Date: Mon, 4 May 1998 13:40:19 GMT
From: mikec@freemail.nl
Subject: Game, Set and Match

Unfortunately, the following story is fiction. If you are offended by gay
sex, you shouldn't read this. Please send any (nice) comments to:
mikec@freemail.nl. If you're interested, I can continue the series with
other tennis-related stories.

Chapter One: Patrick Rafter.

I woke up on a cold February morning and got ready to go to yet another
temporary job. It was my seventh job since I graduated from University two
years ago. At first I enjoyed these temporary functions, mainly in public
relations. I met many different, interesting people and earned enough money
to live on my own in a small house. But I started to yearn for some
stability. Not knowing what you are going to do next month, gets annoying
after a while. My last p.r. function was with an English firm trying to
launch English chocolates on the Belgian market. I don't know what
possessed this company to launch a typically Belgian product on a Belgian
market, but I sort of saw some humour in it, and accepted the job. The
English chocolates were a complete flop, of course, and that's when I
decided to end this uncertain situation and look for a more permanent job.

Last November I got a call from a friend who asked me if I was interested
to be a temporary p.r. assistant. 'Not again', I thought, and I refused
without hesitation. But my friend was somewhat desperate and didn't give up
so easily. In the end I gave in, promising myself this would definitely be
the last time.

The job was fairly simple and paid well. I was to be the p.r. assistant
during the ATP tournament in Antwerp: the ECC-tournament. My main task was
to make sure the press got all it wanted and to organise contacts between
the press and the players. I didn't know that much about tennis, but that
didn't seem to be a problem.

As I said, the job was quite simple: a journalist would call me and ask for
an interview with a player and then I would contact the player or, usually,
his manager to set the whole thing up. Belgian journalists wanted to talk
to Belgian players, French journalists wanted to talk to French players and
American journalists wanted to interview American players. Very
predictable. But there was one player that everyone wanted to talk to: the
Australian Patrick Rafter.

I read his file and saw he had won the US Open last year and thus became
one of the top players in the world. And when I saw his picture I
understood why journalists were so keen to interview him. Not only was he a
great athlete, but also a very goodlooking guy. 'Millions of girls and
women around the world must have a crush on this guy', I thought. 'Good for
the ratings !'

To organise all the interviews, he agreed to meet me the first day of the
tournament. I waited for him in the lobby of the hotel. After he was about
half an hour late, he finally showed up.

'Sorry I'm late', he said, 'I was working out in the hotel gym and lost
track of time.'

'That's all right', I replied. After all, the man's physical health was
more important than a meeting about who he would talk to and when. Afraid
to waist his precious time, I immediately got to business and gave him a
list of all the incoming requests.

'I don't think I can manage all that', Rafter said smiling.

That was the first time I saw the Rafter-smile and I started asking myself
just how much he could manage, and I'm not talking about interviews. He
noticed I was a bit distracted and asked if I was all right. I snapped out
of it and continued my work.  After about forty minutes we were finished.

'Well, I'll let you go back to that work out', I said. And he stood up,
shook my hand and left. That night I couldn't stop thinking about him. He
was gorgeous. I found out that he was voted the Sexiest Male Athlete of
1997. If ever an election was fairly won, this was it.

The next few days my passion for him growed. I watched him play his
matches. He won them all on strength, character and gracefull volleying.
After the matches he did some interviews. And though my presence was never
required, I insisted on joining him. Between interviews, we talked about
lots of things. We turned out to be the same age and somehow that created a
connection between us. He told me a lot about the game, Australia, his
family and other players. Tennis could be a lonely sport sometimes. He
travelled around the world most of the time, usually with his coach and
sometimes with someone from his family or a friend. So he was never really
alone. But still, tennis wasn't very compatable with an interesting social
life.

'But I bet you can get any girl you want', I said.

'Well, I do have a lot of female fans, but I don't think they would go that
far', said Rafter, modest as ever.

'Are you kidding? Anyone can see the look in their eyes when they're
cheering you on. Believe me, I've been watching some women spectators the
last few days and they don't just like the way you play. They all think
you're an exetremely attractive man.'

'Ah, they need their eyes checked', he said. 'Anyway I'm not interested in
them.'

With that interesting comment, journalist number 18 entered the
interviewing room and started asking questions about how he sees his future
career and about Australian tennis in general. When the interview was over,
Rafter said goodbye and went back to the hotel.

The next day I went to see his quarter final match, which he won quite
easily. All through the match my eyes were fixed on this perfect athlete:
that long, dark hair, those beautiful eyes, those strong legs. And when he
switched shirts, I could see his torso, muscular and virtually hairless.
Just perfect. My pants were really getting too small for my growing cock.

