The acts depicted in this story are purely fictional although the characters and settings are all based on real life. I wish the events had happened but to my continuing disappointment they never did. Do not read if you are likely to be offended by acts of consensual gay sex or if it is likely to be illegal for you to do so.
Comments welcome, flames read, laughed at and deleted. All positive emails answered. Cheers, The Alchemist ;-)
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This is the third part of the England Squad series. I'm trying to include a bit of plot with this but fear not because the sex with continue to flow as usual. So that's enough of me, on with the show...
I couldn't believe that when we returned to England they would offer me a permanent contract. It seems young Michael had been working hard on my behalf. I was shown to my office at Lancaster Gate. It was only about the size of your average broom cupboard but I only needed to use it for a few days each month. It was right next door to Glenn's office and consequently whenever I was there I would see him. I started to really hate him with a passion but as one of his assistants I had to grin and bear it. After all, the man could do no wrong in the eyes of the Football Association and Graham Kelly was trying to get him to sign an extended contract. And it's not like he's the first boss I've had that I've hated.
It was the start of September when I was first really needed. The preparations were under way for the Sweden match and it was my job to make sure everything had happened. Flights and hotels needed to be booked and clubs contacted. I sat in my office proud of my morning's work. I'd managed to get on top of everything so I could start to take it easy and I had a reason to do that. Michael had been called in for a chat about the game and I wanted to see him. It had been over a week since we had last been together and every moment apart was heartbreaking.
I busied myself with a bit of dusting. I was thinking of ways to maximise the small amount of space so that I could at least swing a cat, should the need arise. I also needed to find some way of decorating the walls. Apart from a large picture of the 1966 World Cup Winning Squad the walls were bare oak panelling. I took the picture down to see if it needed dusting behind. It looked like no one had taken the picture down since it was hung thirty or so years before. I got to work with my cloth, cleaning each black panel until one by one the rich brown colour was restored. One of the panels was loose an moved in its frame slightly as I rubbed it. Investigating further showed that it seemed to have been designed to be removed. It was obviously no accident. With one final shove it slid all the way down revealing a large hole in the brick wall separating me from my esteemed manager.
I rushed over to lock the door. I didn't need anyone else to know about this hole. I grabbed a small torch out of the training box on my desk and shone it into the hole. I realised that it was behind the fireplace mirror in Glenn's office and the mirror was one-way. Luckily Glenn was out but the possibilites were endless. Glancing down to the base of the hole I saw a folded piece of paper. I tried my hardest and after a while I managed to decipher the scrawl.
I see you've found my hole then.
I hope you have as much fun with this as I did.
As assistant to the team manager I decided to
build this hole to see what actually goes on
in the confidence of the office.
I was amazed and you will too.
Dave Smith, June 1973
My mind was awash with possibilities. If nothing else I could earn myself a lot of money from this. And to be able to see and presumably hear private briefings was just too tempting an offer to turn down. As my thoughts were racing I saw a flicker coming from the office and heard voices. I was about to get my first taster.
Glenn walked into the office followed by Alan Shearer and Michael Owen. He sat behind his desk.
"Thanks for coming in guys, take a seat."
"What's all this about boss?" Michael asked.
"Well Michael, as the number one striker in the country at the moment you are now an England regular and as such a few things need explaining."
"Are you sure about this boss? He's only a kid, it could ruin something" Alan said uneasily.
"It has to be done Alan. You should know that. I owe it to him."
"What is it boss? Have I done something wrong?"
"No Michael you've been a phenomenal player this summer. You're one of the best British strikers I have seen for a while, present company excepted, and you will go far. But you deserve an explanation of how international football works these days. Remember the Grobelaar bung scandal?"
"Well since that, Premiership football is off limits to the betting syndicates. It's too risky so they have turned their attentions to us."
"How do you mean. Are our matches fixed."
"Not all, just some of them. The synidicates decide on an end result to the competition and then the teams decide how they get there. A lot of games don't matter because the outcome doesn't have to affect the final result. But the match this Saturday is important. There's a lot of money riding on this one. No one will be backing Sweden to beat England except a group of foreign investors."
"I don't believe this. You're asking me to throw a game for money? I won't do it. I'll play my part on Saturday and we'll win. I know it."
"No we won't Michael. You can play all you like but the 2-1 result is already decided. Nothing any of us can do will change that. This one has to be just right. The consequences for a fuck-up are just too great."
"And how much do we get for this then?"
"The FA receives a small sum of money as a percentage of what it makes for our investors. It's not the money which we do it for. It's what happens if we don't do it."
