Subject: Premiership Lads part 140: Fair Play Part 140: Fair Play Returning from the bar with a pint in each fist, John Egan could not help but feel like a total fucking superstar. He’d been treated as such by the whole squad since their draw with Burnley, his late equaliser salvaging the match from a disappointing loss, and the team rather jubilant at the stat rippling through the footballing world that Man City had endured as many losses as they had. Everyone at Sheffield United felt like a plucky underdog making a surprising impact on the Premiership, and tonight felt like Egan’s turn to bask in that glow. He picked his way through the busy but carefully distanced tables of the hotel bar, its weekend of reopening coinciding with the Sheffield lads’ overnight stay after the game. A lot of the United fellas had called it a night, heeding the coach’s warnings about the earlyish coach back down to the south of Yorkshire tomorrow morning; Egan, buzzing on a rare defender’s goal and the team’s pretty much secure position in the top 10 of the Premier League. It had been a slow journey to this kind of recognition for the big Irishman, almost a decade after his teenage move to England and its multiple tiers of football. He’d worked hard at a string of minor clubs before arriving in Sheffield a couple of seasons ago, contributing to their stellar promotion campaign and arrival in the top flight for this rampant season. The mood was so high among the lads, especially those still up defying their curfew with a final drink in the bar, that today’s draw had felt like a win, and 8th in the league felt like top fucking four. A couple of the quieter guys were dwelling at the bar, and had reiterated their big congratulations for John’s surprise goal as he bought the round in; he could spot a couple more at a nearby table and he was sure a couple of others were outside sneaking a cheeky cigarette now the senior eyes were closed for sleep. John, though, was heading for the far end of the swish hotel bar, or as swish as Burnley got, where his roomie was talking animatedly to the two local lasses who had caught their eye earlier on. The two defensive footballers had been part of a bigger group at that point, when the two flirty Burnley girls first sidled up to the bar beside them; there had been a lot of wink-wink nudge-nudge casual sexism amongst the Sheffield players, but it was clear one of the beautiful young ladies had her eye on John Egan himself, he’d noted with a smirk. And her friend had instantly gravitated to his big roommate too, and so it seemed natural to seek them out for a nightcap now their other pals had dissipated; John’s Ireland teammate, Enda Stephens, and their other close pal, George Baldock, had both looked pretty interested in taking the flirting further, but both men had been yawning like boring bastards and given in to their weariness. Egan was too high on his moment of glory to feel as tired as he ought to after the long busy day. He planted the pint glasses down for them and his roommate, Jack O’Connell, slapped him gratefully on the back as he slid into their side of the booth, catching the end of the other footballer’s long-winded explanation to try and clarify (for the third time) that he was in fact not the actor of the same name, but a professional footballer; despite the evident team context of the celebratory drinks, the two girls seemed charmingly unconvinced that either of them were a proper Premiership celebrity, or professional sportsmen enjoying an illicit booze-up. This amused much more than offended either of them, another stroke of their underdog egos. `Ohmigod, what about us?’ one of the girls cried loudly, staring at their pints of thick soupy Guiness. `Chill out hun,’ John chuckled at her, taking a moustache-leaving sip from his pint, `your bottle of `secco is one the way over from the bar, heh.’ `Lovely,’ she giggled, nudging and grinning at her companion. Egan and O’Connell shared a smirk of victory there, clinking their heavy pints and listening to the girls, pretty tipsy already, playfully establishing which famous footballers they HAD heard of, and who were the fittest of the lot; by the time a barmaid had delivered the bucket of chilled prosecco and poured out refills for the pair, they were gladly informing their male company that they were nowhere near as good-looking as David Beckham, Steven Gerrard or Thierry Henry, all teasing smiles and twirling hair. For John, the attention was fun and much-appreciated, but it didn’t overly matter if it went anywhere. He had a casual girlfriend back in Sheffield, their relationship not quite passing the distance test of lockdown life, but lingering on because neither of them had found anything better; obviously his sex life was a bit impacted by it, but he was hardly desperate, and part of him suspected the girls to be a bit out of his league. The one who was interested in him, even superficially, was a solid 10/10 to his tastes: petite, dark-haired, confident and playful. Perfect medium-sized tits. He wasn’t 100% sure (between noise, over-excitement and several pints) whether her name was Anna, Annie, Hannah or Helen. For his pal next to him, he suspected, the flirting was even more casual and playful — Jack was in a much more committed relationship, way more settled and verging towards the honorary middle-age of coupledom. But O’Connell was a natural flirt, much more gift of the gab than Egan himself, defying lazy Irish stereotyping with his lack of magical craic. `Oh well we go back YEARS,’ the other girl was saying. `Annie and I-` Aha, Annie it is! `well we were teammates once too, hehe, netball girls back in uni…!’ She said it like their university education was forever ago, though they were mid twenties at the oldest. `Yep, besties for YEARS,’ she said emphatically, knocking back the cheap sweet fizz. John knuckled at his pint and chuckled along, only half-listening to the conversation as he unashamedly ogled the young woman opposite him. He enjoyed the delicate straps of her dark dress, hanging provocatively near the edge of her slim shoulders as if they might hop off all of their own accord and give him an even more delicious view. `Oh aye,’ the big Scouser next to him was roughly laughing along with the girls’ storytelling, `so you’ve shared the communal shower plenty like us two, haha… I’m imagining the scene…’ `Ooh, you dirty pig!’ `But yes,’ Annie said with a distant smirk, `Liv and I have had ALL SORTS of experiences together, if you know what I mean… soapy netball tour showers are the LEAST of it…’ As if to make her point, the attractive brunette leaned in and cuddled a bare arm about the lacy shoulders of Liv’s dress, posing gently side by side with unmistakable expressions of seduction. Jack, a huge grin crossing his softly bearded features, leaned in a little with his shoulders hunched, eyes lighting up at this evasive revelation. `Oh yeah… sounds interesting, huh…’ He dug an elbow into John’s arm and Egan found himself tittering boyishly at the hinted kink, finding Annie giving him a deeply suggestive grin and flutter of her lashes. `You can’t leave it at that,’ Jack was insisting eagerly. `Oh, you know, classy girls don’t kiss and tell,’ Liv pointed out, leaning in to Annie’s suggestive cuddle and playing one manicured nail over her bottom lip coyly. The conversation rattled on and the temperature between the four of them was distinctly lifted by these suggestions of some lipstick lesbianism; it was definitely a turn-on for an already fairly riled Egan, sitting here downing more booze and pretending to be fascinated as the girls described their dull office-based jobs down in Manchester, or the challenges of work-from-home in their local houses with boring, oppressive families. John regularly bashed a cursor at the `girl-on-girl’ tab on his fave porn site, and if he’d ever been totally honest with anyone about his sexual fantasies, a three-way with two hot chicks would be pretty high up there. Egan was a little suspicious of how often that kinda debauchery went on — he’d heard some pretty big boasts from teammates here and back in Ireland, but he’d always found the women he got with to be disappointingly conventional and prudish. Eventually, O’Connell was getting up to fetch the next round, clamping a big hand on John’s shoulder as he got up and slid past to exit the booth, their legs rubbing briefly and the tall Englishman’s intensely excited body heat very very obvious. `Same again?’ Jack asked him, swaggering into position at the foot of their table and cocking a finger-gun at him in a weirdly showy manner, then grinning at the ladies. `Another bottle of fizz, eh? No? Oh, come on, keep us poor tired aching footy lads company, go on… just a g-and-t? A shot? Two shots? Yeah. Fuck yeah — jager bombs? Jager bombs for ALL!’ And off he went. John laughed almost apologetically at the ladies, relaxing into the greater space now he had the bench to himself, wondering if he and Jack were pushing it a bit now. Feeling a little bit bashful beneath the joint grinning stares of Annie and Liv, he glanced briefly out over the bar area and couldn’t spot any more of the red-and-black unbranded tracksuits they all wore (the only evidence O’Connell had mustered to convince their new friends they were indeed footballers); everyone else seemed to have called it a night, late but sensible. Just Jack and John left at it, he concluded a little smugly, but at the same time thinking he might have to be the `boring’ one and nudge O’Connell towards their room. It’s not as if anywhere else would be open late; the UK hadn’t quite returned to nightclub culture just yet! `Is your friend single?’ the girl named Liv demanded unsubtly, after a minute. `Hmm? Ah…’ The tactful wingman, John hovered over this question for a moment, hiding his indecision between a dimpled grin and a flutter of his own dark-lashed drunken eyes. `He’s definitely unmarried,’ he said diplomatically, then quickly, `and I thought he was gonna pass out when you started teasin’ us about your netball days… jeez! Pair of sorts, ain’t ya…’ Much pleased giggling at this. `Oh, we never went THAT far,’ Annie said coquettishly. `Still, we could make a footballer blush,’ Liv added with a wink. As she went on, John glanced between the beauties, and felt something slim and smooth brush his lower leg through the thick soft cotton of his jogging bottoms, a little bit of footsie from his Annie; his smiled widened instantly, enjoying the initiating contact from what he’d thought was the most casual of sexual interests. His certainty that these two local hotties were just after a few free drinks wilted on the edge of his imagination and he leaned his leg over somewhat to rub their shins and ankles together, bringing his legs close and pressing her slim bare leg between his for a moment, then pulling his heels back against the wood of his bench. `I come bearin’ bad news,’ interrupted the barking Scouse accent of the other Sheffield player; Jack O’Connell cut an impressive figure as he returned to the foot of the table and slapped both palms against the scuffed brassy metal of their tabletop, 6ft3 of English beef bulging through his relaxed Sheffield tracksuit. As the two girls instantly looked his way, John found himself unable to actually take his eyes off Annie, the little curve of her slender neck and the glimpse of cleavage that creased and bulged as she turned in her seat. `We missed last orders!’ Jack announced, and John felt an instant stab of disappointment. Moments ago, he’d been sure he needed to call a night on this bit of harmless fun, drag the Merseyside lothario away and get them up to their shared room; mersin escort now, just as he was realising how genuine this hot brunette’s interest actually was, a fresh curfew was landing in their laps. `Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ whined Liv. `I didn’t hear no bell,’ Annie complained wistfully, returning her sultry gaze to him. `I know, it’s shit,’ Jack grunted. `I guess it is late,’ John said hesitantly, annoyed to hear the uncharacteristic caution and maturity in his voice; it didn’t feel right, to be the boring one right now, to be accepting defeat to a fun night when he was celebrating his bangin’ goal and the point he’d salvaged for their club. He caught Jack’s mocking frown and, in it, saw his own disappointment in his sensible statement. `But I scored a fucking belter of a goal tonight and I’m not done partying yet,’ he added, rapidly, ending in a lusty chuckle, and lifting the dregs of his Guiness pint to clink with Jack’s. `Oh you didn’t tell us THAT,’ cooed Annie, `I thought you said you were a defender, Jonny?’ `Oh he is, but this mighty fine fucker still whacked it in,’ Jack boasted proudly, `a right bloody hero tonight, actually, whole team going made for this Leprechaun fucker.’ He reached to squeeze John’s shoulder in playful affection, making him twist away on the leathery bench in the booth, laughing and holding his hands up in performative humility. `That is so hot,’ Liv commented quietly. `And you got the winner?’ Annie asked excitedly. `Well, we drew,’ Egan admittedly dryly, and O’Connell cackled. `Oh come on,’ Annie said then, kicking her ankle in against his as she played with her hair, lifting her arms and thereby her attractively pert bosoms at the same time. `We can’t leave you boys here being boring if you’re the match hero, hun!’ `She is so right,’ Liv and Jack agreed almost in unison, then the big centre-back clapped his strong hands together and leered across them all in the booth, dumping his empty glass down beside John’s own. `That settles it, ladies and gentle-cunt — room party, huh?’ The sensible part of John’s brain flashed at this: no room visitors was a standard room, of course, but it was an absolutely unnegotiable one in the book of their stern club manager and his team. But still, as John had wondered before in moments of unquenchable desire, how the fuck would anyone know? He and O’Connell would watch each other’s back and keep any fucking secret, so if they had some visitors up for a mini-bar raid, well; okay, they’d have to fucking share the room if they wanted to DO anything, but that wasn’t the end of the world, he supposed… `That sounds a-ma-zing,’ Liv was saying eagerly, and Annie just biting her plump rouged lip and teasing her ankle gently up his calf as she added, `Only if the hero of the night is up for it…’ `What you sayin’, Irish?’ Jack demanded. `You gonna be boring, or are we havin’ a party?’ The bar of the hotel was done up in some vague art deco pastiche, desperate to impress, but upstairs the town centre place was tired and aged, quiet corridors into the 1970s. The place obviously didn’t have many guests at the moment, and the Sheffield squad occupied most of three different floors, so Jack and John insisted on a playful stealthy silence all the way up to their room. By the time they actually got to their shared, end-of-corridor room and the dull hum of its air-conditioning, John had stolen a few tipsy kisses with Annie, in the stairwell and up against a cheap naff painting on the wall; he wasn’t actually sure which of them had initiated the snogs but the offer of something more than drinks became more tangible and vital with every minute. In the room, they spoke in stage whispers, all four of them giggling at the silliness of needing to keep quite so quiet — the hushed care of their quiet voices immediately contradicted by the reckless raiding of the room’s mini bar, which would definitely be charged to the club’s accounts and get them in trouble with the bosses. But trouble over a few contraband drinks versus trouble over having a couple of girls in their room… there was a stark difference in this regime. John found himself quite amazed by the girl at his side, this solid 10 who only seemed to have eyes for him, not even stealing a glance at big 6ft3 Jack and his shoulders for days, or his rapid throaty banter that was making Liv squeals with giggles nearby, which he conveniently had to keep suppressing with fresh kisses. John tried not to be distracted or intimidated by that, a confident 27-year-old with a lot of experience under his belt, after all. He alternated between sips of the overpriced Stella can and kissing Annie’s soft wet mouth, sat close together on one of the room’s two supposedly double beds. He ran his fingers up the back of her neck, beneath the loose tresses of her dark hair, and circled his other hand around the front of her waist, sliding up close towards her breasts and then back down in promising swoops towards her crotch, testing a little further each time and waiting for her to slap his cheeky fingers away. But no, she was very much up for it. Fuck yes, he thought, this was not how he’d imagined tonight would play out or end; he would feel a little bit guilty about his supposed girlfriend in the morning, maybe, but he would definitely end it with her properly soon rather than kid them both it was going anywhere. Jack, mind… he couldn’t help but steal a glance at his mate opposite, his hand beginning to creep under the high-cut bottom of her leathery skirt, kissing quite passionately at her neck and making her whine. Jack was in a pretty long-term relationship with another footballer, an England’s Women star who played for Lyon; though French leagues were defunct now, she’d had to go back across the Channel for some work commitments, and he was alone. Fuck’s sake, the dirty dog couldn’t last a couple of weeks without his serious missus, look at him go! The pull