This story contains mature content, adult themes and nudity. If you object to any of this, or it is illegal for you to read such things under the law of the country you are in, then read no further. Ben would like me to remind you that this story is based on a fictionalised version of Ben and his life really isn't this interesting! Any resemblance to any other person past or present is purely coincidental.

After the disaster of last year, Ben aims a quiet Christmas cooking lunch for his best friend and his best friend's sister's boyfriend, Keiran. All was going adequately until Keiran suggested they try out his new Rugby ball... (for those who don't know, Rugby is like American Football without the full body armour suit...)

The Adventures of Ben Bronx: Feel My Tackle

With the ‘events’ of last Christmas still fresh in his head, Ben decided to accept the offer from Reece to spend the Christmas day at his. It had absolutely nothing to do with Reece's younger sister's boyfriend— soon to be husband—Keiran. He was a very keen Rugby player, tall and nicely proportioned. He wore nice gear that always seemed half a size too small. It was a package that made Ben drool, and not only from his mouth.

There was the bonus of spending time in the company of Reece to boot. While Ben was secretly glad to be invited, and surprised he actually accepted, he strongly suspected the invite was down to Reece's parents going away for a romantic break in Funchal and himself being a more than competent cook.

He blinked his sleepy eyes, disappointed he did not get his eight hours of sleep last night, mainly due to waking early in the morning drenched in sweat and with a wet patch spreading across the front of his boxers. The dream of Reece and Keiran spit-roasting him on the dining table had been far too realistic for his own good. Still, the way things had been going over the last few months he wouldn't be surprised if fate somehow contrived it to happen.

As his cock twitched violently at the very thought, he tried to think of something else. He looked over the array of vegetables, meats and assorted kitchen utensils. They were all neatly arranged in order of required use.

“Ben? Before you start, Keiran has something to give you,” Reece shouted from the living room, disrupting Ben's meticulous planning.

“Yes?” Ben answered, triple checking his colour coordinated chopping boards were in the correct place, trying to not think about what he would like Keiran to give him.

“We just wanted to say thanks for doing the cooking today.” Keiren gave Ben a cheeky smile and offered him a present. Ben took it and started to unwrap it at a safe distance from his workspace so as not to contaminate his perfectly scraped carrots with the glitter.

Once the box was fully open, his heart sunk; it was an apron. Knowing Reece's dirty mind and Keiran’s rugby antics, he fully expected it to be something obscene that he would be forced to wear. Maybe one of those aprons that makes you look naked. Or maybe worse! Ben's mind started running through any number of humiliating apron garbs.

He finally unfurled it with trepidation, expecting a huge phallus or some innuendo about stuffing or the like. He breathed a sigh of relief that it just said ‘Commander in Chef'. An entirely acceptable and not embarrassing item at all.

“Okay, get stripped and we can put it on you,” ventured Keiran with a saucy grin.

“Keiran!” spluttered Reece, taken aback at his sister's boyfriend's suggestion.

“What? Isn't the naked chef a thing?” Kieran retorted with a grin. “Okay, fair enough. I'm just trying to fit in hanging with the gays today. I know what filth comes out of your mouth, Reece!”

Reece laughed and said, “Yeah, fair point! Guilty. Don't worry Ben, we're not going to strip you naked and make you cook in just an apron!”

Ben felt a wave of relief flood across his body—along with just a fleeting hint of disappointment. The emotions vanished as Reece started to put the apron on him. Once it was over his head Reece reached around Ben's waist from behind to wrap the cords around. As Reece pulled them tight, Ben was caught off balance and took a half step backwards, causing his arse to rub against Reece's groin. Ben went beet red but Reece carried on, seemingly unaware or unphased by the intimate connection.

“There you go, we now have a wipe clean Ben!” Reece laughed.

“Haha, well, except for his face. Or is that wipe clean too?” Keiran joked.

“Keiran!” Reece gasped, genuinely shocked. “No more sherry for you for a while!”

“Oh, that's me told! Sorry, big brother!”

Reece rolled his eyes and ushered Kieran away, much to Ben's relief. He was now four minutes behind schedule and forced to deal with a raging hard-on.