After the match, I wanted to go up to him and congratulate him on his fine
victory, but my boss saw me and called me. According to him, I was
concentrating too much on one player, and there had been some complaints
that I was difficult to reach. He ordered me to stay by my desk. As I did
that, I was swept by telephone calls from various journalists who asked me
to organise some more interviews with players like Korda, Bjorkman or
Rusedski. I didn't have the chance to see Rafter again that day, since he
had already left for the hotel by the time I had finished.

Well, at least that gave me the time to catch up on work, so I decided to
stay at the office that evening. While working, I received another
phone-call. It was Rafter himself.

'Hey, it's Pat here. You're not still working, are you?', he said.

'I'm afraid I don't have much choice. My boss thinks I've been neglecting
the other players', I explained and added: 'I guess he's right.'

'Listen, I'm just going to have some dinner and I wondered if you would
like to join me. I don't like eating alone'. Was I imagining this? Or was
Patrick Rafter really inviting me to diner?

'Sure', I said. 'Where do you want to go?'

'I don't really want to go out. We could have diner here in my room',
Rafter said.

Now I was definitely interested. The thought of being alone with him in his
hotel room, made my dick grow again. But I realised he would probably just
want someone to talk to and wouldn't be interested in some physical action.

Anyway, it was better than staying at the office, so I went to the hotel
and up to his room. When he opened the door, I knew it was going to be hard
to control that dick of mine. I felt it spring to life, just by being near
him.

We started talking again about all the usual subjects and had a wonderful
diner. After the meal was finished he asked: 'You want to watch some
television?'. 'Sure', I said.

We sat on the sofa, and I was getting really nervous. As I expected, my
dick was very difficult to control and I was afraid he would notice my
arousal. I was uncomfortable and horny at the same time. While switching
channels we stumbled on a love scene from some soft-porn movie. Rafter, who
held the remote control, didn't switch the channel now. And so, I saw this
man fucking a woman in all sorts of positions. This was really getting too
much. I had to release my cock. Suddenly, I stood up, tried to hide my
erection and said it was time for me to go.

'Huh?', said Pat. 'I'm not that boring, am I? And if it's the movie, we
can watch something else.'

'Look, Pat, it's really better that I go. You're not boring at all. It's
just that.... Well...'

'You're gay, aren't you?'

I was completely surprised by that answer. Surely, I couldn't be that
obvious. But there was no point in hiding the thruth. So I told him I was
and while I was being so open, asked him if he was.

'Me?', Pat said. 'No, I'm not. That is, I don't think I am. Once in a
while, I do think about men in a sexual way, but I guess that's because I'm
usely surrounded by men and don't have much time for a proper sex life. But
the only man I've had sex with is myself.'

'Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like, having sex with another
man?', I asked him.

Pat didn't answer me. Instead he looked at me and gave me another
Rafter-smile.

That was all the encouragement I needed. I moved closer and put my mouth on
his. Our lips touched and then opened to allow our tongues to find each
other. We kissed and kissed again. We removed each other's shirts and
caressed each other's chests. I trembled as Pat ran his fingers all over my
chest. I kissed him again and then lowered my lips to kiss his neck and
even further to suck on his erect nipples. He was moaning, pleading for
more. I unbuttoned his jeans and saw his nice bulge. Only one piece of
white cotton underwear was now between me and the cock of the Sexiest Male
Athlete. But before I could get my hands on it, he started to pull down my
pants and underwear. I was now completely naked with a hard cock pointing
up, waiting to be handled. But first I slipped my fingers under the elastic
band of his briefs and felt his throbbing cock in my hand. Finally I eased
his briefs down and we were both naked.

We slid off the sofa and lay on the blue carpet. I took his stiff organ in
my hands and was surprised at how good it felt, even though this was not
the first time I held a cock. I kissed his chest again and lowered my mouth
to his loins where I found my long-awaited prize. I licked Pat's cock and
ran my tongue all over it, from head to base and back. In the mean time,
Pat had positioned himself so he could suck me. And when I felt his lips
around my own knob, I shivered with desire. Pat put his lips around my
shaft and sucked gently. I couldn't believe he hadn't done this before. I
couldn't believe how good he was. Maybe he had lied about his lack of
experience with men, or he was a natural cock-sucker. Either way, I didn't
care and enjoyed the wonderful feeling of having a cock in my mouth while
receiving a blow-job myself.

After a little while I felt I was going to explode. I warned Pat I was
about to cum, but he didn't stop and seemed determined to let me fill his
mouth with my juice. I shot load after load and in response, Pat released
his cum in my mouth.

