Gavin had his head buried in his kit bag so no one picked up his slight blush. Alex only glared at Rob, daring him to say something. A younger voice piped up from the other end of the changing room, ‘From my place, I did see a woman in a red dress strutting out of his flat. Didn’t see her face but she looked vaguely familiar from behind. Hot too.’ Another voice groaned quietly, ‘What is it about scrum halves that made them so bloody irritating? If it isn’t Alex on a wind-up, it’s Damo the fucking kid. Why won’t he shut the fuck up?’ Damian giggled on regardless, ‘I’d so do her, on her hands and knees, so it didn’t matter what her face looked like.’ Rob wasn’t expecting the flash of anger he experienced. He wanted to keep Sian to himself, how dare Damian! To cover his feelings, he turned his back to the rest of the players and towelled himself off. He’d awoken that morning still confused by Sian’s exit, unsure what to do next and embarrassed by his behaviour. Should he call her again. You feel the warmth of his lips as they fall into your neck. His chest. Pressing down your swelling breasts. His heavy chest slides slowly across your breasts. Stretching your hard nipples. The steel buttons. The hard tight seams. They scrape against your side and then roll slowly across your stomach. In a moment he has you in his arms. Holding you tightly. Your breasts press into his chest. Your nipples ache with pleasure as they slide against his chest. And you can feel those buttons. And you imagine what’s behind them. It presses into your mound as he locks his legs around your body. Entwined together you both roll all the way over. Once, maybe twice. Then you settle at the bottom of the hill. And the warm deep mud slowly oozes up all around you as you slowly sink into it. You are laughing. Your whole soul laughs. The mud is so soft and so warm. The air is heavy and scented with the fragrance of tuberous, shaken by the rain. The sounds of birds fill the forest all around you. And.
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