Date: Tue, 30 Aug 2016 06:36:31 +0100
From: Christopher Hudson <christopherhudson1970@gmail.com>
Subject: WHEN SATURDAY CUMS 11

Commentators of the beautiful game often quibble over why forwards go
through `dry' patches in terms of goals. Bad luck is the most natural
explanation, of course – not being in the right place at the right time on
the pitch. Injuries and physical weakness can also play a part. But perhaps
the factor that is most overlooked by the expects is stress and worry in
the private lives of the players – about their status as footballers, their
financial situations, their family and loves. The fan (in his ignorance)
demands that these Premiership gods perform infallibly week-in, week-out –
seemingly content to ignore the fact that players do not perform in a
care-free bubble, but rather in a angst-ridden world of which those outside
have little if any real comprehension. Perhaps if they did realise the
pressures that these stars are under they would be more forgiving, who
knows? As it stands, however, woe betide any striker who doesn't bulge the
back of the opponent's net during the course of a game – it would be better
for him if he was sat injured on the bench, where the wrath of public
disappointment can at least be a tad more diluted.
    Certainly that was where Gareth Hicks wished he was during the course
of the following game – a mid-table clash with Rangers at Brandon Park,
which turned out to be something of a nightmare. Having excelled in his art
for several weeks, the young star suddenly found his mind embroiled with
personal concerns – private demons that centred upon his relationship with
Will Brandt. Up until now, the thrill of the affair had always outweighed
the guilt and fears underpinning their situation. Now, however, everything
had changed. Despite the intense love and affection that he held for the
man – or indeed, perhaps because of it – Gareth could no longer square the
conflicts of interest that being with Will seemed to involve. Yet doing
what he felt needed to be done (the thing that Todd Rankin had said he
should've done weeks ago) was almost impossible. How could he just give the
young Dutch lad up? He loved him and needed him – like some sort of drug
that a junkie can never quite break free from. But that was exactly what he
needed to do if he was to continue to thrive in the Premiership. As his
skipper had warned, you couldn't have relations outside the dressing room
without it having serious professional consequences, and whilst saying
goodbye to Will would unquestionably be the hardest thing that he had ever
done, the young star finally realised that it was for the best.
    How to break such news was what weighed so heavily on Gareth's mind,
however – and surely what caused him to play so miserably on the afternoon
in question. To be blunt, his heart wasn't in the game. Rather, all he
could think about was his boyfriend – in particular, that gorgeous cock
that he was going to miss so much each morning. Post-match shags in the
showers were always pretty good, but they didn't quite ever equal the
passion and meaning that Will had injected into his life and Gareth knew
only too keenly of the loss that he was going to feel when he woke up to an
empty bed. And yet, what choice had the fellow got? Better to quit now,
whilst he was still ahead, than to embroil himself still further into a
clearly hopeless situation.
    Steve Rooney pulled the lad off twenty minutes before the end – by
which time City were already three goals in arrears and looking about as
likely to score as a hooker in a monastery. Rankin's attempts as captain to
pull the side together had looked increasingly forlorn against Hicks's
apparent disinterest and it was not without a sense of relief around the
ground that the manager dropped the team's star striker, who was evidently
struggling for once (though only Gareth himself knew why).
    City conceded no further goals, but neither did they score any. To make
matters worse, that particular loss was followed three days' later by a
near-identical performance (both by the team in general and Hicks in
particular) against their keenest rivals, United. No wonder, then, that the
crowd expressed its severest contempt during the closing fifteen minutes of
the match – by which time Gareth had again been substituted (this time to
the jeers of those who, only weeks before, had hailed him as their new
messiah). With his head held low, the young man now had little choice but
to accept the reality of his situation: that, no matter how much he adored
Will Brandt, he could no longer expect the relationship to leave his
beloved career unaffected. The time had come for the Dutchman to go, and
pulling up in the car at his house late that evening, Gareth took a deep
breath and prepared to engage in the most unpleasant business of his yet
brief existence.
    Desperate to get the matter over and done with, he stormed into the
house – thinking that the fellow would still be waiting up for him. Unable
to find him downstairs, however, he proceeded to his bedroom – at which
point he realised that Will was actually in the en-suite bathroom beyond.
