Date: Tue, 23 Aug 2016 11:49:57 +0100
From: Christopher Hudson <christopherhudson1970@gmail.com>
Subject: WHEN SATURDAY CUMS 08

For several days afterwards, Gareth and Will did little else but fuck at
every given opportunity – but then that was really only natural. They were
two good-looking, very horny young lads, who not only fancied each other
like mad, but who felt genuinely comfortable in each other's company. Even
the initial uneasiness that Will felt about encountering a star as
well-connected as Gareth Hicks seemed to quickly fade away, and it with a
somewhat knowing and friendly manner that the young Dutchman spoke to his
lover early that morning, lying next to him naked in the footballer's bed,
enquiring whether the fellow was still asleep.
    Gareth did not open his eyes, but he gently smiled all the same.
`Depends ...' he whispered.
    Will looked perplexed. `Depends on what?' he queried.
    The footballer finally stared back, raising his hand to stroke the
right-hand side of the younger lad's face – playing momentarily with the
piercing on Will's eyebrow. `On whether I can fuck you again ...' he sighed.
    Their lips drew ever closer once again – with an air of intimate
softness that only lovers can show. Hardness began to swell their crotches,
their pulses started to race. For all the fact that they had sucked and
fucked and licked and mulched their way to ecstasy time and time again
these past few days, there was still very much an acute keenness about
their physical desires – and that was likely to remain the case for some
time to come. It would be difficult to say that they exactly loved one
another at this point – there was too much hard sex involved at this stage
to warrant such a high-sounding claim – but it was clear that both parties
felt deep affection for each other, in a way that neither had perhaps ever
encountered before. True, Will's early days with Drew had possibly gauged a
similar response, but there was already a depth in the young Dutch lad's
feelings for Gareth that he had never felt for his abusive boyfriend. The
soccer-star was, after all, a dream come true – a rich revelation that he
had hoped and prayed for and which he was most unlikely to give up now
without a great deal of heartache.
    They wrapped their arms and legs around each other, so that they were
almost like a ball beneath the spunk-stained duvet – their cocks pressing
firmly against each other as indication of their carnal desires. They had
made love the previous evening and again during the course of the night,
but there was little to suggest that either of them had drained their balls
completely. Instead, their libidos appeared as sharp as ever, urging them
on to yet further sticky exploits – and let's face it, there was little
evidence of their enthusiasm declining in that respect. No, they were both
as ready and eager as they had ever been, and the grin on each of their
young faces suggested that they had little inclination for anything else at
that time. Even Gareth – whose first love really should've been the
beautiful game, if only because he was being paid handsomely to play it –
found his commitment to anything other than the next fuck with Will
desperately arduous, and faced the prospect of the televised game on
Saturday lunchtime with some degree of indifference. It was a terrible
admission for a professional such as himself to make – but whilst Bill
Shankley would've disagreed, some things in life are more important than
football and good sex is one of them.
    `Gareth,' began Will now, as they broke off from their moist, open
embrace – noting the dimple on his boyish chin as he did so. `I know this
might be sounding a little kinky, but do you ever wear your football kit in
your house?'
    The soccer-ace smiled cautiously. `Er, not usually. Why?'
    `That's okay!' the Dutch lad snapped defensively. `I was just wondering
...'
    `Why?' Gareth smirked again.
    `Well, it is just that I have this thing about footballers in their
kits – that is all ...'
    The older lad laughed at his honesty – though he was secretly flattered
by it. In a world of inane adulation, it was refreshing to find someone who
appeared to like him for being the person that he was and not just because
he was a famous football player. That said, there was still a part of Will
that was overawed by the encounter – but he was displaying less and less of
it as each day passed. Instead, the two were rapidly becoming an integral
unit – a fact only underlined by Gareth's willingness to satisfy the young
lad's fetish, as he slipped out of bed and donned the nearest available
home-shirt and shorts.
    Will's cock stiffened even more at the sight (if indeed that was
possible): that of Gareth Hicks, the great footballing virtuoso, standing
before him in almost princely innocence, attired in his majestic red and
white and looking as fucking splendid as it is surely possible for a young
man to look. Little wonder then that he should jump out of bed so
willingly, so as to enfold the fellow in his arms – his fingers brushing
against the smooth, delicate nylon fabric, which appeared to arouse him yet
further.
