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Scrum Down

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Disclaimer: Hey folks, this story is just a fantasy and I have no evidence that this actually happened, but we can all dream. Happy reading.


Scrum down


Owen placed the ball on the T, [we’re 10 points behind we can’t win this penalty will give us a bonus point at least]. Owen smashed the ball through posts, the final score read France 24-17 England, [first match since the world cup final and we’ve fucked up]. The customary post game handshakes followed, "good game, good game" Owen lied. [Fuck sake, get me home!] Owen led his team down the tunnel to the locker room where they knew Eddie Jones would be waiting to tear into them, not even Owen's status as captain would spare him! 


"That was pathetic gents!" Eddie spat, "two defeats in a row, I don’t think I need to say much else but understand this, if I see more of that shit next week I'll drop the lot of you!" The dressing room sat in a self-loathing silence following Eddie's stinging words, the Australian turned on his heel and left the locker room. After a prolonged moment of reflection Owen stood up. "Lads, that was a disgrace, we were second best everywhere today and I think you've forgotten what the red rose means to you. I think we need to all have our separate space tonight, no team drinks because we have nothing to celebrate. I want you to reflect on what just happened and how we are going to make it right in 6 days time against the old enemy. Tomorrow after training we will all stand up and say what we will do differently for the team in order to win on Saturday. " Owen commanded in his masculine tone. "Understood?!" A murmur of dejected agreement smattered around the locker room. "Ok, hit the showers." He ordered and the team filed off to get cleaned up.


Owen followed them into the showers, a meat market of masculine beefy bodies, with sausages in all different shapes, widths, lengths and colours. There was also plenty of veg on show, cauliflower ears aplenty and of course the asset that every half decent rugby owned a big peachy bum.


It was fascinating to Owen, he wasn't in the scrum but of course at the breakdown there were many situations where hands would be in close personal places, you had to see who was packing. His teammate Mauro Itoje, that boy was just scary, not only was he huge but his tackle had to be 9.5 inches or more. New boy Tom Curry looked like he himself had around 8.5-9 inches and the list went on. Owen's own 7.5 inches was more than a decent show! Lathered up with soap the showers were a perfect blend of silky smooth skin hosting bushes of manly hair patches and colossal muscles. 


Clean, the players filtered back to the hotel, their ears still ringing with the verbal tirades from Eddy and Owen. Owen himself felt overwhelming guilt, he too had knocked-on twice uncharacteristically, the pressure of being the captain was a heavy burden to bear but he wouldn't give it up for the world.


Mauro Itoje approached Owen, "what are you doing tonight Faz?" He asked. "I'm gonna go and chill in my room I think, have a good think about today." Owen replied bluntly. "Ok Faz, don't blame yourself, we weren't good enough as a team, remember that! Later." Mauro threw his bag over his shoulder and left Owen in the locker room.


Owen got to the hotel and threw his bag inside his room, [Ok what's the plan, low key drinks somewhere, I'm England rugby captain, where the fuck is low key.  Ok, Google maps and let's go two bars over, hopefully none of the boys have had the same idea.]


Owen stepped into the bar and had a look around, [no familiar faces, result, I could murder a pint of bitter, I'm in a bar in Paris let's not embarrass ourselves now.] He sat down at a table in the corner and a server came over. He ordered a small Kronenbourg, [let's keep this classy.]


Owen relived the game in his head each stage of what went wrong. Scotland next week, [there's no way we can perform like that.] His phone buzzed with a message from George Ford, ["Where are you Faz? needed a post game chat."] ["Having a quiet think to myself, let's chat over breakfast."] He replied.


Glass nearly empty his server approached him again, "yeah one more please." Owen signalled "And what are you doing here?" A tall slim olive-skinned man with neat yet impish facial hair stood above him pulling out a seat and inviting himself to sit down. "Ahh, fuck off Romain, I'm not in the mood for your shit." Owen spat. "Don't be a sore loser." The French fly-half replied "you win some you lose some." Owen rolled his eyes and sighed, "would you like a drink?" He asked unconvincingly. "Yes thank you, I will have some red wine."


"Before you get all angry again, let me just say this, I respect you Owen, you're the best in the business and I hope to become as good as you. And also, ALLEZ FRANCAIS!" Romain smiled, giving Owen's shoulder a squeeze. Owen clenched a fist, [fuck sake this is what I used to be like when I was 21.] "Romain you’re a talented young man, but you'll never be as good as me!" Owen grinned, his gloom lightening. "So in four years time I will be losing a world cup final." Romain teased sipping his glass of wine smugly, "Yes, that's right you will be losing a world cup final when I lead England to victory in Paris and go down in history." Owen laughed, Romain chuckled and raised his glass for a cheers which Owen acknowledged. 


The server came round again, "same again?" "Nah, a bottle of the red please and another glass." Owen asked. "Ahh, who knew Northern English men were so cultured." Romain teased, "Cultured, Romain next time you're in England I will take you out and we can have a few pints of bitter, that'll put some hairs on your chest." Owen laughed. They continued to drink, goading each other no-holds-barred.


