Football Crazy

In football parlance I was 'Over the Moon'. In reality I was ecstatic! We'd done it! The small team that I managed had actually made it to the Final of the Intermediate London Football Association County Cup. OK, so we weren't going to be playing at Wembley and we probably wouldn't even get a mention on National TV, but locally we were heroes. I'd been interviewed by the local newspaper and the amount of support and sponsorship that we'd got from local people and businesses was truly heart-warming.

In the Semi-Final we'd beaten a team three divisions above us, it had been a close run thing, I had no fingernails left but we'd done it and now we were in the Final. Our opponents would be easy meat, they were only two divisions above us, or so the local rag would have it. We would be playing in a real stadium, one with stands rather than an open, windswept field and we'd been promised lots of local support on the day.

Our league form hadn't been good, we were mid-table and although we weren't going to be relegated neither were we going to get promoted, and it was looking like a mediocre season for us. Then we'd gone on a cup run, the like of which happened to someone every few years, beating a succession of bigger teams, everyone in the team pulling more than their weight. Of course I was only the manager, the lads had done me proud. When I say 'lads' what I really meant was 'lassies'. Upper Merton United were a ladies team, derided by most of the footballing world but heroes to their families and friends.

How did I, a forty something, divorced father of two young men get to be manager of such a team? Chance of course. I had played football to quite a good standard in my youth until dodgy knees from too many dodgy tackles had forced me to hang up my boots, then my sons had followed me into the game and my wife and I had stood on freezing touchlines watching them as under tens get thrashed 16-0 week in, week out in the local Cubs league.

When they got too old for that we had formed our own club to play in local teen leagues and as a former player I had been made Head Coach (actually only coach), was put in charge of putting up and taking down the nets, and my wife made the corner post flags. We enjoyed a little success, but mostly it was done for the pure enjoyment of watching them enjoy playing.

Neither one was particularly good, but they progressed until they left school and headed off to university when basically the whole team collapsed, most of the others following them, the rest finding that wine, women and song were preferable to freezing your nuts off every Sunday morning. And so I retired, looking forward to less stressful weekends, Sunday morning lie-ins, perhaps taking up something where I could satisfy my own wishes.

It didn't quite work out like that, my wife and I split up, perhaps it was just the kids holding us together, perhaps it was 'me not you' and perhaps we'd just fallen out of love. We were still friends, still saw each other around, had the odd drink and family time with our boys but we were officially not 'together' any more.

Then one of the Mums from the boys' former team approached me. She played football for the local ladies side, a struggling team that bounced up and down divisions going nowhere in particular. "Would I be interested in managing them?" she asked.

"Definitely not." I replied, and two days later I was being introduced to the rest of the team. I'd never been known for my strong will, and was actually a founder member of the Easily Led Club.

I watched a few of their matches, and saw that actually they had some promise, one or two of the players were quite good, notably their Captain and main striker, Jenny and their goalkeeper Sally, both attractive blondes. In between was a mixture, but what they seemed to have in abundance was enthusiasm and a will to work. And work we did. I introduced twice weekly training sessions, much to the annoyance of various husbands and boyfriends, and in a couple of cases, wives and girlfriends, and slowly we got better. I learnt about periods and sports bras, I was used to teen boys developing two left feet for a year or so as their bodies outgrew them, but some of the women developed two left feet every month and that had to be factored into team selection.

They were great about it though, they all accepted me as their manager without question and even made me feel like an honorary lady occasionally. Of course I had to be careful, I couldn't just wander round the changing room as I had been used to, much as I'd have loved to, and when an injury occurred on the field I always made sure another female was in close attendance as I waved the magic spray over the affected area.

I swear they taunted me a bit as well, on numerous occasions I had to avoid looking up the legs of shorts at the often skimpy panties that they sometimes wore, returning to pitch-side with the beginnings of an erection from the sight of errant pubic hairs, or even on one memorable occasion an outer labia that had escaped the gusset. But by and large it worked and then came the cup run, and I was not only a local hero, but their hero. There seemed no effort that they were unwilling to put in and now we were in the final.