    `I take it this turns you on, then ...?' Gareth smiled ironically,
glancing at the slighter shorter lad.
    Will had no need to reply. Instead, he started to kiss his lover
passionately – slipping his hands underneath the shirt as he did so. A
moment or two on and the lad was nibbling at Gareth's ear ... then his
muscular neck ... and then (after pulling the shirt over the footballer's
head and tossing it to one side) his broad, smooth chest. It was actually
the soccer-star's dark, erect nipples that appeared to warrant Will's most
excited attention, as he lapped one and then the other – before repeating
the process several more times. And all the while he was only too aware of
the bulge in Gareth's shorts – the sort of growth that many a fan longs to
see his football heroes donning whilst watching them play and hug together
on the pitch, but which clearly rarely gets displayed outside the changing
rooms. As such, Will Brandt could not help but display his deep
appreciation of the honour, and pushing Gareth back towards the bed, was
evidently determined to thank the older lad by the only means at his
disposal.
    That, of course, involved the use of an open and impassioned mouth,
which he now trailed across the sweet, toned stomach before him – centring
upon the footballer's belly-button, from where a line of dark hair
stretched down towards the edge of the young man's white shorts. A brief
period of sensual teasing on Will's part followed, as the Dutch lad flicked
his fingers around the pretty tassels, but it was never destined to last
long, for the very reason that the guy was simply unable to resist the tent
that jutted out from Gareth's groin. He realised, after all, that there was
something very hard and tasty causing that protrusion and felt called to
investigate still further. Not that the footballer's tackle was in any way
uncharted territory for Will these days, of course – but that hardly
mattered. The youngster simply couldn't get enough of that purple, swollen
manhood, and licking his lips in anticipation, he pushed his searching
fingers under the elastic waistband.
    His search was greeted by an unsurprising hint of wetness as his hand
grasped hold of the raging shaft beneath – a sensation that merely made him
lick his lips all the more. After all, he was a thirsty boy and hadn't
lapped at that cock-end now for at least three hours, and it was with only
added relief that he rubbed the pole up and down between his fingers to
find that further globs of pre-cum welled up from below. A moment or two
more and Will was pulling away the very same shorts that had helped
encourage him just minutes before – slipping them down Gareth's strong,
hairy legs before tossing them to the floor.
    He hesitated – observing the unarguable beauty of the throbbing cock
before him, just inches from his face. There was something magical about a
hard, erect man-shaft – something Will himself could hardly explain, but
which drew his undivided attention every time. But this, of course, was no
ordinary penis. After all, it belonged to a young man whose face was known
the footballing world over, but who no-one would possibly ever imagine had
enjoyed using his more private parts to fuck Will's brains out these past
few days. No-one, that is, except Will himself – and boy, had he relished
every moment of it! What was more, he was determined to encourage this
magnificent knob still further, and sniffing the musky scent that marked
its end, slowly opened his mouth to encompass the whole of the pulsing rod
upon his tongue.
    He lapped like a horny dog on that swollen crest, drawing back the
protective layer of skin so as to feed off the succulent meat beneath. It
was an act that could only leave Gareth writhing in the associated pleasure
– groaning out for Will to stop, but of course not meaning a word of it.
Before long, however, the younger lad had moved down from the soccer-star's
head and was pushing the whole length of rod deep into his mouth – so that
the end of Gareth's cock was banging against the back of his throat,
slipping in and out between his greedy lips (which drooled clear pearls of
spit with every rhythmic stroke).
    Will's nose brushed against the dark, curly fuzz in his hero's groin
each time he pushed himself down upon the pole – whilst Gareth watched from
above, savouring this display of gross adulation. As he did so, however, he
could not help but note the warnings of Todd Rankin in his mind –
counselling against such reckless antics and whispering the dire
consequences that might accrue as a result. A footballer's career is
perilous enough, but a revelation concerning his private life might only
serve to ruin him, especially if Will turned out to be a money-digger, who
sold his story to the highest-bidding newspaper.
    `Will ...?' he muttered softly, trailing his fingers through the
Dutchman's cropped brown hair. `You would never betray me, would you ...?'
    The youngster pulled himself up from Gareth's shaft. `Betray you?' he
noted curiously.
    `You know, tell other people about us ...'
    It was clear that the thought had never crossed Will Brandt's brain.