“You know what Romain, I like your spirit, you’re a dick but in a good way.” Owen grinned, Romain raised his glass, “exactly how you are, no?” Romain smiled, “yes, exactly. And with that I think it's time I head back and get some rest." Owen announced, "that sounds like a good idea, I'm just going to use the toilet." Romain smiled, "also a good idea" Owen agreed and left some money on the table following Romain to the toilet.


Owen unzipped his fly, pulled his cock through and grunted as a clear stream of piss flowed from him. Owen had taken on a lot of fluid to stay hydrated for the game and then again drinking plenty of beer and wine he was in front of his bowl for more than a minute. Romain had finished within 15 seconds but he stayed in front of his bowl eyes glancing towards Owen and watching the Englishman relieve himself.


They stepped away to wash their hands, "you finished quick there lad." Owen smirked, "Yeah, I was texting." Romain lied, "ahh, and did you see something good on your phone?" Owen replied. "Nah, just a message from friends." "You liar, I saw you having a look French boy. Now get in the cubicle." Owen demanded, Romain looked dumbfounded as Owen guided him towards the cubicle, Owen followed him in and locked the door behind him.


"Sit down." Owen commanded, Romain closed the lid and sat down facing Owen, the English fly-half buttoned his fly again and took out his cock. Uncut, veiny and flaccid Owen's 7.5 inches hung in front of Romain's eyes, the French boy watched it hanging as Owen's cock stared straight back at him. "Suck it." Owen demanded, Romain looked up at Owen with a flicker of fear in his eyes, [what if I'm shit at this?] he thought. Tongue out Romain made contact with Owen's head which instantly pulsed into action. Owen could feel the blood rushing from his body all to one place where his cock began to stiffen. Romain closed his mouth around Owen's head and gently sucked on Owen's bellend, he could taste droplets of Owen's piss leftover from his earlier attempt to relieve himself and Romain liked it. His heart hammering inside his chest Romain proceeded down Owen's shaft and back up, the England star closed his eyes and threw his head back as his semi grew to a full on boner.


Silently the Frenchman’s tongue slithered around Owen’s hard cock, the northerner took a handful of Romain’s hair pulling him further down onto this cock. Romain did his best to stay quiet but the thickness of Owen’s cock pressing deep inside his mouth caused him to gag, he pulled off with a tear rolling down his cheek. They heard the toilet door open and someone pull down their flies, gasping loudly the sound of urine hitting the toilet bowl echoed around the walls. Owen jerked himself slowly to keep himself hard but once Romain heard the stranger relieving himself, the Toulouse star swallowed Owen’s cock again and this time he was able to get even closer to the base where his hands had begun stroking Owen’s balls.


“Yeahhhhh” Owen murmured, stroking Romain’s dark hair as the Frenchman pleasured him. Owen could feel his balls tightening in Romain’s hands as Owen’s bellend pushed deep into Romain’s mouth. The bathroom door banged and either someone else walked into the bathroom or the stranger walked out, it didn’t matter to Owen he just tried to remain as quiet as possible exploring the deepest parts of Romain’s throat.


Clenching his fist around a handful of Romain’s hair Owen pulled the Frenchman down to his crotch. Romain loved the taste of Owen’s thick meat blocking the air in his throat, salivating his tongue licked Owen clean. Owen released Romain’s hair and tapped him on the head gently, the Englishman’s balls rose up and began to squeeze his jizz through his thick shaft. Salty jizz fired deep into Romain’s throat, surprised the Frenchman pulled back only to receive more shots of Owen’s warm cum splattering across his face and chin. The English fly-half exhaled heavily leaning on the side of the cubicle as his orgasm subsided. His swollen head began to shrink and he relaxed. Romain looked up at him, a mixture of shock and satisfaction in his eyes, Owen’s cum plastered across his face and caught within his moustache.


Owen took his phone out of his pocket and typed on the screen, [“Meet you outside.”] then reaching beyond Romain he flushed the toilet and slipped out of the cubicle, “clear.” he announced clearing his throat before leaving the bathroom. Romain took his own phone out and looked at the selfie screen to mop up the cum decorating his face.


The cold dark night sweeping in, Owen stood out in front of the bar on his phone reading stories of the day. Romain approached, “Hello you.” he smiled, Owen looked up smiling back at the Frenchman. “That was a surprise.” Romain grinned. “Definitely improved my day.” Owen beamed back. “And don’t worry, I’ve got your number.” Owen winked turning on his heel and striding away back to his hotel. Romain gaped, watching the England captain’s silhouette disappear into the distance. Smiling, Romain took out his phone and ordered himself an uber home.




Thank you for reading, I really hope you enjoy the story. If you have any thoughts, comments or suggestions about this story or any other scenarios drop me a line on 

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