We tried to leave nothing to chance, we were playing in a stadium about 50 miles away and had booked rooms in a hotel for the night of the match, a dinner had been arranged for the players and partners afterwards, win or lose this was a huge achievement for the club and we were going to celebrate it. A new strip was bought by a local business man in exchange for having his company name emblazoned across the chest of the players. Best place to get maximum publicity I told him. Champagne was purchased and a coach arranged to take us from the hotel and back the day of the match.

On the field we practiced corners, free kicks, even penalties and finally I thought we were ready. One question stumped me though, at our final training session the Thursday before the match on Saturday I was asked, "What about sex? Can we have sex the night before the match?"

I looked at a sea of expectant faces and decided to make light of it. "Of course you can, but I can probably only manage two or three of you!" We broke up to huge laughter, the question still unresolved.

All went like clockwork, we were at the stadium in plenty of time, the players all went into their changing room and I was allocated a share of the Officials' changing room. The opposing manager was a lady so she had the advantage of being with her players during the build-up, I had to rely on the natural leaders in the team. Then the whistle blew and it all started to go wrong.

Simply we were being outclassed, not playing as I knew we could and we were soon one goal down, then a second. We rallied a bit and kept it to that at half time. Fuck propriety I thought, I needed to be with my players and went back with them to their changing room. How was I going to play the half time talk? I could try the Alex Ferguson hair dryer approach, I could try my best Churchillian speech.

In the end I just sat quietly and told them what it meant to me personally to be their manager, what it meant to their friends and family to see them playing in the Final, and what it meant to the wider community to inspire future generations. To this day I couldn't repeat what I'd said but whatever it was exactly it worked.

We scored two minutes after the restart and it was as though we were a different team. Our passing was crisp, players were making enterprising runs and it started to look as though we had a chance of salvaging something, if only our pride and self-respect. Then a bullet of a header from Jenny, blond ponytail bouncing in the air and we were level. Extra time beckoned, followed by penalties and I knew that would put us at a disadvantage to a better team. I prayed and prayed, and forced myself to keep looking, to keep watching and encouraging.

In the end it wasn't all our preparation but a magnificent solo run and goal from Jenny beating their goalie with skill that would have graced an international player that sealed it in stoppage time. We had beaten the odds and the opposition and had won the cup.

Everyone went loopy, fans, players, families all leaping about and hugging each other, but I suddenly felt drained and collapsed back into a seat, tears streaming down my face, head buried in my hands. It didn't last long, I was swept up in an avalanche of players, kissing and hugging me, leaping around as though they hadn't just played the hardest ninety minutes of their life.

Then followed the presentation, photographs, interviews, especially of a beaming Jenny who was getting all the attention she deserved. Champagne corks were popping and the contents of the bottles swallowed direct or sprayed over all and sundry. Then the avalanche swept back to the changing room taking me with it. "I can't go in there!" I protested.

"You came in to give us the rocket we deserved at half time, now you can come in and ride the rocket." replied Sally, dragging me in along with the rest of the team, still celebrating wildly. The door opened and in came the opposition, generously taking their time to congratulate the winning team, their manager doing the same with me. Then as one they stripped off their shirts and offered them to my girls in the time honoured tradition, who looked concerned at having to give up their brand new shirts.

"Come on girls," exhorted Jenny, we can always buy new shirts but we can't buy these memories." She pulled off her shirt and offered it to her opposing number, hugging her. Suddenly I was surrounded by twenty plus semi-naked females, all clad in sports bras, supporting a whole variety of breasts, small and large. The losing team filed out and we were left alone.

"Right, in the shower then we can celebrate properly." cried out Jenny, crossing her arms to pull her sports bra off.

"Whoa, hang on a second, let me get out first."