We finally broke the 69-position and lay there on the carpet. Sweaty, but
satisfied. We kissed and embraced, while watching some more television.
Soon it became clear, that neither Pat nor I were completely finished. Our
dicks soon got rock-hard again and this time I needed more than a blow-job.

Pat realised what my intentions were and rolled over on his stomach. 'I
want you to fuck me', he said. He didn't have to say this twice. I
straddled him and slid my throbbing cock along his buns. I pressed my
cockhead against his hole and expected much resistance from this virgin
ass. But my cock went in very smoothly and now I knew he was lying. Pat had
done this before !

I started moving my cock in and out of his ass. Faster and faster. Until I
exploded inside him.

Pat smiled at me again and I knew it was time for me to return the
favour. I lay on my back and he pushed my legs in the air and penetrated
me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the best fuck I ever had. I wanted him to
cum in me, like I never wanted it before. And after several minutes of
powerful thrusting he did cum in me.

That night I stayed with him. We slept in each other's arms, took a shower
together the next morning, and sucked each other's dicks again. Pat lost
the semi-final that day, but he didn't seem too unhappy about it. It
certainly gave us more time to explore each other's bodies.

After the tournament, we said goodbye after we promised each other to stay
in touch. I was certainly going to keep that promise. And in fact, I
dicovered more tennis players.


Game, Set and Match (2)

Just a reminder of what happened previously. Reluctantly, I accepted a job
as a temporary p.r. assistant at the ECC-tennis tournament. Through this
job I met several tennis stars, but none could match the witty, modest,
graceful and extremely attractive Australian Patrick Rafter. We seemed to
get along and when Pat invited me to have diner with him at his hotel room,
a dream came true. Pat turned out to be curious about having sex with
another man and I was only too happy to satisfy his curiosity. So, after we
had our meal, we had each other.  We promised to keep in touch, which did
make it easier to continue this story. For the record, this story is
fictional and people who don't like reading about gay sex, should really be
doing something else. If you do like the story, though, you can always tell
me and, thus, encourage me to continue, at: mikec@freemail.nl

Chapter Two: Playing Doubles

It was still all so hard to believe. Who could have ever imagined that a
simple 24-year old Belgian p.r. guy could have a passionate affair with the
Sexiest Male Athlete of 1997 ? With a man millions of women (and men) had
sexual fantasies about ? Not me, anyway. And as it turned out, the affair
didn't end in Antwerp. Through that wonderful invention we call e-mail, we
did manage to keep in touch. We wrote a lot of e-mails to each other, of
which lots could feature here as a gay story. But the best e-mail wasn't
the one when he described what he would like to do with me and some
ice-cream, but the one when he invited me to join him in Monaco, where he
would play a big tournament. Within minutes my bags were packed and I was
set to go.

Pat had sent someone to the airport to collect me and bring me to the same
hotel, where he was staying. He booked me in a room, two floors beneath
his. Close enough to have some fun, and not too close so he could still
concentrate on his game. When I arrived in the massive room (good thing Pat
offered to pay for it), there was a small present on the table: a VIP pass
for the tournament wrapped in some white Rafter-briefs. That brought back
some memories. After I got settled in, I received a call from a tournament
official, who said I was invited for Rafter's first round match at the
Center Court of the local tennis club. I went to see the match and saw him
giving his best again. As he always does. He gave me a hard-on like no one
has ever given me before, and I doubt I'll ever be this horny about anyone
in my life. After all, he was the perfect athlete. I was turned on by every
part of his body: his long, dark hair, that beautiful Rafter-smile, his
smooth and muscled torso, his strong legs and his perfect ass. But I would
like to take this opportunity to emphasize that Rafter also has the
matching personality: he is witty, friendly, modest, charming. In short, an
all-round nice guy. And that turned me on just as much as his body.

After the match, which was won by Rafter, I got a message from Pat telling
me that he saw me sitting in the audience and looked forward to meeting me
later at the hotel. And so, I returned to the hotel, after having a nice
chat with Greg Rusedski who remembered me from the ECC-tournament. 'What
are you doing here ?', Greg had asked. Since I could hardly tell him I was
here to have sex with Patrick Rafter, I just told him I was on holiday. I'm
not sure if he believed me, but that was the last thing on my mind.

Back at the hotel, I took a hot long bath and waited for a sign from my
lover. A knock on the door raised my expectations. And indeed, Pat was
standing in the doorway, cute as ever, with a smile that covered his whole
face.

'Hey, Mike. I'm glad you could make it. Though I must admit it's not easy
seeing you in the audience without losing my concentration', Pat said.

I smiled back, let him in and planted a kiss on his lips. He immediately
grabbed my ass, pulled me close to him and kissed me softly. At last our
tongues met again in a long and passionate embrace.

