Author's note: Hey, everyone! I know, another chapter, another player 😅, but I promise you I have a plan for all of them. The next couple of chapters take some important steps to push the story further, both in heat and in plot. Buckle up, and get ready.
This chapter, again, is totally AI-free. Still, since English is not my first language, there may be a few grammatical slips or some unusual phrasing. Feel free to point them out to me via email. I genuinely appreciate it.
This is a fictional story, not based on real events or on the actual sexuality of any real people mentioned. It’s intended for adult readers only, whatever the legal age is where you live. Hope you guys like it!
Late Substitute
The night view of Manchester Skyline wasn’t impressive. That’s what I thought, looking through the penthouse’s window. I was kind of used to it, being born and raised in New York, and currently living in London. Being impressed by a city’s skyline was a rare feat. I had arrived early in the afternoon, straight from the airport with an overnight bag, ready to be comfortable at one of the 3 guest bedrooms that my host had reserved for me, even though I had said that I would stay at a hotel.
“Ah pá, I have two empty bedrooms, no way,” Ruben said on the other side of the line.
“Dude, but it’s your party, I bet you’ll want out-of-town friends to stay there.”
“You’re right. And you’re one of my out-of-town friends, so it’s settled.” I sighed in defeat on my end. “You will stay here. Is the same address you have on the invitation.”
“I told you, I didn’t receive anything in the mail”. I answered him.
“Oh yeah, I guess it must have gotten lost in the mail. No worries, I will text you then”.
“Thanks, I still don’t understand why you didn’t do this in the first place, man. It’s the 21st century, and you are still sending letters by mail”.
“It was Maya’s idea, something about offline touches showing care, some shit like that. For me, a whatsapp message was enough”.
I laughed at the powerful centre back transformed into an obedient boyfriend. “Me too, but you did well on keeping her happy. Let’s just hope no stranger has received it and decided to crash your party”. I told him as a joke.
The sound of his laugh was sincere over the phone before he told me a “Fuck you”.
My answer was a dutiful “Gladly” that caught him off guard, making him choke and clear his throat in sequence.
“You are crazy. You could be on speaker, or I could be with other people," the Portuguese said with a stern voice. “We can risk anything like that while we are here”.
“Oh, come on, birthday boy, relax a little. It’s just banter between friends, but I promised to be on my best behavior”.
I was fully fulfilling my promise. Actually, my own anxiety had me on such a short leash that I felt forced to obey. I felt my hands sweaty as I met Maya, Ruben’s girlfriend. I was introduced as a friend who worked in finance (true) and that I had met in an Etihad event (true). “Oh, you must have truly hit it off, Rubes always says these events are dreadfully boring”. Also true. I guess I had to recognize that my friend was a master in the art of telling the truth without disclaiming the reality of it all. Anyway, I didn’t want to keep talking about me or my friendship with Ruben, so I answered in the easiest way to steer the subject away from my first encounter with Dias, allowing them to talk about themselves.
“He isn’t wrong. Even I, who works in one of the most boring fields, found it boring, can’t even imagine what he must feel like. But tell me more about your work, I bet it is far from boring …” And that did the trick. She jumped at the opportunity to tell me all about the backstage of her multiple works, her career, and her aspirations, while I spoke only short sentences to demonstrate my reactions. We parted ways when someone from the party staff appeared to do some final checks for the party; she politely excused herself.
“Andrew, or can I call you Drew? Andrew is so formal, and if you are Rubes’ friends, you are my friend. Anyway, I have to go, duty calls, but I’m eager to talk more with you later. You are such a great listener! And it’s so refreshing to see Rubes have a friend that isn’t a football player. I have to admit that I love his mates, but they are terrifically one-track,” The bombshell said with a big smile before leaving in her high heels. A bullet dodged.
The first guests arrived soon after, and as they entered the big living room, the room really started feeling like a party. A few of them I knew from the City matches that I watched; others I had no idea who they were, but overall, the group of 20 people all seemed to know each other, if not well, then good enough to remember details about the others' careers, life, or family.
