Back in the changing area, Jon cut a lone figure. Mark and Chris were bantering, an arm wrestle the only way to settle an argument over who was the crowds favourite, Jez and Kevin were sat on benches, towels loosely tied around waists. Kevin had found a feed of a rugby match highlights program on his phone and they were huddled around it, hairy legs touching. Sam was combing his hair, naked at a mirror propped up against his kit bag. Nursing another beer, Jon was back at the monitor watching the massive clean up operation in the studio. The blue comedian was back again, stood far off to the right, away from the carnage mid stage, and Jon wondered how much material he had. The clean up operation looked like it would take days. The set was plastered in thick blue gunge, seemingly ankle deep. Stage crew crisscrossed the stage with pool water brushes, the fins scraping away gunge off stage where it was scooped away. It looked hard work, as had parts of his own evening. He took another long sip of his beer as he sensed Sam beside. Still naked, but wrapping a towel around him.
"Do I smell of custard?" he asked, drawing a smile from Jon.
"Can't smell anything, only the bullshit from them two" he said turning and nodding towards Mark and Chris, who were still arguing.
They watched them for a while. A best out of three arm wrestle was being suggested by Chris who had lost the first match.
"You ready for the last game?" John asked
"Toughest bit so far"
"Don't send up the puppy dog eyes to me though, I ain't rescuing you. You and Mark are on your own" Jon said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
"You'll be by my side though"
"I'll always be right beside you chief." Jon said, playfully punching his captains flat belly.
"Can I ask you a favour?" asked Sam.

****

I'm sure I wasn't the only guy who came watching the fire hose section. I'd planned to hold off until the final game when I could come at the same time as Sam or Mark did, but the sight of the guys deluged by the jet pushed me over the edge. In all my years watching gunge material I'd never seen so much gunge. Some would call it overkill and a tad brutal, but I'm adamant that any fan watching that would struggle to keep the edging as just edging and not to creep over into ejaculation.
Of course the boys had played their part. Sam offering up everyone for the hose had been unplanned at the concept meetings and the boys had not signed off on it during the planning and pre production meetings. It was a stroke of genius, with their arms linked bit at the finale the moment when I realised I couldn't hold it back. I did the old pinch the end trick but it didn't work. I'll pause the video until I'm ready again to join their wank off

*******

Sam and Mark were sat in two chairs six feet apart in the freshly cleaned studio. The thumping music had died down, and the crowd had resumed their seats. The voiceover artist has announced the game and there was a buzz in the air, palpable. Audience members still muttered in disbelief. Did the announcer just say, 'Cum Race?' It certainly looked promising, Mark and Sam were sat in chairs, still naked, and both were openly massaging their, at present soft dicks. Sam's face was a mask of concentration, eyes downcast, blocking out the surroundings, zoning in, as he did before the whistle blew to signal the start of a match. By comparison his rival was polar opposite. Alert and alive, eyes darting around at the audience as he pulled at his cock, massaging the skin back and forth, the bellend disappearing and reappearing in rhythm with his hand movements.
The production crew had called a halt to the filming, and were making adjustments to equipment. Something had gone wrong with the camera control centre, and they would need to roll again from the top. The delay seemed not to have helped Sam as he sat, legs slightly apart, his chest muscles moving in time with his arm movements as he massaged his dick. His head was steady, eyes unmoving as he envisaged himself somewhere else, in his preparation zone.
"Ok ready to roll again?" Ian's voice cracked over the PA.
Thumbs ups and radio transmissions from units to control confirmed everyone was ready. The pumping bass heavy music replaced the chit chat from the audience and they raised their voices again, the final time for the final game.
The voiceover pre recording boomed again "Cum Race". The VT for the second time flashed up on the screen.
The screen slid open again and Chris, Jon, Jez and Kevin walked in, naked for the last game. They joined the seated team captains, standing behind them. Dave, and the contestants Gerry and Malcolm walked in from the side, the two contestants pushing trollies of pies, buckets of custard and gunge.
"So here we are, the final game! You want to see a different type of gunge?" He yelled at the audience.
"Mark and Sam, do your best, the rest of the team do your best to make sure this is memorable for us too."
Chris grinned and thumbed up his host, Sam had not looked up since they had resumed filming, he face was set, his mouth a line of determination. Jon placed his hand on his bare shoulder and squeezed gently. His time to offer reassurance.
Music banged in again, lights searching the stage and finding their targets of two men sat naked on stage, poised.
"Gerry, Malcolm let's leave the lads to their private moment" Dave turned his head to a different camera and mouthed 'Yeah, right'. The clothed participants trooped off. Studio lights dimmed, and spotlights searched out the two groups of men. The noise in the studio petered out, as the audience hushed down. For once they had followed the direction of the on set producer to calm it down, give Sam and Mark the space to do this.