*  *  *

Ben pushed the final roast potato around his plate, collecting up the final dribbles of gravy. His eyes were bigger than both his belly and his extremely hard cock. It had been like that all meal, as he tried not to stare too much at Kieran sitting directly opposite. It wasn't helping that Reece was sat next to Kieran, meaning that everything in his field of view was eye candy. He wished Reece’s sister was here to take his mind off them, but she was having Christmas lunch at the old folks’ home where she worked. They were saving the majority of the present opening for later when she got back.

“This is really good, Ben!” enthused Keiran. “I love the stuffing. Do you like stuffing, Ben?” he asked, keeping an immaculate straight face.

“Ummm, haha . . . yes, I guess . . .” Ben replied, feeling more embarrassed than he should at the question. He cut the potato in half, stabbed it with a fork and started lifting it to his mouth. He stopped dead when he felt something unexpectedly brush across his leg. He dismissed it and continued to raise the perfectly crispy spud towards its destination.

His body shivered uncontrollably as he felt something run all the way up his leg and rest on his crotch. He felt it push against his already hard penis. His eyes opened wide as it moved up and down his cock. A quick glance under the table cloth revealed a white sock massaging his now badly-concealed package.

He shot a look at Reece to try to get him to stop but Reece just mouthed “What?’ back at him. Ben was tempted to get up and run but he was afraid the bulge in his jeans would be too obvious. Noticing that Reece had finished his food, he quickly formulated an alternate plan.

‘Um, Reece . . . could you check on the Christmas Pudding, please?” Ben asked, straining for a nonchalant voice. “I've not quite finished my food.”

Reece nodded and got up. For a moment, Ben's brain couldn't quite compute what was happening. Reece was clearly walking to the oven but his foot was still massaging Ben's crotch. He glanced across the table to see a sly grin on Keiran's face.

Ben's mouth dropped open when he finally put two and two together. It was all too much; he tensed involuntarily and then felt his cock explode. How mortifying! Luckily, he had had a wank earlier that morning, so the damage was not as bad as it could have been. All the same, he felt dampness spreading.

The offending foot pushed firmly one last time into his crotch and then disappeared. Ben quickly grabbed his napkin and discretely slipped it between his boxers and jeans to try to avoid any outwards sign of what had just happened.

Reece called out from the kitchen, “I think it's ready, Ben!”

Keiran still had a wicked look on his face. He winked at Ben and said, “Oh, good! I like mine with lots of cream, Ben. Lots and lots of cream. Absolutely dripping . . .”

Ben blushed deeply and croaked, “Um, I will be right there, Reece.”

*  *  *

As they sat in the living room, exchanging gifts, Ben sat in the armchair. It was his preferred seat in company; eliminating any chance of accidental body contact.

He was still pondering what had happened at the dinner table. He had had to make a difficult decision about his sodden boxers. In the end he slipped them off while in the bathroom and put them in the kitchen bin underneath the dinner detritus. He was a little sad to lose his Nike boxer briefs, but there was no alternative. He briefly considered going to Reece's room and borrowing a pair of his underwear, but that would have been wrong, not to mention leaving him permanently excited.

“Hope you like these!” Reece said as he handed Ben his final present. Unsure of what fresh hell Reece had got for him this time, Ben slowly unwrapped it. His fears were confirmed as a very pink pair of Andrew Christian briefs was revealed, seemingly designed to make his junk as prominent as possible. He laughed to cover his embarrassment.

“I'm sure you'll look great in them!” enthused Reece.

“Haha. Probably not!” Ben replied.

“Well, I'm sure you'll give me a look when you wear them to work so I can make my own mind up.”

“Haha. No.”

“Benjamin!” Reece chided, “Just the waistband then.”

“Maybe,” Ben replied in his usual noncommittal fashion.

“Good,” Reece responded, knowing full well that ‘maybe’ actually meant ‘not no’ in ‘Ben speak’.

Keiran had done particularly well with a new rugby ball, a hot pair of Jordans and new jeans. He smiled and handed Reece a plain A5 size envelope. Reece opened it, expecting a voucher or something similar, but it was nothing of the sort. A big goofy grin spread across his face.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “I'm going to be an uncle?!” He rushed over to Keiran and gave him a big hug. “Congratulations!” he enthused. Ben started to get nervous that this might turn into a hugging orgy.

