The Rugby Squad Ch. 02

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If you haven't done so already, please read The Rugby Squad (Prequel) to get the backstory. The following is based on true events *********************

The week after getting the motorcycle, things continued to heat up with me and Kelly, while I had to distance myself from Cara. Truthfully, I had no interest in Cara due to my Golden Rule to never fuck a friends girlfriend or ex (and I technically didn't) and things were gravitating towards "couple status" with Kelly, which I wanted. She was giving in so many ways, and like other past relationships, she became obsessed and possessive of my physiologically perfect 7.5 inch cock. I didnt mind though, it was somewhat flattering in a way, and her "do anything you want to me" depraved sense of sexuality had me hooked as well. Cum loads had been spilled, and it was clear where things were headed. We were in a grey area in our relationship, but also rapidly approaching a convergence of circumstances in ditching singledom and cutting the baggage with other people.

As expected, after what had happened with Cara, I was getting text message after text message the following week. "Hey, sup?" "Hey, what u up to?" and the like. I largely ignored her until on Saturday morning, she called me instead. Kelly was morning-after slow stroking my still bloated cock, with her rhinestoned "Cum Whore" black leather choker left on from the night before. The glossy, hot pink ball gag was on the nightstand, and a crotchless pair of black lace panties, dried cum around the stretched hole seam.

"Who's calling this early?" Kelly asked, clearly annoyed.

"It's Cara," I said. "Maybe it's serious, most people don't... call... I should probably answer it."

Kelly sighed, stopped playing with me, and rolled over.

"What's up?" I said, answering the call from Cara.

"Oh nuthinnnnngggg," came the voice on the other end. "I got some free tickets to this play and was looking for somebody to go with. What are you up to?"

"Well, I have Kelly here with me," I answered.

"She can come too," Cara replied, "I have extra seats."

Cara could never take no for an answer and always had her next move ready in advance.

I put her on hold and asked Kelly what she wanted to do.

"I thought you didn't want me hanging out with her, that she is a relationship wrecking slut?" Kelly said wryly.

After some deliberating and convincing that it would be a nice afternoon out as "decent" people, we agreed to meet Cara later that day.

"Oh- I also have some amazing blow by the way," Cara said before hanging up the phone.

When I told Kelly this, she perked up from bed. I knew from that story I had heard that she loved nothing more than to get numb and pounded hard in her face and pussy. I was still unsure if she'd ever been gangbanged before, but the thought had crossed my mind a few times.

Later around 2 PM, we met at the playhouse, which was a short distance from a local Rugby bar. For "decent people", neither girl was wearing a bra, and Kelly had on a pleated tennis-style skirt. It was off-white and slightly see-through, and her hot pink G-string wasn't helping our case. Her PAWG butt and high hips pushed the skirt up slightly higher in the rear, exposing her lower tush every so often.

At the play, I sat between Kelly and Cara, and Cara slid by me in the row as her tighter, heart-shaped brunette butt in short, black denim shorts grazed by my face.

"Oh excuse me," she said flirtatiously.

Her pussy wafted a latex condom and cum smell like she also had sex the night before, and hadn't bothered to have a shower (I also wondered why she had even bothered with condoms). When she sat down next to me, one of her fat, purpleish, shaved pussy lips accidentally slid out of her shorts.

"Oops," Cara said, blushing, as the theater lights dimmed down.

During the show, I was holding Kelly's arm and stroking her wrist while Cara kept brushing her leg against me. When there was a funny part, we all would laugh and Cara continued to laugh and lean in and playfully touch my chest while putting her head on my shoulder, but never long enough for Kelly to take notice.

During the Intermission, we all took turns doing a few key bumps of blow in the restroom, and drank 2 glasses of chardonnay each. Outside in a courtyard, Cara modelled for me again while Kelly was powdering her nose. I looked through the glass French doors from the courtyard as Kelly walked from the restroom, as some older rich-looking men stopped to hit on her. Their eyes kept glacing down at her braless DD's in a tight halter top, and at her bare, all-american countrygirl legs disippating in some wicker wedge heel shoes. Hard to walk in, the shoes made her stumble and sway around like a prostitute. They all eventually looked my way and the one gentleman winked and nodded towards me while making a little finger gun and raising his plastic wine tumbler in a little "Cheers" gesture.