I ended up hovering near the Manchester City group. Actually, Ruben introduced me to them, Bernardo Silva, Josko, John Stones, and Jack Grealish, all politely shaking my hand and introducing themselves, as if I didn’t know their names. They talked heatedly about the end of the season, and their disappointment of not competing for the title for the first time in 4 years. Still, they were kind enough to include me in the conversation, filling me in on inside jokes, and using me as an audience for the backstage of a winning team.
Amidst the conversation, I kept stealing glances at Ruben, who always has a big smile plastered on his face while near his friends. How his big hands slide over Maya's lower back playfully. How his tailored pants still bulged from the size of his thighs and his strong ass. He caught me checking him out a few times, mischievously winking in my direction, almost as if it was a secret game between the two of us.
I had to step out of the players' pack for a moment to refill my wine glass and grab a few finger foods. While I was distracted, munching on cod fritters, waiting for the waiter to open a bottle of Portuguese red wine.
“Enjoying yourself?” His strong voice brought me back to reality. His cologne, the same one he had at the London Hotel, lifted me up, almost making me float in the air, if it wasn’t for his grip on my shoulder, anchoring me to the Manchester penthouse.
“Yeah, definitely. The guys are great, Maya is terrific, and these things …” I say, showing him the half-eaten deep-fried ball “are so good”. Ruben smiled.
“If you like Portuguese food, you have to try alheira”. He told me, with the same big smile he had on his face the whole night.
“Really, what is that?” I said, truly curious.
“A kind of Portuguese sausage,” His mouth spilled out, fully aware of the naughty undertones.
Entering his game, I whispered near his ear, only for him to hear, “I think I favor another kind of Portuguese sausage”. His cheeks reddened, assuming the same hue as the wine that was finally flowing into my glass.
“Behave,” his voice deep in an authoritative tone.
“Or maybe I should stop eating for a while. I don’t want to be full if there is a chance of finally tasting Portuguese cake,” I whispered again, my hand slapping his ass in a jock way that none of these people, sports lettered, would bat an eye.
This made him chuckle over his white wine, caught off guard by even the suggestion of it. He looked like he was trying to think something out, but when he turned to me, he saw that another guest had arrived.
The guy was looking around, a small metal Rimowa at his feet, and a gift bag in his hands. His puppy eyes scanned the party, and the moment he saw Ruben, his mouth opened in a charming smile that lit up the room. Hot. This was the first thought my lizard brain registered. He wasn’t tall, five feet 8 would be my guess, not over short in any form, just shorter than Ruben or me. Brunette hair, cheeks covered in stubble with a little bit of a goatee.
“Pedrinho!” the birthday boy exclaimed, attracting a few looks that quickly faded away. The other man walked to the host, abandoning his suitcase. They hugged like brothers, with energetic claps on each other's backs. “Pensei que não vinhas mais” (I thought you weren’t coming anymore).
“Rapaz, o voo atrasou muito. Era para ter chegado há uma hora” (Man, the flight was super delayed. I was supposed to be here an hour ago).
“O importante é que estás aqui” (What matters is that you are here).
While they spoke in their native language, I kept lustfully staring at them both, how their tanned skin was very similar, how they kept touching each other to make a point, patting a shoulder, touching the other's arms. The dynamic distracted me, only resurfacing after hearing my name. “This is Andrew Steele, he is one of my few friends here in England who is not involved with football at all. He works in finance.”
“Oh, a financier, oh wait, isn’t that the French cake? Or is it both? See, I need to improve my connections as my friend did. I’m afraid my vocabulary has become a bit limited. You can’t expect much from a football player, I mean, I love the job, but I’m afraid my talent is kicking a ball! Anyway, I’m Pedro,” He said, all smiles, offering to shake hands.
And finally, I remembered who he was. Chelsea player, Pedro Neto. “Nice to meet you! But don’t diminish yourself, you will be surprised if you saw the low level that some of my peers are, and they wouldn’t know how to score a goal even if there was no keeper”. The two of them laughed.
“Pedro here is one of my closest friends. We had some wild summer trips together over the years, mainly when we were single …” The picture came clear in my mind, both of them tanned, wearing only bathing suits, sweaty from the sun, a little drunk, hugging each other. Touching each other, a hand that stays a moment too long, eyes locked together. Faces come closer, the pheromones filling the air, and suddenly a kiss. Forbidden, but delicious nonetheless. Hardon fills the wet fabrics before colliding. Fuck. I felt my cock grow in my pants just by imagining it. None of them noticed anything, and Ruben kept talking, “Actually, I bet you will both hit it off, being both the rascals that you are. But first, Pedrinho, come with me, I will find someone to show you your room”.
