Date: Sat, 29 Oct 2016 19:01:20 +0100 From: Christopher Hudson Subject: WHEN SATURDAY CUMS 15 The morning of Valentine's Day arrived -- and with it, the prospect of a lonely, unromantic occasion for Will Brandt, who naturally could expect little in the way of romance from Drew Andrews. The older man, after all, had little (if indeed any) liking for the fineries of love and courtship. He liked sex -- hard, unadulterated, meaningless sex -- and was not about to waste his time trying to woo a young man who readily provided him with such a diet anyway. If Will wanted romance then he could go and piss off and find someone else -- but given the fact that no-one in their right mind would want the sad loser (so he thought), he didn't feel he needed to worry too much about that happening. No, the young Dutchman was there for him to use and abuse -- a fact that he had rather relished pointing out to the fellow during the days leading up to February the fourteenth. And whilst Will was saddened by such pointed revelations, his genuine feelings of worthlessness were such that he took such affront very much on the chin. Drew was right, no-one else would* ever* want him -- a point that had been clarified all the more by Gareth's painful snub. As such, he had little choice but to accept his role in life: as a passive subservient, whose role was merely to serve his master's twisted sexual whims and fancies as and when the loveless Drew saw fit. And as if to prove the point, something happened at work that morning that appeared at the time only to confirm how sick Drew Michaels actually was and how much he enjoyed trifling with Will's fragile emotions. Having spent the previous week coldly fucking the living daylights out of the lad -- and taking the opportunity each time to point out how bloody useless the youngster was in bed and how kind it was of him to take personal pity on the fellow -- a bouquet of red roses arrived at *Red Heaven*, whose intent seemed only to be to screw Will's mind up all the more. Anonymously addressed and bearing the question `*Will* ... you be my Valentine?', it was cast in a handwriting that the lad did not at all recognise and the Dutchman could only assume it was yet another of his lover's puerile games. As such, he took obvious exception to the delivery -- much to the confusion of the dizzy Michelle, whose curiosity was brimming to overflowing and who was naturally too stupid to know when to draw the line under her enquiries. `Well,' she drooled in her usual silly manner, `which young girl's taken a shine to you, ay?' `I would be having no idea!' Will exclaimed sternly -- his usually quite excellent grasp of English grammar apparently suddenly affected by his shortened temper. It was a somewhat aggrieved disposition that was made only worse by Michelle's inquisitiveness, and within minutes of the flowers' arrival, the lad was ready to throttle the girl (as well as Drew, who he knew only too well would be savouring every minute of his present discomfort). In the end, of course, Will had little option but to make some form of explanation -- though it bore little relation to reality. `Truth is,' he explained, `they're from this girl I've been seeing -- but I've finished with her now ...' `Well,' sighed Michelle, chewing gum at the same time, `it doesn't look like she's got the message!' `No ...' replied Will, with a vacuous air. `No -- it doesn't ...' At which point he told the girl that she could have the roses. After all, he didn't want them and it seemed a shame to throw them away. She protested that she didn't want them -- a little too much, perhaps -- but eventually she `reluctantly' conceded. For as Will himself had said, it was a pity that such a beautiful bouquet should go to waste. And that was that. Michelle was happy to have got some flowers on Valentine's Day (even if they were someone else's cast-offs), whilst Will tried desperately to busy himself with work in an attempt to forget his current problems. For all his activity, however, his mind was doing overtime -- slipping into the sort of depression that he had fought many times before in his short life. Indeed, by the close of the working day he was feeling decidedly morose -- to such an extent that, upon arriving back at his flat, he did little but collapse onto his bed so as to slip into a deep, dreamless slumber. He did not awake for several hours -- and even then it was perhaps only because someone was knocking on his door. Not that he felt inclined to answer it at first. Instead, he lay quite motionless in his darkened room, hoping to goodness that whoever it was (Drew, no doubt) would leave him alone and go away. It was a wish, however, that appeared to go unfulfilled, for the knocking still continued and with a determination that merely served to add to Will's present angst. `What the fuck do you want, Drew?!' he finally exploded, as he jumped up, switched on the light and opened the door. `Can't you tell I want to be --' He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks -- and why? Well, because glancing out into the corridor beyond, he had unexpectedly realised that it wasn't Drew Michaels that he was dealing with here ... `Gareth ...' he ejaculated -- almost without thought. `What the ...?' The footballer -- dressed as he was in a trendy and rather expensive looking overcoat -- appeared sheepish (in total contrast to the persistence he had displayed only moments before. `Will ...' he stuttered in reply. The Dutch lad didn't know whether to laugh or cry, whether to embrace him or shut the door in his face. `You've had your hair cut ...' he whimpered finally -- totally lost as to what to say. Gareth brushed his fingers across his fuzz, but didn't say anything