'I've really missed you', I said, realizing that this is not the most
original line to greet your lover.

'Yeah ? I'm surprised you gave me another thought.' Pat's modesty never
seized to amaze me.

We talked about the match, how my trip was and even more boring things,
like 'Nice weather, here.' During the whole conversation we never let each
other go. We were sitting on the couch, all snuggled up to each other and
simply enjoying each other's touch. No need to mention, we couldn't keep
our dicks in control and before we knew it, we both had a boner.

'Do you want me to take care of that ?', I asked.

'Only if you want to', he said. 'I just want you to know that I didn't
invite you here to have sex with me. I invited you because I like you and
thought you might enjoy the trip. You shouldn't feel obligated to do things
you don't want, simply because I'm paying for the room and got you a VIP
pass.'

'Pat, believe me, even if you let me sleep on the streets, I would still
want you.' And with that I grabbed his dick and massaged it through his
pants. Pat moaned softly and whispered: 'Oh God, I've waited for this
moment.'

We kissed and I removed his T-shirt and started licking his chest, sucking
on his nipples, while never letting go of his dick. I stuck my tongue in
his belly button, which really drove him wild, and pushed my fingers under
the elastic band of his underpants to feel the warmth of his throbbing cock
in my hand. And then I unbuttoned his jeans and lowered down his white
briefs to reveal his standing cock. Pat was now completely naked, except
for a pair of white gym socks. I continued my way down with my tongue and
licked his inner thighs and legs. I removed his socks with my teeth and
sucked gently on one of his toes. Another thing he really seemed to
like. He stood up from the couch, pulled me to him, kissed me again and
then started to take my clothes off, while worshipping my body with his own
tongue. When I was naked too, he took me in his powerful arms and led my
into the bedroom. We both lay on the bed and continued our loving embrace.

Both having a tremendous hard-on it was time to act. But to my surprise,
Pat took the initiative and took my dick in his mouth. He licked my shaft,
up and down and then took in as much of my penis as he could. Feeling his
hot breath on my cockhead almost made me cum instantly. But Pat, realizing
the danger, took my cock out of his mouth and focused his attention on my
balls. While gently sucking on them, I ran my hands through his beautiful
long hair. After a couple of minutes he released my balls and put his lips
around my dick again and started sucking it. I screamed out in passion:
'Oooohhhhh Pat, suck it harder, baby.' And he followed my command. This
time eruption was unavoidable. I warned him, but he wanted me to cum in his
mouth and so I did. Loads after loads of my juice filled his mouth, until
he couldn't take it anymore and it came dripping from his mouth. I pulled
his head to mine and kissed him, thus tasting my own cum. I licked his face
clean and then started moving my tongue lower again. I didn't stop long at
his nipples this time, since I was very keen to get my lips around that
beautiful cock. First I kissed his firm, furry balls and took one in my
mouth to suck on it. But I couldn't concentrate on that. The cock was my
main target and soon I shifted my attention from his testicles to his big
(but not excessive), uncut dick, standing proudly from his body. I pulled
the foreskin back and kissed his cockhead. Pat grabbed the back of my head
and pushed it closer. He wanted me to take it all in and I happily
obliged. I did manage to take it all in and Pat started to make fucking
movements. After a while of face-fucking, he released his gentle grip and I
concentrated my efforts on his cockhead, sucking it hard. I felt the cum
coming, sucked even harder and then tried to swallow as much as I could. I
sucked him completely dry, kissed his limp cock and lay myself on top of
him, our eyes locked together.

It didn't take long for us to get hard again, but that was as far as it
went that night. Pat got a little superstitious that fucking me would make
him lose the next match again. I guess most athletes have their peculiar
ways. But who was I to complain. Here I was, in the arms of Pat Rafter who
gave me a wonderful blow-job and allowed me to return the favor. This was
heaven. However, I was still curious about Pat's previous experiences. He
still claimed to be a virgin when it comes to gay sex (before he met me,
that is), but he seemed such an experienced cock-sucker.

Pat left about an hour later and returned to his room to get a good night's
sleep. The next morning I tried calling his room, but he had already left
to go practice. Pat had left me a message inviting me to come and see him
practice on a nearby court. And of course, I did.

When I arrived Pat was talking to one of his colleagues and
fellow-Australian Mark Philippoussis. Apparently they used to be doubles
partners, but they split earlier. I couldn't hear what they were saying,
but they certainly didn't appear to be the best of friends. I didn't really
care what they were saying.