Much to Ben’s horror, a moment later Reece did indeed declare, “Group hug!”

*  *  *

It was still early afternoon and, due to the Christmas spirit and food, everyone was slightly tired. Everyone except Keiran. He sat in the chair restlessly spinning his Rugby ball on his finger.

“Let's go throw some ball, Reece!” he ventured enthusiastically.

“Oh, fuck off,” Reece answered, wanting nothing more than to peacefully doze off to “Temple of Doom.”

“Fine! Ben?”

Ben hesitated. Had it not been for the small amount of alcohol he had allowed himself the answer would have been a definite no, but he was curious about what had happened earlier. Maybe he could get some answers. It was a mild, grey, Christmas day and maybe some fresh air would do him good.

“Maybe . . .?” answered Ben.

“Yes!” Keiran replied, seemingly already having deciphered ‘Ben speak.’ "Okay, let's go to the playing field around the corner!”

Keiran was already up and out of his seat. Reece laughed, “Have fun, kids!”

Ben followed him to the front door but Keiran was already outside. “Hurry up, Ben!” he called impatiently. Ben looked to where he had left his black Yeezys but they were gone. Nowhere to be seen. Keiran's white Ultraboosts were still there. They were quite battered but still far too white for Ben to be wearing in public.

He picked them up and peered inside; UK 12. It seems fate had decided he was going to wear them. He checked no-one was watching and brought one of the expensive trainers up to his face, inhaling deeply. Satisfied with his risky endeavour, he sighed with pleasure and donned Keiran's Adidas.

When he finally got outside, Ben saw that Keiran, who was already out of the gate, was wearing his black Yeezys; that mystery solved. “Last one there is a loser!” he shouted before setting off at a canter. Ben did not follow suit; he was already well aware of what he was.

When he arrived at the field, just a one-minute walk at his swift pace, he found Keiran standing there waiting. The sight of such a fit guy wearing his Yeezys gave Ben a small thrill. It was all he could do to keep from getting another hard-on.

“What kept you, dude?” asked Keiran, barely having broken a sweat from his sprint. “Catch!”

Ben barely had time to process the horror at being called ‘dude’ as the ball sailed through the air towards him. Much to his surprise, he caught it perfectly.

“Woo! He's a natural!” hollered Keiran. “Throw it back, dude.”

Ben considered asking Keiran to refrain from calling him dude, as it did not seem seemly, considering Kieran was fifteen years his junior. But the time to object had now passed. It would be awkward. Well, more awkward than just accepting it for the time being. He threw the ball back adequately.

“Nice! Have you done this before?” Kieran asked. “You should join a team!”

The thought of being manhandled and grappled by a number of younger people, being pushed into the mud and trampled on made his cock twitch, instantly confirming why it would be an entirely bad idea.

They continued to throw it back and forth until Ben fumbled one. In an effort to recover he stepped to the side, resulting in a loud splat. He looked down in horror as Keiran's formerly white Adidas were now distinctly brown. Spots of mud flecked the bottom half of his jeans too.

“Oh Ben!” Kieran said with a look of mock horror, “You've fucked my trainers!”

“Um, haha, yes, sorry, I just, well . . . and then . . . well . . .”

“Don't worry, but I'll be wearing yours home now.” He glanced down at Ben’s Yeezys on his feet, then favoured him with a mischievous wink. “Actually, let's play a game! You run at me with the ball, and if you get past me and score a ‘try’ I'll give you a treat.”

“Oh?” Ben said, his interest piqued.

“Yes, something like, I don't know . . . a blow job?” Keiran replied matter-of-factly.

If Ben had false teeth, at that moment they would have been stuck in the muddy field, such was his surprise.

“I'll give you three goes,” Kieran called out, “and if you fail you can do something for me, okay?”

“Umm . . . well . . . ummm . . .” Ben stammered, quite taken aback by events. “Maybe . . .?”

“Great! I'll get ready!”

