It was a sunny September afternoon when I heard a lot of yelling and cheering from the sports field just a block down the street from my apartment. New to town and knowing nobody, I had nothing better to do than wander down to see what was going on.

I found myself a spectator at a Rugby football game. I gathered from comments from spectators like myself, standing on the sidelines, that this was the first match of the season, and that the opposing team was from out-of-town.

I had never played Rugby and didn't have a clue what was going on most of the time, but I cheered when the locals cheered for the home team making some successful move or pass or kick, and moaned and complained with them when the opposing team made some successful move or pass or kick. At least I felt a part of something for the afternoon.

Not only that, I got to eye up some really hot male bodies, nice sweaty, masculine men! I didn't have a clue what a scrum was for, but I envied all those guys huddled in together, feeling each other's butts, and practically bum-fucking the guy ahead of them.

After the game, which was won handily by the visitors, the sports field cleared out pretty quick. The visitors had to catch a ferry back to Vancouver Island, so they were loaded onto the home team's battered old bus, emblazoned with the word "Pirates," to be taken to the ferry terminal. Home team members were wandering across the road to an older building right opposite. It looked like it might have been a church at some time.

I lingered behind at the oval, because I had nothing else to do anyway. One of the home team members was gathering up team equipment and jerseys and other odds and ends left behind by the team. One of their practice balls lay in the grass near me, and I punted it across to the team member.

"Nice kick," he called. "Do you play?"

I wandered across to where he was stuffing equipment into a net bag, which he swung over his shoulder.

"No," I told him. "Played a little Aussie Rules back in Australia, but not Rugby."

"I thought all Aussies played Rugby," he said. "The Wallabies, and all that …"

"No, I it's mostly an east coast sport. I'm from the west."

"You interested in playing? We're always looking for new members."

"Maybe, but I really don't know anything about the game," I confessed.

"Not to worry. Our coach'll soon get you up and running. He's a Kiwi. Played for the All-Blacks. He's a real character!" I'd heard of the All-Blacks, the New Zealand national rugby team.

And I had noticed their coach during the game. he'd been hard to miss, an older man, running up and down the side-lines, screaming and cursing at his team in his New Zealand accent, doing handstands and tumbles and cartwheels when the team scored, and throwing himself on the ground and kicking his feet like a kid in a tantrum when they boo-booed.

"Hey, you want to come over to our club-house for a beer?" he suggested. "It's right across the road. My name's Mark, by the way."

"I'm Russ," I told him, "and I'd love a beer." I was also busting for a piss, and I didn't think I could hold it till I got back to my apartment.

I gave Mark the once over. He was a very handsome blond guy about my own age. He had a very noticeable bulge in his shorts, and I thought at first it must be a protective cup in his jock, but when he walked it wiggled. Somehow he had managed to divest himself of both cup and jock since the game finished. I felt like groping his wiggly part.

As we walked across the field, across the road, and through the gate to the old building opposite, Mark told me,

"We bought this old church last year at a property tax auction. Got it for a song. We're still fixing it up, but it's gonna be a real nice club-house someday."

Mark led me into the place which had been turned into mostly one hall on the ground floor, although I could see a doorway to a kitchen at the rear, and the open door to what appeared to be storage, and the toilet door with an "Out of Order" sign on it. It had a bar at the front end near the door, and several beer tables and chairs were scattered around.Some of the players, already changed, were lounging about sucking on beers, or playing pool, or darts, and a couple more were at the bar, which one of the members manned as bartender.

"Hey, Mark," I said anxiously, "I've got to piss like a racehorse. Where's the toilet?"

"Shit." he said. "The one on this floor's plugged up. You'll have to use the one in the basement. Just go down those stairs and past the showers. It's right at the end." He pointed to a set of stairs at the far side of the room. A second set of stairs led upward to whatever was on the second floor. "I'll pull you a beer while you're gone." He headed toward the back of the building with his bundle, and I headed for the stairs to the side.

I saw a sign which read "Members Only" at the top of the stairs, but it didn't register, and I headed on down.

The basement, except for an area marked "Furnace Room" had been converted into a locker room and showers for the team. The work was still in progress, and while some parts looked new and shiny, other areas were dingy and unfinished.

But whatever the state of the basement, I was in homo heaven! There were naked and semi-naked men everywhere! The closest one to me was almost finished dressing, just pulling up his jeans, but it looked like he might have trouble zipping them up, because he has sporting an impressive semi in his undies!

I'm sure my eyes almost popped out at the sight of another young guy, already showered, who seemed to be posing so everyone could see his beautiful body. He was fondling a football as if it were some sort of sex object.

A third man, also fondling a football, was sitting on the bench in front of the lockers in his jock, but a woody was popping out of it. I would have loved to suck on that one.

Yet another, still naked, also held a football; in fact, he held it between his legs, as if he were rubbing it against his genitals. What was with these guys? Did they all have football fetishes?

Some of the guys gave me the once over, but no-one said anything. I headed across the locker-room, past the open showers, toward the toilet cubicles and urinal at the far end.

The man I recognized as the coach was still under the showers, fully-dressed still, in the jersey, shorts and jock he had worn on the sidelines.

"'Hey, mate!" he called to me as I passed. "This area's for members only. Didn't ya see the sign?"

I was a little non-plussed, but I answered,

"It's OK. I'm with Mark. He told me it was OK to use the pisser down here."