The girls were now a bit looser, and my ego now feeling stronger about being with two extremely hot and (extra) slutty girls. My cock started waking up and yearning for attention. During the second half of the play, Kelly's hand fell to my lap and lightly stroked my bulge while Cara kept looking down at it, alternating between biting her lower lip in jealousy, and pushing her tongue into her cheek, mimiking oral sex when I happened to look at her.

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon when we stepped out of the play and while Kelly was tired and wanted to go home, Cara and I convinced her to have a round of beer and a bite at the local Rugby bar.

Kelly begrudgingly grumbled, "Finneeee, let's get this over with..."

Although Rugby isn't particularly popular in America, there are smaller regional club teams that play one another. In our town, the Rugby players had their own bar, which was doubled as a sort of punk/dive bar with cheap drinks and fried food. The bartenders were "punk hot" girls (black hair, lots of tats and piercings, black clothes) and the bathrooms came complete with endless graffitti, cartoon dicks, and... hidden glory holes with slider panels. It would be a lie to say that women felt "safe" and comfortable in the bathroom there. Locks were busted, there was rarely a roll of TP, and toilets were often "out-of-order" and dirty.

When we arrived, we smoked a weed pen outside before stepping in and ordering a big pitcher of some local whatever light beer, and headed out to a very small, open air rear patio, sandwiched between two brick buildings and a fence. The three of us were totally alone and the rest of the bar up front was a typical weekend sports crowd.

After downing about 2 pitchers between the three of us, Cara got up to say that she had to take a piss and powder her nose. She was looking loose and tipsy, and slightly slurring her words.

"I'll go with you," Kelly told her, also slurring and meandering around in the wedge heel shoes. "I heard those bathrooms are prettyyyyyy seedy."

Both of the girls disappeared to the restroom. Some time went by as I finished the pitcher off and ordered another round.

The bartender returned and remarked, "Hey, those two girls you came in with have been arguing and need to settle down or we may ask them to leave."

I just shrugged and took a look at my watch, enjoying my afternoon off.

I heard the door open to the patio thinking it was the girls coming back, but the people that walked out were the Rugby Captain and a taller fellow with an Australian accent. I recognized the Captain because he was wearing the special armband and I had been at the bar on other occasions. Both guys were fit and trim, buzzed hair, and on the more average body mass size compared to some of the larger rugby guys. Although the Captain had a scar running into his hairline, they were clearly the brains of the squad. They both were wearing their red and white uniforms, and were covered in dirt, sweat, cuts, and bruises.

"OY mate I can't believe what just fookin' 'appened!!" The Australian said, while slapping The Captain on the back.

"I know!!" he replied, doubling over laughing. "Those were some raunchy-ass fucked-up bitches man!"

They both carried on talking, and I could see the outline of their deflating cocks tucked up under the elastic waistband of their shorts. Both were fairly impressive, The Australian more impressive "down under" due to his taller stature. I took a wild guess as to what went on inside.

"What happened to you guys?" I asked cooly, putting on some sunglasses.

The Australian started in, "Oh fook me mate, these two sheilas were argueing it out in the loo over which one was the bigger 'hore, and about some fookin' John's epic piece of hardware in his trousers and which one of em' ad' ad' it first."

The Captain continued, "Yeah, so we knocked on the wall and yelled at them through the glory hole to fucking keep it down, and that there was enough to go around, and the next thing you know, a pair of lips appeared in the hole, and asked us to prove it to them!"

"So I got me ol' veal viper goin' and put er' through the hole," The Australian said. "The next thing you fookin' know these two sheilas are taking turns sitting on the loo and railing up lines of Peruvian Flake off m'ol Enfield rifle!" He continued, "But then they kept bickering on, right? And the one sheila starts pushing the other's face onto my tool, saying some mess about blasting up all of her coke and calling 'er a fookin' face-fookin' 'hore!"

"That's when I told them again to chill the fuck out," said the Captain, "And I dropped a little bag of Molly through the other hole. One of them blew that right up!!"

They both laughed, slapping each other on their backs.

"So we BOTH got our dicks SUCKED 'ARD!" The Australian emphasized, while gripping his balls in the shorts. "Dumped a 'ol 'ell of a lot of cum in their greedy cunt faces! One thing's for certain: they fookin' gobbled down that goo! Mate, I sure needed that!"

"And those holes were put there just as a gag!" The Captain said, laughing harder.

