Netherlands v France
Title : Netherlands v France (Group C, game four)
Author: dalehead
Pairing : Orlibean
Rating : NC-13
Summary : Football … yep, that’s right !
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
Author’s Note : For the lurkers and inominate readers…
Ruud Nistleroy may have been surprised that he and his guys had found their form but that was nothing to the surprise, joy and delight that the contingent in a north London pub were feeling as they watched France concede goal after goal.
Orlando meantime was waking up. He blinked myopically then slowly got up, flinching a little as his arse reminded him what he’d subjected it to.
“Kuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuyt………………”
Sean had decided that Dirk Kuyt was an all round good egg. He had decided, for the duration, that Kuyt was his man. He was knocking back bottle after bottle of beer and eating bag after bag of pork scratchings.
Finally Orlando made it up the stairs to the bedroom, he stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile and with his eyes half closed, he went to the bathroom and sat down the toilet to clean his teeth.
In disbelief the rapt pub crowd watched France piss away every opportunity to level the score, but were foiled by the brilliant counter-attacking style of the Dutch. The groaned when Henry, the darling of so many women across the country finally managed to snatch one back but were once more on their feet screaming when seconds later Robben took Sneijder's pass and rifled a finish high past Coupet from a tight angle.
“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOALLLLLLLLLLL,” the whole pub cheered.
Flushing the toilet, Orlando switched the light off and made his way to bed without ever having woken up properly. He snuggled under the duvet and was asleep before Sneijder rounded off the win with a flourish with a glorious 20-yard finish that flew high past Coupet deep into injury time.
It was a very, very drunken Sean who lurched back into the house.
He tripped and landed on the floor in a heap where he stayed put for a moment, getting his breath back. A moment later he begun to make his way up the stairs on all fours, heading do the bedroom where he even managed to get undressed, well sort of. Finally he crawled into bed, farting loudly.
“Was a ripe ‘un…” he muttered and a moment later the stentorian snoring almost made the windows rattle.
Netherlands 4-1 France
Author: dalehead
Pairing : Orlibean
Rating : NC-13
Summary : Football … yep, that’s right !
Disclaimer: This is entirely made up.
Author’s Note : For the lurkers and inominate readers…
Ruud Nistleroy may have been surprised that he and his guys had found their form but that was nothing to the surprise, joy and delight that the contingent in a north London pub were feeling as they watched France concede goal after goal.
Orlando meantime was waking up. He blinked myopically then slowly got up, flinching a little as his arse reminded him what he’d subjected it to.
“Kuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuyt………………”
Sean had decided that Dirk Kuyt was an all round good egg. He had decided, for the duration, that Kuyt was his man. He was knocking back bottle after bottle of beer and eating bag after bag of pork scratchings.
Finally Orlando made it up the stairs to the bedroom, he stripped, leaving his clothes in a pile and with his eyes half closed, he went to the bathroom and sat down the toilet to clean his teeth.
In disbelief the rapt pub crowd watched France piss away every opportunity to level the score, but were foiled by the brilliant counter-attacking style of the Dutch. The groaned when Henry, the darling of so many women across the country finally managed to snatch one back but were once more on their feet screaming when seconds later Robben took Sneijder's pass and rifled a finish high past Coupet from a tight angle.
“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOALLLLLLLLLLL,” the whole pub cheered.
Flushing the toilet, Orlando switched the light off and made his way to bed without ever having woken up properly. He snuggled under the duvet and was asleep before Sneijder rounded off the win with a flourish with a glorious 20-yard finish that flew high past Coupet deep into injury time.
It was a very, very drunken Sean who lurched back into the house.
He tripped and landed on the floor in a heap where he stayed put for a moment, getting his breath back. A moment later he begun to make his way up the stairs on all fours, heading do the bedroom where he even managed to get undressed, well sort of. Finally he crawled into bed, farting loudly.
“Was a ripe ‘un…” he muttered and a moment later the stentorian snoring almost made the windows rattle.
Netherlands 4-1 France