Gareth Hicks was on top form at present - both on the pitch and between the sheets. On a personal level, he was having sex with Will Brandt on a seemingly endless basis - at every given opportunity and with a loving passion that had always eluded him with anyone before. That (in sporting theory) should have adversely affected his professional performance. But on the contrary - if anything, the young soccer-star was netting more goals than he had ever done during the course of his precocious career, even during his early days at United. Love, it would appear, was having a very beneficial effect on his price-tag, and his arrival in a new million pound six-bedroom house on the outskirts of the city seemed only to underline his ever-greater stardom.

Will on the other hand, was feeling increasingly diffident in respect of his job - caught, as he was, in the trappings of young love's infatuation. To him, nothing seemed to matter now other than that he made Gareth happy - which in this stage of their relationship was pretty easy, given that all the footballer appeared to want was hard cock (which the young Dutch lad was more than eager to provide). Even the revelation of what often went on in the dressing-room after a match appeared to do little to dampen the younger fellow's desire. He already trusted Gareth more than he had perhaps ever trusted anyone (particularly Drew), knowing as he did that the footballer was already risking everything by being with him at all. But whether such heady heights in their affair could be maintained without courting disaster remained very much to be seen.

To the Dutchman, of course - whose idea of material satisfaction was perhaps nothing more than having a few bob left in his pocket at the end of the week - Gareth's affluence was almost breathtaking, and never more so than when he first arrived at the footballer's new residence. For if Drew Michaels was a guy with money to burn, Gareth Hicks in comparison was a man who could start a major conflagration of almost mythical proportions, and gasping at the sheer scale and decadence of the house (indoor swimming pool included), Will sensed for the first time in their relationship that he was very much out of his depth. It was one thing to have met Gareth, to have fallen in love with him and to wish that they could be together forever, but in some respects their partnership paralleled Will's affair with his ex-boyfriend, whose dominance had always depended upon his financial mastery. As such, he could not help but regard Gareth's over-endowed bank-balance as much as a curse than a blessing, and touring the building, the youngster found himself drawn more and more towards an early exit.

But the soccer-ace for his part was unable not to notice his lover's increasing disquiet that morning - marked as it was by Will's subdued demeanour (an aspect of his character he had never before encountered). 'You alright, Big Boy?' he quipped teasingly, as they finally reached the pool - where Gareth himself had already swam twenty lengths or more first thing.

Will managed the slight glimpse of a smile. 'Fine,' he sighed. 'Yes, I am fine ...'

But Gareth was unconvinced. 'You don't like the house?' he exclaimed. 'Is that what it is?'

'It's lovely - honest ...'

The footballer stepped closer and wrapped his arms around the shorter fellow. 'Everything I have is yours, Will,' he exclaimed, gazing deep into those foreign eyes. 'I've no need to tell you that, I'm sure - because you know it's true ...'

'I know ...'

Gareth paused for a moment. 'You're upset about what I said about me and the other guys?' he asked finally - referring to the fact that sex with his team-mates was an expected part of footballing life.

'No, it is not that. I accept that - and as long as you are careful it is okay with me ...'

'What then, Will?'

The Dutch lad pulled away and walked to the side of the pool. 'You are a very rich man, Gareth ...' he sighed.

His lover looked puzzled. 'That's a problem?' he laughed.

'Drew - my ex. He thought I was only ever after his money,' Will explained.

'Were you?'

The youngster sighed. 'Not exactly. But when you have no money and you have bills to pay, it is sometimes hard not to get overwhelmed by someone to whom money appears to be no object!'

'You used him?'

'We used each other ...'

Gareth paused. 'Are you using me?'

'Do you think I'm using you?'

'I hope not.'

Will smiled. 'I love you, Gareth. I have only known you a couple of weeks and yet in that time I feel as though I have suddenly come alive - as though nothing before now ever mattered. You are all I ever think about. I wake up and think of you, I eat and think of you, I go to work and think of you, I watch telly and think of you. You are my reason for being, Gareth - so no, I do not believe that I am using you. And I sincerely hope that you do not think that I am using you, either ...'

The footballer stepped towards him - reaching out for his hand as he did so. 'God, Will,' he sighed, 'I can't tell you how much I wanna fuck you ...'

The Dutchman's cock bristled firmly to attention, whilst his stomach churned in excitement at the words. After all, it isn't every day that a famous footballer comes and says something like that to you.

There was almost a moment of hesitation now - a pregnant pause, as they both stared into each others' eyes and perhaps contemplated what they both suddenly seemed to mean to each other. Then slowly their heads began to fall together - their mouths edging open in anticipation of their ultimate collision and their arms wrapping round each other's muscular frames.