It was then that Gareth's heart and soul began to sink unmercifully, for
opening the door, he discovered his lover seated in a candle-lit room, with
his lithe frame immersed in scented, bubbly water.
    `I heard you had a bad time again,' he began, in that sweet, accented
voice of his. `So I thought I would surprise you! I do hope that is okay ...'
    The footballer didn't know what to say – his spirit of determination
evaporating in the clouds of steam around him and his cock already
stiffening at Will's angelic innocence. `Yes ...' he stuttered finally. `Yes
... it's okay ...'
    Will splashed the water. `You fancy joining me?' he teased, with a
glint in his dark brown eyes.
    Gareth paused. `Will,' he began – with an almost determined air. `I
need to speak to you ...'
    The Dutch lad appeared to assume that he had done something wrong and
immediately stood up in the bath. `I am sorry, Gareth – I did not mean to
upset you. I guess you must be very tired ...'
    `No, Will!' the soccer star exclaimed – almost instinctively. Truth
was, the sight of Will's fine young body standing directly in front of him
had aroused him tremendously, with the Dutchman's semi-hard cock looking
particularly appetising. `No, it's not you! It's ... well, it's just ...'
    His voice trailed off, as he found himself licking his lips and pulling
away at his clothes. Oh fucking hell, he thought to himself – he'd got to
play with that shaft just one more time! It was simply crying out to be put
to good use, after all and his mouth was already beginning to drool at the
prospect of sucking on its pounding, crimson length. To spurn such an
opportunity seemed crazy to the boy and within seconds he was stripping off
his briefs and jumping into the water with his lover. All good sense and
reason countered against such a move – but hey, Gareth had thrown away all
good sense a long, long time ago!
    By the time the lad was in the bath – which had a naturally spacious
character and would've held several others had they so desired – his cock
was pounding out in front of him, in a manner that Will (as a hot-blooded
young male) simply could not fail to notice. Moments on and the two of them
were kissing – their tongues playfully slipping and sliding together –
whilst their hands searched and groped for whatever flesh came to hand. The
soccer star's main interest at this point, however, appeared to be his
lover's shaft, which he knew lay just beneath the surface of the water. As
such, his probing fingers were soon trailing down across Will's soapy body,
and before the Dutchman had time to consider what was happening, Gareth
Hicks had located the seven inches of uncut manhood that lay between his
lover's thighs. No prizes for what he intended to do now, of course – as
was testified by his open mouth and the mischievous glint in his light
brown eyes!
    Will slid down into the water so that his weapon stood proud of the
bubbles, whilst Gareth gradually impaled his face on the aching meat before
him. It was a strange act given that the fellow had walked into the room
with every intention of saying goodbye to his boyfriend, but what
determination he had had in that respect appeared presently to have
dissipated into a desire to give head as eagerly as possible. Like a
sweet-toothed youngster with a lollypop, he slurped on the rod with the
sort of fervour that others might somehow have assumed he reserved for his
football, and within moments Will's knob-end was pushing against the back
of his tight, dry throat, sending a shiver of excitement down his spine.
Like an animal on heat, he could now think of nothing other than his own
carnal gratification, and sensing his balls tightening in their sac, he
knew it would not be too long before he desperately wanted to thrust his
cock into the sweet recess that was Will Brandt's tight butt.
    They kissed intimately again, but their pulsing shafts were a constant
reminder of their desire to unload copious amounts of spunk together and
stepping from the bath they slipped back into the bedroom. Another smooch
followed, before Will fell back onto the mattress with his legs raised high
into the air, exposing his hairy man-cunt to the obvious delight of his
pal. Not that Gareth made an immediate effort to ram it with his cock
(stiff and eager though it was). Instead, he knelt at the edge of the bed
and began to teasingly finger around the horny ring – lobbing a ball of
spit in its direction, as means of lubrication to the pleasure. `That
good?' he quipped, as his digit pushed against his lover's sphincter –
knowing full well, of course, that Will was set to reply in the affirmative.
    `Yes ...' gasped the youngster, rolling his eyes with the extreme
indulgence now being unleashed upon his rump.
    `Real good?' Gareth insisted, pushing deeper and deeper as he spoke.