"Oh, you're with Mark, eh?" said another of the guys, as if that explained everything.

"You and he are close, then?" asked another.

"Not very," I explained, standing at the urinal with my back to them all, unzipping my fly, and taking that much-needed piss. "We only met recently."

"Oh. His latest!"

His latest what? I thought, putting my cock away and zipping up.

"Don't let these blokes give ya too much of a hard time," the coach called, stepping out of the showers, and only now stripping off. His large wang swung free. He saw me eyeing his undressing. "Saves washing them at home," he said. "I'll just throw them in the dryer here." He nodded toward the corner by the furnace room, where there stood a a large washer and a large dryer.

My eyes swung once more to the naked and semi-naked players. Four of them, bare-ass naked, were now lined up with their backs to me, hands on each other's butts.

"Look's like yer gonna get the welcome routine," observed the coach, dropping his wet clothes in the dryer. "Have fun.!" He headed upstairs, pulling on a dry pair of rugby shorts as he went.

The four with their backs to me start rhythmically slapping each other's bums, then they broke into song:

"Bum-bum-bum-bum
   bum-bum-bum-bum," they sang,

Suddenly they leapt about to face me, going into various "ta-dah!" stances as they cried the final line:

"Bum buddies!"

A couple of the other players still in the locker room called out things like "Give him a warm welcome." followed by "No, give him a hot welcome!"

"So you're with Mark are you?" asked one of the quartet, again as if that said a lot.

"Do you like to play?" asked another.

"I'm kind of new to this, but yes, I like to play games," I replied.

"Team sports?" asked third.

"Sure," I replied.

"You wanna play with us?" asked the last of the foursome.

"I've been considering it," I told him.

"Well, make up your mind," snapped the first.

'Well, yes, sure!" I made my decision.

"Get your gear off then," ordered one of them, "and let's play!"

It suddenly struck me that we had been talking of two separate things. I had been talking of playing rugby: they had been talking of group sex. And all of them were ready for it. Their cocks were already hard!

My first impulse was turn tail and run, but then I thought, "What the fuck! I haven't been laid in ages. Might as well make the most of it!"

I did as I was asked and discarded my clothes onto one of the benches.

"Wanna be bottom man in the scrum?" asked another.

"Sure," I replied. Now I was hard too, and ready to be fucked.

The four of them lifted me up by my hands and legs and carried me to a sturdy old wooden table I guessed was probably used for rub-downs and massages. The deposited me on my back upon it. The player closest to my head offered me his cock to suck, and I took his bulbous cock-head into my mouth.

Another of them spread my legs, dragged me to the edge of the table, lifted my feet onto his shoulders, and got ready to enter me.

From my prone position, I glanced around the locker room. The one remaining player, apart from the quartet, was just lacing up his runners, The man winked and smiled at me, which sort of helped me feel that I was not in any danger, that this was all just "good, dirty fun." He pulled on some clean jeans, and headed upstairs, leaving us five and a locker room strewn with dirty team shorts and jerseys.

By now the player between my legs was pushing into me. He had used something for lube - I suspect hair conditioner, a tube of which had lain on the showers floor. He slipped into me easily.

I gave a cry of pleasure as I licked and sucked at the dick poking at my mouth.

In the next fifteen minutes I sucked on every one of those virile cocks, and had every one of them unloose a load of jism into my ass. I won't say it hurt, because it didn't. After the first, they were well lubed up with each other's cum. A couple of them had even sucked on my dick for a bit.

When they had done with me, I jerked myself off all over my chest and stomach, then one of the guys helped me down off the table.

"You OK?" he asked.

"Yes," I nodded.

"Good," he smiled. "We'd hate to hurt anyone. I'm Fred. Welcome to the Pirates, also known as the Ass Pirates." He laughed. "We are the only all-gay rugby team on the West Coast of Canada," he informed me.

That explained everything!

I used the showers to wash the cum off and get rid of the other four loads of cum, which squirted out of me and washed away down the drain. Fred supplied me with a dry towel.

I got dressed with the foursome, amid comments of "Good show, buddy!" and "Welcome to the club!" They led me back upstairs, where Mark was waiting for me at the bar with a nice cold beer. He was sitting on a stool with his legs slightly parted. I got a glimpse of one of his nuts and the tip of his large uncut cock.

"Coach tells me the guys initiated you," he grinned. "I forgot to tell you we're an all-gay football club. You are gay, aren't you?" he asked, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Yes," I laughed. "But if I wasn't before, I sure would be now."

"Well let's have few beers as I introduce you to all the boys. If you want to join the club, we practice Thursday evenings. The fees are pretty reasonable because we make quite a bit of money renting out our hall for functions. Most of our games are in town but about once a month we have to travel out of town. You up for that?"

"Sounds good to me," I agreed.

"Great!" Mark smiled. "I live in one of the three bedrooms upstairs," he told me. "I'm sort of the caretaker, housekeeper, uniform washer, and all the other dirty stuff, but it's free rent for me. Bit lonely for me at times, though. I'm sort of looking for a housemate. Maybe you'd be interested?"

"Maybe," I agreed. In truth, I was not very happy with the apartment I was currently staying in.

"Great," Mark replied. "When the guys have finished their beers and left, maybe you and I could go upstairs and get to know each other better? What do you think?" He smiled, hopefully.

I glanced once more at the large bulge in his rugby shorts.

"I think I'd like that," I smiled back.

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