Breaths became shallower, pulses began to race, throats tightened, groins strained. After all the sex that these two young men had savoured together, one might expect their excitement to have lessened. On the contrary, however - if anything, the fact that they now knew each others' bodies so well seemed only to add to their excitement and as such their embrace quickly gained the sort of inordinate passion that perhaps soul-mates alone can ever display.

Their tongues darted back and forth, exploring the dark, sensual chasms beyond, whilst all the time they pulled away at each others' shirts, so that they might run their firm, manly fingers across the meaty flesh beneath. Meantime, their groins rubbed and gyrated in a play of teasing pleasure, so that neither party was under any uncertainty as to the hardness that each had to offer the other. Not that either lad was under any disillusion as far as that was concerned. They had each enjoyed the stiffness of male youth enough times now to realise that such was the delight of their excitement, and reaching down to touch Will's pounding, aching flesh, Gareth could not help but groan happily at the prospect of savouring its full, unyielding length at first hand. The morning (like so many mornings of late) was going to be good - very, very good in fact!

'Come on,' he whispered in the Dutch lad's ear, lapping it sensuously with his tongue as he did so, 'get your clothes off. We can get into the water, then ...'

Will, however, pulled away - much to the footballer's surprise. 'The water?!' he exclaimed nervously.

Gareth appeared puzzled. 'I need to christen the pool with someone,' he sighed. 'And I'd like it to be with you ...'

'I cannot, Gareth ...'

'Why ever not?'

Will looked coy and feigned a momentary smile. 'I cannot swim,' he admitted at length.

The soccer-star could not help but laugh. 'Oh, Will!' he sighed. 'God, I love you ...'

'Mind,' the youngster added - a little more courageously - 'you could always try and teach me ...'

Gareth said no more. Instead, the two fellows began to strip down to their fine, sweet flesh - their cocks pounding away in their groins, reminding them (if that were needed) of the purpose of the hour. So it was that they ultimately found themselves standing eyeball to eyeball, cock to cock, at the edge of the pool - both lads so highly charged that neither appeared to note the fact that, without their clothes on, the room felt notably cooler than before.

Their aching shafts rubbed side by side, as Gareth reached to grasp both lengths in his hand - pulling them up and down simultaneously, whilst glancing across at his lover with a winsome smile. 'Fancy a dip?' he quipped somewhat mischievously, before pecking the other lad on the cheek and then jumping down into the deep end.

Will hesitated - clearly unsure as to whether he dared to leap, but the footballer urged him on. 'Come on!' he smiled, brushing his hands through his short, dark hair. 'I trust you, don't I? So why don't you trust me ...?'

The Dutchman didn't wait to think a moment more. Instead, he bounded courageously into the air - landing near to Gareth with the sort of ungainly splash that possibly only a non-swimmer could have mustered. Not that the footballer was going to allow him to struggle for long, and within seconds, Will found that the older guy had reached up to him and was holding him tight in the water - Gareth's legs wrapped around him and their faces barely inches from each other.

'I've got you,' the soccer-ace assured him, kissing his lover on the lips - noting as he did so that Will appeared to be relaxing and was as such feeling a tad more buoyant in the process.

They floated together, with the water lapping on their broad, manly shoulders - entwined almost as one and laying gentle kisses on each other from time to time. Their contentment was obvious, their affection real and tangible, and both parties would've struggled to have recalled ever feeling such deep satisfaction as was theirs to indulge in at that moment. Yet for all their happiness, it was apparent that their embrace could lead only to more physical attentions, and pulling on Will's frame, Gareth led them on towards the shallower end, where, like animals, they might be freer to express their deep desire to mate.

Reaching the other end of the pool, Gareth instructed his companion to lift himself up out of the water. 'Sit on the side,' he encouraged, licking his lips as he did so. 'I wanna suck that lovely, great big prick of yours!'

Will, of course, required no encouragement and moments later was seated with his legs apart. It was a position that, if anything, appeared to magnify his vital statistics, so that the thick rod of seven inches looked even more appetising than ever. Little wonder then that Gareth should almost salivate at the meal before him - grabbing hold of the shaft's base with his one hand and taking a deep breath in contemplation of the meaty delights ahead.

He pulled the fold of skin right over the purple crown, then teased it lovingly with his pursed lips - pulling it with an almost demonic satisfaction. 'That nice?' he then questioned, glancing up towards Will's cute, young face, which was clearly unable to disguise the pleasure he was experiencing.

'You bet!' gasped the handsome youngster, throwing his legs over Gareth's shoulders as he did so - as if to prevent the footballer from getting away from the job in hand (or perhaps more correctly in this instance, the job in mouth!)

