwise it would pop out the top. Despite everything, these undies bulged just as much, especially when I thought about his beautiful cock being where mine was now, only a day earlier. Before I knew it, I had my hand down the front of them, with my fist around my hard dick masturbating, stretching the material so much I could see my knuckles. I was so horny. Precum leaked through forming a small, wet circle. Scotty's favourite undies were in serious danger.

Suddenly, I became aware of a noise behind me. I pulled my hand out immediately, remembering where I was. The elastic of Scotty's undies snapped back around my waist. I looked over my shoulder with alarm, my back to the door. It opened slowly and Scotty sauntered in with a towel tied around his waist. "Oh, it's you," I said.

"Chill out dude. Who did you think it would be?"

"Oh ... nobody," I said nervously over my shoulder.

"Turn around. I can't hear you."

As calmly as I could, I pulled the duvet back and hopped into bed, with my back to him. I snuggled down and dragged the duvet up to my neck and turned over onto my side to face him. "I said nobody Scotty."

"Do my undies fit ok then?"

"Oh ... um ... yes thanks."

"Awesome," he said, placing his hand on the lightswitch and pausing it there. "Shall I turn out the light?"

"If you like," I replied, leaving the ultimate decision to him. "I'm kind of shagged."

With that, Scotty's handsome half naked body disappeared. The room fell into darkness. Only sounds were left. I could hear him shuffling about and then a squeak as his body hit the mattress. "Later," he said.

"Yea ... later. Goodnight."

It actually had been a long day. I would normally have drifted off to sleep quite quickly. But not tonight. I kept picturing what I had seen when Scotty was at the wardrobe. I kept thinking about what I was wearing, and what Scotty wasn't. My penis throbbed. My balls ached. I was so horny.

I slid my hand under the duvet and down my stomach. Then I slipped it inside the front of Scotty's undies, wrapping it around my hard dick. I had to be quiet. I masturbated, continuing where I had left off when Scotty walked in. It was just too much for his undies to contain. Almost immediately, half of my eight inches and my fist popped out. With my free hand, I spread precum over the head, moistening and lubricating it while keeping the shaft dry. So good. I kept pumping my dick, trying to be quiet. I heard nothing from Scotty's bed. So many sexual thoughts filled my mind, all of them to do with Scotty. Scotty's cock. Scotty's arse. Scotty naked. Scotty's undies. Wearing Scotty's undies. Scotty sleeping naked in the next bed. Scotty's flaccid cock. Scotty's hard cock. It was building inside. I pumped faster, sliding my hand up and down the shaft, applying more pressure to the loose spot directly under the head. Fuck. I gasped. I pulled his undies up over my cock just in time. My body spasmed in an immense orgasm and I shot torrent after torrent of cum inside his undies.

When the euphoria subsided, I realised what a mess I had made. Sticky cum had drenched my hand and my cock and was all through my pubes. It seeped through Scotty's undies. Quietly, I took them off under the duvet and mopped up what I could with them. I would have to sleep naked and work out how I would explain the mess in the morning. I closed my eyes, content that I could now get to sleep.

Suddenly, there was a tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes in fright.

"Hey dude," Scotty whispered. "You can use these."

Scotty's extended hand waved a box of tissues in front of my face. "What ... oh shit ... um thanks," I said. I was about to reach my hand out and take them when a beam of light from a passing car shone through the window, illuminating Scotty's nakedness. His cock was hard, standing straight out from his body. The head of his cock was shiny and moist. As my eyes focused on it, a stream of cum propelled from it's tip and landed on the pillow beside my face.

"Jeff! Jeff mate. What kind of a dumbarse tackle was that?"

".... what?"

"Come on. Get up mate. What a dumbarse tackle! Man! Why didn't you tackle him mate?"

I lay prone on the ground. In the distance, Scotty's jubilant teammates were congratulating him under our goalposts. He had scored a try. I got up gingerly.

Matt was complaining to anyone within earshot. "Man! Jeff said he'd take care of him. I can't do everything. What the hell is wrong with him?"

Scotty passed the ball to the kicker for the conversion attempt. He sauntered up the field towards me, his teammates patting him on the back. As he passed me, I watched him, aghast that I had failed to tackle him.

Scotty simply said. "Awesome! What a legend!"