"It sure was a GAG!" The Australian said, simulating a choking noise and laughing.

As he was finishing the story, Kelly and Cara came staggering through the back door sniffling, eyes bloodshot, and their tops barely on their shoulders. They tried to straighten themselves out but only made it worse.

"Oh heyyyy," Kelly said with an exhale towards the rugby guys, cocking her butt out, one of the wedge shoes falling off.

She looked over my way with a small touch of shame on her face. I was still sitting in a corner by the fence.

"You ladies look like you got lost?" I said, "Maybe it's time we finish up this round and head out of here?"

"Ohhh...you're no funnnnnn," Kelly whined as she picked up a beer, chugging it and spilling a good bit of it down her face and shirt in the process.

Her tits were now wet with beer through the halter top. Cara was hitting her weed pen and not making a whole lot of sense. She had sunglasses on and was just laughing and giggling.

"Kelly, I really think it's ti---"

My words got cut off as the rest of the rugby squad came barrelling through the patio door, laughing and cheering, drunkenly pushing and bumping into one another. There were about 7 of them, large jocks wearing their uniforms and covered in mud and bruises like The Captain and The Australian. 3 of them were barrel chested juggernauts, including 1 stout Samoan with no shirt, full tribal arm sleeves and chest tats, and a sweaty white gauze-style headband. He was holding the game ball.

"Looks like you're going to have to stay!" said The Captain, putting his arm slyly around my shoulder.

I sat back down in the corner chairs next to him and The Australian. The entire patio was now crammed with the team, made smaller by our side table, a huge old whiskey barrel, and a picnic-style table in the center. Each of the players had a pitcher of beer to himself, gripping through the handle with huge hands and swilling it without bother for a glass. At that moment, a final smaller player burst through the door carrying a large gold chalice trophy and a manila envelope.

"Here it feckin' is ladsssss!!!!!!" he shouted with an Irish accent.

The whole team cheered and picked him up above their heads and started jumping up and down in unison, chanting and singing like Vikings going into battle. They lifted him onto the picnic table and he started doing a season's-end honor roll call before turning to me and Kelly and Cara.

"And what do we feckin 'av 'ere lads??!!" he said, while the men all turned to the two braless girls.

"Tits, tits, tits!" they all chanted in unison.

"Well feck me lassies- you'd better show 'em!" The Irishman commanded.

"Yeahhhh right!" Kelly said, drunkingly. "You could never afford these babies!" she went on confidently, juggling her wet halter top DD's with both hands.

"Oh bloody 'ell, hmmm, well let me see..." said the Irishman, opening up the manila envelope.

He pulled out and held up what looked to be about $5,000- likely the purse from winning the tournament.

"Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhh damnnnnnn!" all the men taunted in unison, dog whistling. "Tits, tits, tits!"

The Irishman began peeling off a few $50's and letting them rain down on the girls. They looked somewhat shocked that he called their bluff. The Captain then sat down next to me and put his arm around me again, and produced a cigar.

"Stick around for the show fella?" he said, smelling the cigar.

Cara just sat giggling with her sunglasses on, oblivious and high as a kite. Kelly looked over at me like "oops", blushing as though she had made a mistake but also that this could be her fantasy come true, and I could only shrug my shoulders and blow her a kiss. After all, what was I going to do? It was their club.

Kelly quickly did a 180 towards the men and pulled up her shirt, raising her beer glass and letting out an excited wail. She hopped up and down, her wet, perfect breasts bouncing. Cheers and whistles went up and another $50 bill fluttered down.

"Is that all you got you mick motherfucker?!!!" Kelly mouthed off loudly.

In a somewhat lighthearted response, one of the players splashed some beer onto her face and chest, which also got her skimpy skirt soaking wet and even more see-through.

"Oh, fuck this," Cara said, and suddenly stood up and removed her cropped black Misfits T-shirt crossarm style, twirling and throwing her top at the pack of men.

She was now standing only in some chunky black Doc Martins boots, a simple black punk choker, and the tight black denim shorts unbuttoned at the top of her curving FUPA. Her shoulder blade tats were on full display. More cheers and whistles went up and the Irishman peeled off a C-Note or two, and the bills fluttered down. Cara's darker, flapping brunette DD's were also splashed with beer, and someone put a sweaty ballcap backwards on her head.

"These guys are fookin' animals!" The Australian leaned over to me, chuckling. "Just wait!"

