Date: Mon, 12 May 2014 22:51:57 +0100
From: Lidon Dyte <lidon.dyte@gmail.com>
Subject: David Beckham In Miami Part 4

DISCLAIMER - This is a work of pure fiction and fantasy. David Beckham and
Cristiano Ronaldo would probably not do what I have them do as described
below. They are not gay.

Apologies for the delay! I had been busy.

Here is Part 4, let me know what you think: lidon.dyte@gmail.com

DAVID BECKHAM IN MIAMI - PART FOUR


*** TWO WEEKS LATER ***


Dyte answered the knock at his door with a broad grin.

"Well, well."

The man before him was wearing dark jeans and a full coat with a high
collar which, together with the heavy baggy cap and large-framed sunglasses
disgusing the identity of the visitor from the casual observer as he had
made journey to Dyte's office. However the handsome features even below the
disguse were instantly recognisable on closer inspection.

David Beckham had tried his hardest not to return to the scene of his
recent degredation - the place where he had entered with the arrogance and
hetero machismo that his incredible good looks, fame or fortune had earned
him, only to have it all taken away in the most humiliation way possible,
getting brutally fucked doggy style and crying out for more as his big
studly ass was pounded into submission.

The de-manned stud had stormed out determined to forget about the incident
and move on. Dyte had tricked him somehow - he was sure of that. But what
did it matter? It was over now. He had the small lot that was crucial for
the building of his new stadium and he could get on with that now.

But something was note quite right in the bedroom. The usually virile hunk
was having trouble getting aroused for sex with his wife - and when he
could get going, he wasn't really getting in to it. Something was missing,
no matter how much effort he put in or tried to get into the mood. When his
wife accidently moved a finger a little closer to his hole than usual as
she had grabbed those amazing ass globes in passion, he felt a jolt.

"Shit, no," he had thought.

"What's wrong baby," asked his wife.

"Erm .. nothing. Could you erm... do that again maybe?"

"Do what!?" there was a slightly accusatory tone to her question.

"Ah .... forget it. It's fine."

He tried dropping hints, leaving a magazine open at an article about anal
play for straight couples, "accidentally" flicking over to a European
television programme about unconventional erotic techniques, hoping she
would take the bait and suggest some arse play. Nothing. Victoria may have
been a gay icon and had tons of gay friends, but she was not interested in
any of that sort of thing for her hunky husband. To her mind, he was 100%
straight and she wanted to keep things that way.

As the days passed, the tension grew in Becks; the desire to get proper
full release, like he had had in Dyte's seedy office, became a hunger he
couldn't ignore. Eventually he reasoned that if he could persuade Dyte to
show him how to satisfy it himself - perhaps he could get that strange
white object that Dyte had used on his ass? - then he could deal with it
himself, alone, and carry on his life as normal. The little turd would
probably want to make out with him or something first - the loser was
clearly in love with the handsome star - but once he had the device and had
learned the technique, he could cut and run. Not much of a plan, but what
else did he have to go with? He couldn't risk ordering dilos over the
fucking internet!

His office had Dyte's number from their previous dealings over his real
estate. Dyte told him that he would be at his office for about an hour at
2pm the next day. Dyte had arrived at 1.55 and the knock came just minutes
later. Dyte had smiled at the hunky celeb's clear desparation!

Once inside, the two men sat down and Becks had explained his predicament.

"OK," said Dyte finally. "I'm sure we can do a deal."

Becks had taken off his heavy disguise and sat back in a white t-shirt and
jeans. He rubbed the back of his head wearily, stretching and flexing one
of those beautifully inked tanned arms as he did so.

"Yeah, I can guess what you want," the stud sighed, resigned. "Fine. Let's
do this."

"Oh, we'll fuck," said Dyte coldly. "But that's not the deal."

"What then? More money?"

Dyte shook his head. "I need your connections," he said. "To set up a
meeting for me."

Beckham sensed danger. "Who?"

Dyte picked up a copy of the Miami Herald and tossed it over to the hunky
millionaire. It was open at the showbiz section. One article was
circled. The headline read:

   SOCCER STAR RONALDO VACATIONS IN MIAMI

"Can you fix it?" asked Dyte.

Becks paused. "Well, yeah, I can obviously arrange a quick meet if I
want. But it would be in public. I can't bring the best soccer player in
the world to this dump for you to fuck. Sorry."

