It’s Just Not Cricket Pt. 04

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Part 4: The Ashes

Author’s note- this story contains depictions of same sex incest.


“I don’t believe it.” I said to my dad, stepping outside and closing the sliding door behind me. Back in the living room my wife was watching TV with our little girl, completely oblivious to the conversation we were having.

“It’s true mate. You can blame bloody Glenn and his big mouth.” My father replied.

“I would, but I’m pretty fond of Glenn’s big mouth.” I joked. I heard him chuckle on the other end of the line.

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

“Fuck, what choice do I have?” I asked back at him.

“If you’re uncomfortable…” he began.

“No, no, it’s fine dad, I’m in.” I said, trying to sound confident.

“Great, we’ll see you in a few days.” The old man concluded. We said our goodbyes and hung up and I sat outside, staring at the phone for a bit in disbelief.

This whole thing started a few years ago…

I grew up in a house at the end of the street backing on to a nature reserve. Living in the house next door were the Stones- Glenn, his missis and their son Noel. Glenn and Noel were both blessed with a friendly disposition, blonde messy hair and big cocks. On the other side was gruff Charlie Cooper, a bearded redhead bloke who was more silver than red at this stage, his wife and their son, the bodybuilder Andy. Andy looked more like my old man than I did, in no small part due to them both lifting a lot of weights. Not that I’m a slouch in the looks department, but I’m certainly not bulging with muscles like those two. Anyway, that’s the basics of who we are.

We’ve all got wives and kids of our own now and we bring ’em home for Christmas. It’s become tradition at this point that the wives and kids will go away for a day and leave us to our annual game of “backyard cricket”. Only a few years ago me, Noel and Andy busted our dads having a bit of heavy man-on-man sex in the shed, and now the game has taken on a very different kind of batting style, if you catch my drift.

In short, one day a year, me, the two blokes I grew up next door to and our dads all get together, bum like mad and call it cricket. We keep score and everything- first one to come loses, final cummer wins. Sometimes there’s teams, sometimes it’s chaos, and full disclosure, more often than not a father ends up copping his own son’s cock in the arse, or vice versa.

Like all good backyard cricket games, this one has gotten more complex over the years. Last year Charlie’s brother and his two sons joined us, along with Glenn’s tradie neighbours. That pushed us up to eleven, enough for an actual cricket team.

Usually, once the day is done, I forget about fucking blokes for another year and get on with things until next December. Turns out not everyone in the group was doing the same, and good old Glenn’s enthusiasm for the “sport” had spread to telling a few other blokes. Word of mouth about our mouths had spread and, well, that’s what the old man’s phone call was about.

Apparently, the eleven of us had been challenged.

By a rival team.

Of eleven blokes.

I was still trying to wrap my head around it all as I sat down to dinner with the family. The wife was going on about our plans for Christmas, how we were getting to my parents’ place, arrangements with the kids, etc. I just sat there nodding along and trying to figure out how there were eleven other blokes out there willing to give this a go. Not that I wanted to question it too hard, the backyard cricket match was one of the high points of my year, and the idea of extra players only made my dick more rigid. I was excited and also dead curious how the old man, Charlie and Glenn were planning to pull this off.

A few weeks later we rocked up to my parents’ place, arms full of presents, our eldest running around and our new baby dozing in her carrier. Soon enough the Coopers and the Stones came over for the annual champagne with the neighbours, and we all had a good time. I could sense the undercurrent though, between me and the boys. Had they been told too? Did they know I knew? Was dad gonna make some grand gesture to get the wives out of the house again this year? How the fuck were 22 blokes supposed to fit in the backyard? Tonnes of questions which were soon answered.

“Alright everyone. As always, it’s great we keep this tradition going every year, we love having youse home for Christmas.” My father said, champagne in hand.

“Last year, we sent the wives away for a day at the spa. And since they had such a great time… we’re doing it again this year.” The old man declared to much applause.

“BUT. Me, Charlie and Glenn decided maybe us boys should do something fun too, so we’re off for a day ourselves too! Bit of a father/son day out. Go-karting, whiskey tasting, got a whole day of it planned.” He said.

I tuned out the rest of the speech as my mind put the pieces together. So THIS was how it was gonna work. The team wasn’t coming to us, we were going to them.