After the girls were both bounced and passed around and sufficiently and helplessly groped, two beer bongs were produced from a team equipment bag and the girls were then forced onto their knees to chug, wretching and spitting up beer and foam onto themselves and each other's faces and tits in the process. Gasping, they had both clearly reached their limit. The Irishman then jumped down from the table and simulated jacking off.

"Maybe it'll be chugging some of the 'ol Irish Dew next time?!"

The group raised glasses and all heartily laughed, "Aye! Aye!"

"Which of you lads wants to see these two drunk rotten skanks put over the barrel?!!!" The Irishman shouted.

Cheers went up as a big bottle of champagne was popped and sprayed in the air over the entire group, jumping up and down again in unison.

"OY- look what I found!" The Australian exclaimed.

Along the fence he picked up two rubber dog balls and a leash that had been long lost in the weeds. He stood up and dipped them for a rinse in a pitcher of beer like a pong ball, and turned to the girls, still on their knees.

"Say ahhhhhhhh!" he said, patting them on their heads.

Kelly and Cara obliged and opened their mouths wide with tongues out. Soon, each of their experienced DSL's were now in a perfectly round "O" shape, sporting a rubber dog ball. The Australian connected the leash to Cara's black punk choker. A uniform shirt came off, and they were made to crawl like wet, half naked dogs over to the now overturned whiskey barrel. One of the burly juggernauts teased them with the rolled up shirt, flick-whipping their asses while making kissing and whistling noises.

Both women then prostrated themselves exhausted over the old whiskey barrel, their incredible PAWG rears now in full view up in the air. Kelly's hot pink thong barely covered her greyish-brown asshole and engorged wet pussy, and Cara's black shorts were unzipped by anonymous hands and wrenched down to her ankles. Save for The Captain and The Austrailian, the entire team was now shirtless, with champagne and beer-soaked hairy chests, their uniform shirts all rolled up as they started taking turns flick-whipping Kelly and Cara's gorgeous jiggling-white bubble asses. The girls looked at each other with upward eyebrows and muffled, squeaking yelps. As the shirts would occasionally flick there pussy and ass holes, their saliva began dripping down from the rubber dog balls in their mouths between the longer groans of pleasure. The Irishman hopped down and collected their combined saliva in the gold chalice trophy. By now, a few of the men started rubbing their own crotches above their filmy uniform shorts.

Asses now pink and red hot with the shirt whippings, the girls were continuing to wiggle side-to-side over the barrel in anticipation of another sharp flick- but the shirts stopped.

"Let's see what we 'av 'ere!" The Irishman said, as he rolled Kelly's soaking wet, Barbie-pink G-string thong down to her ankles and tossed it to the group.

Her pussy and asshole were both totally engorged and a whimpering flow of juices ran down her legs and onto the cement. Both Kelly and Cara were now reduced to four ultra wet, faceless fuckholes for the men to prize over.

"Hmmmm..." said the Irishman, touching Kelly's wide open sex. "Looks like it's really calling ye pipes now m'lads!!"

As soon as he ran his finger up her open slit, Kelly's rear end started bucking as hot squirt began bubbling out like a low-pressure drinking fountain. Surprised, The Irishman laughed and looked my direction, putting the gold chalice under her over-the-barrel spread legs to collect her sweet, pissy/cum substance.

"Don't look at me," I said sarcastically. The men laughed.

One of the bigger players grabbed Cara's spanked ass cheeks and spread them wide open: her sex too, completely engorged and a larger than normal chestnut-sized ruby red clit throbbing torrents of liquid. She let out a small whimper of defeat as she bucked and orgasmed, eyes rolling back in her head and then a low "ugghhhhhhhhh" of uncontrollable release moaned onto the rubber dog ball.

"Shall we?" said the Captain.

He took out 2 more cigars and gave one to The Australian. They then approached the barrel and easily swirled the cigars up into Kelly and Cara's vaginas about half way, removing and flipping them over and inserting the opposite end into the other woman to get a half/half flavor. The Captain returned back to me and clipped the third pussy-dipped cigar, then lighted it for me as well, rolling and puffing it while I savored the dank taste.

"Thank you," I said, inhaling the slow burning aroma of one vagina, while tasting the other.

He and the Australian followed suit and sat down, each taking slow and meditative puffs.

"I like how you roll mate," said the Australian, exhaling his smoke.