I was surprised by Mark Philippoussis' looks. I had seen him before on a
picture and found him very handsome, but I never realized he was that
gorgeous, until I saw him in the flesh. He was a tall, dark young man (a
few years younger than Pat and I). He had short, black hair and beautiful
brown eyes. His build was athletic, of course, and he even seemed stronger
than Pat. As for the rest of his body, I could only guess, and I figured it
would stay like that. Sure, gay sex was practically invented in Greece,
where Mark's roots were. But what are the chances of two such gorgeous
tennis starts being sexually attracted to men ?

My day dream was abruptly interrupted by the end of the conversation
between the two Aussies. Both were aggravated and Mark stormed past me on
his way off the court. I greeted Pat and started to watch him
practice. Though it's always great to see a player like Rafter in action, I
started to get a bit bored. It's amazing how an exciting sport like tennis
can seem so dull when you're watching a training session. Pat was focused
on his game and didn't pay much attention to me and so I decided to go for
a walk and explore the other training courts. Yet again, I met Rusedski. We
had a short conversation before he started training. Greg's a nice guy, but
he's very straight and not my type. My tour around the courts didn't really
amuse me, until I got to the last court, where Mark was training. He was
practicing his serve and I think the confrontation with Pat was partly
responsible for the rocket services he produced. Mark's nickname is 'The
Scud', but at that moment this name just wasn't powerful enough.

I decided to watch Philippoussis for a while and after a couple of minutes
he was aware of my presence and interrupted his training session. He came
over to me and started talking.

'Hi there', said Mark. 'I just saw you with Pat over there. You two are
friends ?'

'Sort of', I said. I didn't want to reveal the true nature of our
relationship to him, especially after seeing how Pat and Mark didn't get
along. But Mark didn't give up.

'Well, I can tell you're not Australian and I doubt you're a professional
tennis player. So where do you know him from ?', he continued.

'Actually I'm a friend of his brother', I lied.

'Really. Which one ?'

Now I was in trouble. Pat had told me about his family and about his many
brothers, but I couldn't remember their names. I guess I was easily
distracted around Pat and didn't really focus on the conversation. I didn't
want to risk the gamble and decided there was only one way out of this
mess.

'Oh, is that the time ? Pat's probably wondering where I got to. It was
really nice to meet you. Bye.'

Not really a brilliant escape, but I thought I got away with it. I didn't
head back to Pat's court. A call from nature drove me to the club house,
where the locker rooms were. Since there was a bar there too, I ordered a
drink. After a while, Mark came in, all sweaty after a hard training
session.

'Hello again', he smiled. 'I see you're drinking beer, you must really be a
friend of the family.'

Pat had told me about how much he and his brothers liked a good beer, so I
felt safe.

'You're probably a friend of David, aren't you ?', he continued.

'That's right', I said. 'Do you know him too ?' I actually didn't know
David, but I was sure I had fooled the Greek-Australian.

'Sure', he said. 'You know, we should have a drink together. We can go to a
more quiet room. It's very busy in here.'

'Sounds nice'. And it really did. Mark seemed a very nice guy and as long
as I could avoid the subject about my relationship with Pat or his brother
David, I saw no harm in having a drink with Mark. He went over to the bar,
ordered a drink and led me into one of the other rooms.

It was a locker room. There was a wooden bench on which we could sit, but I
didn't have a chance to sit down. As soon as Mark closed the door, he
grabbed me and pushed me against the wall.

'Pat doesn't have a brother called David', he said. 'You're Pat's lover,
aren't you.'

'That's ridiculous. He's not even gay', I objected.

'Yeah right. You're not very convincing. Pat and I were very close and I
know all about his little fantasies about men. And about all his lovers.'

So, Pat had lied to me about his previous experience. I knew he wasn't a
virgin, but couldn't figure out why he never told me. I should have been
hurt about Pat's dishonesty, but there was something else going on. Mark
was still pushing me against the wall, making our groins meet. I guess
that, and the smell of a sweaty man, got me horny. Mark felt the movement
in my pants and I could feel something myself. It seemed I wasn't the only
one who got a hard-on. And Mark seemed really eager. He started to really
push his cock against mine and making little fucking movements. I couldn't
control myself any longer, grabbed him by the ass and kissed his lips. He
immediately responded by opening his lips and letting my tongue in to
explore his warm mouth. After a short, but passionate kiss, Mark started to
take off my pants. He lowered both my jeans and underpants and asked me to
turn around. With my pants on my knees and my dick standing straight from
the body, I turned around to face the wall. Then I felt his hands grabbing
my throbbing cock from behind. He started stroking it and after a while I
felt his hard cock against my ass cheeks, ready to penetrate the hole. With
one hard thrust Mark was in. At first he fucked me slowly, but the thrusts
got harder and harder, faster and faster. It was hard not to scream out in
pleasure, but there were a lot of people only a few meters away. Mark held
me firmly, while fucking the hell out of me. Though I liked Pat's gentle
approach, I must admit this wasn't too bad either. After a couple of
minutes I could feel Mark was about to explode. I felt my guts filling with
his hot juice and with one last and deep thrust, Mark emptied himself
completely and almost collapsed from the effort.