"I'm sure you can come up with something," said Dyte tersely.

"Really," Beckham sighed impatiently. "Look, you got me good. Well
done. But this doesn't go any further. You have what I need ... but I know
that you also want me. You fucking love me, all that kissing and shit. So
... just do what you have to and let's move on."

Dyte laughed. "You keep saying that I love you," he said, shaking his
head. "Becks ... you've got it completely wrong. I loved humiliating
you. You're fucking hot, which is a good start. But you're also one of the
most famous symbols of straight manhood - and you're arrogant. What I
*love* is destroying that, taking that away from you. Seducing the big
manly hero and turning him on to gay sex."

"Well you can forget about that, mate," Becks snorted. "Yeah, I know you
did something to me. But you can't turn me gay. Not gonna happen."

Dyte rolled his eyes. "I don't want to 'turn you gay'," he sighed. "I want
to keep you as you are - the straight, sexy hunk - but to exploit you
hunger for hot gay sex. For having your big studly ass fucked as you beg
for it. That's the fun. It's no fun if you're actually gay."

The truth began to sink in for Beckham. He didn't have any leverage over
this asshole.

"Look," he said. "I can't just ask Ronaldo to turn up here. We're not best
mates or anything. I would need a good reason."

Dyte reached into his desk draw and tossed Beckham a small container.

"Here," he said. "Open that."

The handsome stud removed the lid of the container. The colourless goo
inside looked and smelled familiar. He rubbed a little of it onto a finger
and rubbed it in cautiously. He began to experience an intense, sexual
tingling from the finger tip. Dyte smirked as he noticed the athlete's
sizeable cock begin to plump in the tight jeans!

"It's what I used on you," he said. "To maximse your pleasure."

Beckham's chisled features turned to anger. "You drugged me!" he spat.

"No," Dyte cooly responded. "Not really. Not in the way you're
thinking. This stuff doesn't turn you gay or even force your body to enjoy
gay sex. It takes real hungers, real desires, that are buried deep but do
actually exist. It awakens them. I could tell that you had them when I
first ate your ass. The way you moaned - your reactions told me
everything. But we didn't have time ... or willingness, on your part ... to
spend to bring them out gradually. So I sped up the process."

"Is it permanent?" Becks asked through gritted teeth.

"Physically, no." Dyte explained. "The immediate effects of enhanced
horniness and intense physical sensations in the local area last for a few
hours, tops. But the psychological effect ... of having those desires
unleashed, of having your body and mind taken as you did ... well, like I
told you last time, you can't block that out."

Becks stood up. The effect of the gel, combined with his two week's worth
of unsatisfied horniness, had taken him to the point of no return now. Dyte
smiled.

Dyte made Beckham strip and sit on his lap as Dyte sat in his chair, fully
clothed. The hunky celeb leant in to initiate the kiss that he knew his
fucker would expect and demand. Dyte's cock grew as that naked, beefy ass
ground into his crotch. He could sense the sheer sexual heat that the honry
straight stud was in.

"Take out my cock," Dyte instructed.

Beckham got on his knees and reached for Dyte's zipper. Dyte watched in awe
as the expensively-manicured figures on those big, manly, inked hands
worked to undo his fly and extract his hard, average-guy cock. Beckham
hesitated slightly - he had taken a cock up his arse but so far had not
been face-to-face with one.

Dyte reached his left hand around to the back of the hetero hunk's
beautiful head and gripped the base of his cock with his right. As he
brought the two together, Beckham closed his eyes and parted his lips
slightly in surrender. Dyte turned Beckham's head slightly to the left and
traced his cock head slowly over that amazing face; across the light
stubble of the right cheek, then across the chisled cheekbone and onto the
tip of that perfect sculpted nose. Beckham sighed softly as Dyte rubbed his
leaking cockhead up and down.  The hunk flushed with humilation, helpless
as endured the shame as that beautiful, striking facial feature was abused
again for Dyte's amusement and pleasure, the sculpted flesh yielding to the
pressure of Dyte's cock which coated the snout in precum as it pressed,
squished and flicked it. The studly athlete would be forced to breath in
the sex-scent of his tormentor during the entire ordeal that was to follow!

Dyte traced the slimy cockhead over the hunk's lips.

"Open up," he ordered.