about having had it done in an attempt to free himself from his past. `It's easier to manage ...' he smiled -- a toothy grin that did little but melt Will's heart. A moment or two of almost embarrassed silence broke between them, until Gareth finally found the courage to speak again. `You mentioned Drew ...' he remarked with a distinct hesitancy. `I did?' `Yes -- as you were answering the door,' the soccer-star insisted, recalling the history that Will shared with his ex. `You still seeing him?' A look of pure embarrassment clouded the young man's face -- embarrassment that he was seeing Drew again, horror that Gareth might think that he'd been seeing the man even at the height of their own affair. `I did a stupid thing,' he admitted. `Tell me about it!' Gareth laughed nervously. `I did a stupid thing once, too ...' `I went to see him,' he started sadly, before continuing with a tirade of everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks -- and this with them both stood at the doorway still. `It was stupid, I know,' he carried on. `I hate the man -- and I know he does not care for me. But I felt that I deserved him, in a strange sort of way -- after what happened ... `By the way,' he abruptly remarked, `how did you know I lived here? I do not think I have ever told you ...' The footballer smiled. `I have my spies ...' he admitted vaguely. Will nodded his head -- though he was still none the wiser. `So what was the stupid thing *you* did?' he quipped. Gareth glanced down at his feet, as if to gain the courage to speak, then gazed up into Will's dark eyes. `I got rid of the one person I've ever met who has ever meant anything to me,' he sighed. `And since then, all I've been able to wish is that I could somehow turn back the clock and change things ...' The younger lad wished at this point that he was of the disposition to prolong Gareth's obvious agony -- but somehow, weak as he was, that had never been his style. Instead, he found a smile creeping up on him, and before he knew it, had invited the fellow into the room. The soccer-ace was as relieved as he was horny -- though as this stage he thought it wise not to underline the point. Instead, he glanced around the room -- seemingly puzzled about something, though he didn't readily admit anything. `You okay?' Will queried -- now aware of the fellow's bewilderment. Gareth turned and smiled. `*Will* ... you be my Valentine ...?' he teased. For a second the younger lad simply looked bemused -- before the meaning of the question at last began to dawn. `It was you ...' he gasped -- realising now where the roses had come from. `But I thought ...' The footballer was not Brain of Britain, but he was no fool either. `You thought they were from Drew, didn't you?' Will grimaced. `I gave them away ...' he admitted. `Which explains why I can't see them here ...' Gareth laughed. Such merriment did not last long, however. Before either man knew it, a somewhat impenetrable silence had descended upon them again, as each now appeared to contemplate the apparent seriousness of their situation. For the issues that had divided them before had not gone away. Rather they remained as real and unresolved as ever before, and though both of them were now consumed with fresh carnal desire, there was no denying the fact that sex might merely further complicate an already confused and muddled situation. But of course asking these two horny studs to refrain from their impending sexual antics was almost akin to asking Sir Alex Ferguson to give his knighthood to Arsene Wenger, or asking Roy Keane to invite Mick McCarthy round for Christmas dinner -- a sheer impossibility that not even the bravest soul would counter. As such, there still appeared a certain naturalness about their movement towards each other -- dallying ever nearer and nearer, though appearing to hold back from the ultimate goal of physical contact until they had reached the point where their every bone and sinew was crying out for just that! Their fingers finally united -- clasping each other and drawing their bodies so close that it seemed not even a hair could've passed between them. `I'm sorry about the flowers ...' Will finally sighed -- an almost lamentable apology, that Gareth himself seemed almost to take pleasure in ignoring by giving him a full-blown kiss upon the lips instead. Before either lad really knew what was happening, their lips were opening out like rare, fresh flowers -- their tongues slowly brushing against each other, before pushing on into the moist, wet darkness that lay before them. Their hands, meantime, caressed and searched ... pulling away at whatever clothes lay between them and the delightful touch of warm, young skin. And then, just as it seemed that the two of them would get completely carried away with the whole situation, Gareth appeared to pull back for a moment. `Will,' he sighed, looking deep into his eyes and gently toying with the Dutchman's piercing in almost nervous fashion, `I wanna tell you how sorry I am -- you know, for what I said to you ...' Will could hardly deny the pain that the fellow had caused him and the smile that he gave in return was an admittedly timid affair. `You hurt me,' he confessed -- his cock pounding away in his jeans as he spoke. `You really did. But I forgive you, Gareth. I forgive you because I love you more than I have ever loved anyone -- anyone I have ever met ...' Neither of them could've actually said where they went from this point -- at least not in the long term. There were so many obstacles before them, so many barriers to prevent them from a full expression of their natures. And yet both knew that each represented what the other wanted -- more than anything else that this