`Why should I tell anyone, Gareth? I love you ...'
    The lad had probably said those three little words before he had really
thought about it – but in hindsight he did not regret it.
    `Good ...' the soccer-star smiled, pulling his lover up so that they
could kiss again. `Good ...' he repeated.
    Their embrace could now lead but to one thing – as Gareth slipped on
yet another condom and Will straddled his muscular frame so as to impale
himself on the raging beast. They had been in this position so many times
of late that their bodies had almost adopted it as second nature and there
was a ease about their loving that suggested they were both completely at
one with each other. Even Gareth's uncertainties appeared to melt away, as
the pair kissed and fucked like animals – the footballer's near-unforgiving
hardness slapping further and further into Will's dear young ass-hole with
every passing second.
    The younger lad leaned down on his lover's heavy shoulders, gyrating
his hips so as to penetrate himself even deeper than before – bobbing his
tongue out slightly as he did so and biting it as his eyes rolled round his
head. `Fucking hell ...' he sighed, as waves of animation gripped ever
tighter across his smooth, pert body, `... God, that's so fucking good ...'
    `You like it?' smiled Gareth from below, gazing up at him with a dreamy
glance.
    Will nodded his head, but could hardly speak for pleasure. Instead, he
uttered a deep, guttural moan, followed by a couple of words in Dutch (that
the footballer evidently could not understand, but which appeared to turn
him on even more).     `You want it harder?' he grinned, thrusting up with
even more vigour than before. He was an athletic soul (quite naturally) and
he made riding his lover from beneath appear relatively easy. That said,
even he (sex-god that he was) would be unable to maintain such rampancy on
an indefinite basis. Press-ups and squat-thrusts on the training-pitch were
good for stamina, but nothing in his professional career would ever help
him overcome the eventual desire to empty his tight, sweaty balls of their
precious loads. As such, he reached a point where the swell of cum at the
base of his cock was simply too much for him to bear, and urging Will to
pull himself away, the lad whipped away his rubber and began to wank
himself off. A thick shower of sperm quickly resulted – spraying across his
belly with primitive urgency and falling with great globs upon the sheets
around him. What amused the star most of all, however, was his capacity to
produce spunk on such a seemingly unending basis. He had always been hot,
but three full, healthy loads in the space of just a few hours was almost
unprecedented and served as testimony to the feelings that he had for this
dark, handsome foreigner who had stepped so unexpectedly into his life.
    With Gareth spent, it remained only for Will to generate his own
display – though the footballer appeared intent to make the most of that
one remaining hard cock before the somewhat inevitable conclusion and
pounced on the Dutchman with an open mouth and unmistakable eagerness.
Seconds on and Will's love-pole was being ridden by the jock's sweet lips –
Gareth beating up and down on the solid flesh and his orifice bubbling with
salty delight as a result. Unfortunately for him, such enjoyment was never
destined to last too long. Just seeing the star grazing on his seven inch
salami was enough to bring the younger lad to the onset of a plentiful glut
of man-juice, and pushing Gareth aside, the first bolt squirted out of his
piss-hole with a somewhat blinding gait. It volleyed into the air, then
landed with a creamy splat amidst the fur around his lance. By this point,
however, the floodgates had been breached, as a fine salvo of five-star
Jersey erupted from the depths of Will's nads. It was an emission that
surely even Etna would've been proud of – culminating in a particularly
brazen shot that burst across the young lad's chest like a bullet out of a
gun. Even City's number ten had to give credit where credit was due, and it
was with an admiring glance that  he leant forward to kiss the fellow
firmly on the lips.
    They lay together for some time afterwards, caught in a tight embrace,
but ultimately even lovers have to part. Gareth for one had training to
attend, whilst Will, of course, was expected in at Red Heaven for nine
o'clock. There the young Dutchman would spend the day in the heady company
of Gareth's over-sized `photos, which peered down upon the shop-floor with
an erotic omnipotent (or so it seemed to Will, anyway). He wouldn't say
anything to anyone about the real nature of the man, nor would he mention
to Michelle that he could now answer her question concerning the size of
his cock. Instead, he would simply look up towards the ceiling and smile –
satisfied, as he was, that his dream concerning the player had finally come
true.