With his eyes closed, Sam centred in on his thoughts, confirming and validating the surroundings around him before pushing them off to drift away, like balloons on the wind. He deliberately slowed his breathing, counting the gentle inhales, holding onto the exhales longer as he disconnected himself to drift away from the set and into his private zone. A place so familiar and comfortable, so warm and safe he could repaint his world into a shape he could work with. Once he was there and safe, he would rearrange everything, and when the shape suited him he could return to whence he came.
Countless times he had journeyed here, big games, big life moments, the refuge providing the recalibration he needed.
He was back at home now, the sun streaming through his bedroom window. Karen lay beside him, facing away, slender shoulder delicately covered with strands of her long blond hair. He reached out and traced the contours of her shoulders, moving the hair aside gently with his fingers as he delicately, barely touching her flawless skin, caressed her shape down to the small of her back.
She stirred and slowly turned towards him, her blues eyes finding his.
"Hey" she whispered.
"Hey" Sam whispered back, tracing her features, that face he loved, those eyes, reflecting the love from his own. Those cute lashes, the delicate nose, the mouth so kissable, the woman he adored, not just in his bed, but in his life. The whole of his life.
He sought her lips with his and she moved towards him, closing the space between them. He parted his lips and found her responding, her tongue seeking his. His hand gently cupped her breast as she committed to the union of the kiss, and she sighed quietly as he cherished her body, gently squeezing, not hard, the way she liked it.
Karen moved her hand down Sam's chest, her skin so smooth on his hard body, her hand small and delicate against his frame. She circled his penis with her hand, erect and proud, the physical manifestation of the desire he felt towards her.
Sam moved away from his safe place, retracing the journey, arriving back, counting the breaths, marking out time, and the journey back. He didn't open his eyes, but he was ready.

The crowd stayed respectfully silent as Sam, eyes closed, manipulated his cock. His hand moved rhythmically, tracing the length back and forth, slowly at first, then starting to quicken as it began to lengthen and thicken. Blood sent, then trapped as his cock responded to the stimulation, and the memory. He leant back in his chair, his legs parting naturally as he continued to masturbate to full erection.

By his side Mark was already fully erect, his penis arcing up proud over his belly. Thick and long, easily nine inches, Mark was taking in his surroundings, lapping it up. He wasn't gay, but the attention from the cameras was incredibly liberating and intoxicating. The cameras were sexless, the unwavering, unblinking eye neutral of gender but dripping with the drug of exposure. The weeks of abandonment he felt from the walkout of his wife, the crushing of confidence as devastating as it was deep down expected. Knowing the relationship was going wrong but powerless to stop it had taken him on a downward spiral of self doubt. As a successful moderately famous sportsman, with a body he knew was the envy of most men, and an outgoing eccentric personality that was both magnetic and endearing, the crush of his wife choosing to walk away was an enigma he struggled to crack.
Despite the outward showmanship to others he had made efforts to show the monogamy of his feelings to his wife. A statement made that he had committed to her forsaking all others. He would never own up to the lads that deep down he was a one woman man, content in revelling solely in the love of his chosen partner. The piss taking would be taken to a new level, but he thought he had successfully exposed his innermost tenderest thoughts to her and it had been repaid with a betrayal.
The camera, by comparison didn't cheat. It didn't lie, it didn't give false promises. It didn't leave him stranded, his life in tatters. It liked him, no it LOVED him, as long as he gave to it, it would respond with its undivided attention.
Mark gripped his engorged penis at the base, holding it upright, presenting it to camera. He slowly moved his fist up and down its length, looking into the camera, drinking up the love it silently emitted, each pump of his hand increasing the grip on the cameras loyalty.
He looked over at Sam, eyes closed, head tilted slightly back, a man lost in thoughts. But still conscious enough to remember the contract they'd signed and what he had to do. Sam slowly dropped his hand down to the base of his cock, holding it up proud to the camera.
With Mark drinking up the camera's infatuation, and Sam, from the safety of his inner zone, they both held their pose as the cameras captured them. The audience, for once, was silent.
The contract had asked that both men, when erect would pause, holding their erection up so that the cameras could frame pictures to be used on the site on promotional material. It was also the prearranged signal for Kevin and Jon to gunge Sam, with Mark being gunged by Chris and Jez