Gareth reversed the action now, by pushing the skin down the engorged shaft - an act that naturally exposed the whole of Will's swollen helmet, which by this stage was already drooling copious amounts of pre-cum. Not that that was any great surprise. Having his manhood handled by any hunky stud would've had much the same effect, it had to be said, but having it performed by one of the most skilful football players in the modern game was even more exciting and the fact that this was the umpteenth time that it had happened appeared to have done little to subdue his overactive libido.

The star trailed his searching, probing, flicking tongue around the ridge of the crown - his attention particularly drawn to the tasty roll of juice around the piss-hole. Such delicacy of touch was then maintained up and down the lad's urethra - an act that was made all the more thrilling to Gareth by the realisation that the said tube would shortly be escorting bountiful quantities of spunk to its final destiny. As such, his own cock pounded away in the water, though at this particular point the footballer's oral skills were ensuring that Will was oblivious to any such outside temptations. Like a dog having his belly tickled, all he could think about was maintaining the stimulation, and tightening the grip of his solid, hairy legs around Gareth's neck, it was pretty much evident that he had no desire to let the footballer pull back from his present act of carnal devotion.

Not that Gareth himself appeared n any way moved to withdraw. Rather he lowered himself down on a level with Will's heavy, cum-filled balls - his chin barely above the surface of the water. Then he sucked one into the warm, moist confines of his mouth, so that he could roll the item around on his tongue in youthful, pleasing fashion, before spitting it out and doing exactly the same with the remaining orb. It was a move that had the younger lad writhing in near-ecstasy, as he leaned forward and tugged on the footballer's wet hair - kissing the crown of his head and emitting a somewhat guttural groan in the process.

Just at that second, however, it was as if the young Dutchman suddenly and unexpectedly came to his senses again - pulling Gareth's head away from his hard, aching groin and holding the fellow's face so that he could look deep into those same luscious hazel eyes as gazed down on him each and every day at work. 'Gareth,' he sighed. 'About Drew - my ex ...'

His lover looked surprised at the man's sudden mention again. 'That man's really bothering you ...' he remarked.

'I just need to tell you about him - about the relationship that we had together.'

The footballer could not help but smile. 'I'd rather you sucked my cock!' he exclaimed somewhat honestly.

'I would, too,' Will confessed. 'But I feel it is important. After all, I love you and respect you and I want you to know what I did in my past. You see, I met Drew soon after I arrived here in England - at a time when I had nothing. No job, no money - nothing! Drew looked after me - took care of me ...'

'He paid to fuck you!' Gareth suddenly retorted - with the sort of insight one might not normally expect from a sportsman.

Will nodded his head in a shameful manner. 'Yes,' he confessed. 'I was his personal - rent-boy. He agreed to look after me - so long as he could have sex with me as and when he wanted.'

The footballer reached up to kiss him. 'I've told you my situation at the club, Will - and you've accepted that. As such, I don't think I really have the right to say anything about your relationship with this Drew guy ...'

'It is over between us, Gareth. Drew is history. But I cannot promise that he will not try to find out about us - and when he does, he'll make sure your name is on the front of every paper in England. Can you see now why I am worried?'

The footballer could see only too well - recalling, as he did, the words of warning that Todd Rankin had issued to him on the matter. But love, as they say, is blind, and any danger that the young man sensed was quickly overcome by his continued desire to fuck Will Brandt's brains out. 'Don't fret so,' he urged. 'We'll just have to make sure he never finds out!'

Gareth pulled the youngster back into the pool - though the water here was shallow enough for Will to stand without any problem. Then the pair began to kiss and fondle each other with a passion and energy that even they had rarely displayed thus far - as if their honesty had spurred them on to greater, as yet untold desires. The strain of flesh was truly palpable, and it was little wonder that the pair were soon stepping out of the pool and were entwining themselves on a wicker sofa nearby.

They did not seem to care that they were wet - their coming action would ensure that they soon dried off anyway and their excitement was such that the relative coolness of the room merely added to their stimulation. Gareth cast himself down on the chair, Will straddled him from above, whilst they kissed and embraced continually. It was as if they were one integral unit, as if separation from the other would destroy the magic world that they had created for each other, and enfolding themselves into a ball, their union appeared more complete at this moment than at any other previous encounter.

The Dutch lad finally pulled himself from the smooch - but only so that he could trail his tongue down the footballer's muscular neck and chest, sucking and licking Gareth's dark, erect nipples in the process. All the time, however, he was keenly aware of the throbbing beat of the older lad's shaft beneath him - reminding him (as if it were needed) of his absolute ambition. After all, he wanted nothing more than to ride that pounding rod for all that it was worth, and shuffling his way down his lover's handsome frame with an open and eager mouth, he prepared to take a suck on the shaft prior to impaling himself on its regal length, which by now was already drooling a plentiful flow of pre-cum from its end.