vain world could offer. But that, of course, was the whole crux of their problem! For the immediate moment, however, they appeared content to put aside their problems, as they stripped away to their boxers and tee-shirts and then fell down together upon Will's bed. By now, of course, both guys were supporting the stiffest, most engorged hard-ons that one could even begin to imagine -- but that was hardly something either of them were about to complain about. After all, both Will and Gareth were big fans of hard, throbbing cocks -- especially each others'! The tension between them was now almost electric, but for a moment they simply lay together and marvelled in the sudden realisation of what had happened that evening. `I can't believe you're here ...' Will sighed, trailing his hand across his lover's taut, young body and noting that Gareth already boasted something of a wet, sticky patch on his boxers. Truth was he was dying to get his lips around the footballer's man-rod, but sensed that taking things steadily was probably for the best under the circumstances. All the same, the pounding in his own groin told him that he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation held out before him for too long -- abstinence never having been his strong point! `I'm sorry that I accused you of only loving me for who I am --' Gareth finally began. But Will shushed him down almost at once, leaning over him and casting a finger upon his lips. `Gareth,' he sighed, `*of course* I love you for who you are! Not because you're a famous footballer, not because you're rich and have a nice house, not because I think you're some sort of meal-ticket, as they say! No, I love you because you're you -- and I would still love you even if you were none of these things ...' His words seemed almost to hang on the air for a moment or two, with a degree of two of expectancy. And then suddenly, all the hesitancy that had so far marked their encounter appeared to dissipate. The flood-gates that had stood between them were breached, and feeding off each others' faces with a blast of sexual hunger that was almost enough to steal one's breath, the two finally began to engage in the sort of feverish exploration of their hard, horny bodies that they had been craving for ever since Will had first opened to the door. What items of clothes that still remained were pulled desperately away, as their hearts began to race, their throats started to dry and their breathing became shallower with the gaining tide of excitement. Within what seemed like seconds, the pair were as raw and naked as the day they had been born -- their hardness now well and truly out into the open (as indeed it should be!) No wonder then that Will's hand should now have crept its way across the dark patch of curly hair in Gareth's crotch -- his fingers reaching out to grasp the solid pole that stood out proudly in all its crimson glory. Will could have almost cried for joy as he moved down the bed to examine Gareth's meaty offering -- in a manner that suggested he was still not sure whether all this was for real. He arched his head towards its moist, sweaty nature, sniffing it almost like an animal to remind himself of what he had been missing these past few weeks, then moved back a little as if to reconfirm its regal splendour in his mind's eye once again. God, it was a fucking gorgeous shaft -- seven-and-a-half inches of pure, unadulterated manly pleasure, from its firm, hairy base right up to the tip of its lovely skinned crown. For a minute or two, however, the youngster appeared to hold back from kissing and sucking the beast -- his reticence the result, not of any uncertainty on his part, but of his desire to prolong an experience that he honestly never imagined (until about ten minutes previous) would ever, ever happen again! And then the urge to embrace Gareth's handsome dick with his lips slowly overcame the fellow -- drawing him closer and closer to the ultimate consummation of his affection. Pulling back the generous prepuce, Will rolled his drooling tongue around his mouth, then glanced up with a smile at the footballer, who by now was simply aching to feel the touch of warm and generous wetness on his exposed and raging head. An almost wicked grin formed on the Dutch lad's smooth, sweet face -- but it was only a passing apparition. After all, he was as desperate to lap that phallus with his tongue as Gareth was to receive the commendation, and opening wide his jaws to accommodate the shank, the youngster finally reached his cherished meal -- slipping and slurping over the swelling grain and slowly pushing himself over the cap with the sort of candid eagerness one might reserve only for a special lover on Valentine's night. The cock was thick and nourishing -- just as Will had always remembered it -- and within moments he was acting with such skilful love that one would have struggled to believe that the two fellows had ever been apart. Indeed, any observer on their love-making would surely have sworn that Gareth's knob and Will's cock had a defined naturalness about them that would've made one think that they were almost made for one another -- which in all fairness they probably were! For when all was said and done, Will loved nothing better than to have his mouth open and engaged upon his lover's manhood, whilst Gareth, whose ability to oblige such luxury might have been almost legendary, was only too eager to allow the youngster his pleasure. That said, the lad was undeniably frisky as fuck himself and could barely contain his own desire to slip his red, silky lips upon Will's pulsing member -- which at present was going to waste in the young man's groin. Not for much longer, though -- and despite