of Annie’s hand roving over his thigh and stroking his muscle through the cotton brought his attention away from the other lothario, who he admired more than judged for his blatant infidelity, faintly excited by the cheeky playing-away fantasy they’d fallen into after a wee bit of hotel bar flirting. He cuddled close to Annie’s slender frame, stooping his 6ft1 figure to push his tongue against hers and really enjoy the hot, breathy snog. Annie broke it, but only because her little pre-mixed can of vodka-and-coke was already emptied. She pranced off the bed, kicking off her heels, and returning to the fridge; but doing so with her eyes locked on Egan as she dropped forward and curved her gorgeous pert backside in the process. John let out a little pant of unconscious desire, lifting up from the bed after her, necking some more Stella and slowly unzipping the front of his tracksuit top, which felt heavy and hot against his broad, well-muscled torso. As he stood there, watching Annie straighten back up and grin at him over her bare shoulder, he heard Jack rise from the bed with rough laughs, punching him lightly in the side then throwing his arm about his shoulders, leaning heavily into him and slapping their cans together with a dull metallic slap. `Fuck, let’s put some tunes on,’ slurred O’Connell, square-jawed and ginger-lined. John elbowed him away playfully and shook his head. `If we get caught in here, mate, right now…!’ `We don’t need music,’ giggled Liv from the bed, lounging on her side; her dress was open at the back now and on its way down, showing a flash of red bra about her large tits; Annie was moving over to her, cracking open two more cans of the sugar mixer drinks, winding her body onto the bed beside her friend and apparent netball teammate in a sinuous manner. Both men turned and watched wide-eyed as Annie began to stroke Liv’s bleached blond hair and cuddle her face in against the pillow of her own bosom, making coy eyes at them. `Netball time, is it?’ John chuckled with a sudden extra stirring down below, tugging at the neck of his white tshirt and feeling sweat bead at every crevice of his big body. Jack’s sweaty arm clung still to his shoulders and the taller defender gave a low muttering laugh at the enjoyable view. `Go on,’ O’Connell grunted, `give her a snog.’ John bit his lip at this blunt demand, but it was everything he was thinking. `That’d be so hot,’ he added, pouring back lager and then crunching the finished can in his fist. Annie and Liv looked at each other, smirking and giggling, then happily complied; the two attractive lasses cuddled at each other and locked lips, something Egan had only ever seen on his laptop screen in dubious pixilation. He blinked his drunk eyes and corrected the provincial gawp of his hanging jaw, squeezing tightly on the crushed can in excited as he saw one of Annie’s hands lift to caress Liv’s breast, a soft moan escaping from one of the apparently bi-curious girls. Already, the Irish footballer was letting his fantasy run wild: how far would they go, then? Would it be as dirty and full-on as some of his fave videos that he returned to now and again? Jack pushed him playfully in the arm, biting into the back of his other hand because he clearly wanted to whoop for joy and leap up and down on his feet at the two kinky babes they’d managed to hook up with tonight. It was the kind of thing you did hear lots about but Sheffield United nights out tended to be a sausage fest of just the lads, heavy drinkers but little cheating on the WAGs. John, and he assumed Jack too, felt like he’d just stepped into an ITV or Channel 5 fantasy version of his own life. The lads looked at each other, mirroring the same filthy grin, a little red-faced in their alcohol-fuelled excitement. `Ohmigod, we haven’t snogged in FOREVER,’ gasped Liv, loosening one shoulder of Annie’s dress and leaning in to kiss her on that smooth pale skin, while holding her arm loosely over the other girl’s waist and making intense eyes at Jack; `It’s been TOO LONG,’ agreed Annie in a sensuous voice that was just a fraction louder than they needed to be in here, relaxing in against her friend and parting her legs slowly so that the dark dress rode up her thighs and showed the tiniest fragment of her knickers. John was semi in his pants just looking at his, and felt like he was sweating profusely in his pits and down his lower back. Jack was pushing a can into his hand, more Stella, and stepping closer to the embracing girls, stroking Annie’s hair then Liv’s, grinning down at their latest lingering kiss, guzzling lager with his free hand and towering over them, brimming with sexual energy. John felt frothy bubbles of the beer hit his thumb and fingers as he hissed open this latest drink and took a slow step closer to the action, conscious of wanting to enjoy every detail and not rush the pair’s interaction by demanding more attention towards himself; though in his increasingly sweaty grey boxer shorts, he could feel his recently neglected Irish dong getting firmer and fatter with every moment. `You two ever more than kissed?’ he asked, unable to hold in the seedy desperation of his Irish slur. `Oh, now he’s asking,’ sniggered Liv. `What haven’t we done, babes?’ Annie asked her, kissing her on the cheek. `Fuck,’ groaned Jack, `you two are incredible… go on then, er, let’s see…’ `Oh honey,’ Annie sighed back at him, straightening her posture a little and then standing to peel down her dress with agonising slow-motion, exposing her petite slim figure and the silvery-white lingering that clung to it. `They want to see us play?’ Liv giggled, stroking her friend’s midriff. `Well you know what that means, Annie babe, don’t you…?’ Both girls laughed gently and stroked affectionately escort mersin at each other’s arms, almost synchronised in their flirty, alluring transgression or bisexuality. Their fluidity was gorgeous and for a provincial Irish lad like John Egan, utterly taboo. One of his exes had dumped him when he made her watch lesbian porn with him before a shag. `What’s it mean?’ Jack demanded, an impatience in his big square face and the rippling movements of his massive body, slowly sitting down on the bed opposite them, shrugging his tracksuit top away from his shoulders, just a matching white tshirt like John’s hugging his big clammy frame. The girls just giggled at his question and Annie helped Liv out of her dress, so that now both gorgeous lassies were in their bras and panties, pulling closer together and smirking from one lad to the other. John felt self-consciously that his excitement probably showed in his black jogger bottoms, but he stood firm, throwing back mouthfuls of bitter lager and glancing at Jack to check they were both equally excited by the lesbo twist to their night. `We LOVE playing with each other,’ Annie announced decadently, `but what we love more…’ `Is seeing you two do the same,’ Liv finished, bouncing her tits a little and stepping out of her shed dress so that she could sink back into the bed against Annie’s body. `Oh aye,’ John agreed, misunderstanding; if Liv wanted to watch while he got to grips with Annie’s insanely perfect body, then he was not about to complain! He took another step forward, into the space between the beds, wiping the back of a dark-haired arm across his lager-stained lips and smirking into Annie’s controlled grin, tugging again at the chest of his tshirt, pulling the white fabric away from the cloying overexcited sweat of his body. Liv burst out laughing, again dangerously close to noisy and ruining the secrecy of their room party, and the girls shared a look. `With each other,’ the bottle blond clarified gently, running her hand over Annie’s cleavage as she explained, `we think that’s only fair, don’t you?’ Jack was a little quicker on the uptake. `You wanna see us fuckin’ kiss?’ the lofty Scouser asked with an edge of panicked laughter to his voice, putting his can down on the table between the bed and clapping his hands to his thighs. `What?’ John thought aloud, catching up. Seeing the humour of it, he laughed. `Oh aye, fair’s fair, what the fuck ladies, haha… nice one, we can take a hint, no more girl-on-girl…’ Disappointedly, but with a still-burning lust to explore Annie on his own, he moved further into the space, closer to them all, reaching one set of thick fingers towards Annie’s soft cheek to stroke away her locks of hair; she reached up and held his fingers, gently stopping his touch and fixing him with an intense stare. `It would just turn us on SO MUCH,’ gushed Liv to Jack at that point, parting her chunky thighs and lolling back on the bed, then rubbing slowly at the front of her knickers, teasing life into herself. Not taking her eyes from John’s, Annie picked up this thought. `It would be amazing,’ she murmured, `if we got to see you two studs share a little kiss, y’know…’ `And then,’ moaned Liv, still touching herself, `I think we’d be wet enough to do ANYTHING with each other, and with you two…’ As John turned his head slowly and met Jack’s conflicted, beer-goggled gaze, Annie let out another lilting chuckle and squeezed his fingers more firmly, adding, `Liv here really really likes it up the arse, don’t you hun, but only when you’re like SUPER turned on, huh…’ John glanced back at her, his heart racing, then looked uncertainly at O’Connell, waiting for the marginally younger but slightly more assertive and domineering lad to call it quits on this dirty joke. For fuck’s sake, haha, they weren’t gonna KISS, no matter how bloody gorgeous these two were or whatever filth they would be amenable to afterwards…! They were two proper straight lads, fucking Premiership footballers apart from anything else, and- `Just a little kiss?’ O’Connell asked in a thoughtful purr. `Mate,’ Egan barked instantly, hearing the playful gamble in his mate’s voice. `Just a little kiss,’ Annie confirmed, pulling John’s hand in against her cheek and hair and stroking it down onto her neck and shoulder for him, while her other hand reached to play with the drawstrings at the waist of his joggers, so that her wrist hung limply against the lifting bulge of what lay beneath, tickling through two layers against the chubby sausage in there. `Mm, to see you two kissing,’ whined Liv, whose fingers were inside her knickers now, her other hand stroking up Annie’s back, her eyes fixed eagerly on Jack’s chuckling features and hunched broad shoulders where he sat, `ohmigod boys, it would just… mmm, I would just die to see you two get it on for a second, hehe…’ `Ah, what the hell!’ Jack burst out, waving both hands momentarily in the air then pulling back a little on the bed into a more comfortable position, patting the floral sheets beside him in a jokily inviting manner. `Come and have a seat, lover boy, come and get your treat for that fuckin’ awesome goal, my boy Egan…’ John felt all of their eyes on him now, prickling his big sweaty frame with peer pressure and his own greedy fantasy that could lie beyond a simple jokey peck at one of his closest mates; like the whole seedy room party in itself, it was a secret he’d trust big Jack with, to be honest, but could he really bring himself to even do it in the first place? Awkwardly, the tall dark-haired Irish lad moved over and crashed back into a seated position next to O’Connell, eyeing the girls suspiciously and waiting for them to mutually crack up at their request; but no, they both looked genuinely excited, Liv still touching herself through her knickers an Annie cuddling her close with a fire in her eyes. The fiery confidence in her that had made her so appealing at the bar and in their little shared booth. He turned his wide dark eyes away from the femme fatales