I watched them both leave, and instantly flew to an empty corner overlooking the Mancunian skyline, buying time so that my now raging erection could soften out.
As I was saying, the skyline was dull, but I guess that the dullness helped, because soon my bulge was almost unnoticeable. I was almost returning to the pack of City players when Ruben surprised me one more time, speaking from behind me. “You little whore”.
“What?” I questioned him, shocked by the characterization, although I was. Who was I kidding?
“Don’t come at me acting all flabbergasted and holding your pearls. I saw how you were looking at Pedro.” Dias provoked me with a grin.
“Was I that transparent?”
“Yes, but I also know fully well the look you give when something appetizes you. You give me the same one”. He said, almost proud of it. I cursed myself for not being careful enough, but the birthday boy, already a little bit tipsy, wasn't allowing any bad vibes at his party. “I mean, if you were a chick, you could probably get some. I love the man like a brother, but fuck, he is a manslut. I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but he has one of those open relationships with his girl, and he sure makes good use of it”.
“That’s interesting,” I told him, my mind furiously working on the possibilities shed by the light of this information.
“Don’t get your hopes up. He is definitely straight”.
“Oh, I bet he is, just like you, right?” My grin left fully transparent that I was teasing him. While his face exhibited a fake nuisance.
“I’m straight, you just teased me too much”.
“Maybe that could be a way for him too, tease the fuck out of him till he can’t take it anymore”.
My words forced his expression to showcase an artificial seriousness, followed by a parental “Andrew, behave” that I took more as a suggestion than an order.
Ruben had to do rounds around the party, and my stiff situation had gone soft enough that I was able to return to the Manchester City group without raising any eyebrows. Neto soon joined us, automatically becoming the bottom of the jokes, even by his compatriot, Bernardo. I guess Premier League politics surpassed countries' borders. But the Chelsea player took them with grace, laughing along with the other players while returning the jokes when he could.
But the City guys didn’t stick out for too long, leaving before even the cake was cut, or happy birthday was sung. Early training, kids, and bossy girlfriends all used as justification to a buzzed Dias, who, in turn, tried to use his captain authority to extend his teammates' stay. It didn’t work. And just like that, it was only Pedro and me.
I really thought that the Portuguese supposedly knew the crowd better than I did, but apparently I was wrong. “Nah, I know some of them from here, and there, but they are more of Rube's Manchester circle. Our mutual friends are in Portugal or scattered all over the place. I’m kind of an outsider, just like you, and we outsiders have to stick together,” he told me when I told him he didn't have to feel any obligation to make small talk with me. “Besides, Ruben said that we would hit it off. So I’m curious”.
And we sure did. We talked the whole evening, him telling me stories of the crazy Mediterranean summers that he had, and the many pranks that he played at Chelsea, or at his former team, Wolverhampton. I was an attentive listener, while also catching glances of him, his body, and his body language. Like how his shoulders were big, or how he manspread, showcasing his massive thighs. I envisioned what it would feel like to kiss him, the height gap a novelty that I hadn't yet explored with other guys. I pulled his head upwards, just like I did with the girls I kissed my whole life, but this time with the novelty of a beard rubbing on mine. The spice fragrance he’s been exhaling ever since his arrival, rubbing on my body, mixing with both of our musk. Fuck. I crossed my legs, trying to hide my arousal.
Ruben would stop from time to time, each turn drunker than the last. Maya would also come sometimes, her state worse than her boyfriend’s. “That’s the funny part of people with very strict diets, they can’t handle their liquor”. Pedro whispered to me while the couple walked away to talk with another group. “They usually drink so rarely that two drinks are enough to make them tipsy,” he kept talking, his tone slightly altered in comparison to when he first arrived.
“Are you on a strict diet?” I asked, teasing him.
“No, actually yes, but I don’t follow it by the book. I take my own spin on it. That’s why it's harder to get me wasted,” his voice slurred more than before.