'You've really got a nice ass', he said. 'It's almost as good as Pat's. But
I'm sure you know as well as I do, how nice it is to fuck Pat.'

'I didn't realize you two were lovers', I reacted surprised.

'I guess he never told anyone, because he's afraid the press might find
out', Mark explained. 'Journalists really can be very nosy about our sex
lives. Anyway, what Pat and I had, is over now.'

'But we're not done yet', I said. And with that I grabbed his ass and
added: 'I still want a piece of you.'

He went over to the bench and bent over to give me a nice view of his
strong and slightly hairy ass. A perfect target. I, still as hard as a
rock, went over to him and pushed my dickhead against his asshole. Not
meeting much resistance, I got in pretty easily and started fucking tennis
star Mark Philippoussis. It felt great. I pushed my cock all the way in and
thrusted back and forth. I could tell Mark liked it too. His dick was
standing up again and he moaned very softly, so no one could hear us. I
released my cum in him and pulled my cock out of his ass.

After we cleaned ourselves up a bit, I asked Mark why he had seduced me
like that.

'I didn't want to break tradition', he answered. 'Pat and I used to share
lovers, and I figured there was no reason why we should end that tradition,
just because Pat and I aren't lovers anymore.'

With that, I decided to go back and find Pat. This time, he was really
wondering where I got to. I did feel a bit guilty, though. It's not like
Pat and I had taken a vow of chastity, but to have sex with his ex-lover
behind his back, wasn't very nice. On the other hand, Pat had lied to me
about his sexual experience. It was now clear that Pat was gay and had been
having sexual affairs with men for years. Questions filled my mind: Should
I tell him everything ? Will he ever speak to me again ? What are my
feelings towards Mark ? I just didn't know at that point and hoped time
would bring the me answers.


Game, Set and Match (3)

Previously: Patrick Rafter and I had become lovers after we met during the
ECC-tournament in Antwerp. When he invited me to Monaco, where he was
playing yet another tournament, we continued our sexual relationship. At
one point I was seduced by his fellow Australian and ex-doubles partner
Mark Philippoussis. I found out Pat had been lying to me about his sexual
preference and experience. He and Mark had been lovers for a while and even
used to exchange bed partners. Troubled by this news and by my betrayal, I
went back to face Pat.

Once again, I should point out that none of this is true, of course. And if
there is any danger you should get upset by reading a gay sex story, now
would be a good time to check out another website. I would like to thank
all the people that sent me comments about this series. Please continue to
praise me or to give suggestions about future story lines, at:
mikec@freemail.nl

Chapter Three: First Service

It had been three weeks now since Monaco. I did tell Rafter about my
encounter with Mark Philippoussis and about how I found out the truth about
his past. Pat wasn't very happy and wanted me to leave him alone
forever. With no hope for reconciliation, I almost did leave. But thanks to
Greg Rusedski, who put in a good word for me, I was offered a p.r.-job on
the ATP-tour. I was to travel with the players from tournament to
tournament, which made future dealings with Pat inevitable. But Pat decided
not to play tournaments for a while to get ready for the French Open, and
the tour continued without him. In Pat's absence, Mark Philippoussis and I
became lovers on a regular basis. Mark's a very nice guy and the sex was
great, though somewhat rough at times. But I must admit, Pat was never far
from my mind. Pat and Mark both had great, athletic, hot bodies, but Mark
lacked Pat's charming personality and gentle touch. I often imagined that I
was giving Pat a blow-job, when in reality it was Mark, shivering with
desire when feeling my lips on his cock. And when I imagined it was Pat's
ass I was fucking, I always came faster than when I realized my dick was up
Mark's ass.

The next stop on the Tour was Hamburg and Mark and I had booked connecting
hotel rooms, which made it easy to see each other without arousing
suspicion. We didn't spend the night together. After all, sleeping is
essential for a professional athlete. And I doubt there would be much
sleeping if we shared the same bed. But we occasionally took care of each
other's morning erection by a quick fuck or a blow-job. During the evenings
I often had to work, so we couldn't have sex then. And if we missed each
other in the morning as well, I would sneak up to the players' private
locker rooms sometimes and have sex with Mark in the shower, on the floor
or against the wall. As I said, the sex was great.

