The Squad - Sex Stories

The Squad

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1: Angelica

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“Come and meet my boyfriend; he will give you a tour, and you can get to meet the team.”

Stefan needed no encouragement; he has been a rugby union fan since childhood, a club supporter, and is a regular at home games.

I took a lot of care with my outfit.

After the hot time in the caravan with Kirsten, I could not be sure whether sex was on the menu. I might meet club officials and, heaven forbid, their wives, so my outerwear could not be tarty in any way.

I started with a full-length, open-crotch bodystocking with shoulder straps, fishnet legs, and a mesh see-through panel set down my front—no bra and no knickers.

My boobs were free but restrained from obvious swinging as I walked. If Kirsten had sex in mind, once I had stripped down to this, my body was ready for anything.

Sexy underneath, with carefully chosen outerwear of a black skirt with a side slit, complemented with a black satin blouse. The final touch: my favourite black suede boots.

Just right—sexy, not tarty, but not prudish either.

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Stefan drove our car through the entrance gate to the rugby team’s ground, exactly at the time Kirsten had told us to arrive.

I scanned the empty car park.

“There she is!”

I pointed to her for Stefan, and he drove across, parking in a slot next to where Kirsten stood.

On the tarmac, I embraced her in a tight hug, with a fairly quick touching of our lips. Her taste and smell were still familiar to me from our lovemaking ...

... in her caravan. Stefan walked around the car and followed my example with a hug, but his kiss lingered, and I was sure their tongues were linked in her mouth. Perhaps I was a bit jealous, and I regretted not giving her a sloppy wet kiss when I had the chance.

We walked into the adjacent building and entered a neat reception area. I thought stadia were supposed to be quite basic, but this seemed like any front office.

In the centre of the room stood a man—a very tall man, an exceedingly handsome man. His short-sleeved shirt showed off bulging muscles that rippled as he extended his hand in greeting.

"Guys, this is my boyfriend, Jules.”

He smiled and shook hands with Stefan. Then he turned to me. His jet-black eyes bored into mine, and I felt my knees turn to jelly. Then he took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips, a gentle wetness brushing my skin. I looked up at him and saw that my pale flesh looked incredibly delicate against his dark skin, completely encased in his huge hand.

Stefan interrupted my reverie. “Jules is one of our prop forwards.”

"Indeed, I am, ma’am.”

“Are you American, Jules? I didn’t think rugger is a big sport in the US.”

“No, I’m Canadian, from Winnipeg. My parents moved to the UK when I was twelve, and I took up rugby as the closest thing to American football I could play here. And now I am playing for a Premiership team.”

Kirsten interrupted him.

“Jules will look after you, Angelica, while I take Stefan for a special ...