Ben watched as Keiran strode over to a nearby branch and stripped off his red checked Fred Perry shirt. He then kicked off ‘his’ Yeezys and unbuttoned his jeans.

Ben inhaled sharply at the sight of this young fit sportsman standing only in a pair of short, tight Adidas boxer briefs and white socks. He piled the clothes up on the bench neatly and slipped the Yeezys back on.

“She'd kill me if I got those clothes muddy!” Kieran explained cheerfully as a way of justifying the impromptu striptease. “I'm always getting muddy . . . Now you, Ben.”

Ben approached the bench and slowly unzipped his jacket, folded it, and carefully placed it on the bench. He stood there for a moment before deciding any further removal of clothes would be wholly inappropriate. No-one needed to see that.

“Really?” laughed Keiran. “Okay . . . You're weird, you know.”

Ben marvelled at the balls of someone to say that to him when it was that someone standing in just his boxers in a muddy field on Christmas day. But he did have a point.

“Haha. Yeh, I am,” Ben conceded; he knew what he was.

Keiran rolled his eyes. “You shouldn’t do yourself down at every opportunity, Ben. You’re fairly intelligent, kinda funny and not too bad looking.”

“Haha. Thanks,” Ben replied, appreciating the last backhanded compliment.

Keiran smiled that his deliberately understated compliment had been accepted in the spirit intended.

“Right then!” Keiran exclaimed, running to a point equidistant from the halfway line and goal line. “You start five metres away, and all you have to do is get past me, run to the goal line and touch down the ball on the other side.”

He threw the ball towards Ben who once again surprised himself by catching it. Keiran slapped his bare thighs with his hands and crouched slightly in anticipation.

Ben still wasn't sure this was a good idea but his throbbing cock was getting the better of him. He just couldn't get the thought of Keiran chowing down on his member out of his head. Either of them.

Ben started running towards Kieran, his feet occasionally splashing in muddy areas, splattering his jeans. He zigged towards Keiran's right and then zagged back.

Keiran was ready for the dummy and effortlessly grabbed Ben around his waist. He lifted him high in the air taking Ben's breath away in surprise.

“Woo! One to me!” he exclaimed excitedly. Ben was all in a tizzy as he felt Keiran's breath against his crotch, such was the position they were in.

Ben felt himself being lowered gently to the ground. Once his feet touched down Keiren spun him around and slapped his arse.

“Off you go, back to the start!”

Ben's head was spinning at Kieran’s intimacy. It was entirely unexpected but hot, even if it was in public! At this point he didn't mind if it ended up him sucking off Keiran or the other way around. Although the thought of Keiran kneeling in the mud, lips sliding up and down his cock was very appealing. He checked himself; he couldn't believe he was fantasising about doing something like that in public.

On the second attempt he repeated the zig zag but feigned a third move. Keiran was wise to the attempt and once again scooped him up. Another pat on the arse and Ben was on his way back to the starting position.

Ben pondered for a moment, trying to think of a method to get round this mostly naked hunk of a man. He concluded it wasn't possible, it was a fool's errand. Ben contemplated the irony that it was entirely the sort of errand he should excel at.

“Come on, Ben! Do your worst!”

Keiran watched as Ben started his third approach but was surprised when he stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes narrowed as Ben started to wave.

“Oh! Hi, Reece!” called out Ben.

“Wha . . .?!” Keiran spluttered, spinning around, worried his plans were about to be wrecked. He looked around, confused that Reece was nowhere in sight. In fact, the only spectator was a slightly sleepy squirrel.

“Haha!” gurgled Ben as he shot past the distracted Keiran. He couldn't believe the oldest trick in the book had worked. He ran towards the goal line, spraying up mud as he went. He was almost there, mere metres from the dream of seeing his hot rugby crush gagging on his man sausage become a glorious reality.

He felt the jolt long before he realised that arms had wrapped around his waist. He yelped as he started to fall forward, caught off balance by Keiran's tackle. Just inches from the line Ben crumpled into the mud, the ball bouncing away harmlessly. He felt the cold wetness soaking into his jeans and polo shirt, half of his face and hair covered too as he lay in the mud. Had a chalk line been drawn around him it would have looked like a murder scene. Part of him wished he still had the apron on from earlier, that he was still ‘wipe clean’, that he wouldn't suffer the ignominy of having to face Reece like this. But part of him was in heaven. He was a filthy pig at heart. He wiggled his toes in the mud, taking advantage of one of Kieran’s Adidas coming loose; his white socks were already ruined.