Copyright 2012 DaveMate All rights reserved​

 

[DaveMate]

A bit of a twist at the end of that chapter.
Tell me what should happen next.
Don't forget to comment!

 

[Craiger]

I think Jeff and Scotty had better finish what they started years ago...... Maybe Matt could join in as well. Or, Matt could get jealous in finding out he was left out of the game... Lordy, that whole chapter, other than the rugby, brought back such intense memories. Only my best mate and I actually did complete the horned up action. It was awesome, just like the story. Matt has to get involved someway in this situation, but I'll leave that to you to determine how. I can hardly wait..........

Craiger

 

[DonQuixote]

That was quite the knock out flashback dream, there, Davemate.

Certainly had me getting as hard as the boys!

Get your head back in the game, Jeff, mate. Give as good as you got!

And, maybe the three of you can have some fun after the game. . .

 

[Kyanimal]

WOW! AWESOME Chapter!! That flashback read so True, to some of my own experiences, that I was actually THERE! When I read to this part ...

"Jeff! Jeff mate. What kind of a dumbarse tackle was that?"

".... what?"

"Come on. Get up mate. What a dumbarse tackle! Man! Why didn't you tackle him mate?"

... not only did I have to reorient myself to the field, I also suddenly realized I'd been reading a story!

VERY Well done! Now I want more about that night, more about the current game, and more about Matt, and Jeff, in the post game showers when Scotty drops in to say, "Hi!"

THANK YOU! for writing!!

Keep smilin'!!
Chaz

 

[DaveMate]

Lordy, that whole chapter, other than the rugby, brought back such intense memories. Only my best mate and I actually did complete the horned up action. It was awesome, just like the story.

Thanks Craiger, and I wish I was there!

That was quite the knock out flashback dream, there, Davemate.

Certainly had me getting as hard as the boys!

Thankyou too DonQ. And I wish I was there!

WOW! AWESOME Chapter!! That flashback read so True, to some of my own experiences, that I was actually THERE!

And thankyou Chaz, And I wish I was there!

Thanks for the comments and suggestions, three of this story's most loyal readers. Glad you guys enjoyed reading that chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

[Rickrock]

Glad to see this story back. Awesome as usual.

 

[DonQuixote]

Davemate,
This is almost enough to get me to book a flight over - as if I needed another reason if I had the funds . . .

 

[sheep]

Davemate, the bus could fail to start and repairs won't be made till the morning. The team could be billeted again but due to lack of available space Scotty could take in 2 guys and push the two beds together to make room for the three of them

 

[DonQuixote]

That's what we all like - a TEAM player.
Great ideas, Sheep!

 

[DaveMate]

Chapter Ten​

The game hung on a knife edge. Sweat poured from our bodies in equal amounts of tension and physical exertion. The crowd buzzed with anticipation. We were down seven to three on the scoreboard with two minutes to play.

I was feeling bad. I had hopelessly missed a tackle on my old friend Scotty and he had scored. Their whole tally of seven points was my fault. Not that anyone, apart from Matt, had said so.

Matt was confident, cocky even. No surprises there. “Mate, just give the ball to me,” he yelled. I could hardly hear him over the fanatical supporters. “I can score a try.” He stepped up to me, put his arm around my shoulder and breathed heavily into my ear, “Give me the ball. That guy can’t tackle if his nuts depended on it. It’ll be too easy.”

I looked at Matt sceptically and I ducked out of his matey embrace, unhinging his arm from around my shoulder. I admired his confidence, but there was no reason to think that Matt would find scoring a try any easier than the previous seventy eight minutes.

We had to win the ball first anyway. A scrum was about to pack down, just twenty metres from their goalline. Gary Williamson, the captain, shouted “Sixty nine!” He looked at each of us in the backline, his face screwed up with determination, and he repeated, “Sixty nine. Ok fellas?” We had all laughed at the sixty nine name when we practiced it at training, but no one was laughing now. Gary clapped his hands together, trying to gee up the team. “Come on!”

“Sixty nine. That's Gary's call. Don't do anything silly,” I said to Matt. I took a worried glance up at the scoreboard. “Only a couple of minutes left Matt. Our last chance. Do you remember what you have to do?”