the fact that they had only a single bed to satisfy their carnal cravings, the two guys were soon laid out head-to-toe, their mouths and cocks the only parts of their fine, young, muscular bodies that appeared to have any importance. Not that Will could keep his attention to Gareth's cock alone, for by this stage he was gradually turning some of his attention to his lover's big, fat balls -- brimming with juicy cream and churning in anticipation of the sure-fire eruption to follow. His tongue trailed the underside of the soccer star's love-handle, then bristled down towards those two low-hanging, hairy orbs, which even now were aching from desire. Yet the discomfort they felt from an undeniable over-production of man-milk was nothing in comparison to the wanton pleasure that they gained from being sucked hard into Will's hungry mouth -- a sensation that almost bordered on sadistic amusement. Indeed, noting that the fellow groaned and arched his back each time he played with those rich and fertile bollocks, Will could not refrain from rolling them over on his tongue the more. They were once again his now, after all -- and the glint in his chocolate eye appeared to indicate that he was about to make the most of such dear fortune. Ultimately, however, his desire was for them to make love. Not just to fuck, in the cold and heartless fashion that Drew appeared to adore, but to enact the sort of true, self-sacrificing union that only two men who love and worship one other can encompass. As such, it was almost a magical moment for Will when Gareth finally drew his attention to his boyfriend's butt-hole -- licking his one digit, before steadily working his way through the tight, little sphincter that guarded the youngster's pleasure-dome. From that point on, it was merely a case of easing more and more fingers past the muscular ring -- with Will gasping for breath in sheer delight of it all. By the time Gareth was nigh on fisting the lad's rump, the youngster was on cloud nine -- calling for his friend to replace the hand with hard cock, which he knew only too well the older lad could readily supply. Indeed, moments later and the footballer had slipped a rubber over his drooling shaft and had lubed Will's slit sufficiently to allow the easiest of entrances. The Dutchman -- laid on his back with his legs in the air (his favourite position) -- wrapped his arms around Gareth's neck, then pulled his lover down upon himself. As a result, he was soon able to rest his feet on the celebrity's rear, so that the two of them were now embraced in near ball-like fashion -- their bodies slowly gyrating together in growing waves of passion. Having been separated for several weeks, they were at last re-united, and though their location was perhaps not ideal (Will's one room flat not being the most salubrious of backdrops), it was the fact that they were together that surely mattered. Indeed, it is questionable whether either lad had really taken note of their present surroundings -- for neither appeared to care for anything other than their present carnal satisfaction and that, it seemed, could be achieved anywhere! Gareth's firm, unrelenting flesh was now thrashing the crimson lips of Will's young arse-hole -- digging deeper into his guts with every passing stroke of his pen. Despite such intensity, however, the young foreigner appeared unable to encourage his lover enough, and hugging the soccer-star ever more tightly, he begged for his friend to express his love as wantonly as possible. For Will desperately wanted to know that Gareth loved and wanted him -- and all the more so given their recent separation. Insecure to the end, it seemed, he needed now to feel his boyfriend's affections in purely physical terms, and finally sensing the crack of the footballer's hairy balls upon his own, he seemed be satisfied at last that he was loved and wanted for all the best of reasons (a testimony that Drew, that life-long user, could never have given him). `Oh God, I love you, Gareth ...' he declared, drawing his lover's head back a moment so as to look into his eyes. `I love you, too, Will ...' came back the somewhat rasping response. `That's why I came back ... because I realised how much I do ...' They kissed once more -- their mouths each submitting to the attention and demands of the other -- but it was pretty self-evident that their fusion was but leading to a single point. Indeed, before Will really had chance to make any further comment, his lover had pulled his cock from its cherished bounds and was arching his back in anticipation of the flood was welling out of his balls. A grunt or two on and Gareth's knob-head was bursting -- wad after heavy wad cascading from the eye-hole and splattering relentlessly on Will's smooth flesh below. `Oh fuck!' he heaved, as yet more cum erupted from his balls in volcanic splendour. `Oh, I love you ... fuck, I love you, Will ...' And then, as if to prove that the affection was reciprocated, the younger lad (who had now started to rub his shaft up and down as well) started to spume in a similar pattern -- albeit over himself, of course. Not that Gareth was going to miss out on the good fun hereby presenting itself, and bending down, he trailed his tongue across Will's sticky, cum-laded belly. Finally (and with a mouth brimming with cum), he reached up to kiss his man -- an act that surely served to cement their deep-felt bond on this Valentine's night. Yet it was still with a sense of futile hope that they together afterwards. True, they loved each other dearly -- but, when all was said and done, would that really be enough to help them overcome the problems that they faced together? As so often in life, only the course of time would tell.