Slowly, David Beckham began to give his first blow job. His mouth stretched
wide open, his lips snug around the shaft as Dyte ordered. Those chisled
cheekbones stood out beautifully, and the soccer stud's brown furrowed
sexily as he went about it. Dyte instructed Beckham on how to use his
tongue, his lips and then his thoat muscles, enjoying an intense erotic and
dirty display as the former England captain licked up and down the length
of his cock, sucked on his balls, and throated the cock once again. It was
a truly incredible sight.

Dyte decided to complete the fuck with Beckham on his back on Dyte's large
oak desk. He ordered Beckham to suck and lick at his own fingers and also
at Dyte's; Dyte joined in, the two men wetting up their own and each other
digits, occassionally their tongues clashing.

"Get them nice and wet," Dyte said. "We'll open up your tight asshole
together."

"What about that stuff?" Beckham asked pleadingly, nodding his head towards
where he had left the special lube.

Dyte shook his head. "I think we'll try without it this time," he said. "I
want you to see how much you'll enjoy it without extra stimulation."

Beckham looked disappointed but said nothing further. A after a few
minutes, the two men had worked a finger each into the stud's silky anal
passage. Becks looked quite a sight, his famous tanned, beautifully inked
right arm reaching down across his rippling abdomen, extending one of his
thick, manly fingers in order to penetrate himself. Dyte added more
spit-lube as he placed his cockhead at the hole.

"Here it comes, stud!" he announced as he worked himself in.

The sex was as hot and filty as the first time. Dyte delivered a brutal
power fuck to the studly, muscled man-ass of the helplessly horny
athlete. Beckham howled at the sheer intensity of the experience, the
stimulation of his anal passage and prostate soon bringing his thick hetero
cock to a straining, leaking 9 inches.

"FUCK ME! AAAAHHHHH, YEAH!"

The force of the fuck drew short, sharp moans and cries of ecstacy which
Dyte occasionally supressed with wet, passionate kisses, full of saliva as
he lapped at the handsome chisled face, the chorded neck, biting at the
tanned, inked shoulders and upper arms.

With a final scream, Beckham's thick cock errupted, spraying ropes of thick
cum over that studly, athletic, inked torso. Dyte came hard too, filling
Beckham's big bubble butt ass with his spunk.

The next few moments were spent in a more tender fashion in contrast to the
brutal fuck as Dyte lovingly scooped the thick cum from the lithe,
gracefully muscled torso and fed it to the dazed, submissive hunk, ordering
him to hold it in his mouth without swallowing. Dyte sucked up the last of
it himself, running his tongue hungrily, tasting the manly flesh of that
magnificent, famous inked body. Finally, the two men shared a long, sloppy
kiss, transferring the hetero hunk's own seed between their mouths in the
snowball that Dyte had promised the first time but not had the chance to
see through.

"Satisfied?" teased Dyte after Beckham had finally swallowed his load.

Becks could only nod. Then, the sensation of Dyte's cum beginning to ooze
out of his tight hole began to hit him. He jolted upright suddenly, his six
pack abs straining at the tanned skin of his stomach as he sat half-up.

"Shit! You came inside me!"

Dyte nodded. "Yeah, I did. You have my cum in your ass, and yours in your
stomach. I've made you a cum dumpster, Becks. A horny cum-slut. It was the
next stage in your development."

The hunky superstar sighed in shame, the now familiar crimson burning at
his cheeks. After he had left last time, he was convinced that there was
nothing more that Dyte could take from him, no lower stage to sink to in
his degradation. Now he sat there in disbelief at the fact that he had shot
his load, hard from the fucking of his ass with only spit as lube and that
he had taken Dyte's load. His belly and his guts were full of male
cream. It was a new, beautifully humiliating low.

Beckham got dressed and left with his new mission in mind. When the Miami
Herald asked him for some quotes on Ronaldo, as they inevitably would, he
would make a small slight against the superstar - saying that he was a good
player but would always be second best to Lionel Messi; that he was fast
and strong but could not match the little Argentinian's sheer magic in
terms of skill. Ronaldo would have a call put in asking if the quotes are
true. Beckham would offer to meet to clarify what had been said ... with
Dyte, his "lawyer", present to confirm things. Dyte had laid the plan based
on his read of Ronaldo's psychology - the buff, arrogant stud would be
sensitive to the potential bruising of his ego, especially from a fellow
superstar such as Beckham, and be curious enough to turn up to clear the
air. He would also be slightly angry, especially when Beckham confirmed
that the quotes were accurate! That anger would then provide the catalyst
for the next part of Dyte's plan.