He gave me a glare as though I had just insulted his parentage. “Of course mate. I’m not that much of a dumbarse.” His annoyance was only fleeting. “Let's go!,” he chirped. And with that he slapped my backside, his hand landing squarely over the left cheek.

I jagged my head around at him instinctively. Secretly, since a week ago, I was beginning to like his hand on my butt. I was beginning to like it a lot. He had stroked my bare butt as we ... you know ... as we ... damn ... as we ... fucked. It was still hard to believe.

But that was last week. Suddenly he was far more focused. He knew he had a big part to play in the sixty nine move. He spat onto the palms of his hands and then rubbed them together, hoping to improve the grip on the ball, while his eyes stared out the opposition. He skipped sideways three or four steps and took his position in the backline beside me.

Matt was eyeing Scotty, standing across from us in the opposing team. Far from looking intimidated, Scotty was cool, calm and collected, as usual, the breeze rippling his blond locks around his ears, his knees slightly bent, his hands gripping his shorts at his waist, while he completely ignored Matt's attention. That didn't stop me wondering if he still looked as great under his rugby kit as the last time I saw him, when he was walking naked and proud around his bedroom in front of me, his erection swaying back and forth like a hypnotists watch.

“Come on!,” Gary repeated loudly.

I glanced between Scotty's clenched hands, straight at his crotch, before wiping my brow of perspiration.

“Heave ... heave,” our halfback barked, as he waited for the ball at the back of the scrum. Our forwards did as ordered, somehow mustering strength from their tired and battered bodies. First one, then two steps. The opposition backpeddled. A vital five metres gained for us. Our halfback picked up the ball and hastily fed it to our flyhalf. I readied myself, breaking into a trot, building up speed. The ball spiralled through the air as he passed it, before it stuck firmly into my outstretched hands. I took it at full tilt and I ran straight at Scotty. Our fullback loomed up between Matt and I. A decoy. I feigned to pass the ball to him and Scotty took the bait. The ball never left my hands. Instead, I stepped off my other foot, completely changing direction and bamboozling my marker. Meanwhile, Scotty tackled the ball-less fullback, leaving me unmarked with a mile wide gap to sail through. For all money it seemed like a clear run to the tryline. Inevitably, another of their players caught me from behind. I began to tumble to the deck. That’s when I heard Matt.

“Mate,” he screamed.

As I fell forwards, I scooped the ball one handed to my right. Matt was at my shoulder. The plan appeared to be working. But the ball bounced off his chest as he tried to catch it. He juggled with it on his fingertips, like it was a piece of soap. He dived, luckily gathering it in his arms. He landed over the tryline, the ball sandwiched between the ground and his chest, with two opposition players hanging dejectedly around his legs. A try!

Matt jumped up triumphantly and he joyously threw the ball high into the air, not even bothering to catch it on the way down, as teammates ran towards him to congratulate him. Half the crowd cheered noisily, jumping up and down in celebration. We had won.

“Dude, that move was classic.” When I looked around at who was speaking, I found Scotty sprawled on the turf, his face and hair speckled with mud. He rolled over onto his back and wiped his hands up over his face, smudging the flecks of dirt over his reddened cheeks. He folded his hands over his forehead in disbelief. “Bummer,” he sighed.

I got up gingerly and walked over to him. I offered my hand, which Scotty took gratefully, and I pulled him to his feet. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer bloke,” I joked.

“You nailed it. Brutal!”

“Well, I owed you one,” I said, almost apologetically.

We watched my team celebrating. Matt ran down the field, chased by teammates, his arms held straight out like he was an aeroplane. Then he peeled off his shirt in mid stride and he twirled it around in the air above his head. Our supporters cheered loudly. Matt was mobbed. The final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game.

“That’s totally bogus,” said Scotty, before turning his back on me to head towards the changing sheds. I jogged after him.

“You set him up for the try,” said Scotty, when he noticed me walking beside him. “Isn’t he going to give you any of the credit? Look at him. What a dork.”

Perhaps Scotty was disappointed at losing, more than anything. All the same, it was difficult not to agree with him. Matt did look like a dork. But that was all part of why I liked him. “Who? Matt? Dork? Nah ... he’s alright,” I said. “Don't let his antics put you off.”