Sam closed his eyes, counting again, he let his mind drift, blocking out the studio. It was now silent, too silent. He could hear the headsets of the cameramen, normally turned up so loud to be heard over boisterous crowds. He could hear the transmissions, not the words exactly, just distant ebbs and flows of snatches of information controlling the cameramen. He drew his head back, drifting away.
He was at the beach, led in shallow water, the Caribbean Sea lapping over him, warm, and luxurious. He could hear the surf, smell the ozone, feel the waves. Karen was beside him her hand in his swimming shorts, pulling rhythmically at his manhood. He pulled her close, dislodging her hand and they rolled over in the wet sand, their lips meeting in passion as waved rolled in, and over them. He pulled her bikini bottom aside and his fingers searched for her. He ducked into the water his lips joined the search, caressing then hungry. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and pushed him deeper inside, encouraging him. The warm surf lapped his chest, over his shoulders, his back, his head. He could feel her hands, warm and wet massaging and rubbing the clear warm blue water in small, then larger circular motions, teasing, massaging, comforting.
Sam held this image, part of a real memory, a portion held on loop.

**

"The favour, if you can, is not just gunge me, by chucking it at me," he had asked, "can you do it gently as if you were a woman caressing me with it?"
"Sure" Jon had said, a look of puzzlement clouding his face, "but why?"
"I don't think I'll be able to come if you're gunging me like it's been done so far. I've asked the production crew to warm the gunge. I'm going to have to zone out and imagine I'm with Kar"
"You want me to be her hands, kind of?"
"Kind of I suppose yeah"
"Well this is a conversation I'd never had imagined we'd have" Jon had said
Sam managed a small laugh, "Nor me, mate"

**

Jon was stood beside Sam. He selected a bucket of warm red gunge and carefully poured it over his captains head. His blond hair flattened under the weight and it slowly ran over his face, and onto his chest. John hesitated slightly, took a few deeper breaths before steeling himself and delicately massaged the gunge into Sam's head, following the decent down onto his chest. In circling motions he covered the entirety of his chest with gunge, rivulets running down his sides, over this thighs. He poured move over Sam's chest, slowly, letting it gently ripple down over his abs, slowly speeding up as it ran into his groin, his pubic hair stemming the flow briefly before it separated, running either side of his hard cock, over his balls and onto the chair.
Jon held another bucket of gunge, this time over his captains cock as he wanked. As Sam pulled down, towards his balls, his foreskin rolled back revealing the head. Jon timed his pour to land on his exposed cock head. Sam's upward motion caused the gunge to run freely over his hand. Jon controlled the flow, keeping it even as he emptied the bucket over the big man's cock. Kevin stood on, watching, passing Jon another bucket. Both were flaccid, both focused only on assisting their leader. Sam had seemed quiet before this section, readying himself, starting to focus, and they were aware of their role, and the importance of not breaking Sam's concentration. Jon coated Sam's legs with gunge, repeating the circular motion, massaging him, all part of the illusion. He ran his messy hands up each side of Sam's thighs, avoiding his cock, and back to his chest.
Within the silence, Jon wondered what his answer would have been if Sam had asked him to massage his cock. It was a theoretical question, one that Sam would not have asked, but nevertheless Jon examined his own likely reaction. As he continued his circles over Sam's broad chest, from base of neck, over his nipples, drawing down over the six pack, to the beginnings of Sam's pubes then back up he wrestled with his answer.
He looked down at his captain, helping to save the club, being only one of two to commit to ejaculation. He could see the effort, and the struggle, the lengths this man would go through. Sam's words echoed through his head from earlier, when he himself was struggling, " I need to protect you and the guys more than Pete and his club. I'll do extra bits out there to make up for you. If you need to duck out, I can stop this. Withdraw our consent"
Jon could see Sam again, just before the set slid open, his fingers pointing at his own eyes, then turning them to Jon, 'I'm watching you'
Jon had his answer. For you Sam, yes he would.