    The day passed slowly – for all he could think about was when it would
be time to meet his lover again. Unfortunately for them both, Gareth had a
long-standing arrangement with his agent that evening – an expensive meal
at a flash restaurant, to discuss `things' – so they wouldn't get to meet
`til later on. As such, even the arrival of half-five appeared to do little
to relieve Will's sense of frustration, and arriving back at his flat a
short time later, the youngster collapsed on his bed and prepared for the
prospect of whiling away a further couple of hours. His peace did not
remain undisturbed for long, however – for a knock on the door represented
the arrival of one individual that Will Brandt would much rather not have
seen.
    `What do you want, Drew?' he quipped, unwilling to open the door to the
man.
    His old boyfriend was as sleek and charming as ever and flashed his
deep blue eyes almost pitifully. `I just wanted to check you were okay,' he
smiled, rubbing his hands through his thick, black hair. `That's all ...'
    `Well, I'm fine – so you can go away ...'
    `You got someone else in there?' he insisted, noting the lad's guarded
posture.
    `No ...' confessed Will.
    `Coz I've got the impression you're seeing someone else ...'
    The Dutchman tried desperately to be as strong as he could in the
presence of a man who secretly terrified him. `What's that gotta do with
you, Drew?' he enquired – but with a cautious air.
    The older guy had patently had a drink – Will could smell it on his
breath. But the youngster was determined to hold out against him – even
when Drew's temper appeared to be getting the better of him. `I suppose
it's someone better than me!' he muttered. `Someone with a bit more money?
Eh, Willy-boy? Coz you could never resist a bit of flash, could you?'
    `Drew, I think you should go home ...'
    But the thirty-something did not take too kindly to the suggestion and
rushed at the door – grabbing hold of Will by the throat as he did so.
`You're a fucking wanker, you – a fucking, tossing wanker!
    `You ain't got anyone else!' he scoffed – able now as he was to see
into the room. `I mean, who the fuck are you trying to kid, gay-boy?
There's no-one else would have a complete loser like you – no-one!'
    He let go of the lad, who immediately stepped back from him – knowing,
as he did, that Drew wanted sex (after all, why else would he come?) `Just
go home, Drew,' he requested. `I do not want you here ...'
    Drew thought for a moment, then fished in the pockets of his suit.
`Here, I'll give you fifty ...' he began, pulling some notes from his wallet.
`Way too much for a poor fuck like you, but I've always felt sorry for you
...'
    `Go home, Drew – please ...'
    `You think fifty's not enough, eh?'
    Will bravely stepped forward. `I don't want your money, Drew. I don't
want sex with you – ever again ...'
    The guy snapped – grabbing the Dutch lad by the throat once again. `So
you think you're too good for me, eh? Is that right? Well, you weren't so
fucking fussy when you didn't have a job, were you? You weren't so fucking
cocky when you relied on my money! Oh no, you enjoyed having sex with me
then, didn't you?'
    Will could scarcely remember a time when he enjoyed having sex with
Drew – but he daren't have said as much. Nor did he dare say anything
concerning one Gareth Hicks – the cause of his new-found determination.
Instead, he waited for his ex's temper to again subside – when he was
finally able to pull himself away. `Now I want you to go, Drew,' he
insisted. `I want you to take your money – and I don't want you to come
back!'
    Drew paused momentarily, glancing first at his money, then at Will ...
then at his money again. `Alright,' he sighed, `fuck you! Fuck you and go
to hell! You always had a fucking little dick anyway – did you know that? I
was always too nice to say, though. But it's the truth, you fucking queen –
I've seen cocktail sausages bigger than your dick!'
    Will was so tempted to say that (as yet) a certain famous footballer
hadn't made any such observations, but he wisely refrained. Instead, he
watched (with a mixture of relief and sadness, it had to be said) as the
fellow slowly slipped back out into the corridor – recoiling only
momentarily as the guy made a final kick of the door.
    Drew Michaels had indeed come for sex – but having found the young
foreigner so unreceptive to his unique charms, he made his way instead to
somewhere he knew he could have a good time. Somewhere not too far away ...
somewhere dark and sleazy ... somewhere where sex comes easy and where
literally almost anything goes ...
    Somewhere called The Dungeon.
    It was situated beneath a respectable-looking restaurant on the other
side of town (the sort Gareth Hicks and his agent might patronise) – a
small, black door being the only access to those who knew of its existence.