Sure enough, deneme bonusu veren siteler a few days later, the six of us did a convoy to the train station to wave off the wife and kids, then drove for about an hour out to some farmland. Along the way we stopped and picked up Charlie’s brother, Cliff, who had split me in half with his giant cock the year before. Joining Cliff were his twin sons, Tony and Jack, who had lasted all of three seconds in last year’s match before creaming themselves. The 23-year-olds were clearly just as excited this year, sporting matching stiffies through their shorts.

Glenn also had to double-back to get the two tradies who lived on the other side of him- the older bloke, Kyle, and the younger redhead Ben. I’d taken Kyle’s anal virginity last year and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was open to the experience again.

Once we had our whole team collected we met up at the address, a big, rambling farmhouse outside of town. I was a little cautious about going to stranger’s house but apparently the owner was a mate of Glenn’s and the whole situation was pretty above-board.

We all got out of the cars and eyed up the front of the house. There was a note on the door telling us to walk around the back, and we did as we were told.

Boy, were we greeted by a sight.

Eleven blokes, all starkers except for their shoes and socks, standing around and stretching, chatting, scratching their impressive nuts. When they noticed us they gave up a big cheer and we responded in kind.

One bloke, I’d guess maybe in his 40’s or 50’s, with a clear tradie’s tan, short brown hair and a big smile, came walking over to us. His soft short cock flopped as he approached, and I could see it was starting to extend a bit. He held out his arms wide and gave Glenn a big hug.

“Hey mate! Glad you guys made it!” he said in a broad country accent.

“Good to see you Mick.” Said Glenn in return, patting him on the back and lowering one hand to squeeze Mick’s pale arse.

Mick went around in turn, shaking hands with each of us. Then he called the other players over.

He ran through the introductions fairly fast but I was able to keep up for the most part.

Next after Mick was Don, another 40-something country bloke with a bit more of a tan, a bit less of a belly and a lot more cock than Mick. He was decked out in a blue cap and sunnies but I wasn’t going to forget him any time soon, his piece was a monster on the slack. Apparently Mick was a mate of Don’s and they were always looking for new challenges like this to push each other.

Then there was Troy, and if you had looked up the word “Adonis” in the dictionary you would have found him. Perfect muscles, mid-30’s, short brown hair, square jaw, big smile. Little bit of chest hair and a thin coating of black pubes, but otherwise you could see every inch of the fella’s skin and already-stiff knob.

After Tony we discovered there were four father-son pairs who had come along.

There was Gohar and his son Dalir (who also went by Dale). Gohar had immigrated to Australia twenty years ago and Dale had grown up here, just graduating university the year before. Gohar was inexperienced with blokes but wanted to learn more, and Dale was laughing that, at the age of 22, he was the one teaching his dad. Both the blokes already had stiffies, much like Tony, except Gohar was sporting a thick and fat fella while Dale was a little thinner in the shaft (but not the length).

The next family pair were Tully and Bob. Tully looked like every football player I’d ever met. Between the cauliflower ears and the muscle-bulk body, he was almost the polar opposite of his son. Tully was hairy, Bob was clearly smooth. Tully spoke in short, simple sentences and gave off the air of being a tradie, while Bob delivered long, flamboyant monologues. I found out later that poking guys had turned out to be one of the few things they had in common, so this was a bonding experience for them.

The second-last pair was Jack and Jack Jnr. Both wearing glasses and a little bit on the heavy side, they made up for it with simultaneous erections that looked like they could do an arsehole a lot of damage…or deliver massive pleasure.

Finally, the young blonde surfie bloke, Tyler, already had a firm grasp of his dad’s cock. Said dad, Mike, looked like a 70’s porn star with his blonde moustache and slicked-back hair, not to mention fairly heavy dusting of hair and BIG nutsac.

My head was still spinning as our team got naked. When we were all in our glory Mick and my dad gathered us all together for the game plan.

“Right lads, this is how we play back yard cricket.” Dad began, as Mick got out a score card divided into green and gold teams. I saw my name and all the blokes from last year on the gold team.

“Each bloke is paired up with someone on the opposite team. When your turn is up you meet on the pitch-” Mick gestured to a section of the grass surrounded by chairs.

“And you do whatever you have to. Make your opponent cum and you win that round. Cum first and you lose. The team with the greatest number of winners at the end gets Glenn’s red bucket hat. Not much of a trophy, but a hell of a game. Clear as mud?” he asked, and we all nodded our heads in agreement. Looking around I could see every fella had started to slowly stroke himself, and a bottle of lube was being passed around.