on the other bed and looked instead at Jack, big-headed smirking Jack, his reddish-brown hair damp with fresh sweat and his square jaw cloaked in a short ginger beard. He winked one of his hazel-blue eyes and leaned in, bumping thick shoulder muscles with him. `Brace yerself, Ireland,’ he remarked, and lunged in, planting a sloppy peck on the side of John’s cheek, all thick wet lips and brushing beard hair. John laughed immediately and screwed up his face, pulling away instinctively. `No!’ yelped Annie in immediate response. `On the LIPS,’ hollered Liv. Jack was laughing, clearly fully aware this avuncular peck on the cheek wasn’t gonna cut it; instead, he was grabbing John about the shoulders, his arm pressed firmly in on the heated muscle and sweaty fabric, pulling them closer, and holding their faces close as Egan turned to fully face him, eye to eye, stubble jaw to stubble jaw. John smiled at the exaggeratedly intense expression that gripped his mate’s features for a moment, a pantomime of the intensity with which he’d grappled at Liv on the stairwell and on that other bed; he was about to laugh and chicken out and make some dismissive comment when Jack’s face was pressing forward and he was being roughly kissed. It was, obviously, so different to a kiss from Annie, or in fact any lass; firstly, the forceful push of his mate’s big face, the strength of his curling lips, the tickle of his bearding on John’s own dark stubble, the clash of their meaty chins. Then, after a second, Jack’s hand, curling about the back of his own sturdy neck to hold his face close as the kiss went on into its tenth, its twelfth, its twentieth second — then, panting, Jack withdrew and his gasp segued into a deep throaty laugh. But his hand remained on John’s neck where it had clasped. Liv’s gasp of enjoyment was almost orgasmic, and Annie was clapping her hands tightly. `Fuckin’ hell,’ breathed Jack, their faces still close. John blinked, flustered and feeling faintly violated by the suddenness of the taboo, his whole body tensed where he sat. But, `Again,’ cooed Liv, and suddenly Annie was stroking one of his knees, `Again, babes,’ she murmured. `Fuck it,’ Jack said, and he pushed back, pressing his lips over John’s and twisting to a slight angle in the rough, forceful snog, his grip tightening a little over the back of John’s neck, pinching his skin and tickling the short crop of his dark hair at the back. As he passively received the kiss, he felt Annie’s hand creeping up his leg, and heard another deep moan of voyeuristic delight from the other girl; initially, the sudden demand had killed his growing boner, but now there was a stirring all over again, because Annie was reaching very slowly for his crotch, and the filthy noise from Liv’s lips was music to his ears… he was left dazed as O’Connell pulled away again, his lips and ginger facial hair glossy wet with both their saliva. Egan couldn’t help but stare at the other footballer, taken aback by the two forceful assaults on his lip, his body tingling at the novel unease of that commanding hand — then immediately distracted from this thought and twisting his had as Annie really squeezed his developing boner through his pants. Then, her mouth coming up to his and planting a much softer brushing kiss on his lips, Jack’s hand on his neck felt different; just matey and laddish and horseplay, not so rough and ready and assertive. But he couldn’t think much of Jack’s hand, because Annie was curling in against him and his hands were on his boobs and running his thumbs in against that soft supple curve of flesh. Next thing he knew, he was pulling backwards and dragging Annie with him, pulling her lightly on top of him; Jack’s hand had vanished from his neck but the other man’s body was still beside him as Liv clambered on, four of them on one bed now, making it strain and creak gently. John snogged hungrily at his brunette, feeling her slim thighs straddle his hips, her bottom rubbing over the outline of his hard-on; her bra was quickly off and he was grabbing, then kissing, her perky tits, nipples in his mouth and dick aching at his boxer shorts. Next to them, Liv was giggling in a shrill and excited way, and out of the corner of his eye John saw that she was lying with her back on top of Jack’s body, his hand reaching down her tummy and into her panties to finish what she started. Again, for a second, Egan thought of his mate’s hot girlfriend, the beautiful female footballer, and thought about what a big forceful brute O’Connell actually was, even compared to a solid Irish rugger like himself. Annie’s hands were pulling at his clothes and he helped her; it was good to shed his tshirt, which felt almost soaked through with his anxious and lusty sweat. Annie’s hands roved the broad curves of his pecs, tickling at his nipples like he’d kissed and sucked on hers, brushing through the light dusting of curly chest hair. He rolled on top of her and rubbed his hard crotch into hers, grinding on her and interlocking their fingers; they moaned into each other’s mouths and stretched their shaking limbs, stretching over the margins of the undersized bed. John was staring into Annie’s sexy eyes when something slapped in his face and he heard Jack’s rough chuckle; he pulled the other bloke’s clammy tshirt off his face and threw it aside, laughing at the sight of big O’Connell up on his knees with Liv kissing down his furry chest and tightly defined six-pack, guiding her head towards his dick. Annie pulled on his jaw to get his attention back on her (fuck’s sake, haha, why spend a second looking at that big dickhead when she was here!) and they kissed some more, then simultaneously mersin escort bayan pushed and tugged at each other’s lower halves, her knickers stretching and sliding down, his joggers and the tight, supermarket-brand boxer shorts peeling away too. When