“I’d better not say too much. He might set his brother onto me,” said Scotty with a laugh.

I laughed too, if only for the fact I was so pleased to see him again. “Anyway, long time no see. It’s been, like, years. What you been up to?,” I asked.

“Not much. Just hangin. Went up to the big smoke for a while. Chilled out around Auckland. Caught some waves. Came back. Happy days.”

I smiled. Scotty obviously hadn't changed much. And neither had Matt, by all accounts. I yelped like a little kid as the palm of Matt's hand thudded onto the seat of my rugby shorts once again. “Awesome mate,” he said happily, running straight past Scotty and I, only slowing a little to plant his hand on my arse.

“There we are. I knew Matt would give me some credit,” I joked.

“I suppose you've gotta take what credit you can get. Lame if you ask me. He's a bit ... out there ... isn't he?”

“It's just his personality,” I said, defending him. “You're not a fan then?”

“Don't worry about it,” said Scotty, apologetically. “I don't really know him. I know his brother better.”

“I actually didn't know he had a brother,” I said. “What's he like? Is he a bully then?”

“Bully? Dude, you've gotta be joking?”

“It's just that you said you were worried Matt might set him onto you, or something.”

The crisp, clicking sound as our boot sprigs battered the unforgiving concrete, alerted us that we'd reached our destination. We stopped, standing to the side of the entrance to the changing sheds, not wanting to clog up the doorway.

Scotty laughed mockingly. “A bully? As if! What the heck?”

“What's the joke then?”

Scotty giggled. “Dude, he's no bully. He's a lawyer.”

“A lawyer? I find that hard to believe.”

“It's totally true. Ask Matt. I've played him a gazillion times. I thought you'd know him. He's a bit of a legend around here. Clean cut, cool dude. Short, black hair. Talks like Matt, but without being bogus. You must have seen him?”

“No. Can't say that I have. But I'm new, so I may have met him without knowing. Does he live around here?”

“Yea, last time I heard. In the city with his partner.”

“Oh! Well, if he's anything like Matt, I bet she has her hands full,” I joked.

“He, not she.”

“What? Oh ...” I hadn't fully grasped what he meant.

“It's a dude Jeff,” he said, matter of factly.

“He lives with a guy then?”

“Yep. Totally!”

I swallowed nervously. “You mean partner, as in business then. Right?”

“Wrong.” He laughed. “I mean partner, as in gay.”

“Really? Oh ... shit ... bugger ... sorry, didn't mean to say that ... I mean ... he didn't tell me.” I gulped. “So, Matt's brother is gay then?”

“Totally dude.”

“Oh ... ok.” Now I must have looked the dork. I didn't know what to say.

“So what?,” said Scotty. “You don't have any kind of beef with that, do you? Dude, don't knock it until you've tried it.”

I giggled anxiously. “You've got it all wrong. I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't knocking it.”

The conversation was getting kind of awkward. Luckily the head of one of Scotty's teammates suddenly appeared out of the doorway. “There you are! Scotty, you're needed inside for a team talk,” he informed us. “Inside. Pronto!”

“That sounds serious.” I shoved my open hand in Scotty's direction, which he shook. I looked into his sparkling, blue eyes. “It's been good seeing you again after all this time.” It's the sort of thing you say just to be nice, but I meant it.

“Sweet as. Um ... better go,” Scotty said, our hands still clasped in each others. He smiled. “I think we're going to have a barnie over that last try.”

I smiled back. “I'm not surprised. Good luck.”

Our hands finally parted and Scotty turned towards the entrance to his teams locker room.

“Scotty?” I said on the spur of the moment.

He paused, looking over his shoulder at me. “What?”

“I don't suppose you want to get a takeout and come back to my place for a drink or something?”

“Wicked. But I can't. Bit of a bummer. My babe pulls the strings at my place. She wants to chill in front of a movie. I promised her. You know what chicks are like! Another time perhaps?” He waited for my response.

“Yea. Another time. It was just a thought. To catch up on old times ... you know?”

“Yea sure. Later then?” he said.

“Yea later,” I replied, forcing a smile.

Scotty disappeared into his team's dark, steamy locker room, presumably to be lectured about Matt's match winning try.