“Great, let’s get cracking!” declared Mick, producing two bucket hats- one green and one gold, and dumped a bunch of strips of paper into each. He and dad rummaged around and each pulled out a single strip.

“Game one for gold team- Glenn!” Mick declared. We all cheered and clapped as our middle-aged blonde champion stepped up.

“Game one for green team- Gohar!” shouted my dad, which was met by a lot of cheering and applause from his team. Gohar looked a little nervous but got onto the pitch to meet with Glenn.

The two men shook hands then stood facing each other. Glenn’s considerable knob and Gohar’s thick meat were just touching heads as the two men locked eyes.

“And…go!” shouted Mick.

Glenn (Gold) vs Gohar (Green)

Gohar pulled Glenn into a passionate kiss, which our Glenn did not shy away from. As the two men pashed and rubbed their bodies and cocks together I saw Glenn moved a sly finger down the cleft of Gohar’s arse cheeks and push against his dark brown hole. At that, Gohar’s eyes snapped open and he broke free, pushing Glenn back. Surprised, Glenn lost his footing and fell back onto the grass.

Pushing his advantage, Gohar swooped in and began to suck Glenn’s cock for all he was worth. At the same time he dove a rough finger up his arsehole, rapidly pushing in and out. Glenn squirmed and moaned, trying to break free but also not really. I glanced over at Gohar’s son, Dale, who had his jaw on the floor. Clearly he’d never seen his old man in such a hardcore act, and beads of pre-cum were freely dripping from Dale’s solid cock.

Glenn couldn’t contain himself and grasped Gohar’s head, unleashing his seed into the man’s eager mouth.

“Green team wins!” shouted Mick, but Gohar wasn’t quite done.

He straddled Glenn and spat our team mate’s load onto his chest, furiously wanking himself as he did. With a shudder, he blasted his cum all over Glenn’s chest, mixing it in with Glenn’s load.

Gohar stood up and shook the last drops of cum from his cock. Glenn lay there, momentarily stunned.

“Fuck me.” Was all he could manage.

“Maybe next year.” Grinned Gohar, extending a had to lift him off the grass. The two men shook hands and went back to the seats to get some towels.

A fast and furious first match with a surprising result. 0-1 to Green Team.

My dad and Mick drew two more names…

Andy (Gold) vs Don (Green)

As the two men approached the pitch I could already see Andy licking his lips at the sight of Don’s massive schlong. The two men shook hands and I noticed Don kept his hat and sunnies on. Interesting tactical choice, I laughed to myself.

“Anything you want to start with, young fella?” asked Don, fondling his anaconda-like cock.

“I wouldn’t mind a crack at that big sausage of yours.” Grinned Andy, feeling up his own knob.

“Let’s help each other then.” Replied Don, as they both lay on the grass of the pitch.

The two men locked into a 69 position, with Don turning his cap backwards to properly throat Andy’s cock. Andy, for his part, was struggling to fit Don’s whole member down his throat, not that I blame him. Eventually he settled for licking it, which progressed to a bit of ball tonguing, before Andy’s tongue found its way to the older man’s backside.

Don followed suit, and soon the two men were eagerly devouring each other’s back passages. Andy finally pulled his head away, giving us all a glimpse of Don’s extremely wet hole.

“I wanna fuck you.” Andy gasped.

“Do it mate.” Replied Don, disentangling himself from the young body builder.

Someone handed Andy a condom and lube as Don positioned himself on all fours. His giant cock hung so low the head was touching the tall grass.

Andy eased himself into Don and began to slowly pump his knob back and fourth. With each steady thrust Don’s own cock swung back and forward, grazing against the grass. Don didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact I think it added to the pleasure.

Andy placed his hands on Don’s shoulders and picked up the pace, and you could actually hear Don’s cock slapping against the ground as he was getting fucked. The older man turned his head to the side, to see his fucker I guess, but Andy used the opportunity to put one of his fingers in Don’s mouth. That, and his cock hitting soil, was enough for the older bloke, and we witnessed a gallon of cum spill from his fire hose of a knob, spreading on the ground below.

Cheers went up from our side as we scored our first match of the day. One all.

The scoreboard was updated and Andy and Don left the field with a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Seeing all this action was getting me very hot and I hoped my turn was up soon or else I was likely to blow then and there. Unfortunately, it wasn’t my go just yet…

Ross (Gold) vs Bob (Green)

My dad, Ross, sized up the slight, almost feminine Bob when they got on the pitch to shake hands. I was pretty sure dad had this in the bag when he lifted Bob up in the air and started fingering his hole. Bob got pretty verbal at that.