Any remaining thoughts that Will had of Drew had long been forgotten and buried by the time that the youngster had taken Gareth's bursting knob-end between his lips - savouring the salty richness on his tongue and forcing the engorged man-rod as far into his throat as was possible without gagging. The throb of blood was undeniably satisfying, and glancing up at his hero, it was painfully evident from the look on Gareth's face that it was undeniably satisfying for the footballer too. Then again, why shouldn't it have been? To have one's cock sucked by another is arguably one of the greatest gifts that can be bestowed on any man - and even more so when the urge to do so is from love as much as lust. For Will Brandt was completely smitten with his champion by now, whose every inch of manly flesh he worshipped and adored and for whom he would surely have died for if necessary. To be Gareth Hicks's love-slave (as he half-jokingly referred to himself) was as much as he could ever have wished for from life, and fondling his lover's balls, he could only hope and pray that theirs was a coupling that would last forever.

'You want to fuck my butt?' he remarked, with a wry smile on that sweet and tender face of his - knowing, as he did, that Gareth was aching to do exactly that.

'I wanna fuck it real bad!' came back the unsurprising reply. 'I wanna fuck it 'til you can take no more!'

Will arched himself over the older lad and they kissed once again. 'Sounds good to me ...' he remarked finally.

Seconds on and the youngster was leaning over the side of the chair with his smooth, pert arse pointing upwards in youthful anticipation, whilst Gareth rolled a rubber down his firm, unyielding shaft in readiness for the sport to come. The boys were going to have some fun together (again!) - the sort that Granny might have warned against, though only because she didn't ever know what it was like to be a horny, cocksure bastard, who only had sex with other men on his mind.

The soccer-ace lubed the pretty pucker before him - fingering the crack in anticipation of the slamming he had mind to give his pal. Then he slowly started to edge the head of his beast into the greasy, hairy fold beyond, whilst Will himself gripped tightly to the wicker arm before him, gritting his teeth for a moment as his guts accustomed themselves to their new-found (but greatly welcomed) occupant.

Gareth began to get a certain motion now, probing the length of his shaft ever more deeply with each thrust of his hips. Leaning forward, he grasped the Dutch lad's sides - which itself gave him extra momentum - and before long was actually feeling his balls slap against Will's rump. It was a sensation which, as always, gave great satisfaction - a testimony to his mastery, his dominance (which appeared to turn him on almost as much as subservience encouraged the younger lad). As such, the pair were equally matched, their relationship perfect to their needs, and turning his head round, Will beckoned his love to lean forward so as they could kiss - their tongues rolling and entwining in much the same manner as their bodies.

They were like a pair of wild, untamed animals by this point - fornicating with such passion that it was a veritable joy to behold. So much sex in this world (particularly straight sex) is dull and monotonous, but that was a claim that could hardly have been warranted here and the rock of the chair served as testimony to the fact. Sadly, however, the happy slap of skin was never destined to last forever, and the moaning and grunting of both parties (which gained in intensity with every passing minute) indicated a sticky culmination in the none-too-distant future. Balls were churning, scrotums tightening, and the seed of their groins was about to be scattered liberally across the room before them.

Will was the first to unload his creamy juices - whilst Gareth continued to fuck him mercilessly from behind. He was rubbing the length of his cock with increasing fervour and knew that an eruption could not be far off, but even so he was caught with some surprise when the first bolt of cum (which had been welling at the fuzzy base of his shaft) sprang from his piss-hole with a force of considerable note. The wicker chair stood no chance, and within seconds was being white-washed by the entire contents of the young lad's bollocks. Bolt after juicy bolt erupted, and the footballer (who could not help but find amusement at the scene) gazed in astonishment at a money-shot par excellence.

Not that he himself could hold back for very much longer, and just as Will was finishing off, he pulled his cock from the youngster's butt, ripped away his sheath and proceeded to deposit a more-than-healthy load across the chair as well. If anything, his discharge was a fraction less productive - but that was only the case because the Dutchman had proved so productive. Either way, it did not really matter. Both lads had unburdened their balls, which (for the moment at least) would satisfy their near-frenzied enthusiasm. That said, it would not be too long before the desire to fuck resumed, and embracing each other with a tender kiss, they slipped on down into the pool as if to purify themselves for their next encounter.

Given current standards, that would probably be in about ninety minutes time!


Marc Oranje

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