The third day of the tournament was one of those days I had to get up
really early and work late. We probably wouldn't see each other all
day. But if I had the chance I would meet him in his locker room after his
match. While I was working I kept my eyes on the score-boards which were
positioned in the big hall of the Hamburg Center Court, where I did most of
my work. When I saw Mark had won his match, I figured he would go straight
to his locker room. I looked at the sheet and saw that Mark was in locker
room 6 today. I asked a co-worker to cover for me for half an hour and made
my way to locker room 6.

When I entered the room, Mark was already in the shower. The floor was
covered with tennis gear and there was steam coming out of the
shower. Since the shower is one of my favorite places to have sex, I
quickly stripped. I lay my clothes next to Mark's and noticed he had a new
outfit. Not really caring about the latest tennis fashion, me and my by now
throbbing hard-on went over to the shower. I wanted to surprise Mark by
gently pulling away the shower curtain and stepping in. I did just that,
but as I stepped in the shower, it was me getting the biggest surprise.

That wasn't Mark in the shower ! It was some other guy. He didn't notice me
at first, since he was very occupied in another activity. The man in the
shower was frantically jacking off. While I was quietly getting back out of
the shower, he suddenly realized he wasn't alone and quickly turned
around. It was British tennis star Tim Henman.

At first, we were both too surprised and embarrassed to say anything. After
all, I had caught him in the act, but had put myself in a compromising
position. We were both just standing there with pointing cocks in a steamy
shower. After a couple of seconds, it was Henman who turned of the water
and first spoke.

'Who the hell are you ? And what are you doing in my shower ?', he cried
out.

'I'm really sorry, I thought you were someone else', I defended myself. I
just wanted to go quietly and was hoping my dick would calm down. But the
sight of that young, naked tennis stud only made me more horny. And his
cock wasn't getting any softer, either. It was pointing straight at me and
it was difficult to keep my eyes of it.

'Wait a minute', Henman said. 'You're the new p.r. guy, aren't you ? I've
seen you around.'

'That's right', I stumbled. 'My name is Mike. Nice to meet you.' I tried to
make Henman see the funny side of the situation, but it didn't seem to
work. In a flash I had checked out his whole body and I must say that it
was a pretty sight. Henman didn't have the same strong, athletic torso my
Australian lovers had. He was slimmer and actually seemed somewhat fragile
for a top tennis player. But he was gorgeous. Henman had very boyish looks
and very little hair on his body, which was in perfect condition.

'I'm sure your boss would like to hear about your escapades', Henman
threatened.

'Look, I'm really sorry. But there's no harm done, is there ? I'll just put
on my clothes, go and forget this ever happened. There's no need to tell my
boss', I tried to calm him down. I was sorry to leave him like that, but I
knew Henman wouldn't be interested in a little hanky-panky. Greg Rusedski
had told me he and Tim both had girlfriends named Lucy, so I knew Henman
wasn't gay. And the state he was in now, didn't leave much to hope
either. I quietly stepped out of the shower, but Henman wasn't finished
yet.

'I'm going to get you fired for this', he continued. 'There's absolutely no
excuse for what you have done.'

I was getting a bit irritated by this and decided some firm action was
needed. 'What are you going to tell my boss ? That I caught you jacking off
? I'm sure that keeping our mouths shut is the best thing we can do.'

With that, he calmed down. After all, jacking off is hardly a crime but not
the sort of thing you want out in the open.

'I guess you're right', he said. 'Maybe I overreacted a bit, I was just so
embarrassed.' He suddenly seemed much nicer. And still both our cocks were
as hard as rocks.

'Everyone does it, you know', I said. 'It can actually be fun.'
 
'When Lucy is around, I don't feel the need, but I'm here on my own in
Hamburg and it does help to release the tension after a hard match. You
actually seem to be rather tense yourself', he added pointing at my boner.

'I guess I need some release to', I said, while suddenly seeing a chance to
take this encounter to a new level. 'You know, I used to play tennis with a
friend and after the match we jacked each other off. That was even better
than a solo-job', I tried. Of course, that was a complete lie, but I was
curious to see how he would react.

'I've never done that. I'm not gay, you know.'

'Millions of non-gay men have jacked each other off in their youth. It
doesn't mean anything. Like every child kicks a ball, becomes a football
player.' And with that I decided to take some action: I started to stroke
my cock.

At first, Henman seemed amazed. He just looked at me jacking myself off,
afraid to join in. But after a while, he got comfortable, put his hands
around his own dick and continued the job I had interrupted so abruptly. We
were now both jacking off, but I wanted to go further than that. I got
closer to him, let go of my own cock and stretched out to feel his. When I
touched his hard cock, he stopped jacking off and looked at me, unsure
about how to react to this. I now took control of his cock, caressing his
cockhead with my fingers. The unsure look on his place disappeared and
pleasure took over. Tim was starting to enjoy this as I started to jack him
off harder. I could see by the look on his face he was about to cum, and so
I stopped jacking him off, determined not to let it end there.