“Oh yes, oh get in me. Oh fuck me sir, please fuck me!” he wailed in his scratchy, high-pitched voice.

“Yeah I’ll fuck you boy, I’ll fuck you real good.” Replied my dad, getting right into it.

In a feat I’ve never seen before or since, my old man tore open a condom packet and rolled it over his knob with one hand, all while still supporting Bob in his other arm. As soon as he was ready he lowered the young man onto his cock, impaling him up to the hilt.

Bob screams and squealed but his eyes rolled up in his head and he wrapped his arms around my father.

“Oh god, oh god yes” he whimpered as my dad jackhammered away.

“Take it, take it all you little bitch.” My old man grunted. This was a lot more of an aggressive fuck than I usually saw from dad, but then again, Bob seemed like the kind of guy who was into it.

And sure enough, maybe twenty pumps in Bob came with a shriek, spraying my dad from his chest to his chin in the white stuff.

As my dad released Bob from his hold (and his stiff one) the young bloke stumbled, bow-legged, back to his team’s seating.

Two for us, one for them. We might actually win this, I thought, but I need to go soon or I’ll be too turned on to fuck properly.

Unfortunately, I STILL had to wait.

Ben (Gold) vs Tully (Green)

Bob’s dad took to the pitch next, and the quiet, stoic tall man was a stark contrast to his son. He barely said a word as he roughly spun our own tradie around and sunk to his knees.

Bob’s face disappeared between Ben’s arse cheeks and our guy started moaning in pleasure. At the same time, Bob moved his hand around and started working Ben’s shaft. Ben was already starting to tremble, a bad sign.

“Don’t I… get a go…at you too?” stuttered Ben in between short breaths.

“Nobody gets to my arse.” Grunted Bob, who then resumed tongue-fucking our young redhead with gusto.

Didn’t take long for Ben to blast in that position, and I don’t blame him. I was close to losing it at that point too. As the two fellas departed I looked around for my dad to tell him I needed to root soon or I was gonna be no use to the team.

I couldn’t see the old man anywhere so I walked up to Mick, who was updating the score board.

“Mate, you seen where my dad’s gone?” I asked him.

“Yeah buddy, he’s over in the winner’s tent.” He replied.

“The what?” I asked.

“Well, if you didn’t get your rocks off during your match, you can go into the winner’s tent round the side and get it there.” He explained.

“You might have noticed Andy and Tully are missing too?” he said. And he was right, I couldn’t see them anywhere.

“So are we all going there?” I asked, looking around. I could just see the flap of a tent peeking out from around the other side of the house.

“If you win and you don’t cum, then sure.” He said.

“But it looks like you’re not gonna know just yet…” he replied, turning around to declare the next two challengers.

Cliff (Gold) vs Mike (Green)

This one had to be a shoe-in. As much as Mike looked like he’d done porn in his day, I knew first-hand that Cliff’s giant knob was a show-stopper.

Mike, it seemed, was up for a challenge though, and as Cliff lay on the grass Mike squatted over my mate’s considerable beer-can knob and lowered himself. He took the whole thing in with way too much ease and began to ride Cliff harder and faster than I ever could have. Poor Cliff, not used to anyone being able to take him so easily, quickly lost his seed.

A short game but a good one, I paid attention as Mike left the pitch. Mick approached him and clapped a hand on his back, then leaned in to whisper in his ear. Mike looked at him, puzzled, then Mick gestured to the section around the side of the house. The winner’s tent. Mike grinned, nodded and walked over there, disappearing around the side.

“Tim!” Mick yelled, and I whipped my head around. He was standing on the pitch, holding my name. Finally!

Tim (Gold) vs Jack Jnr. (Green)

I was finally up and I was determined to get into the winner’s tent and see what was going on. I was also mindful that my cock had been straining for release for about an hour now. Fortunately, Jack Jnr. seemed to be in a similar state.

“Hi mate.” I said, extending my hand.

“Hi, how’s it going?” he asked, shaking back with a bit of nervous enthusiasm.

“You tell me.” I said, taking his hand and guiding it to my shaft.

As Jack Jnr. Started to wank me I returned the favour, pulling him off with one hand and cupping his balls with the other. He was enjoying himself, especially when I lowered my head to his smooth chest and tongued his nipple.

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