"No way!" was the cry, "You're coming in with us!" Almost as one the whole team took their bras off, a dozen or more pairs of breasts tumbling free, then off came their shorts and panties and everyone except me was naked. Never had I seen such a varied collection of breasts. Large round nipples, small bullet nipples, big breasts, small pert breasts. Not to mention the variety of pubic hairstyles, from large unruly bushes to nothing at all displaying pussies proudly, they were all there.

They advanced menacingly on me and I retreated as rapidly as I could, but to no avail as I was captured and I found myself being stripped of all my clothes. I was dragged into the showers naked, my cock standing stiffly in front of me and basically passed round each team member who made a point of giving me a huge body hug, accompanied by a quick fondle of my cock. I realised I had to enter into the spirit of the occasion and started to give as good as I got, careful though not to intrude too far into their private spaces, managing to restrain myself to caressing bums and backs.

It was Sally the goalkeeper who nearly got me going too far, being tall she managed to tuck my cock between her legs as she gave me a full frontal hug to the cheers of everyone and I could feel my cock brushing against her pussy lips. Shit, this was going to take some living down. Everyone was washing me with soapy hands and how I didn't cum there and then was a mystery to me.

Finally the horseplay seemed to die down and I was pulled from the shower area back into the changing room itself. "Now for his reward!" came the cry and I was pushed back onto one of the treatment tables and basically pinned down, surrounded by the team.

"Right, in shirt number order," came the command and up stepped Sally to grasp my cock and start to stroke it.

All I could see around me was naked female flesh, jiggling breasts, pussies and bums and there was this very attractive girl giving me a hand job. They took it in turns, most restricting themselves to a few strokes although one or two had to be forcibly prised away from me, and I was amazed by the different styles of hand job I was receiving, each one taking me closer and closer to a climax. One or two of the team were clearly thinking of getting into the act and I could see hands clutching breasts, tweaking nipples and a couple were even toying with their pussies which did nothing to abate the arousal that I was feeling.

"OK Jenny, as Captain it's your honour to finish him off." Jenny appeared between my legs her breasts proud on her chest, a bare pussy just visible above the edge of the table as she grabbed hold of my cock and began to stroke it. She bent forward and for a brief second I thought she was going to take me into her mouth, but whether she thought better of it or not all I felt was her warm breath on the end for a second then she backed away and started a rhythmical stroking.

It had to be the best hand job I'd ever had, surrounded by a dozen naked women and in particular Jenny who had the best body of them all. Our eyes met and she smiled at me, her hand never missing a beat and I could feel my climax start to rise within me. The thing about receiving a hand job is that you can't control the pre-orgasmic tension, you can't speed up or slow down, you are completely in the hands of the giver, literally and all I could do was wait for the inevitable.

And inevitable it was, finally I knew there was no going back, my balls were tightening and I could feel the spunk rising in me. I erupted, cum spurting out of my cock, flying in arcs, landing on my body and on those around me as Jenny's hand continued to race up and down my shaft.

"Great finish Jenny!" someone cried out to much laughter.

"I couldn't have done it without you guys, great passing right from Sally through the team and all I had to do was slide it past the keeper." She gave my cock a final squeeze and as it started to deflate the throng around me started to break up, some clearly a little embarrassed, but most having enjoyed the spectacle.

I cleaned myself down on a handy borrowed towel, and quickly dressed in my tracksuit and with a final wave left them to finish dressing and made my way to my changing room where I sat for a moment, my mind still racing. I had a few things to do and they were all on the coach waiting for me when I turned up a little late, boyfriends and partners in attendance. I got a rousing cheer and we set off back to the hotel.

There was an hour or so to kill and get ready for the dinner and I sat in my room on my own, looking at the trophy and reliving the afternoon. What a day to treasure for many reasons and I found my hand wandering to my cock several times, my mind seeing again all those breasts and pussies, seeing all the team in a very different light.

The dinner was excellent, aside from the team and their partners the Great and the Good were there and there were some speeches, several lauding me and I began to feel really embarrassed, but mercifully they were soon over and we could really start to celebrate. There was a disco and pretty soon everyone was up and dancing, and although I had no regular partner I found myself being dragged up into various groups until I began to feel the exhaustion creeping up on me and I wondered when I could legitimately slide off to bed. It was not to be however, it seemed everyone wanted a bit of me.