'Why are you stopping ?', Tim asked disappointed.

I didn't say anything, I just smiled at him and moved even closer. Tim
stepped back, but he couldn't go far. His back was against the wall of the
shower. I got closer and closer, our cocks came into contact with each
other and then the rest of our bodies followed. I pushed him against the
wall, burying my crotch in his and moved my lips to his ear. 'Let's make
this even better', I whispered and starting nibbling on his ear lobe.

Tim just stood their without moving. This was all new to him and he just
didn't know what to do. I continued licking his ear and started to run my
hands all over his body. And suddenly I felt a hand on one of my ass
cheeks. He was finally giving into temptation. His other hand caressed my
back, while I moved my lips towards his mouth. I kissed his lips, then
kissed them again, and again, and again, until he gave up resistance and
opened his mouth to let me in. Tim turned out to be a very good kisser. He
gave me a hot, wet kiss and I knew I had broken his will.

After a while, I started to move my lips lower. I kissed his neck, his
shoulders and his chest. I gently sucked both nipples and continued my
path. I probed his belly-button with my tongue, remembering how much Pat
had liked that and then sat on my knees in front of him. His still hard
cock was now pointing at my face. I planted a kiss on his cockhead and then
started licking his shaft. I sucked on his balls and then focused again on
his cock. Tim grabbed my head and started to make little fucking
movements. I was enjoying this blow-job. Tim's dick wasn't very big nor
thick, so I had no trouble managing it. But Tim was in heaven. He was still
fucking my face, moaning in the process, running his fingers through my
hear. He warned me he was about to blow, but I wanted to taste his juice
and continued sucking his dick. He shot a tremendous amount of cum in my
mouth. Too much to take it all in. Good thing, we were in a shower.

After he was done, he turned the hot water back on. He started to soap me
up and clean off the cum from my body. I did the same for him, paying much
attention to his limp cock. I was still hard and couldn't wait much longer
to cum myself. I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Tim
followed me to the table where his clothes were still laying.

'Sit on the table', I asked him. He sat on the edge of the table and
embraced me. His hands were all over my ass and I figured that was a sign
for me to fuck him. But then he hesitated, understanding my intention.

'I've never been fucked before', said Tim.

'Don't worry', I replied. 'Just lay back and enjoy the feeling.'

He lay his back on the table and I pushed his legs up. His ass was now
laying right in front of me, ready to be penetrated for the first time. I
used some saliva as a lubricant, knowing it wouldn't be easy to get in that
tight, young ass. His legs were resting on my shoulders, while I positioned
my cock right in front of his ass hole. I pushed in, and as expected,
stumbled on much resistance. 'Just relax', I said. 'I'll be really gentle.'
I could see by the look on his face he was hurting, but he seemed
determined to finish the experience and didn't ask me to stop. I pushed
further in, stopping regularly to let him adjust to my cock. The pain
slowly grew smaller and when I was in the whole way, the pain was virtually
gone. I started to slowly fuck Tim Henman and he started to really enjoy
it. Feeling his tight ass round my dick, I couldn't help but crying out in
pleasure. And he started to make noises as well. Each time I fastened the
pace our moans became louder and louder. Tim's dick was hard as a rock
again and he started jacking off, while I was fucking him. I wanted to
postpone ejaculation, I wanted this feeling to last for hours, but it was
just too hot to handle. I warned him, but he wanted me to cum in him, and
that's exactly what I did. After I had my orgasm, Tim came for a second
time and shot his juice up in the air. It landed on both our bodies and
made another trip to the shower necessary.

We washed each other again, stepped out of the shower and this time we were
both satisfied. We put our clothes on and I left the room first. Before I
did, I gave him another hot kiss and told him Lucy was very lucky to have
such a wonderful lover. I ran back to my desk and got on with the job.

When I got back to the hotel, Mark was already sleeping. He had left a note
in my room, saying that he had waited for me in his locker room and wasn't
very happy I never showed up. As it turned out, I had looked on the sheet
for the previous day, which explains my mistake. But I wasn't sorry. Having
sex with Tim Henman definitely was a high-light, but there was another
thing that really made my day. On one of the computers at work, I had
access to e-mail and when I returned from Tim's locker room, there was an
e-mail in my mailbox from Patrick Rafter. Pat wrote that he had thought
about the whole thing and felt things got a bit out of hand. He said he
would shortly join the ATP-tour again and hoped we could meet as friends
again. This message gave me a very warm feeling inside and I started asking
myself if I could really be in love with Pat. I couldn't wait to see him
again.

To be continued...