Dyte's theory was not that Ronaldo was gay or even bisexual. Rather,
Ronaldo viewed sex as he viewed most things - as a competition, an
opportunity to prove that he was the best. He chose to date strong,
confident women because he wanted a proper competition - to use his pure,
irresistable sexual lure to conquer a worthy target.

The plan started perfectly. Within a few days of his arrival, the meeting
with Ronaldo had been set up. He had even been persuaded to come
alone. Dyte had opened the door to him and marvelled at the sight. The
Portuguese stud wore light blue jeans that clung tightly to his magnificent
muscled legs - particularly those immense, meaty thighs. A crisp white tee
clung obscenely to that heavily muscled torso, stretching tantalisingly
over those huge pectorals and insanely developed lats, the tanned brown
flesh of those colossal biceps bulging pleasantly at the sleeve line. From
the top of the tee rose that colossus like neck, thick and chorded with hot
muscle. Finally Dyte's eyes rose to the hunk's stunning famous face. In
contrast to the statueseque manly features of Beckham's hunky face,
Ronaldo's facial beauty was more feminine - a smaller yet perfectly formed
nose, sculpted eyebrows and cheekbones, but with a softer jawline than the
British hunk. The powerful intense gaze of those deep brown eyes as they
frowned, however, made it clear that this was the face of a powerful,
arrogant young man.

Ronaldo had taken a seat and listed, that frown growing stronger as Beckham
calmly confirmed what he had said to the papers. Dyte watched in
fascination as the young stud's breath grew heavier with irritation, the
rising and falling of those shapely pectoral mounds providing an erotic
display of brewing masculine anger!

"So what do you want?" the Portuguese superstud spat eventually in his
sexy, deep, accented voice. "I thought you had asked me here to say these
things are not true!"

Beckham hesitated and began to blush. He couldn't quite get the words
out. Dyte cleared his throat and began to speak.

"What my client would like to offer," he said, "is an apology for the
public lack of respect."

Ronaldo's doe eyes flicked towards Dyte. "OK ... so he says sorry then."

Dyte half-smiled. "He would like to offer something more ... meaningful. Mr
Ronaldo, there are many similarities between you and my client. You are
both rich, famous, sexy superstars. You both have egos and respect must be
shown. Mr Beckham regrets the lack of respect shown and wants to make it
right in your eyes."

Ronaldo looked back at Beckham, who was now staring at the floor. The look
of shame and humiliation played clearly across the hunky Brit's handsome
face. Ronaldo's inner predator perked up as he sensed weakness in his
celebrity rival.

"Say it, Becks," Dyte whispered. "Come on ... you're almost there."

A short sigh from the tortured hunk.

"I want you to fuck me."

Ronaldo reacted - half in shock, but half in curiosity. "What did you
say!?"

Beckham's pathetic Brit whine contrasted sharply with confident, deep,
accented voice of the muscular tanned Eurohunk.

"I want you to fuck me. Please ... fuck my ass."

Ronaldo paused. He could not believe what he was hearing. The great David
Beckham, once his idol, then his peer on the world's stage ... now offering
up his famous, athletic body to the younger man's cock? He gave a
half-hearted laugh. "This is a joke," he tried to sound amused but Dyte
could sense the anticipation in his voice. "Very funny."

"It's not a joke, Mr Ronaldo," Dyte stepped as Beckham's will ebbed. "Becks
here understands how things are. He understands that he has allowed his
jealously at your fame and stardom to insult you. He recognises your
superiority now - that you should take over as top dog and leave no doubt
that he is inferior to you. You know, in the anicent world, the victor in
battle would often fuck his losing opponent - not because either of them
were gay - but to confirm his status as pack leader. A fuck based on power,
not love."

The words struck at Ronaldo's arrogant inner predator. The Portuguese
stud's plump soft cock twitched slightly as the plea to his massive ego
struck a chord. Dyte watched in delight as the tanned soccer god moved one
of his big manly hands down to his bulging crotch, the immense tanned bicep
flexing beautifully as he gave it a slight squeeze. Beckham, his cock lust
simmering, could not help but lick his lips, his eyes fixated on the
younger man's ample bulge. Ronaldo noted this display of submission with a
slight sneer.

"OK," he said. "How would we do this?"

