It’s Just Not Cricket Pt. 06

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G’day everyone! We’re up to our sixth year of backyard cricket already, but if you somehow don’t know what’s going on yet, here’s the backstory. I’m Tim, early 30’s, tall fella in fairly good shape for a dad of two, in my humble opinion. Every year around Christmas I head home to see my parents and their neighbours. My dad, Ross, is an ex-firefighter and still does a bit of bodybuilding, so he’s a big unit, heaps stronger than me and my mates. Living next door to dad and mum is Charlie and Kath Stone, and their son Andy comes home each year with his brood. It’s funny, Andy, with his dark hair and muscles, looks more like my dad than I do, and Charlie’s red hair and beard made us look more alike. I don’t think there were any shenanigans or a mix-up at the hospital, but you never know. On the other side of mum and dad are the Stones, and there’s no mistaking Noel Cooper as the son of Glenn. Both blokes have a great, if slightly dopey, disposition, and a shock of blonde hair that sticks out the top of their heads at all angles.

Now, we’re all happily married men with loving families, but as often happens after a few years of marriage, the sex life has dried up, and that can make a man expand his interests. So about six years ago, while the wives and kids were out, we played a game of backyard cricket that turned into something a little more sexual. Actually a lot more sexual. Actually, every year now we set a day in December and us blokes just root each other like rabbits. We still call it backyard cricket, but it’s a lot more backdoor than backyard, if you get my drift.

Most years around Christmas holidays we all get together- me and my wife and kids, my parents, the neighbours on both sides and their sons and their families, the whole big mob. And then, as a special treat, we send the ladies off for a day of pampering at some spa, so we can have the backyard to ourselves for our “cricket match”.

This year though, the girls wouldn’t go. They said they loved the day away, but they were all feeling like they just wanted to stay at home this year, and was our male bonding time so important? And why couldn’t we just play in the backyard while they were home? And so on.

Eventually though, dad had a brainwave, and on Boxing Day me, the old man, Charlie and Andy Cooper and Glenn and Noel Stone hopped in two deneme bonusu veren siteler cars and headed to the beach for a bit of cricket on the sand.

We didn’t specify which beach to the wives, and when we got to the car park and I saw the “clothing optional” sign, I had to marvel at the old man’s ingenuity.

We dragged the esky and the plastic cricket gear to a good sunny spot and set up our towels.

“Right you lot.” Began Charlie, loosening the drawstrings on his shorts.

“Uniforms on.” He said, dropping his dacks.

We all quickly followed suit, and I noticed none of us had sprung a stiffy. I reckon it was just the atmosphere of the beach- there were a few old blokes, some twentysomethings laughing and listening to music, and a couple of surfies out on the waves. It felt like just another day at the beach.

Since, for once, no one was aching to get his rocks off, we decided to actually play a bit of cricket. We dug out our plastic stumps, the bat and a tennis ball. Playing on the beach with my dad and my mates, drinking beers, the whole thing really did feel like a bit of male bonding. At least it did until Glenn launched the tennis ball into the surf. My old man went running after it and bent over to retrieve it from the water.

The sight of my dad’s muscled backside, legs spread just enough to show his furry pucker, with his big balls hanging down between his legs… well, it sent some blood down south.

Embarrassed, I looked around… and realised the other lads were all staring at his arse too, and starting to bar up. Dad turned back to face us, ball in hand, and was greeted by the sight of five hard cocks. He grinned.

“Right then, maybe it’s time to take this match over those dunes back there.” He said, gesturing to the area behind the sand hills. We all eagerly agreed and moved our gear over the dunes, away from prying eyes.

The match began again in earnest, now with each of us sporting a mighty hard-on. Me, Glenn and Andy were up to bat first, and Glenn managed to hit it far enough to get some runs in. Unfortunately, the ball made it back to Charlie by the stumps before Glenn was safe. Rather than tap him out though, Charlie reached over, grasped Glenn’s cock, and gently tapped it with the tennis ball.

“Gotcha.” He said.

“What’s that mean then?” replied Glenn, reaching out and wrapping his hands around Charlie’s thick sausage.