Mark held the cameras gaze. Unblinking, unflinching. He gripped his cock firmly, rotating his wrist as he slid his fist up and down its length. Pushing it out away from his body so it was presented at the optimum angle for the camera to capture every inch. He spat onto his fingers and rubbed the spittle over his cock head, massaging it over the frenulum, his fingers manipulating the delicate skin. He turned to Sam, and happy that he was still erect and masturbating he turned back to Chris and Jez. He nodded his head towards the buckets of gunge directing them. Chris collected a bucket and upended it over Marks head. It coated his head fully, quickly, cascading over his chest. Rubbing it in, he pulled gunge down from his chest, rubbing it over his cock. Scooping a handful from his hair he pulled his foreskin back fully and coated it, making sure the camera could get a good view.
"Again" he said and accepted another dousing, this time from Jez, aimed at chest then finishing at his cock.
Chris fetched two pies from the trolley, one in each hand. He dumped one into Marks face and another over his cock. Mark wanked quickly, pulling the custard over his cock head down his shaft and over his balls. A third pie was smashed onto the top of his head, his hair plastered. It spattered out, streaking Jez's belly with custard.
Pausing to allow the camera to take pictures that could be used as stills, he felt hands on his chest and looked up through heavy eyelashes, weighed down with mess.
Chris, was mirroring Jon's actions, creating symmetry. Resting back in his seat, Mark masturbated while Chris ran circles though the mess on his team mates chest and belly.
Making sure the camera was trained on him, he held his cock up, and murmured to Chris "Go on fella, make their day"
From above him he heard Chris laugh, "You're a fucking lunatic"
Mark felt Chris' hand snake down over is chest, over the ridges of his pronounced abs, before reaching the cusp of his pubic hair. There was a slight pause, a hesitation and Mark looked up into Chris' face. He grinned through the gunge coating his face, "Dare ya"
He felt the tips of Chris' fingers brush through his trimmed pubes, the tips of his fingers sliding through gunge and custard. The fingers slowly wrapped around his cock, encircling it in, the first time another man had touched him intimately.
Mark egged the camera in, willing the capture of the violation. A straight man being wanked by another. It wasn't a gay act, it was an act of defiance. He was back in control. He shifted position to make sure the camera captured his face, the proof of the moment, the reveal of his identity. He imagined the recording flowing through the ether, witnessed by many. To be passed on, to be shared. The gender not important, the exposure the driving force. Chris held his hand steady, unsure. Mark pushed his pelvis up and down, moving his hard cock through the hand of his team mate. A ripple of murmurs from the audience greeted his actions. He paused his thrusts and placed his hand over Chris', entwined by gunge.
He moved his team mates hand under his, up and down, slowly, surely, picking up rhythm and pace. He let go, removing his hand. Chris continued the action.
His eye caught the impassive eye of the camera lens. Silent and impassive. He felt no shame, just power that he was taking back the reigns after weeks of free fall.
Chris' other hand appeared, joining forces, doubling up, hand over hand on him. The tip still visible, skin sliding back and both, revealing, hiding then exposing again.
Jez picked up a bucket of orange gunge and raced around front of stage. The camera shifted position to keep the action uncensored by the man mountains back. Other cameras joined, hunting Mark out, like a pack,of wolves, circling him. Jez threw the bucket over the two players, coating Marks legs, which took the brunt of the force, splashing up over his torso, splattering his face. Chris was streaked with gunge, over his hands and arms that were still working Mark's cock. The camera centred in, for the first time in this segment on Chris' body. The there a mutter of confusion in the control box, as the camera zoomed in on Chris' penis. It too was also erect, pointing up, exhilarated by the moment. The skin had rolled back as it engorged, the glans of his penis standing openly, still clean despite Jez's, best efforts to coat him.
A couple of pies remained, and Jez selected them, his soft disinterested penis flopping as he circled his team holding a pie in each hand.
He ground onto into Chris' face, grinding it in, before sliding the base down his body, the snake tattoo disguised. The final pie belonged to Mark, and he slammed it home, face and hair the target. Jez's aim was good and Marks face gradually appeared beneath the gunge once gravity took its hold.
Looking around, widening his appreciation of the scene, Mark took in the audience, rapt and silent, many holding breaths at the scene before them. Witnessing rugby players playing gunge games naked was perfect enough. The escalation into players wanking had took the moment beyond perfection, yet now it had surpassed even that as one player openly pleasured another.
Mark took in the scene, lights trained on him, cameras invading him, the bank of faces, his team mates beside him, Joe and the other players in the audience, impassively watching on. He felt the tipping point inside, the moment where the ecstasy crashes irreversibly into release. He felt his balls tighten, the rush of ejaculation starting deep in his body, blossoming out, through his body, through his balls, his cock the escape route for the release of his inner passion. The thrill of exposure, the power of exhibitionism now jetting freely, each spurt of semen adding to the mess coating his body. Chris kept up the rhythm, timing his downward pulls with the ejaculations, adding to their glory, Mark pulling his head back, blowing through gritted teeth as he became spent. His laboured breaths were the only sound in the studio as he flopped back in this seat, the crescendo of each ejaculation shallower than the last.