"This is where I come in," Dyte said. "Obviously this has to be set up with
complete discretion. There are just the three of us here, and there is a
hidden room through that door," he gestured, "which you can use to take
him."

Ronaldo looked at Dyte and said simply: "Let's go."

Dyte could barely contain his delight. The show was on!

Beckham lead the way, his beautiful head hanging in shame and, to his utter
humiliation, his cock filling out as he anticipated the fucking that his
big, beefy ass as about to receive from the arrogant young Ronaldo! His
soon-to-be fucker followed him, casting his eyes down and taking in the
famous bubble butt that was soon to be swallowing his fat Portuguese
meat. Dyte followed last, admiring the stunning musclature of Ronaldo's
huge hulking muscular back, those amazing tanned traps, lats and back
muscles bulging and stretching at the whtie fabric stretched so agonisingly
tightly over them!

Dyte suggested that the two hunks strip. Always keen to show off his
incredible body, Ronaldo was happy to do so. Dyte and Beckham gazed
open-mouthed at the display before them. First peeling off his white tee, a
flurry of rolling muscle under beautifully tanned flesh subsided into that
famous display of pure masculine beauty. In contrast to the lithe, graceful
athleticism of Beckham's inked torso, Ronaldo's powerful upper body was a
stunning display of brutal hetero masculinity. The colossal chest, heavy
with pectoral muscle, ridged out over an absurdly well-muscled abdominal
structure. The spectacularly developed lat muscles gave the body a
cobra-like appearence. The mountainous back was equally heavily built,
brawny powerful mounds of sheer muscle packed so tightly under that perfect
tanned skin. The shoulders and arms were of equally impressive development
- tight, solid muscle and veins. Ronaldo stood for a moment with his hands
on his hips, grinning as the two other men were momentarily lost for words
at the sight of his godlike hetero beauty.

The lower half of the studly athlete was no less impressive. Another flurry
of beefy musclature as those tanned arms and hands worked to pull off the
tight jeans. As the brawny hunk pulled them off and stepped out of them,
his audience was treated to a fine display of those insanely thick thighs
and honed calf muscles as the magnificent limbs bent and flexed. Ronaldo's
white boxer briefs struggled to contain a sporty butt to rival Beckham's
own beefy monster - but given the sheer total musclature of Ronaldo's upper
body, the contrast of the butt muscle was not as great as with the slimmer
torso of the British hunk. A healthy bulging crotch hinted at the thick,
meaty nine-incher and egg-sized balls contained within.

Beckham fumbled his way out of his own tee and jeans. Ronaldo smirked
openly at the fact that his now cock-hungry rival was wearing no underwear!
The athletic, inked torso of the older man rippled with lithe, lean muscle
but was obviously noticably smaller when compared to the hulking mass of
Ronaldo's tank of an upper body. Dyte admired the beautiful contrasts:
Beckham's chisled, hunky face with the strong sculpted nose and jawline
rivalled Ronaldo's more delicate facial features with their exotic, more
feminine beauty; whilst Beckham nicely-toned athletic torso, intricately
decorated with masses of ink, was rivalled by the sheer masculine force of
Ronaldo's brutally muscled torso, layer on layer of powerful muscle
rippling obscenely over that darkly tanned, completely uninked skin. Two of
the world's studliest, hetero athletes, each with their own kind of hetero
erotic power ... and Dyte had them before him, about to witness these gods
in full sexual heat!

"Let me get him ready for you, Mr Ronaldo," Dyte said finally - he had
remained clothed to subtly emphasise his power over both men. "I assume you
don't want to go down there..."

Ronaldo wrinkled his sexy face. "Only with my cock!" he laughed.

Dyte nodded and stepped behind Beckham. The studly Brit had not stopped
staring at the floor in shame - his cock had completely betrayed him by
now, as it stood full and proud in anticipation of the attention his
newly-whored ass was about to receive. Dyte took his now familiar position
in between those hefty mounds, never tiring of the sight of those stunning
heaps of muscle as they jutted obscenely from the athletic frame of their
humiliated and degraded owner. He repeated his technique from before -
teasing his wet tongue at the lower back, slicking it slowly down into the
valley created by those vast cheeks, towards the entrace to the deflowered
fuckhole of the beefy hetero stud.

Even buried in that divine man-ass, Dyte could hear the sniggers and snorts
of amused disgust from Ronaldo as Beckham groaned and moaned at the slick
wet intrusion into his studly bubble butt.