    `Yes – real, real good!' Will assured him. `Oh, please – please, I want
you to fuck me. Fuck me real hard!'
    `I am fucking you!'
    `No, Gareth. I want you to fuck me with that hard cock of yours!'
    The footballer needed so second invitation, as he reached for a condom
from the bedside table and slipped it over the length of his shaft, which
by now was drooling with pre-cum in apparent eager readiness.
    Will, meantime, raised his legs even higher and wider, so that his slit
was fully exposed to Gareth's lustfulness. There was no doubt about it –
the young man was fully prepared for the buffing of his life and it was
with some degree of relief that the soccer-ace finally pushed himself
forward so that the crown of his knob was resting at the very entrance of
Will's fuzzy slash.
    The young man could not quite believe how fucking good it was to feel
his boyfriend's butt-picker finally slide inside him – opening his bowels
up in the process. Actually, it always felt bloody good, but on this
occasion there seemed to be an added recklessness about the lads that made
their love-making all the more enjoyable. They kissed and gyrated like
never before – the frantic slap of Gareth's balls against Will's rear
merely adding to the frenzy of the moment. It was as if they both knew that
this fuck had some deeper significance – as if Will could read his lover's
mind and knew that things were never going to be the same again after
tonight. Not that either of them consciously possessed such a thought as
they pounded away like rabbits. No, they were both far too busy relishing
their mad debauchery to do anything like that, and the strained look on
both their faces appeared only to confirm as much.
    Such anxiousness betrayed their desire to hold back from the brink of
orgasm – a desire that appeared as much in vain as their affair itself.
Actually, it was Will who succumbed to instinct first, as he pulled on his
shaft with ever increasing strokes – shouting and groaning in pleasure as
Gareth continued to ram that sweet, foreign butt-hole of his. The swell of
cum grew at the base of his cock and try as he might he knew that it would
be impossible now to prevent a sudden deluge. As such, the sperm showered
from his end with almost predictable fury – a rich flow of cream that could
do little but bring the footballer to the point of no return as well.
Indeed, withdrawing his knob from Will's pucker and tearing away his
rubber, the celebrity displayed much the same degree of potency as his
lover, with bolt after precious bolt spurting across the Dutch lad's
smooth, tanned flesh. Within a matter of minutes, both men had emptied
their tight, low-hanging balls, and as a result Will now had a full layer
of fresh spunk on his chest and belly to negotiate. Not that he looked in
any way embarrassed by his predicament – indeed, there was every indication
by the smile on his winsome face that this was possibly one of the
proudest, most cherished moments of his short life.
    It was a feeling that did not last very long, however – for Will
Brandt's life was about to be suddenly and mercilessly turned upside down
and in a manner that he would never have expected in a million years. For
sitting up, with the contents of their balls sliding down his young, smooth
skin in the process, the lad became quickly aware of his lover's somewhat
offish behaviour. That realisation was upsetting enough, but the fact that
it reminded him of Drew Michaels served only to add to the disquiet of the
moment – and Will could not help but feel his stomach turn in sheer dread
of what was about to take place.
    `Are you alright ...?' he questioned hesitantly, reaching out to touch
the man he loved so very much.
    Gareth took a deep breath – in a bid to raise his courage. `No!' he
declared firmly at last. `No, I'm not alright!'
    The footballer pulled himself away – a move that only added to the
younger lad's fears. `I do not understand ...' Will  stuttered. `What is the
matter? Is it something that I have done ...?'
    `I want you to fuck off!' Gareth declared with almost a venomous
determination.
    `... Pardon?!' his lover stammered in response, unable to believe his
ears.
    The soccer star glanced across with cold, angry eyes, standing over the
bed with apparent mastery. `You heard me. I said I want you to fuck off!'
    Will didn't know whether to laugh or cry – unsure as he was of Gareth's
reasoning for the outburst. `I do not understand ...' he stuttered once more.
`Why – why are you doing this?'
    `Because ...' the footballer replied, clearly struggling for a reason,
`because you're using me, Will –'
    `– Using you?!'
    `Yes, using me! You know that I'm famous and that's why you like being
with me ...'
