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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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A tale which harks back to my first year at Uni some years ago. At the time I had a boy friend, Rupert, who happened to be captain of the First 15 rugby team. I was, I thought, in love with the handsome fit young man with the ripped body who on the day in question was leading the team against a rival university in a midweek match. I was unable to attend the match as I had an important one-to-one tutorial with with my course professor in his rooms. He had been a great source of help and some advancement in my studies and the tutorial took place once a week during term time and had been taking place for the last two terms at least. He was an ernest man, in his late fifties, grey haired and slightly going to fat but his weakness was young blonds and romantic poetry which he quoted endlessly. It had seemed to me a sound decision to give in to his advances and to bed him regularly given my poor first year record. The day of the match was just one such occasion. He was not a great lover, had an average penis which always came long before I did. This day he was quoting some Byron to me as he pinned me to the bed with the weight of his body, rhythmically fucking me to in time with the stanzas of the poem. I recall looking at the clock on the mantelpiece, realising it was now evening and that the rugby match was long over and I needed to be at the after match do. His sweat dripped on me as he continued to fuck me and I was just beginning to enjoy it when I felt him cum in two bursts and a polite groan. He kissed me on the lips and said I had better be on my way as he had to get home. I dressed and left. Time was getting on and I went straight to the sports pavilion, a few hours later than I had promised my beau, and where the entertainment would begin.
There was quite a crush in the bar and I could not find my captain anywhere. I saw a few of his team mates stood at the bar. I think they were the infamous Front Row of the team or the grunts. "Where is Rupert?" I asked. "He's around" the Irish one replied with a smirk. "Or getting around" advanced a Welsh voice who passed me a pint "cider all right?". "Yes, lovely, thanks" I said as the third turned around to me. He was a black South African who they called King Kong but the nick name meant nothing to me. "I think I saw him head off to the shower block. Just follow that corridor". I set off down the said corridor wondering if Rupert had had to much drink and was worse for wear. It was dark but I could hear whispering and some rustling. Instinct made me stay silent and my eyes adjusted to the light. My Rupert was hanging on to a changing rail, his trousers around his ankles, taking an almighty great cock in his arse from a massive guy. I watched, appalled and enthralled. The big guy finally pulled out of my darlings bottom, turned Rupert around, placing him on his knees and, after pulling off a condom, wanked himself a for a couple of strokes and came in Ruperts open mouth. I ran from the room and back towards the bar but my three informants were laying in wait for me. "Did you find him?" Irish asked and the other two laughed. " he is just coming " I replied, a little flustered. "I bet he was" Kong said "why don't you have a drink with us". Two of them took an arm each and led me off in to a side room which turned out to be a gym. I heard the door lock behind us.  |