Sam and Karen tumbled in the surf. Over and over, hungry kisses grinding and searching. He pulled her onto her back and she reached for him, guiding him in, the warmth inside rivalled only by the warmth of the love he felt for her. He dug his fists into the sand either side of her as he supported his weight, Karen so precious, a fragile beauty too easily crushable. He used his core strength to suspend himself over her as he rocked his body into hers, pushing himself in deep. He scooped her up in his arms, her weight no match for his strength. Not withdrawing from her, he changed position, setting her astride him as the water lapped over his shoulders, the swell of the tide caressing his sides, so warm, so fluid. He could see her hair cascading her shoulders, her head set against a frame of the cloudless perfect sky. She smiled down at him, and placed the tip of her finger on his abs, running it up across his sculpted chest, up over the neck, searching for his mouth. He took her offered finger into his mouth and she leant forward to join it, to kiss him, her fingers no substitute for her lips and tongue.
She broke her kiss and rocked back and forth using her hands to support herself on his hard belly, hair falling over her face as she lost herself on the feeling on him inside her.
The pace quickened along with her breath, starting to pant, starting to beg for Sam.
Sam drifted away, counting. Not his breaths this time but counting his thrusts in his mind as his fist worked his cock.
Cameras twisted to witness the captains final moments of his memories. His legs stretched out, muscles taught, his thighs tight together, the usual ejaculation reaction that both amused and empowered Karen. His body's automatic reaction to her effect on him, both endearing and sexy.
As Karen would have predicted, Sam would now bend his toes in, tightening them as the final release started to pour.
Thick lines of spunk jerked from Sam's cock, travelling up to his neck, on the first euphoric jolt, travelling less far on subsequent explosions, until he lay still, the streaks of spunk splattering his chest, the memory and the proof.