    `No, Gareth – I love you. Even if you were not a famous soccer player,
I would still love you ...'
    `Don't talk rot! The only reason you were ever attracted to me was
because of who I am!'
    `Okay, yes, I admit – I fancied you because you were Gareth Hicks.
Gareth Hicks – City's star player. But I love you because of the man that
you are behind your image – kind, loving, funny, sensitive. All the things
that other people do not see, Gareth. Please, I do not understand ... why are
you doing this?'
    The older lad stepped away – not wishing to be drawn into a prolonged
conversation for fear that it might prevent the clean break that he wanted.
After all, he loved Will Brandt more than he had ever loved anyone – more
than he would probably ever love anyone, in fact. As a result, talking to
him was simply making the whole exercise all the more unbearable, all the
more impossible ...
    `Please, Will,' he begged. `Please, if you love me – please, you'll go
...'
    The Dutch lad jumped off the bed to face the man. `Not until you have
explained ...' he insisted.
    Gareth turned to gaze into those deep brown eyes of his lover. `I –' he
stuttered. `I love you. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me
– honest and truly ...'
    `So why all this?'
    The footballer wiped his eyes (which were welling up with tears), in
almost childish fashion. `Because it's too dangerous, Will. This ... this
affair – it's too dangerous ...'
    The young lad grabbed his lover by both arms. `No-one is going to find
out, Gareth,' he insisted bravely.
    `And besides, my situation isn't fair on you. I love you so much, Will
– and it's screwing me up!'
    `But I have told you – I can accept what goes on –'
    `Well I can't!' the soccer-ace snapped. `Not now I've met you. Please,
Will – please, just go!'
    The youngster stood motionless for a few seconds, clearly unable to
believe what was happening to him, then gradually pulled away from the man
he loved so much. `If you are sure that's what you want ...' he whimpered
finally.
    Gareth sighed. `No – it's not what I want. But it's what I must accept
...'
    Will was struggling to hold back the tears. He desperately wanted to do
something – anything! – that might make Gareth change his mind, but his
mind was devoid of ideas. Instead, he stood silently – perhaps still hoping
for a miracle.
    `I suppose you'll be contacting the papers now?' the older lad quipped
– in almost casual fashion.
    `Contacting the papers?'
    `Telling everyone of your grubby little affair with one of the
Premiership's top stars ...'
    `I would never do that, Gareth!'
    `Of how I fucked you and then dumped you ...'
    `Why are you saying these things? Why? You know that I would never
betray you. You know that!'
    `Everyone has a price!'
    Will threw his hands through his short brown hair in apparent
exasperation. `This is crazy!' he declared.
    Gareth raised his eyebrows. `Is it?' he sighed.
    `Of course you know it is crazy!' the younger fellow insisted – his
anger showing for the very first time.
    The star shrugged his shoulders. `I don't think I know anything
anymore,' he remarked. `Now,' he continued, wishing to draw the
conversation to an end as quickly as possible, `I'd like you to get dressed
and go ...'
    The Dutchman appeared to hover for a moment, as if still unable to
comprehend what had happened, but then finally began to grab his clothes,
which he had placed neatly on a chair whilst preparing the bath prior to
Gareth's arrival. His sudden move, however, appeared to jolt the footballer
into the realisation of what was really happening here and of what he was
about to lose. As such, the man stepped forward to block his lover's way –
the look in his eyes one of complete desperation.
    `Will, Will!' he sobbed. `I don't want to lose you – honest to God, I
don't! But I can't go on like this – it's screwing me up big time and I
can't take it any more! Maybe you think I'm a bastard. Maybe you think I'm
a loser. But it's for the best – honest, Will. You won't see that now, but
one day you will – and then you'll thank me, Will. I promise, you'll thank
me!'
    `Maybe ...' the fellow sighed – painfully unconvinced.
    Gareth grabbed hold of the guy now – in almost the same manner as Will
himself had done just minutes before. `I want to say goodbye – properly. I
want you to fuck me, Will. Do you understand? I want you to fuck me – long
and hard!'
    But the youngster appeared to take exception to the proposition. True,
he had never fucked Gareth before, but clearly he did not consider this to
be an appropriate time to start. `Lord, Gareth,' he mocked, `how cheap to
do you think I am?'