his dick broke loose, its sticky tip brushed up against her thigh and even that touch made him moan wildly, forgetting his own rules about volume and caution. Then he was sliding off the bed and onto his knees, pulling apart her toned legs and pushing his face between them, getting in there, into the hot wet delight of her cunt. `Ohhh,’ Annie moaned, and he heard her groan muffled by a hand from either Jack or Liv, both of them laughing naughtily at the risk of exposure; John ignored all of his and just slid his tongue in and around her, utterly confident in this one skill. He knew he was shite at flirting and picking up hot girls, but when it got to this, he knew what he was doing. He just held her hips and rolled his tongue, breathing in her sweaty minge and driving her towards a rapid first orgasm. He could hear the effort it took her to suppress the scream. When he lifted his greasy mouth from the gorgeous paradise between her legs, he just grinned at her face, hair plastered over it and eyes half-closed in rolling waves of pleasure. But then it was Liv next to him, kissing his bare shiny shoulder and stroking his chest; and Jack was leaning on the bed to kiss Annie and fondle her tits. Share’s fair. He turned and looked giddily at her, then saw her mischievous smirk. `Oh yes, sexy,’ she said, and began to kiss the juices of her friend’s cunt off his lips and stubble, making him moan and ache, his cock rock hard down below; her hand found it as they kissed, and then she was pulling away and grabbing him around the shoulders. `My turn,’ she pleaded, `my turn…!’ She went down onto her back between the beds and Egan was pulled gently down then released, her fingers in his jet-black hair and guiding his kisses down her midriff and into her pussy, fingered wet by her and by O’Connell, but dripping as soon as he applied his magic tongue. John, panting and hungry, licked his second woman into climax and rose up on his knees again, gasping for air, suddenly feeling both girls grabbing on him, pulling at his thick upper arms. `Look at his wet mouth,’ Annie was gasping, `He’s just so fuckin’ good,’ cried Liv. He grinned bashfully at them both, feeling his chin clammy and damp, rolling his eyes over to see what his mate was up to, finding Jack with dick in hand (fuckin’ hell, he thought, I can’t believe he isn’t much bigger than me, the height of him, haha). `Kiss Jack again,’ purred Liv, in his ear, `let him taste our pussies off your chin…’ Annie joined in the suggestion, pushing at his upper back, kissing his stubbly cheek. `What?’ laughed Jack, leaning into their swaying mass of bodies, hunched between the beds. `Kiss again,’ giggled Liv. `Yeah, he wants to taste us BOTH,’ Annie said, her voice almost a snarl. John looked squarely at his mate, who was grabbing one of his wrists and yanking him forward, up back onto the bed, both of them laughing at the stupid idea, but slipping closer, their hairy arms brushing for a moment and then, even more briefly, John’s thick knee rubbing down on the firm thigh muscle of the other player. `Go on,’ cooed one of the girls, or both, and Jack was grabbing him again, about the side of the neck, pulling in and planting mouth to mouth. John relaxed into it, beginning to part his lips ever so slightly, tasting the saltiness of both girls’ fluids in their mouths, and edging forward his tongue — then Jack was pulling back, groaning wildly, and he thought for a second it was just him, or the taste of his dirty mouth, but no, Liv was crouching in front of him now and descending onto his nob, while he pulled back her mass of blond hair. `Oh give me that big cock,’ he heard Annie whisper, then he was getting the same treatment; the pair of them, hulking big Sheffield defenders, sat side by side as their dicks were licked and kissed and swallowed. John rolled his neck back and felt Jack’s strong arm lean at his back muscles to hold him in place, a kind and strangely tingling gesture that made him laugh nervously. They turned their heads in and grinned at each other; dazed with mutual pleasure. But Jack didn’t stop long, he was picking Liv up now and moving quickly and furiously onto the other bed. As Annie teased at his dick and ran her long nails across his bollocks, John watched his friend mount Liv, so massive on top of her, an almost frightening contrast between the 6ft3 Scouse beast and the curvy lady writhing beneath him, legs wide to receive; John felt Annie’s hands push at his abs and then his chest and he found himself relaxing onto his back while she climbed on top, cowgirl position as she began to sit on his dick, making moaning desperate comments about its size, its girth, how good it felt; nobody was worrying about volume now. Every so often they shifted position, and as they did, he would catch glimpses of O’Connell doing the same; both men gathering confidence in their sexual enjoyment, really throwing the girls about into fresh postures on each bed, tangling and shifting the bedding beneath them. One minute, John was thrusting up inside Annie on his back while she writhed and grabbed her own titties, the next he was ploughing her in missionary or sliding back down to lick at her pussy once more. Beside them, Jack moved on and off the bed, fucking Liv’s face in gaps between her cunt, or taking her doggy style over the side of the bed, so that John could watch her red-cheeked gasping face. He thought of the girls’ earlier boast and wondered if O’Connell was actually shoving it in her arse from there, but he could hardly believe it, girls were always so against trying that (`With THAT thing?’ his current sort-of girlfriend had angrily asked when he suggested it on a steamy winter night together, gesturing at the big hard rod slapping his six-pack and shaking her head). When Egan began to feel climax nearing, he was back in missionary, which he loved, so they could kiss and look deeply into each other’s burning eyes while he thrust in rapid powerful strokes; he dawdled on the edge of satisfaction for agonising moments, almost TOO turned on to cum, after all this madness. She was cumming for the third time, he thought, unless she was a really good faker, squealing and wriggling beneath him and slapping at his broad back, running her nails over his skin and panting, `Yes, yes, yes, YES’, eyes screwed shut — but her scream was mingled with a loud, brutish moan from the centre-back, and John looked up from her face, over the gap, to where Jack sat against the headboard, Liv’s head bobbing up and down over his crotch as he, presumably, emptied into her mouth. The tone of Jack’s animal noises or the sight of Liv being so randy and keen, or a bit of both, gave him the much-needed push over the edge, and he spilled inside Annie, who hoped to Jesus, Mary but Liv, gasping, was coming this way, climbing onto the bed with he and Annie. She stroked Annie’s tit and rubbed her face, but brought her own towards John’s as he rose up from the waist, slowly retreating his huge cock from the wet furrow of Annie’s vagina. Liv was pulling in to kiss him, her arm sliding about his back, and the thought of how he’d pleased BOTH lasses did so much for his ego and his contentment, but then… Liv’s mouth, her face… it was so wet and shiny, he registered vaguely, messy-looking, but her mouth was coming for his… coming… cumming… They were already snogging when he thought about where her mouth had been, wrapped around his best pal’s orgasm. His tongue was rubbing against Liv’s, and the sour overpowering taste on it was… Jack. His arms and back tensed and much of him wanted to push her away and spit out, but there was a certain sweaty etiquette to the moment and he just let it happen, then swayed back gently, still tasting it all over his tongue and lips, seeing the knowing grin on her pretty face; she relaxed away from him and downwards. Immediately, making wet hungry noises, she planted her face in against her friend’s pussy to lick at where he’d been fucking, perhaps tasting his spunk now too, making Annie giggle and moan. Beyond them, on the other bed, Jack was lying on his side, his body heaving with his pants, laughing sleepily and gasping in air. The girls left early in the morning, ushered out by a hungover and groaning Jack O’Connell. John didn’t leave his own bed, just rubbing his arm gently over the warm dent left behind by Annie’s body. His head throbbed with pain and he found he needed to reclose his eyes, just listening to the footsteps and whispers and kissing sounds; Jack disappearing briefly into the corridor in his pants then returning, closing the door as quietly as possible but still making a little firm woody knock. `Fuuuuuck,’ sighed O’Connell blearily, and John reopened his eyes, rolling over a little to spy his roomie and teammate looming at the foot of the beds. The big man stood there in just his white boxer briefs, which were a bit tangled and out of place, one leg high up his thigh and the other stretched down, his heavy privates squashed awkwardly along the front. `What a pair!’ exclaimed the other player sleepily, then a dirty chuckle. `Mate,’ John replied vaguely, joining his laugh, his throat feeling sore and tired. He shoved his face into a cool patch of pillow and stretched his sore limbs, watching as Jack crawled into place parallel to him, similarly groaning and stretching. `People definitely heard us,’ he added eventually. Jack scoffed. `Fuck it, we’ll be alright.’ `You’re confident.’ `Aye. Shut up and go back to sleep. I think I might throw up on myself.’ `Me too. Ugh. Coach not gonna be fun, buddy.’ `Haha, yep, gonna be grim…’ John lay still for a while, listening to Jack’s exaggerated groans of discomfort, glancing over at the bare expense of his back, down to the tight wedgie of his tugged up boxers, feeling the same tangle of his pants where he’d tried to drag them up during the night. He reached down to adjust them, and the fat floppy contents at the front. Lying on his back, he sat slowly up, letting the spin of his surroundings gradually settle. `Shit got wild, didn’t it?’ he asked tentatively. `Oh yeah, it was fuckin’ boss… did you see when blondie went down on your bird and…’ `Yeah, yeah,’ John grunted back, distantly. That hadn’t been what he meant. `Fucking quality,’ O’Connell rasped. `Can’t wait to tell the boys on the coach, haha!’ John started a little at this. `Tell the boys,’ he echoed, and glanced for a moment back at Jack’s sprawling figure, then away across the messy little room, spying a pair of the ladies’ knickers hanging on the corner of a chair, clearly abandoned, or left as a souvenir. `You’ll tell them all about it, will you?’ Egan asked gently. `Oh sure, lad,’ moaned Jack, `an adventure like this…! And our neighbours will sure have heard…’ `Right, yeh. Haha. Right.’ Jack made a sighing sound, and with a heavy creak of his bed, he rolled over, and John turned slowly to face him, feeling the jabs of pain in his temples and the rumble in his sickly tummy. Jack grinned sheepishly at him through the ginger fuzz of his beard. `Mate, don’t worry,’ Jack barked, `I ain’t gonna be telling the squad that you snogged me…’ John felt the immediate relief of what he hadn’t quite been able to articulate in his thoughts, but then he saw Jack’s cheeky smirk, and he tossed a pillow angrily over at him. `Fuck off,’ he laughed, `you snogged me, you daft bell-end…!’ Both lads collapsed in against their beds, Jack tossing the pillow back at him, relaxing their sleepy and beer-sick bodies into the bedding, utterly satisfied by their night of filth. **A BIT OF A DIFFERENT STORY AT A NEW TEAM + CHARACTERS THERE, SO WILL BE INTERESTED TO SEE WHAT YOU MAKE OF IT!**

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