"Yeah. These people are very powerful and influential. They have the means to do anything. Anyone who does something deemed inappropriate in a match could have anything done to them from injury to end of career to murder. They already use mind altering substances to control goalkeepers. If you look back at the tapes of the World Cup I'll show you some of the games that were affected."
"Michael it's OK. This will probably be the only game affected in our group stage. It's unfortunate you have to know so early but it's unavoidable. I can't have you going into the match thinking it's fair you will probably kill yourself. My advice is just do enough to make it look like you're trying. they will have three players on you so it shouldn't be too hard. Unfortunately it's me who gets the goal."
Michael stood up and walked towards the door. He was fighting to hold back tears. His illusion of international football lay in ruins. How could they do this to him? Expect him to play along with this. As he stood in the corridor outside Glenn's office he knew he had to do something.
"Thanks for being here Alan. He needed support."
"That's my job boss. You made me captain. If my players need me I will be there for them. I still don't like the situation but if they are promising us the 2002 World Cup I think we should put up with it. As long as no money enters my hands from this business I shall play with the clearest conscience I can muster."
"I knew I could count on you Alan."
"Now I believe we have some unfinished business boss."
"Now hang on a minute. This wasn't part of the deal. I promised you the captaincy for this to end."
"But since this betting deal I think my asking price just went up. I need it boss and so do you. I could always take those tapes to the press. They were very pleased with the Yorke one that came out. And those didn't even involve little boys."
"Alan you can't do this to me."
"I think you'll find that while I still have those tapes I can do anything I want. I haven't asked for much up 'til now but the longer I have to keep lying the more I'm going to want. So, boss, I think if you know what's good for you you'll bend over this desk and take those trousers down. You know how much you enjoy it. And a captain ALWAYS tries to please his manager."
Glenn reluctantly got up out of his chair and started removing his trousers. As they fell to the floor he grabbed the waistband of his briefs and they followed his trousers down. His cock was hard and dripping precum. There was no hiding what he wanted. His mind may have tried to shut it out but his body was screaming for it. He jerked on it a couple of times and then bent over the desk. Alan moved behind him and let his shorts drop to the floor. His massive erection leapt out and bobbed in the air as it anticipated its forthcoming pleasure. With no foreplay and no preparation Alan plunged headlong into his manager. The pained expression which grew on Hoddle's face showed exactly how mammoth the organ was. He felt like his body was going to split in two as Alan roughly started plowing in and out of his beleagured hole. Slowly the pain started to abate and Glenn finally remembered exactly what it was that he enjoyed. He loved having his golden boy dominate him like this. In all of his encounters with men he had to play the subservient role. In time he hoped to add Michael to the list of players that held this power over him. But for now he would just enjoy his current stud.
For Alan the feeling of holding this power over his manager was almost as good as taking to the field as captain of England. He cared nothing for this worthless man in front of him. He was offended by the very nature of Hoddle. A man who had married and had children to disguise his penchant for throwing parties involving little boys and who had left his wife for a mistress on the advice of an astrology column. All of this was par for the course. The one thing that offended Alan most was Hoddle's continual insistance on claiming to be a devout Christian. The hypocrisy was just too much to bear. He didn't enjoy the sex he had with Glenn as much as that with his wife. He had no attraction to members of the same sex. But this needed to be done. His manager needed someone to keep him in his place and out of trouble. And that was his job.
Plunging in and out of his manager with such pace was no problem for Alan. If he kept his mind on what he was doing he was in no danger of climaxing. He continued for over ten minutes. The piece of junk attached to his groin was whimpering for forgiveness. He closed his eyes and imagined it was his wife layed out on the desk. Imagined plunging in and out of her hot pussy, calling out his name and begging to be fucked. Imagined...young Michael in the showers. He wasn't sure where that one had come from. It didn't worry him too much. The next image worried him though. Michael standing over him. Dominating him. As this image came into his mind his hard cock throbbed and swelled one last time as he released his massive load of hot cum staright into the guts of his slave. He tried to put the images out of his mind as he enjoyed the power trip he was having. With his manager right where he wanted him the orgasm was one of the finest he had had for a while. On and on his cock kept pumping. But his mind kept returning to Michael. Dominating him in bed like he did on the pitch.
"Oh God no" he said as he pulled out, pulled up his shorts and ran out of the door.
Alan wept as he got back to his car and sped away from Lancaster Gate. "He's making me like him" was all he could think to say. And as he weaved his way through the traffic his mind turned to revenge. He would get back at Hoddle. Get back at the evil money men. And get back his dignity as a professional footballer.