“Unlucky, Ben! So close too,” crowed Kieran.

Ben felt Kieran’s body weight shift as he leaned forward. Soon, Kieran's breath was tickling his ear.

“So, about that little favour . . . you know my girlfriend is pregnant which means I'm not getting my cock away for months. You're the solution. You'll be on call to be bred whenever I need it. And I need it a lot, Ben. At least you can't get pregnant, eh dude?”

Ben realised he should have asked what would be expected of him before the game started. He began to protest but Keiran cut him off.

“Shhh, now. I know you, Ben. I've seen your OnlyFans page.”

Ben froze in horror at the revelation. He consoled himself that at least Kieran wouldn't have seen the full content. Only subscribers could access that.

As if he’d read Ben’s mind, Kieran smirked, “Yes, I subscribed. You really are a filthy little show-off at heart, aren’t you? Playing with yourself, wanking yourself off on camera.”

Ben started to panic at his fantasy life and real life colliding. A moment later, his panic turned to a cold sweat when he remembered a certain post. Before he could worry further Keiran flipped him over ensuring he would go home utterly caked in mud. He knew Reece wouldn't miss the opportunity to have fun with him. He would probably have to strip outside and be hosed down with cold water.

He was brought back into the here and now when he felt the button pop on his jeans. Within seconds the zip was down and his raging boner was pointing to the sky, drooling.

“And then I saw this post,” Kieran continued. “Of a Rugby player no less. Captioned ‘Hot!’ The face was blurred out but I knew it was me—you took the photo from my Facebook page.”

Ben bit his lip; he had been rumbled! He looked up briefly at the wicked smirk on Keiran's face, mortified. His eyes dropped to the bare, muscular muddy chest in front of him and lingered there, taking in his black Yeezys behind, almost unrecognisable with the amount of mud that now coated them, before finally resting on Kieran’s huge bulge straining to escape.

He didn't have to imagine what lay behind the fabric for very long as Keiran released his monster from the strained confines of his boxers. Ben gulped at the sheer scale of it. Kieran grabbed some mud and smeared it up and down his shaft. Ben was utterly transfixed, and without warning spontaneously came. The copious amount of cum splattered on his bare groin and muddy polo.

“Oh, Ben, you're such a filthy pig.”

“Fuck!” Ben replied, ashamed, as the last of his orgasm dribbled down his shaft. He flinched when Keiran scooped up the fresh cum and added it to the muddy coating of his own cock.

The dawning realisation his cum would be back in his body before long was confirmed for Ben by a sharp tug on his jeans, exposing his buttocks. They sank into the mud briefly before he was flipped over by Keiran.

“But for the next six months,” Kieran said with a grin, “you're my filthy pig. Just a pathetic cum dump.”

“Fuck!” squealed Ben as he felt Keiran's powerful member push against his quivering hole.

As Ben's face was pushed deeper into the mud and his body surrendered utterly to Keiran's powerful meat-pole, the sound of sleigh bells could be heard. A bearded man resplendent in a red suit flew above the muddy tableau with a satisfied smile.

“Ho ho ho!” he exclaimed heartily, “I ensure good boys always get what they want, and you, my boy, are the goodest boy around. Merry Christmas, Ben!” He smiled down broadly. “And Merry Christmas to one and all!” he exclaimed to no-one in particular.

With that he cracked the reins on the sleigh and started to pull the reindeer around.

“Right boys, time to go home,” he cackled. “There's a cheeky elf with my name on it waiting! And if there's one thing I deliver better than anything else, it's the gift of hot Santa cock! Woof!”

As the magical sleigh sailed off in the distance, spewing a cascade of virgin snow behind it, the sound of bells receded, leaving just the nonsensical gurgling from Ben hanging in the winter air as he received his own special Christmas delivery.


The Adventures of Ben Bronx: Feel My Tackle by sneaked666
Edited by sz1415sneakers

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