Glenn turned to my dad.

“You’ve got your watch on still right, Ross? Tell me when one minute is up.” He said, and unceremoniously spun Glenn around and bent him over.

Charlie generously coated Glenn’s back passage with spit, and then applied some saliva to his middle finger. He gently massaged Glenn’s sphincter, probing it until Glenn relaxed enough to allow him in. Charlie proceeded to finger Glenn’s arsehole and the blonde man loved it, rocking himself back and forward on the digit, eyes rolled back up in his head, mouth slightly open and moaning.

“And that’s one minute.” Said my dad, his watch making a little beeping nosie.

Charlie gently removed his finger from Glenn’s arse and gave him a pat on the bum.

“Next!” he shouted.

I stepped up to bat and got out in record time, sadly. For my lacklustre performance I was tasked with eating Charlie’s arsehole for one minute. I took to it with gusto, and when I finally came up for air I saw we had a bit of an audience- a few of the blokes from the beach had wandered over to see what we were doing. They were sitting around like spectators at a proper cricket match, if spectators were nude and tugging themselves!

Andy, good on him, made his runs and avoided getting out. As his prize, he got one minute of his old man servicing his cock. Andy spent his full sixty seconds rhythmically pumping away, his pale shaft disappearing in and out of Charlie’s red-and-silver beard. As the buzzer went he pulled his meat out, leaving a long, glistening trail of saliva and pre-cum linking him to his old man. It was around then some of our audience started to blow their loads and head back to the beach. Poor blokes missed half the show.

We swapped over, and first up was my dad and his arse that had started all the trouble. My personal prayers were answered when I got him out, and he dutifully handed his watch over to Andy as I got him on all fours.

A liberal amount of spit and a good attitude got him receiving the full length of me up his chute, and he was so warm and tight I might have creamed off right then and there if the buzzer hadn’t sounded.

“One minute is just not enough time.” I moaned.

“Speak for yourself, donkey dick.” The old man laughed, standing up and massaging his stretched ring.

Young Noel managed a bit of a victory, and as such I had to kneel in front of him while he soaked my hat, face and body with a steady stream of piss from his rock-hard cock. Just as the buzzer went he slapped me on the top of the head with his rigid member, getting rid of the last few drops.

Finally, it came down to me and Charlie. The old man was faster and better at cricket then he had let on, and I found myself on the losing side.

“Alright Timmy, you can drive.” He chuckled, lying down on the sand and pushing his throbbing member up towards the sky.

“Very kind of you Charlie.” I said, applying as much spit as I had left to his bell end, and wondering how we could sneak some lube out of the house next year.

As I gently lowered myself onto Charlie’s dick, loving the pain/pleasure feeling of having my sphincter stretched out, I looked around. We still had quite a crowd, in fact I think we’d drawn in more, and it was easy to see why. The other lads were engaged in some end-of-match actions too. Noel, standing but knees shaking, was getting his cock sucked by my kneeling dad, who was also driving his middle finger up between the young bloke’s cheeks. Glenn and Andy, meanwhile, were lying on their sides, eagerly devouring each other’s knobs.

I started riding Charlie with extra enthusiasm at all these sights, and it wasn’t long before he was grunting and groaning.

“I’m gonna cum.” He panted, locking his hand around the back of my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. As our tongues swirled around each other’s mouths I felt his hot jizz fill my arse. Finally breaking away from our pashing, I saw Noel grasping the back of my father’s head as he blew his load. There was already long ropes of seed hanging off my dad’s cockhead. Glenn and Andy lay on their backs, the white juice rolling down their cheeks. Surrendering to it all, and with Charlie still filing up my arse, I gave myself a few good yanks and launched my own load all over me and Charlie.

I rolled off Charlie and collapsed on the sand with the rest of the blokes.

Our audience gave us a round of applause, and I made eye contact with my old man. He grinned, got up and grabbed a beer out of the esky. Sitting on the sand, buck naked, cum still glistening on his cockhead, he regarded the rest of us.

“So who’s up for a rematch?” he smiled.

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