"Yyyyeeahhh ... ah, yeeaaahhh... Fuuuuuuuck..."

After a few minutes of eating out the horny hunk's magnificent ass, Dyte
stood up behind him. An opportunity to humiliate the helpless stud was not
to be missed! Standing behind Beckham, and looking over a muscled, inked
shoulder, Dyte delighted in the expressions of evil suprise that played
across Ronaldo's impish, arrogant, sexy face as he first of all nuzzled the
neck and ear of gasping Beckham - next, turned that chisled, hunky face to
the side for a sloppy kiss (making sure Ronaldo saw that the degraded stud
was receiving Dyte's tongue as he fed him his own) - and finally drawing
one finger then two into the moaning mouth of the pliant straight stud as
he whispered (but loud enough for Ronaldo to hear): "Come on baby
... that's a good boy. Get daddy's fingers nice and wet so that they can
open up your big ass for Mr Ronaldo here to fuck." Ronaldo stared wide-eyed
as his handsome millionaire rival obeyed without complaint, his brow
furrowing sexily as he concentrated on his humiliating task of
self-degradation, his sculpted face flush with shame!

Once slick with saliva, Dyte took his fingers and slowly began to open up
the studly athlete's beefy butt. He noted with delight that Ronaldo's own
fat cock had sprung to its full nine inches at the sight of his powerful
rival being manhandled buy this nobody, the thick meaty pole twitching in
anticipation of the fuck. Beckham cooed submissively, throwing his
beautiful head back as the soft humiliating moans escaped his parted lips.

Ronaldo grew impatient. "OK, come on," he said commandingly. "He's ready. I
fuck him now."

Dyte smiled inwardly at Ronaldo's confidence. He knew that the beefy
Portuguese hunk would try to take charge ... and he was willing to let him
think that for now. It would make his own downfall all the sweeter. But
that could wait - today's proceedings were about Beckham's humiliation at
the hands of his younger rival, which Beckham knew would provide Dyte, his
master, with an unrivalled erotic display.

Dyte decided to allow Ronaldo freedom to complete the fuck. It would be
interested to see what the sexual warrior would do off his own instincts,
without Dyte's direction. He was not disappointed. Ronaldo lead the
helplessly horny older man over to the leather recliner and roughly placed
him face down. With sharp spits at the loosened hole, Ronaldo wasted no
time slipping a couple of his own, beefier and manlier fingers into the
abused hole of the hetero hunk beneath him. Dyte admired the display of
manly aggression as the younger hunk's colossal bicep muscle balled
powerfully at the exertion of the rough finger fuck. Below him, Beckham
moaned at the slight pain which soon gave way to pleasure as his big
muscled butt betrayed him again!

"YES!" he cried. "FUCK ME! Fuuuuuuccck!"

The fuck itself was more incredible that Dyte could have
imagined. Cristiano Ronaldo, that colossal mountain of rippling, shredded
musclature, threw back his head with a deep, deafening ROAR! as he thrust
his pussy-destroying cock into the beefy, hungry bubble butt of David
Beckham. The fuck was raw and brutal, a display of masculine power as those
insanely developed muscles delivered savage thrusts to that big, abused
ass. Dyte was fascinated by the look of sheer dominance on the younger
hunk's face, those delicate features twisted into an arrogant
sneer. Beneath them, the powerful chorded muscles of the stud's neck stood
out; sweat began to glisten over those full, meaty pecs and run down the
gutters of those insane abs. The beefy biceps and forearms writhed and
bulged as the deeply tanned stud used the hunky Brit's inked shoulders as a
grip.

"YES!" barked Ronaldo. "Take my dick, you fucker!"

"AAAAaaaaaaaaaaahhh YEEAH!" cried the older stud. "FUCK MY ASS, SIR!
PLEASE! HARDER!"

"You are a slut for Ronaldo!" the young star continued. "Admit you are
Ronaldo's bitch!"

"YES! I AM YOUR BITCH!" Beckham sobbed. "Make me your slut, sir! PLEASE!"

Dyte was impressed at Ronaldo's stamina and creativity. First, the young
Eurostud picked up the former soccer star and roughly took him against a
wall, crushing Beckham's limp body against it with his own hulking form,
the Portuguese hunk's massive muscled thighs straining with the combined
effort of delivering the fuck as the position was maintained. Then, he
cock-walked the sobbing hunk over to the full-length mirror, forcing him
onto all fours as Dyte had had him, revelling in the sight of the
reflection as the arrogant fucker posed and flexed his phenominal chest,
abs and arms.

