23 Ağustos 2022



Subject: Premiership Lads part 20: Scouse Biscuit Part twenty: Scouse Biscuit Returning to training today had been a bad idea, in retrospect: he just wasn’t ready yet. But all the lads had been out for some drills to get themselves pumped up for tomorrow’s game, the first clash of 2020 for a side that had declared themselves addicted to winning. And too much of that competitive bite was in Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain to miss out, so he’d forced himself into joining the side for a few exercises and quickly realised he wasn’t ready yet. It was all so frustrating, for a trooper of a player so recently returned from a longer injury spell. The ankle blow from their Dubai trip, winning another international title, had been a big hit for his Christmas period, but he was trying his best to stay focused and ferocious. And, hey, the consequences weren’t so bad. Sure, he’d managed about 20 minutes of jogging about and easing himself into the training exercises before the twinges of pain had been too much to ignore. But here he was, shortly afterwards, laid up on a massage table in one of the training centre’s warm, relaxing physio rooms, being attended to by the hot new therapist that he had already clocked a few weeks back as a welcome addition to the Anfield scenery. The well-built 26-year-old lay back as he had been instructed, and tried to relax the bulging muscles of his physique while she did her work. She was far, far hotter than the usual physio team here, and far hotter than any of the specialists he’d been working with during his longer absence and slow return to fitness. She was even, he dared to think, but would never say out aloud, perhaps hotter than his own Little Mix girlfriend, and certainly gave a better fucking massage. She was working her skilled, smooth hands about his legs whilst he lay there, topless and just in tight-fitting shorts, and beginning to realise a serious problem with this seemingly heavenly outcome of his ill-advised morning exercises. Was that a few pangs of excitement down below?! God, if he got a boner here, it would be a serious sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to blow up. He tried to pull his mind away from the stray thoughts about how hot this young twentysomething graduate was, tried to ignore the fluctuating pressure of her palms and fingers down each rounded thigh and calf, tried to calm his always relentless sexual appetite. And somehow, in spite of all factors, he managed it. Even in the brief bout of flirty chat they enjoyed whilst he tugged on his training top and hoody, and filled in the paperwork she pushed his way. But the result of this extended period of self-control on Alex’s part was the unmistakeable pang of horniness as he eventually left and made his way down the corridor back towards the changing rooms to see which of the lads were still about. As the 5’11 midfielder swaggered down the corridor, taking extra care on the injured ankle, he had to keep glancing downwards to check his semi wasn’t too visible in the thigh-hugging training shorts he had on. The hormonal rush he’d been suppressing for the last forty minutes or so was all coming to him on a delay, and he even dared the mental picture show of what he’d been trying so hard not to fantasise about during the massage! `Oh, `ello, big man,’ called the voice of his captain as he made his way into the changing rooms of the training centre. Jordan Henderson was stood at the centre of the changing area, in the middle of peeling off a sweaty long-sleeved Liverpool top, stood in just tracksuit bottoms, his lean six-pack heaving a bit with the exertion of whatever training these guys had been up to. `Alright, Hendo,’ Alex said with a faux respectful nod, swaggering in to join them, having a quick glance about to assess who was around. He gave nods of greeting and a faint wave to the other three along the other side, a little surprised most guys had already cleared off. `Fucking hell,’ he announced to this limited audience, `I just had a massage off that new girl.’ Nearest him on the left, his good Scottish pal Andy Robertson turned around sharply to give him an envious look. `No way,’ growled the handsome defender, a year younger than Alex and about an inch shorter. `You’re winding us up, pal…’ Alex gave him a smug grin and slapped his bare shoulderblade on the way past, finding a space between him and the other to sit himself down and let out a playful sigh of satisfaction. Andy glared jealously at him, stood similarly shirtless to Jordan, in the middle of yanking his shorts down. To the other side, the last two players in the changing rooms were also giving him jealous eyes, even though they were so-called happily married men. `She is something else,’ Adam Lallana breathed admiringly. `Was she good?’ `Hey,’ quipped Andy in his sleazy Scottish purr, `he only had a massage, Ads, nowt else… hah.’ `That’s what you’re assuming,’ Lallanna returned, then tugging his own sweaty training shirt off in one smooth move. As the 31 year old always loved to do, this quickly exposed the sculpted form of his pecs and six-pack, a physique that put the other lads to shame despite being the oldest in the room. He tossed his sweaty top onto the bench and patted Alex on the shoulder. `Was it just a massage, Ox, or did you…?’ `Pfft,’ Alex responded, `a gentleman never tells.’ `A no, then,’ their captain quipped from the other side of the room. He was sliding off his tracky bottoms and sitting down on the wooden bench in just tight white briefs as he faced them, leaning back to the wall for a moment’s recovery. Alex just chuckled complacently, sliding out of his hoody and reaching up to shove it in his locker, then finding a treat to himself, a packet of chocolate chip cookies. He pulled them out and grabbed one to snack on. `Hah, you need to be careful with them,’ cut in the South American tones of the fifth man left to change, Alisson Becker stood a few paces beyond Adam. The big confident goalkeeper was also down to his briefs, black and very tight, as he leaned his tanned body back to give Alex a look of mock judgement. `Not too many snacks when you’re too injured to play, yes Alex?’ `Fuck off,’ Oxlade-Chamberlain chuckled through a mouthful of crumbs. `But yeah, yeah, it was JUST a massage, lads. I’m a good, loyal boy.’ He leaned back, spread the thick mounds of his thighs, and grabbed his package in the tight hold of his shorts. `But I would be fucking kidding if I didn’t say… this thing nearly came awake.’ Andy just shrugged. `As if she’d notice, it’s that tiny,’ he joked, then busied himself getting changed, pulling one leg up then the next to get off his trainers and yank down his socks. `If Alex is tiny, then you must be microscopic, Robertson,’ snapped Henderson � it was half-joke, and half-warning. He was always hard on the banter between the lads, wary of the line between such jokes and genuine conflict. Anything that could get in the way of teamwork was a problem to their Sunderland-born leader, the champion of their fighting spirit. He smiled calmly at Andy, who just laughed and shrugged, giving up the tease. `Nah, mersin escort seriously lads,’ Alex went on, `I was lying there, literally FIGHTING down my boner. It’s all coming up now, just thinking about her!’ Alex almost felt the need to prove his point there, and stood back up, so the prominent curve of his semi was very visible in the front of his shorts. He just grinned sheepishly as the other four leaned their various ways to see what he meant, and he enjoyed their varying reactions of humour and perhaps slight intimidation at what he was packing. `Well, I don’t blame you,’ Henderson said fairly. `I think we all would have had the same fucking struggle, Alex.’ The tall, lean 29-year-old got up from his sitting position, flexing his bare pal limbs and idly grabbing a moment at his own bulge, as if sharing stray thoughts of the hot new physio girl. `None of us do,’ Lallana chipped in, as he dropped his baggy shorts and stood there in just tight grey boxers, always quick to agree with his best mate Hendo. Alex sneered at the loyalty of his fellow midfielder, finding his and Jordan’s bromance so cringeworthy but holding back a snide comment for now. `What I would do to her, given the chance,’ interrupted Alisson thoughtfully, and the other four all quickly sniggered their responses. `Well,’ Andy said knowingly, `I think we ALL know what you’d do to her, big man, from what we’ve seen on Porn Hub…’ He and Alex high-fived jovially and the other two burst out laughing, and the tall bearded Brazilian just scowled patiently at their mocking. His leaked sex tape had been a constant source of jokey abuse on the squad this year, a topic Henderson tended to tolerate as he knew Alisson was more proud than ashamed that his prowess was viewable on the internet. Even if the prostitutes and drug use had caused a few issues officially, and in Alisson’s family life. Their laughter took moments to die down, a giddy spirit filling the changing room as they reached their state of undress. Alex got back up, pulling his thin top up and off to show the broad bulk of his torso, and then he looked hesitantly down at his crotch � he really was springing a boner now, and for a moment it seemed a bit inappropriate to undress, but he remembered how close he was with these four fuckers and how little it could matter: and so he swiftly and unceremoniously pulled down on both shorts and briefs