Once through there, Drew descended down to a set of double doors, where a
couple of smartly-dressed bouncers checked his ID before allowing him to
pass into the somewhat dingy cavern of a room beyond. In there, the music
roared, the drink flowed – and a collection of naked studs danced on the
small stage at the front. None of this appeared to interest Drew, however.
Instead, his attention was directed towards a collection of cages that ran
along the side of the room – in which an array of smooth, handsome,
muscular hunks paraded their naked assets to whoever cared to observe. They
were all well-hung and good-looking – and Drew appeared to drool over each
one as he passed by. `Fucking hell,' he remarked to their guard, who was
equally as attractive (in a bearish sort of way), `I really can't make up
my mind tonight. I wonder ... is it possible to have two in the same cage?'
    The guard advised that two would come at an additional cost – but Drew
was feeling flush as well as horny and without further delay found himself
master of a couple of dark-haired beefy slaves, who would cater for his
every fantasy from the confines of their pen. As if to prove his authority,
he smacked the one across the face as he joined them in the enclosure –
ordering him to get down on his knees to lick his shoes. The other guy –
longer haired, square jawed and eager-mouthed – was told to attend to
Drew's cock, which by now was aching in his briefs and slobbering great
quantities of pre-cum.
    The second slave did as he was instructed and pulled the throbbing
shaft from his master's trousers – as the cage itself was hoisted up from
the floor of the room to secure a tad more privacy. Not that Drew was in
the mood for such niceties at present – all he cared for was that his cock
was well and truly serviced and glancing down at the stud impaled on his
pulsing shaft it would seem that his desires were been adequately met. The
first slave, however, was not doing his job well enough (or so Drew
insisted, anyway) and was kicked accordingly. `Lick the shoe harder, you
fucking queer!' he barked arrogantly.
    Drew had decided that he would only fuck one of them. But which one of
the lads deserved to be shafted by his seven-and-a-half incher? – ah, that
was the question. His knob-end was positively aching by this point – thanks
mainly to the good, honest sucking it was getting from the second fellow –
but there was no certainty that this was the one he would choose for his
eventual pleasure. The winner had to be worthy of the prize, after all ...
and just because the cock-sucker was good with his tongue didn't
necessarily mean that he would be equally as apt with his butt-hole.
    He demanded that they both bend over so that he could observe their
hairy slits – and their low-hanging balls, no doubt. But he still seemed
uncertain. `... Which one looks tighter?' he mused thoughtfully to himself.
    After slapping each of the rumps before him in turn – leaving heavy,
red marks on their butts in the process – he slipped a rubber over his
bulging, crimson organ, before slamming it brutally into the man-cunt of
the first slave. `Perhaps next time you'll learn to be more thorough in
your boot-licking!' he laughed as he thrust deeper into the fellow.
    The hole was taut, but satisfying, and Drew was so turned on that he
knew it would not be long before he shot a load of rich, creamy spunk.
That, of course, would be his privilege. Slaves were not as fortunate in
The Dungeon. They had to content themselves with satisfying their masters
alone, and as such the second slave (who had given head so expertly) could
not so much as touch his own cock as he watched the fucking going on before
his very eyes. Which was something of a shame, given that he had an
enormous hard-on at this point, which was badly in need of attention. Drew,
however, was not prepared to oblige. He cared only to spew his own frothy
load across the first slave's back, before forcing the other guy to lap it
up like an animal with his tongue. `Come on!' the master demanded
impatiently, as he slipped his cock (still dripping with spunk) back into
his trousers. `You can do better than that!'
    He pushed the fellow down so that his face smeared itself in the jizz,
then gave a cold laugh, whilst pressing the alarm for the cage to be
lowered. `God,' he cried, `I've had better sex with fucking women!'
    Whether that was the case or not, or whether he had enjoyed it better
than he would've enjoyed sex with Will, was something no-one except Drew
Michaels would ever know, but he paid all the same, thrusting the money
into the guard's clammy palm as he stepped away. After that, he calmly
walked over to the bar and ordered a drink, before tottering over towards
the stage and taking a seat to watch the show – noting that several fellows
in the audience had their cocks out and were wanking themselves quite
blatantly. Not that Drew displayed any surprise at the sight – he'd been
here often enough before now to realise what went on behind the club's
closed doors.
    The Dungeon, it seemed, was the in-place – if you liked that sort of
thing!