****

The changing room behind the set was again filled with the noise of the spray of the shower, the calling between cubicles and the crack of beer cans opening.
Mark was in one shower, singing loudly. Chris joined in on the chorus, a semi tone apart from his teammate. Together the voices combined made a pretty awful racket, but neither minded, the adrenaline was still pumping strong.
Jez was doing his best to ignore it, distracted on his phone, sat naked marking out time until they were called for the final bow. A half finished beer sat at his side. Kevin was drying his hair and beard, rubbing roughly, the effect making him look cavemanesque. A comb would sort it, but for now he looked wild.
Sat on a transport case was Sam and Jon, both in yet another clean set of towels. Sam had mused if this day held the record for the most showers in one day. It probably was, he thought as he used a cotton bud to dig out gunge that the shower had failed to dislodge. His hair was still wet, lying unkempt.
Jon was rotating his ankles, his bare feet performing circular motions deep in thought.
Eventually, "You alright, Sam, after doing that?" He didn't elaborate on what 'that' was, but the emphasis on the word told Sam what he was referring to.
"Yeah I suppose. I mean, weird as fuck, but it's done now" Sam said disposing of the cotton bud in the bin. He got up from his seat, and padded to the dwindling stash of beer. He retrieved two, passing one to Jon.
"Respect to you man, no way I could've done that out there"
"Well I couldn't have done it without you" Sam laughed, adding, "Will call you magic hands from now on"
Jon smiled, took a sip, and they both sat in silence for a few seconds.
"You wouldn't have seen, as you had your eyes closed, but Chris had a boner out there when he was touching Mark" said Jon, glancing over to check that Mark and Chris were still out of earshot. The song they has been singing had been changed for an equally out of tune rendition of an Arctic Monkeys song.
"Yeah Jez told me Chris was wanking Mark off"
"Yeah but with Mark I understand him doing shit like that as he's always getting it out, and he's an idiot like that. I'm just amazed that Chris got a hardon too" Jon said. He had pulled one foot up to rest on the case, knee high in the air. He was twiddling his copious leg hair with one hand, beer in the other.
"Unusual way to out yourself I suppose" Sam said, tracing the logo on the can with a nail
"You're saying Chris is gay?"
"I think today was his way of coming clean with us"
Jon turned to his captain, "You surmising or telling me this?"
"We had a conversation when he joined the club, whether to announce it. I said that you lot where an amazing bunch and there'd be no problem, but to tell people when it felt right"
Jon looked towards the showers, ironically, given the turn of events today, had a frosted vanity panels on all sides. He thought he could make out movement in there, the singing confirming occupation.
"He's never said anything"
"Should he need to?"
Jon thought for a few beats, "No, but I just wonder why he wouldn't"
"Dunno, you'd have to ask him. Rejection maybe?"
"Nah, that's bollocks. He's one of us, he knows that"
"Plenty people out there wouldn't be as accepting as us though, maybe he wanted us to accept him for his playing ability first?" Sam said, taking sips of his beer
"Fuck man, that's just shite. Not him being gay, but that he'd think it would be a problem, and that he'd have to earn the right to be himself in front of us"
"I know," Sam said, "but don't make an issue of it. He wouldn't want awkward acceptance speeches. Just treat him as we normally do"
"Yeah by letting him wank off Mark, and letting him watch you spunk" Jon said, and snorted a laugh.
"Standard day, innit" Sam said, smiling.

******

"We've made how much?" Sam exclaimed, through a wide smile.
Pete slid the paper round and passed it to Sam, "See for yourself"
Keeping his eyes on the club owner Sam picked the paper up, then dropped his eyes to the figures. "Jesus" he whispered.
"Fuck knows what you did on that video, but it worked a treat" Pete said, taking the sheet back from Sam, marvelling at the figures again, puffing smoke from his cigar out into his office
"You've not seen it yet then" Sam asked rhetorically. Pete shook his head. "Just as well" Sam muttered as Pete put the figures sheet back in the drawer. The whiskey decanter was produced again, a celebratory gesture this time.
As he had done some months earlier Sam waved the offered drink away.
"Gotta hand it to you Sam, that was an inspired thing you did by contacting that company to start all this off". Pete said, pointing his cigar at the player.
Sam stayed quiet a second, a look of puzzlement on his face, one eyebrow raised, "I didn't contact them, I thought you did"
"No, first I heard was when that Gary called responding to the application the club had made. I had no idea who he was, but as soon as he started talking money I played along"
Sam was perplexed.
Pete sucked on his cigar, "Thought he was a weirdo. As he talked I was Googling him. Just as well I did, was about to hang up on him. Just thought I'd play along see what he had to say"
Sam sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head, "So if I didn't apply on his site, and you didn't either, who the fuck did?"

******

Joe hobbled in, the plaster was off. It was still a bit uncomfortable and he wouldn't be back in proper training for a few more weeks, maybe months according to the clubs physio. The crutches were needed, especially when his ligaments were tight after inactivity. He'd kept his upper body strength at the gym so was still in close contact with the team. He had made it to watch the filming of the quiz show, and was now going to relive it again. His subscription to Messy Mayhem was up soon, but he'd renew like he always did. It was the best twenty quid a month he spent and he was so glad he'd filled out that application on behalf of the team all those months ago.
He fished his cock out from his joggers, already hard and wound on to Sam's wank scene.

Again.