    `I've never, ever thought that you were cheap, Will.'
    `Do you want to pay me for it afterwards, too? Like that bastard ex of
mine? Hey, maybe that is the answer. Maybe if you started to pay me that
would solve all of our problems. After all, at least then you could be sure
I wouldn't talk so easily ...'
    Gareth chose to ignore his comment, however. Instead, he pushed himself
onto the guy and started to kiss him – an act that met with initial (but
not long-lasting) resistance. As a consequence, the two men soon found
themselves falling onto the bed together – their tongues darting in and out
of each others' mouths and their hands searching and fondling whatever
naked flesh appeared to present itself.
    It was barely seconds before both their cocks started to respond to the
situation – swelling and growing amidst the clammy excitement of the
moment, in a manner that suggested they were each even hornier than they
had been the first time they'd fucked that evening. Maybe it was a result
of their argument and the fact that they both realised that this was likely
to be their last encounter, or maybe it was the recognition that Gareth was
about to undertake the passive role in their lovemaking. Whatever the
reason, there was a frantic air about their embrace, which quickly resulted
in the footballer being laid on his back with his legs in the air, exposing
his tender, undiscovered crack in the process.
    If Will had been shocked by his boyfriend's behaviour prior to this
point, it was nothing compared to the amazement he now felt when confronted
face-to-butt with the present opportunity. After all, having always adopted
a subservient role in both his relationship with Drew Michaels and (later)
with Gareth Hicks himself, this opportunity was utterly alien – and, in its
own way, incredibly exciting. Little wonder, then, that no sooner was he
lapping the dark, hairy hole with his tongue, searching and exploring the
slit, than he was slipping a condom over his raging rod, almost drooling at
the prospect in hand.
    Gareth himself smiled in sweet anticipation as his lover leaned over
him and started to mount his rump – fingering his love-tube so as to ease
the act of penetration. Having never been buffed up the arse before, he
found the sensation somewhat uncomfortable at first, but Will was the
gentlest of lovers and at first he seemed to edge his way inside with an
almost courteous manner. That said, it was not too long before the urge to
pump began to overcome the youngster, and as the two fellows tongued each
others' mouths and faces, he started to thrust his hips with a more
confident beat. Seconds on and the guy was pounding his salami with a
markedly desperate air, pushing deeper and deeper into the well with every
jolt of his frame.
    His balls were slapping against flesh now, as Gareth grabbed hold of
the chap's torso and held on for all that he was worth. Fucking hell, this
was good, he thought – though he knew that their current union marked the
end of their relationship. That said, it seemed a fitting conclusion to
their passion, and crying out for Will to fuck him harder, he knew only too
well that he would remember this night of wantonness for a long, long time
to come.
    Will's cock pushed in and pulled out with the subtlety of a ramming
machine – rubbing Gareth's delicate prostrate as it did so and leaving him
with possibly the stiffest hard-on he had had since adolescence. The
sensation was also leading him to an almost involuntary eruption of spunk,
as he grabbed hold of his own throbbing shaft and appeared to try
desperately to hold back from a creamy shower. But to no avail – the thrust
of Will's manly seven inches was simply too much even for his dogged
determination and moments on he was shooting his cum within the narrow gap
between their muscular bodies. It splattered bountifully around them,
covering their smooth, young skin with the sticky products of their balls,
and ultimately resulted in the Dutch lad reaching the brink of orgasm, too.

    The youngster pulled his cock from the trench, ripped away the rubber
and then (like a ruptured tanker) proceeded to dump the largest, most
violent cascade of juice that even he had ever produced. Indiscriminately,
it powered its gooey way from the end of that handsome knob-end – blasting
Gareth's cherubic face on several occasions (much to the footballer's clear
delight) and soaking the duvet around them. It was, it seemed, a fitting
finale to their brief (but very remarkable) affair – a very real testimony
to the effects that both lads had on each others' bodies.
    `I love you, Gareth Hicks ...' Will whispered, finally clinging on to his
lover in quiet desperation.
    `I love you, too, Will Brandt,' came back the almost vacant reply.
    But love, under the circumstances, was simply not enough.