I took the other doorway, into our team's equally steamy, if far more jubilant and noisy changing room. They had already started singing We Are The Champions, the unofficial team song, very loudly, and out of key. Discarded clothing lay strewn on the benches. The room smelt powerfully of sweaty, naked men and looked like a dogs breakfast. It was after match shower time.

Gary approached me, shook my hand, and congratulated me on my game. The chorus of singing came from the showers, where it seems the team preferred to celebrate victory. The locker room was gradually emptying. One by one, my teammates removed the last threads of their dirty playing kit, before parading butt naked on their way to the shower room.

Matt sat between two small piles of jerseys, shorts, socks and underpants, with just a towel wrapped around his waist and with his arms folded over his bare pecs. His legs were slightly apart, although what dangled between his thighs remained hidden. Mud was sprinkled through his messy, black hair. A small graze adorned his right cheek, under flakes of dirt that were splattered randomly over his face. He had his unshaven game face on. The one that he thought made him look like a gladiator, which wasn't far off the mark.

I turned away from him and took my bag from a locker. I could sense his eyes on my back. I cleared a spot on the bench and then I placed one foot onto it and untied my shoelaces.

“Sixty nine,” Matt laughed. “Man, that move was awesome. Good try, don't you reckon mate?”

I turned around to find Matt and I alone. I sat on the bench and kicked off my muddy boots. “I know,” I replied. “It worked well, didn’t it? Was that the first try you’ve scored?”

Matt was incredulous. “First try? Get off the grass! Why do you say that?” He continued to watch as I took off my socks, rolled them up into a ball, and dropped them into my bag. “Man, I score a lot of tries.”

I lifted up my jersey from the bottom and I yanked it over my head and threw it into the bag on top of my socks. I sat on the bench in just my underpants and rugby shorts, my hands resting on my knees.

“You're so crazy. That's my third try of the season. I don't know why you'd think I'm such a dumbarse as to have only scored one try?,” Matt added.

“Well, perhaps I'm the dumbarse for doubting you.” I tilted my head to the light, and as if using Matt as a mirror, I asked him, “Is my face dirty?”

Matt rubbed his chest under his folded arms. “Nah mate. Not much. But I can't really tell from here.”

“Cool. Gee, you guys know the whole of Queen’s repertoire.”

“What mate?”

“Listen ... in the showers. First it was We Are The Champions and now it’s Another One Bites The Dust. I can't wait until they try Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Matt laughed. “Bohemian Rhapsody? Imagine that. Man! You're funny as well as crazy.”

“Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment.” I returned Matt’s smile with one of my own. “Somebody got you a good one.”

“Yea, I know. Man, there's some real wankers in their team. Is my face cut?”

“Just a little bit.” I motioned with my hand on my own face. “Just there. On the cheek.”

“I'm sure it's just a scratch mate. I think I'll live.”

“You might not if you don't get it cleaned up. You might get tetanus or something. I leant over and fiddled with the contents of my bag, shifting the dirty stuff to the bottom, and the neatly folded clean clothes to the top. Without looking up I said, “I think you'd better go for a shower?”

I sat up. Matt continued to gaze in my direction, his eyes wandering at length over my naked chest and abdomen and frequently darting down to the front of my shorts. “I was waiting for you,” he said eventually. “We can go to the showers together. I just need to drop this towel and I'm good to go.”

“Well, I've got to sort my clothes out first. You go. I'll be there in a minute.”

“It's ok. I'll wait,” Matt insisted.

It was briefly a stalemate. I kept trying. “It sounds like London Zoo in there,“ I said. We both glanced at the entrance to the showers. “Aren't you missing the celebrations?”

Matt wasn't budging. He paused for a few seconds and then looked back at me and said, “I don't care.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nah. I don't care. I'd rather stay here with you. I want to help you out mate.”

“Help me out?”

“Yea, help you out.”

I looked at him as though I didn't know what he meant.

Seeing my confusion, he said, “What are you going to do?.”

“About what?”

“About your undies?”

I giggled unconvincingly. “What about my underpants?” I wasn't as confused as I made out.

“Are you going to be crazy and wear them in the shower or are you going to take them off and go butt naked like the rest of us?”

“What does it matter? No one seems to mind if I wear my underpants.”

