TBH, LOL, when the rugby is actually on the tv, I have got no time for idle flirting. There are many passions of the human heart, and rugby is the ruling one of mine. Well ... there's whisky too, but you can so easily combine whisky with watching. Watching rugby! Sheesh. Anyway, while I am watching matches, the closest you will come to me making a pass is if I take you out to the park afterwards and demonstrate my spin pass while shouting at you to hold the line.
However, there is no denying that a sport requiring such a high level of fitness produces beefcake that is well worth ogling. Plus, there is a lot of mileage to be got out of rugby terminology - which is curiously well suited to innuendo.
OK, in my hands (<snerk>) practically anything can be adapted to innuendo. Game pie? Hope the meat was well hung (wink). Growing potatoes? Always fun to get down and dirty (nudge). It's really asking for it, though, when you have oval balls, a hooker and you are supposed to make passes (although not to be forward - LOL). Not that rugger buggers mind. As a rule I find they are a jolly crowd who much enjoy a pint and a good larf. The sport of rugby is so super-macho that rugby lads usually have little fear of being thought effeminate and will happily don ladies' knickers and drag up for fun. (Having said that, Gareth Thomas remains one of the few professional players who has come out of the closet. Great to see him back in the limelight, commentating on the World Cup for ITV, and fantastic that his bravery in coming out is now viewed as so popular that it's being used in a Guiness advert.) Women who play rugby have to contend with the assumption that they are all lesbians. Well ... of course they sometimes are. Anyone who wants to make a thing out of that can leave this blog immediately.
For laydees who maybe are more interested in the male players than the sport, I have managed to find a choice morsel (or two - yes two, wink) by that great writer of rugby stories: redzinger. This is a very worthy competition winner of a story with the coveted blue w as well as a red H.
Playing with her heart is a tender BDSM romance. Here is an offering of hot hot HOT sex - and that was before Anna got in the hot tub. Sex with two (or more) men is a favoured fantasy for many women, never mind them being gentle yet assertive Doms who like to look lustfully at your ladybits and chat to each other about how excited the sight of you is making them. If the men are two fit South African rugby players it's a definite extra plus. There is an exoticism to the two Afrikaaner players revelling in the British snow which makes us more willing to suspend disbelief and plunge ourselves into the story and redzinger adds occasional Afrikaans words to establish character with aplomb.
BTW, I love the Lindsey character. She can tell what people's sexual preferences are, and angelically sets them up so they can experience their wildest dreams; a true Domme.
redzinger confesses she self-edited this tale of two players. I should say it's more of a sketch than a full story at this stage. A good beta read would tidy up some places where red has skipped over the detail but where a reader new to the story can get confused. Plus suggest places where a bit more mileage could be made out of the story's many good points. (Converting the try, as it were.)
I shan't spoil your fun by going into the detail of the hot hot (did I mention how HOT it is) sex.
There is an excellent early background account of two young women going clubbing at Christmas; queuing in incredibly skimpy outfits in the cold. There is a fine piece of writing about Anna relieving a full bladder in the warmth of a takeaway toilet. (Golden showers fans, take note.) I enjoyed the realism and the way redzinger lingers over a non-sexual yet intense physical pleasure in relieving yourself.
And here is a delicate artistic piece of work for redzinger and other fans of the rugby body:
Huffington Post video: When rugby shorts come down.
PS When I was looking around for a rugby story to review, I couldn't help laughing at one which started off describing watching the match on a 42" television. Apparently even when watching rugby, every inch matters to the guys. (I do my watching on a 43" screen - yeah, I am an ex-rugby player, butch-er than a butcher selling well hung game <snerk>.)