"Watch as I fuck you!" he cried, forcing the British stud's head up to take
in the scene reflected in the mirror. Beckham moaned in surrender as he was
forced to view his conquest by the younger stud - the wicked grin as
Ronaldo showed him who was boss! To his complete shame, Beckham's own fat
dick was hard and leaking as before - his cock-hungry ass was betraying him
yet again as it devoured the younger dick. The sight of the conquest was
too much for Ronaldo - with a final manly roar, his big muscled arms
bulging as the final strokes of the brutal power fuck were delivered, his
entire body tensed treating Dyte to a display of pure hetero power that he
could not have imagined. Beckham came seconds later with a higher pitched
moan of involuntary and humiliating pleasure, drawing a cruel laugh from
the depleted Ronaldo as the tanned younger hunk delighted in his victory.

Ronaldo withdrew from the exhaused beated stud below him. With a nasty
laugh, he aimed a sharp slap at the big manly ass he had just taken -
sealing the conquest of his territory with a swipe of his tanned muscular
right arm as the flesh butt revirberated and Beckham whimpered. As he stood
up, the muscular hero delivered a soft blow with his knee to Beckam's beefy
inner thigh, sending the defeated hunk unceremoniously to the
ground. Another evil chuckle from the arrogant superstud as he turned to
Dyte and gave the thumbs-up.

"That was great, haha!" he laughed. "Thanks. I don't know how you made for
that to happen. I might want to take him again before I leave."

Dyte just nodded. His plan had come together more perfectly than he had
dared hope. His ego inflated by the sexual victory, Ronaldo's arrogance and
confidence was at its vulnerable peak. As the impossibly brawny, tanned
hunk sniffed haughtily as he dressed himself to leave, grinning to himself
at the thought of his victory, Dyte could tell that he had no idea that the
same fate was to befall him. He watched in awe at the erotic movements of
those colossal, honed muscles under that perfect smooth tanned flesh as the
younger stud went about putting on his clothes - supressing a smile at the
knowledge that soon, those bulging biceps, glorious pecs, mountainous back
muscles, colossal meaty thighs and glutes, that powerful chorded neck and
that exotic, arrogant, smirking face with its chisled cheekbones, erotic
brown eyes and perfect Hollywood teeth would soon be his to play with as he
wished. Ronaldo would visit next time with the same air of arrogance and
pride - and end up with the red heat of humiliation shining through even
his own deeply tanned skin of his famous sexy face as he would find himself
begging this dropout nobody to take his big, brawny body, those powerful
masculine hetero muscles, and use them for whatever depraved sexual purpose
Dyte wished!

Needing to satisfy his own immediate horniness from the incredible scenes
he had witnessed, Dyte turned to the spent, softly-moaning hunk spread out
on his floor.

"Ready for round 2, Becks?" Dyte asked matter-of-factly. "I'm as hard as a
rock after all that, and I'll bet your hungry ass can take another load."

Dyte smiled as the defeated hunk nodded his sexy head slowly. Dyte lead the
broken millionaire over to the leather recliner. As final proof that
Beckham had been sorely mistaken in his belief that Dyte was in love with
him, Dyte elected to deliver a second brutal fuck with the formerly hetero
hunk on his front, climaxing as quickly as possible to satisfy his own
pleasure and deprive the stud of a second orgasm. After he was done, Dyte
laid on top of the rippling, inked back and whispered.

"Well Becks. You've been roughly taken by your biggest rival ... and again
by a nobody. You have two loads in your big, sloppy ass. And now you're
going to leave ...," Dyte grinned as he contemplated the effect of his
words: "*disappointed* because you only got to come once from having your
ass fucked."

Beckham's shame was complete as he realised that every word was true.

"OK - time for you to go," Dyte said breezily, withdrawing from his sex toy
and, echoing Ronaldo's move, delivering a humiliating *slap* to one of
those mountainous beefy globes. "I'll let you know when I want to fuck you
again."

Beckham dressed himself in stunned silence and left. This time, he knew he
would be back, begging this loser nobody to take his famous bubble butt
ass. His life had changed forever - and now he was at Dyte's mercy. He
wondered in dread what further degradations his master had in store for
him.