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In 1950s Germany, sexy Olga finds lustful games.

The crowd were tense, I was anxious, taking deep breaths as I sized my options.

Instead of placing it, I powered the ball into the roof of the net, giving the goalkeeper no chance of saving it.

"Hey, nice one," my opponent muttered as I held my hand out to him to pull him from the mud. "Well taken."

It was, and I pushed the lightweight Irish striker to his knees the moment we entered our changing room. His mouth opened the moment I sat on the bench; he knew the rules, and he was fine that he lost. My arousal was tickled as his lips plunged onto my cock, staring at his closed eyes.

His lips massaged my cockhead and shaft, taking my full length into his throat without a moment's hesitation. His warm mouth made delightful noises on my cock, slurping, sliding and mewing. "Play with yourself," I suggested, although it came out as an order.

His fingers wrapped around his thick cock, pumping himself to the same rhythm that his mouth was bobbing on my dick. Smoothly sliding his mouth over my shaft as his other hand gripped the base of my cock and his mouth swept gloriously over the impaling member.

It was good; he was good. He was a cocksucker of amazing talent, rolling his tongue under my cock as his mouth sucked the pleasure into my manhood. He grunted as I approached the inevitable; the fiery peak of my lust approaching.

I could not resist his manly skills; groaning with desire and anticipation as my orgasm approached. He was about to get a mouthful of cum and the little slut knew it. My balls tightened, my muscles quivered, spasming with passionate arousal as my body shuddered. A wave of lustful relief swept over me, followed by another and another. I felt incredible, breathlessly groaning as I desperately held onto my orgasm before the intensity in my loins was too great and I released a dozen streams of cum into the losing striker.

He swallowed it; licking his lips as he got every last drop of my semen into his throat, gulping loudly and obscenely.

He'd come too: I hadn't noticed and I told him to lick his fingers clean. He smiled as he did, his tongue sliding over his cum-covered hand before leaving me in our changing room, completely sated and satisfied.

Because only Lee, Dmitri and our captain, Ralph, joined me in our changing room, it revealed that the team were not very good at taking penalties: we won just four of the fifteen duels!

The food and drink at the pub was a raucous affair; we joked with them, got completely pissed, stripped naked and then thirty drunk men streaked through the village. We even got our picture taken with a bride and bridesmaids about to enter the church for a wedding, posing with them as a reluctant photographer snapped the indecent pictures.

As I said, we always had fun when Sutton came to play.

At work, Emit and I had barely crossed paths for a couple of months, but the following week, we were both asked to visit a client's site; they had problems and had not received the sort of assistance they or our company expected. As a goodwill gesture, myself and Emit were asked to travel to their headquarters in London for a couple of days.

They were a little frosty at first, but when they realised that neither Emit nor I had caused or were responsible for the issues they had and were simply present to assist and help, the barriers dropped. They dropped a little further when I was recognised as "that football guy from the telly." Yes, the manager watched GaySportsTV, and therefore nearly outed himself in front of the entire office by his candour; he chatted to me in the canteen over hushed whispers about how "hot" it was and how much he wanted to play in a similar league.

In the evening though, Emit and I were bored. Our employer had booked a twin room for us, and after an unhealthy meal, he was in the mood to relax. I knew what he wanted and so a few minutes after he had finished his final pint, we had the Manlube freebie open, and I was lubricating my arsehole for penetration

He had complained that his partner refused him ana

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