in one move, so he was stood naked with his thick, veiny member flopping about very openly for all to see. He stepped out of his discarded shorts and undies and gave it a pull and a stroke and then lunged forward into the space between them � he bent forward a bit, holding his hands to mime an imaginary prostitute in front of him, thrusting playfully so his semi swung about more. `Look at me, look at me,’ he joked, `I’m Alisson the pornstar… ha ha…’ Bearded Becker just rolled his eyes and took it, standing there with his tanned stocky physique out for all to see, then yanking his black briefs down and off so his internet-famous cock was also flopping out and about. `Good funny impression, Alex,’ he quipped, `but you don’t quite have the right equipment there for it…’ Though less turned on than horny Oxlade-Chamberlain, the proportions of the Brazilian sausage were still obvious between his legs. The others, including Alex, all laughed cheerfully at the comeback. `God you are a bit turned on, aren’t you, Ox,’ Adam laughed, his eyes returning to naked Alex in the centre of the room, pausing before removing his own tighty whities and letting his bare cock into this increasingly frank atmosphere. `Well you would be too,’ Andy barked, and now he too was naked, dick out and ready to shower. `We all would be, we agreed,’ Henderson put in, kicking off his own briefs. Adam seemed to realise he was the last one not naked, and began taking off his own grey undies. `Guys, she has such a fucking touch on her,’ Alex waxed wistfully, stood between them playing with his thick semi, letting his fingers slide under the shaft and tease back his foreskin. `Damn, I really want a wank to get it out my system.’ `Just go for it,’ offered Andy casually, `it’s not like any of us would mind.’ `Speak for yourself,’ Lallana laughed. `If Alex needs to wank, Alex can do what he fucking wants,’ Alisson pointed out dismissively. Oxlade-Chamberlain just chuckled, took a firmer grip on his cock, playfully tugging it, then looked at Lallana with a cheeky glint in his own eyes. `Well, you look like you’ve got a semi too,’ he pointed out bluntly. `No wonder you were slow to get your pants off, Ads � not like you to be shy, mr fucking six pack tattoo.’ `What, is Ads getting a stiffy too?’ Andy immediately demanded, twisting about to look � Alisson and Jordan inevitably copied, and Lallana let out an embarrassed chuckle as his grey pants hit the floor. `Well aren’t we all thinking about the same girl?’ Lallana protested bashfully, momentarily hiding his manhood from the prying eyes then chiding himself and letting it swing free. Alex watched it for a moment, comparing their likely sizes half-knowingly, but felt a vague thrill that he wasn’t alone in his excitement, or his need to exercise it. `I dunno,’ Andy quipped, `you might be thinking about Hendo instead.’ `That’s enough, Scotland,’ Jordan said warningly. But despite the comment, Henderson had his hand on his own prick, and a really thoughtful look on his face. Alex turned his big grin that way, seeing the cogs turning. God, was captain Hendo as horny as he was right now? There must be something in the atmosphere today! `Are we all just going to stand here and touch our pricks then?’ Alisson demanded with a big hollow laugh, giving his own length a slow stroke, and stepping up to more bashful Lallana to give his shoulder a teasing rub. `Let’s play a game,’ Andy Robertson suddenly chipped in, and the other four all turned their eyes questioningly his way. The confident Scotsman was scratching his russet-stubbled chin with one hand and idly pawing his cock and balls with the other. `Well, why not? We’re all riled up and we love fucking competition, eh lads?’ `A game, though?’ Alex laughed, a bit confused, trying to gauge what the fuck his cheeky mate was up to here. `What sorta game, anyway?’ `Yeah,’ Henderson put in, seeming less in control for a moment. `I love winning as much as the next of us, but…’ `You lads ever heard of soggy biscuit?’ Andy said with a sleazy look on his face. Alisson, culturally alien, let out a confused laugh at the daft name and jabbed an accusing finger Andy’s way. `What bullshit is this man talking?’ he demanded, looking to the others. But Alex was staring at Andy agog, and so were the other three. `Are you for real?’ Adam asked bluntly. `Fucking hell, buddy…’ `Soggy biscuit?’ Jordan asked. `What the fuck, do people really play that? Not that I would be worried about losing, of course, but…’ `That would be mental,’ Alex admitted loudly, giving a shake of his head and thumping Andy playfully in the arm. But his semi was quickly becoming full mast, and he had to reach down to give escort mersin it a light stroke, despite his shock at Robertson’s suggestion. But before he knew it, Andy was reaching past him for one of the chocolate chip cookies he’d unearthed from his locker. `Aye, why not?’ Andy insisted, holding it up as if it were some sort of trophy. `Er, do we really have to answer that?’ Adam said irritably. `I don’t understand,’ Alisson said heavily, getting left behind a bit. `It’s a game,’ Henderson explained for him, `if I understand right, we all… toss off, onto that cookie, and the one who comes last…’ He mimed a reluctant bite on an imaginary cheat, and they all turned to watch Alisson burst out laughing at the prospect. `Well, I know I would win,’ the goalie roared good-humouredly, `so I am up for whatever.’ Adam eyed him furiously for this support, Jordan looked undecided, and Andy just seemed to snigger impishly to himself. Alex looked between them all, and it struck him that he was by far the most turned on, for his massage and the stray thoughts it had left him with all the way back into this room. Alisson was being cocky and stupid. Of course Alex would win that game right now! `I vote yes,’ he said then, fuelled both by this burst of confidence and the fact that he alone was fully hard and really feeling the need to ease the throbbing burden between his legs. Who cared if he shot his load on a dumb cookie or down the drain of a shower cubicle? And having these pricks watching, well that was just funny rather than intimidating… Andy swung a hand over and they high-fived again. `Seriously?’ the Scotsman chuckled. `Good lad. Aye, why not, pals? It’s a good laugh.’ `You won’t be saying that when you lose,’ Henderson pointed out in a voice of mixed authority and playful challenge. The Mackem lad was giving good long strokes to his own dick, and letting his other hand stray idly up and down his defined abs. `Well, someone sounds confident,’ Alex goaded the captain, elbowing Andy playfully, then looking Adam’s way. Lallana alone looked really alarmed by the idea. `What do you say, Ads? Hey, you’re as stiff as me, that must be a yes vote.’ `He’s worried he’ll lose,’ Alisson chortled, half to himself. `I am not,’ Adam insisted, `I’m just not as stupid and young as you cunts… oh, what the fuck… are we really doing this?’ He looked, almost with a pleading expression, to the captain, but Jordan actually looked far more interested than Alex would have guessed. They really were all just so hyped up on testosterone and competitive spirit, it was palpable in here today. Alex gave his hard-on a good squeeze, and looked at the biscuit in Andy’s mitts. `Time to get that thing soggy, then?’ he said challengingly. `How do we do this?’ `We put it in the middle, I guess,’ Andy said. `I’ve not ACTUALLY played this before, I just…’ `Yeah, yeah,’ Hendo called, `this is what counts for PE in Scottish schools, ain’t it? Right, here…’ Taking charge, he seized the sizeable cookie from Robertson, and placed it on the tiled floor between them all, then nodded authoritatively at Adam. `Lock the door will ya, Lallana? This will be fucking funny, but it could look fucking weird to the wrong guy, right?’ Adam obliged quickly and nervously, and Jordan positioned himself squarely in front of the deposited cookie, putting his hand to his nob. The guys joined him one by one, forming an awkwardly tight circle around their target so that elbows jostled, warm flesh brushing as they took their tools in hand and let their eyes dart from the cookie on the floor to each other’s determined expressions. Alex allowed his eyes to wander more, knowing the others would be doing the same, mentally weighing up the cock sizes and states of arousal of each footballer, treating this like a proper game to be played tactically. He was feeling pretty confident as he looked down at the thick sausage in his hand, rock hard and so horny with desire for that girl who’d been touching him up so recently. `Do we start?’ Alisson Becker demanded. His Brazilain voice was loaded with competitive edge as he, the tallest figure in the circle, gestured to his rising erection shamelessly. `Now,’ Jordan Henderson said sharply, and immediately went for it, spitting into his palm and slapping it to his near-full boner that instant. There was a wet noise as the other lads copied, and five spit-smeared palms slicked against five different sized cocks in the silly masculine contest. Alex tensed his sculpted abs, and slapped his right hand to his prick and rested his left on the bottom rung of his six pack as he began to wank, not too urgently, but in long slow strokes that made his cock and balls tingle with the anticipated pleasure. He definitely had this in the bag! He was so pumped with energy, not worn out by training like the others, and just so fucking horned up by the long slow physio