“Yes they do. They didn't want to embarrass you, that's all. No one wears undies in the shower. You don't wear them when you shower at home, do you?”

“Um ... oh shit ... no.”

“Well, there's your answer. Mate, you can't get properly clean if you wear your undies in the shower. How do you expect to clean your arse with all that material in the way? Man, it's just crazy.”

“I'll manage. I don't even know why I'm answering these questions. Surely it's not that much of a big deal,” I argued.

“It is. You can't have twenty five guys naked and one dumbarse in his undies. Besides, it's better for team bonding if everyone is naked.”

“What textbook did you pull that one out of? The Matt Smith Book of Shower Etiquette?”

He laughed. “I'll tell you what. Let's try something. Stand up and take off your shorts.”

“Take off my shorts? You mean, in front of you? While you're watching?”

“Sure. Why? Don't you want to take off your shorts mate?”

“It's not that ...”

“Well, what is it then? You can use me to practice on. You can't wear your undies in the shower. Everyone knows that. Come on mate. Before the others come back.” He paused and we both turned our heads to the shower entrance and listened to the revelry coming from within. Then Matt added, “You can keep your undies on for the moment.”

“Isn't this a bit silly,” I said. “It's not that much of a big deal, surely. I feel stupid.” I sighed. Nevertheless I added, “With my front or back to you?”

“Your front mate.”

Surprising myself, I relented meekly. “Ok then. I don't know why I'm doing this.“ As I stood up, I calmly pushed my shorts down my legs to the floor before tossing them into my open bag. “I don't know why I even listen to your ideas. It's stupid,” I sighed. As strange as it may seem, I actually did want Matt to see me without my pants on. I actually wanted him to see everything ... again. That was pretty much the whole problem.

Matt observed from the bench along the opposite wall about two metres away, still covered, where it mattered, by his towel. He scratched the stubble on his chin and as he touched the gash on his cheek, he winced slightly. He was so handsome. I looked at him nervously, standing upright, my wrists loosely folded over the front of my underpants. Matt glanced up and down, alternating between my face and what he could see of my groin.

“Well?,” he said suddenly.

“Well what?”

“Is anything happening?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all? No stirrings inside your undies?”

“No.”

“Nothing starting to bulge inside?”

“No.”

“Are you sure mate?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“Awesome,” he said. “So far, so good. Better than I thought actually.”

“This is ridiculous ...”

“No it's not. You can't be wearing your undies in the shower mate. Try your undies now.”

“Oh shit ... what do you mean? My underpants?”

“Yep, your undies. Take those mothers off. See if anything happens.”

“But ... what if somebody comes in?,” I argued forlornly.

“Man, it won't matter.”

I squeezed the soft, spongy contents of my underpants and I squirmed. “This is ridiculous.”

“No it's not. Mate, anyone that comes in will be naked too.” Matt stood up, craned his neck and peered through the doorway to the showers. “No one's coming anyway,” he announced, before sitting himself down again. “Now, try just pulling your undies down at the front. See how that goes.”

“Well, I still think it's ridiculous,” I said. I slowly removed my hands from my groin. Then I placed my thumbs inside the elastic of my underpants. I paused in that pose, conveying a reluctance which was only half genuine. “Don't laugh or make any sort of comment. I'll take my underpants off.”

Matt looked surprised. He rubbed his belly instinctively with one hand, a finger and then two disappearing inside his towel, while patches of pubic hair bristled out the top. He sat up. “Ok mate. It's for the best. You should be naked in the shower like the rest of us. Otherwise it looks crazy.” His eyes focused impatiently on the front of my underpants.

I pushed the elastic downwards. Matt stared eagerly, his eyes motionless and not blinking. My underpants slid slowly over my flaccid, circumcised cock and past my hairy balls. I let them rest around my thighs.

Matt only briefly looked up at my face when he said, “Pull them right down. Take your undies right off mate.” Then his eyes zeroed back in on my genitals. One of his hands groped the front of his towel and squeezed what was within.

It started to happen when I realised how keen Matt was. I was totally exposed to him, and I liked it. Pleasant feelings engulfed my groin. Blood pumped through my cock. My penis began to jut outwards while Matt watched with considerable zeal, his eyes widening at about the same rate as my growing erection. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. What was happening was obvious to both of us.