The Squad - Sex Stories

The Squad

... treat.”

She took his hand, and the two of them disappeared through a side door.

“We are going upstairs, my angel.”

I smiled inside; this man was something special.

On the upper floor, we walked through a double door and entered a large room, one side of which was glazed roof to floor. Jules led me over, and I gasped as the view unfolded. We were above the goalposts at one end of the stadium, with a perfect view of the pitch. The main stand was to our right; a low, covered standing area along the left side; and a big seated stand at the far end.

“Oh, wow, Jules, this is incredible.”

“This is the members’ lounge and bar, always full on match days. Today it’s as quiet as a church.”

He pointed to one of a line of sofas just behind us.

“Please sit down.”

I sank into the soft leather. Jules sat on the adjacent cushion, then turned to face me and, for the second time, took my hand in his.

“You are very beautiful, my angel.”

I was locked into his eyes. No man had ever called me Angel, let alone the possessive 'My Angel'.

"Please, can I kiss you just once?"

How could I resist?

“Yes, Jules, just once.”

We moved closer, with his head tilted down and mine tilted back. His lips touched mine, and it was as if an electric bolt coursed through my body. His odour enveloped me, and I pushed my tongue out, just enough to slip between his lips. Jules needed no more encouragement, and his tongue pushed deep into my mouth in response. His great hand ...

... wrapped across my back. pulling me tight against him.

I was lost in lust, my hand pressed into his thigh, circling, feeling his muscular frame beneath his clothes.

The once-only kiss went on and on until he released his grip on me and backed away.

“Angel, we have to break for a while. My teammates are coming to meet you very soon.”

I sat up, just before a raucous group of men came barging in the same doors we had used before.

There was a mix of skin colours and voice accents, but there was one common theme. Every one of them was very muscular.

“Hi everyone, come and meet Angel.”

I stood and shook hands with each man, and I received a peck on the cheek in return. Jules pointed out each in turn and told me their names and playing positions. Two stood out; Billy, the second tallest after Jules, was the other prop forward. Étienne, who was very stocky and quite a bit shorter than the two props, was the hooker.

“Billy is from South Africa; he has played for the ‘Boks. Étienne is naturalised French now, but his family still lives in Senegal. We call him Hosepipe.”

“Why Hosepipe.”

“We are an international team, but in the tradition of British sport, everyone on the team has a nickname. Billy is Bok, I am Winnie, and Hosepipe is, well, just a crude dressing room joke.”

Jules took my hand and pulled me up.

“Come to the bar; I’ll buy you a drink.”

One of the team members acted as the barman; most chose soft drinks. I was surprised at this.

“I ...