session before this. It felt great to touch his dick properly, even if it was weird doing it so intensely close to the others: Andy’s jerking pale arm brushing his own to the right, and his left bicep slapping a bit against Alisson’s machinery-like strokes. Opposite him, both Henderson and Lallana were going for it in their different ways. Jordan was intense and focused looking just like on the pitch, pulling his prick in really regular strokes. He was definitely not the most hung of them, but his balls were huge, Alex could not help but note. Next to him, Adam was more frantic, that nervy edge clear in his approach, though shyness clearly forgotten: he was pulling on his prick with real force and seemed to be biting his lip so hard he would surely draw blood. The perfect muscles of his torso were each tensed up and flexing as he jerked. And his cock was actually quite impressive, Alex noted with some resentment, looking longer and thicker than their captain’s, easily compared side by side. Alex averted his eyes to briefly compare the other two cocks. Alisson’s was clearly longer than Adam’s, though not necessarily thicker. It was a big tool and a half-familiar sight, since Alex had sat around pissing himself at the big Brazilian’s sex tape just like the others had. And boy was Becker going for it now, red-faced behind the dark frame of his beard, looking close to orgasm already! Shit. And then there was Andy, who surprisingly had maybe the smallest cock here, despite the Scotsman’s ever glowing confidence, but it was still thick and it was already frothing pre-cum from Robertson’s determined, experienced tugs. He had youth on his side. Alex let his eyes wander downward, past his own caramel-coloured shaft of sex muscle, to the cookie on the floor between their tensed toes, and for the first time contemplated the grisly punishment for losing this game: shitting hell, what did lads’ cum even taste of? The pressure began to get to him. His cock, so sensitive moments ago, felt almost numbed by the intensity of the situation, and as he quickened and tightened his strokes, it just wasn’t quite responding. Either just the sudden competition of it, or the sounds and sight of his cock-tugging mersin escort bayan companions, was really starting to get to him. His eyes flicked anxiously back amongst his rivals and to the cookie again, and then to his own dick. He just wanted to shoot now, but he felt… dry. True to his boasts, it was Alisson who shot first. It felt extraordinarily quick to Alex, but it was hard to get a good sense of time in this circle of jerking, and perhaps the big goalie was on some extra sex ban from his pissed off supermodel wife! Regardless, Alisson was a noisy cummer: he groaned and panted and stamped one foot, a real beast of a man, as he reached climax, and with hilarious accuracy, spurted his load down between them. It didn’t all hit, but Alex felt his eyes widen fearfully at the gunky streak that smeared their chocolate-chip target. `Good lad!’ Hendo cried out, and from his ragged breath, he sounded close. `Me next!’ Andy said in a delighted whimper of a voice, and Alex looked instantly to his right, catching the reddish blush of the man’s cheeks and neck, spreading over his lightly haired chest, as Robertson reached a less noisy but clearly ecstatic orgasm too. With a long low growl of pleasure, he tugged a last few times on his short thick meat and spunked right onto where Alisson had. Like Becker, his juices speckled the tiles between them, but a good wad of his seed hit the cookie. `Two down,’ panted Alisson, `three to go…’ `Not… for… long…’ Jordan Henderson, eyes squeezed fully shut, sweat trickling down the channels of his muscular lean torso, arms bulging with wiry muscle. `I’m… cumming… Ohhhh.’ And then it was three loads hitting the cookie, and Alex stared from the gooey mess to his remaining competition. His eyes met Lallana’s, and both tightly muscled footballers felt the rush of panic at imminent punishment. Oh god, this was real. Whichever of them was slowest to blow was actually gonna EAT that mess? Alex felt the sweaty grip of Andy playfully getting his shoulders like a boxing coach, growling into his ear. `Come on you big fucking Ox, you can beat him, just do it!’ And opposite, Hendo wrapping a trembling arm about Adam’s powerful shoulder muscles and laughing into his face similar encouragement. Between them, Becker was just fondling his quivering member and laughing contentedly to himself. Fuck, the pressure! But there was something exciting as well as intimidating in it all: the sweaty feel of Andy’s shaking body, the sight of Lallana’s intensity, the manly groans and encouragements around him… Alex could feel sensitivity returning, feel the rising excitement of the massage, feel his balls really tingle, and… `Oh, oh,’ Adam suddenly gasped, `oh shit, mmm… YES…’ And the tight-muscled 31-year-old was cumming, firing off the biggest load yet from his tight bollocks, spunking powerfully over the space between them, and Alex’s jaw dropped in horror, hand tightly grasped to his dick, as thick globs of Lallana’s cum hit the ground, hit his own toes, hit the cookie. Hoots of laughter came from the other three, mingling with the orgasmic moan pouring out of Adam’s gritted teeth. `We have a loser!’ cried Jordan breathlessly. `Andy… buddy… do the honours…’ Okay, so there wasn’t even a pause for Alex to finish, which felt so close. No, Andy’s hands were leaving him and the filthy Scot who had suggested this stupid contest was squatting at his side, letting a hand trail down his thigh and knee for a moment, then snatching the sticky messy biscuit up off the tiled floors, cupped in his palm, and lifting it upwards. Alex looked from it to his close mate, willing him to drop it, but seeing the giddy, seedy delight on Robertson’s face. `Eat it,’ grunted Alisson’s voice sadistically to his left, and he saw the triumphant glare on both Jordan and Adam’s smug fucking lips. `Come on, buddy,’ hissed Andy’s gruff Scottish drawl, `open up…’ Alex slowly parted his lips, still tugging on his cock, as much for comfort now as completion, and felt the crumbling biscuit pushed to his mouth, and then the lukewarm stickiness of it brush his lips and tongue and… oh shit… Andy really forcing the breaking cookie into his mouth and letting his fingers brush Alex’s lips to clean them. More loud whoops of laughter from all four competitors as Oxlade-Chamberlain took the loser’s treat into his gob, chewed, tasted, grimaced, but… Why did losing taste so good? He swallowed part of the mouthful and savoured it in a long moment of confusion, really thinking through what was on his thick tongue, the salty produce of four sweating animalistic fuckers all cackling joyously at him now with their well-honed bodies heaving from the sexual exertion. Alex panted for breath through the mouthful of cum, then… `Missed a spot,’ Adam shot at him through laughter. Alex sneered, lapped out his tongue, and wiped it across his lower lip, then… it was his turn. He would never be able to say what part the taste of the other lads’ cum had in this moment of climax, but as he took the last sticky crumbs from his lip, he shot his own load, which was easily the biggest of the five, and would have given a different loser a real gooey snack. But as it was, he had no target, and he was out of control, and so his own seed spattered the floor and hit both Lallana and Henderson on the shins and feet in a shower of his ecstasy. `Oh god,’ he moaned, through a mouthful of the seedy aftertaste, and found himself leaning on a cackling, whooping Andy Robertson for a moment to recover his balance. `Good lad, good lad,’ the Scotsman grunted at him. A slap on the shoulder from big sweaty Alisson. `A solid effort there, you loser… well done…’ And then to Alex’s giddy surprise, a slippery naked hug from Jordan, leaning their bodies and momentarily their slick wet cocks together, a conciliatory embrace and pat on his broad muscled back before the captain pulled away, chuckling. `Nobody can say you aren’t a good loser, pal � a true gent, aye.’ And then ladtly, Lallana, grabbing his hand in a tight shake and patting his opposite bicep in the same gentlemanly manner. `Jesus… rather you than me, Ox… but how did it fucking taste?’ Was there a hint of curiosity in the older man’s anxious expression there? Alex found he couldn’t really answer � he couldn’t find the words, and he kinda didn’t want to � but he just rubbed his warm hands at his blanched face and let out a long sigh. `Fucking hell,’ he cried out, `I dunno about you lads… but I really need a shower!’ And he brushed nakedly past them for the shower block, and felt a light sting on his backside as he did. He looked over his shoulder at a smirking Andy, who’d clearly launched the playful spank. `Yeah, wash off your shame, dirty boy,’ Robertson teased, and winked. `But me too. Lads?’ And one by one the naked, dick-swinging Liverpool lads made their way into the communal shower, all laughing and on edge, washing away the lingering awkwardness or filth of what they’d just done, each one of the four jubilant that they hadn’t been the loser and taken the dirty forfeit. But in the middle of them, letting the hot spray and soapy shower gel wash the stain of losing away, Alex tilted his head back and just enjoyed the sweet-sour aftertaste in his mouth with a curious and conflicted mind. Losing had never tasted so good.

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