At one point a slow song came on and I found myself in the arms of Julie, one of the mid-fielders whose husband had taken the opportunity to sit down and have a drink. I could see him at the bar, chatting to the other men. She pulled me in close and I found her face nuzzling close to my ear. Her body was pressed hard up against me and I could feel the soft press of her breasts against me and without warning my cock twitched. "That's a nice cock you've got Boss, I wouldn't mind some of it for myself sometime." I felt her hand slip between us and grab hold of me through my trousers and give me a gentle squeeze. "Any time after the kids have gone to school would be fine."

I really didn't know how to react, there she was fondling me in the middle of an admittedly darkened dance floor, her husband mere yards away, suggesting that we had daytime sex. I didn't want to upset her and whispered back, "Sure Julie, once things have settled down a bit." That seemed to satisfy her and her hand returned to a more neutral position and I wondered if I really would have to make good on my promise.

That wasn't the only time I was propositioned that evening and I wondered just what had changed, apart for the obvious of course. The evening rolled on and people began to leave, heading for their rooms and I wondered how many of them would be having passionate sex as soon as they got there. Certainly the passions had been ignited judging by some of the amorous clinches and I was a little saddened that I was going to be on my own.

Finally I looked around and the place was almost empty, the DJ was starting to pack up and I said goodnight to what appeared to be the last couple, when from around a corner appeared Jenny and Sally. I recalled that they didn't seem to have had partners with them and I realised I didn't actually know my star players' marital status. "On your own girls?" I asked.

They looked at each other, then Jenny turned back to me, "Sort of, but sort of together."

"Oh!" was all I could think of to say.

"Don't get us wrong, we like men as well, but just occasionally like tonight, we like to be with each other. Speaking of which, are you coming to bed?" Everyone else had gone and I nodded and picked up the Cup, then the three of us headed towards the bedrooms.

They stopped outside a door, "This is us. Do you want to come in for a drink, we've still got a bottle of champagne in there that needs drinking, it would be a shame to waste it." The offer suddenly seemed tempting and I nodded, following them into a room with a big double bed in it.

Jenny popped the cork and poured the sparkling liquid into the Cup and we took it in turns to drink and toast each other. They kicked off their shoes and both settled onto the bed, sitting a little awkwardly on the edge as I found a chair. We talked about the day, both of them agreed it was one of the best days of their life and I had to agree. The last of the wine was poured into the Cup and I began to think about leaving them to go to my own room.

My mind was made up when Jenny leaned into Sally and kissed her tenderly on the lips. "Right, I'd better go now and leave you two....."

Both girls stood as did I and they came up to me and each put an arm around my shoulder. I assumed I was going to get a goodnight hug, but instead Jenny's mouth met mine and suddenly I was on the receiving end of a full blown kiss, moreover I could feel a hand cupping my crotch seeking and squeezing my cock which reacted instantly by starting to swell. "I've got a better idea," she cooed into my ear, "why don't we all take our clothes off and get into that nice big bed?" I didn't have a chance to protest as I felt my jacket being slipped off my shoulders and arms as other hands were scrabbling at my belt.

Jenny dropped to her knees in front of me and pulled my trousers and briefs down as I frantically kicked off my shoes and peeled off my socks. My cock was pretty much at full erection, but what completed it was Jenny's mouth encircling it and sucking it inside. If I'd thought that getting a hand job from her and the rest of the team was heaven, this completely surpassed it.

Sally broke away from me and reached behind her to unzip her dress which she stepped out of revealing herself to be naked beneath it. Her breasts were full and ripe, topped by large round brown nipples and between her legs a neat triangle of crinkly brown hair. The first thought that popped into my mind was that she was not a natural blond. That was soon dissipated as she took my hand and slid it down between her legs. My palm encountered her pubes and my middle finger slid along an already wet slit.