At first, I thought he was kidding, a little bit too full of himself, but as the party kept going, we kept drinking, and he was still way more sober than I would expect from an athlete. The night moved quickly, and soon it was 1AM. All the guests had said their goodbyes, and the catering company had already left, leaving only the 4 of us in the living room.
Maya was totally wasted; she was wrapped around Ruben’s neck like a baby monkey. While he, almost as drunk, was trying to tell the story of how he and Pedro had ruined Cristiano Ronaldo’s good luck ritual at last year's UEFA EURO. But he was cut short when his girlfriend opened her eyes, looking up to him, and mumbling something that I translated as “Baby, … need to go to bed but … a bath first”. Dias, even as drunk as he was, maneuvered her so he could stand up and then lift her up, making her look like a damsel in distress rescued by her hero. The effort made his arms flex, showing us his guns as he made his way to the main suite, saying good night.
I had thought that Pedro was gonna rise up right after, and that this was it for the night, but he seemed to be in no rush. As he picked up the half-empty bottle of red wine that we had been sharing for the past few hours, he refilled his glass.
The silence completely took over the room; the ambient sound had long gone to avoid neighbors' complaints, but it was only now that I realized it. “I shouldn’t be drinking red wine,” the Portuguese said, almost as a confession. Breaking the sound monopoly that the AC had conquered after the couple left.
I asked him, “Why?” while he took the first sip of his full glass.
“Because it makes me horny!” the words followed by a genuine laugh, while I looked at him, baffled at the heartily confession. “I’m not joking, mate, red wine just sets a fire in me that makes me crazy”. Joining him in his good humor, I gave a shy laugh. “What time is it?” he looked at his watch “It's a quarter past 1, I bet there is somewhere fun we could crash, what do you say? Find a couple of hot girls, and simply lay it on them.” he humped the air, the navy pants he wore showcasing a volume that definitely wasn’t there at the beginning of the night.
This euphoric state he now found himself in was an opportunity that I wasn’t gonna waste. If I wanted to finally have the chance with this guy, the time was now. But before I could say anything, my lack of a quick answer to his proposition was misinterpreted. “You don’t have to pretend to be shocked. When you were in the bathroom, Rubes apologized to me, saying that he told you about my agreement with my girl. So yeah, I have the freedom to do just that. So what do you say, we go out there looking for some hot chicks.”
“Oh, I was not even thinking about that. I was gonna say that maybe we could find a hot chick, and a hot dude,” I said as I drank from my glass, my blue eyes fixed on his perplexed face.
“What?” he said, more confused than anything else.
“I’m bi, I cut both ways, I play for both teams.” His eyes got bigger with each expression I used. And yes, I know, that right now I was fully gay, but still, it was the wish’s fault. Perhaps when the year has passed, I will be able to find a nice girl, and settle down, and this will be just my ‘bi phase’ where I just banged dudes. And besides that, I got the impression that a bi didn’t spook them as much as a gay guy.
“Man, I didn’t get any impression that you were like that,” he said after the shock had dissolved. “Not that I mind, whatever gets you going. I respect you all, no prejudice on my part”. Another sip fuelled his voice, “I don’t think I could do it. I understand being attracted to girls; they are soft, they have boobs, their skin is delicate, and they have very little hair. Now, dudes are rough, we have hair everywhere, we are tough, we smell”.
“I already like guys, you don’t have to keep selling them to me,” I said jokingly, disarming him completely.
“You are wild. See, girls like guys, but they are always trying to soften us. They make us shave, use moisturizer, and they change us so they can like us. You are saying that you like us all natural?” I nodded positively, which baffled him. “Man, that’s crazy. What about taking up in the ass? No way feels good.”
“Oh, you don’t know what you are missing. You should ask one of your girls to put a finger there, or a tongue, maybe a dildo”.
He laughed, rearranging himself at his seat. “Nah, I don’t think that would get me going. Vanilla is good enough for me”.
“Ok, now I’ll ask the questions”. I leaned closer to his chair, so I could touch his shoulder. My hand gropes the strong muscle. “Forget that I’m touching you, and that I’m giving you this command. You will answer every question with complete honesty. Everything we discuss will feel completely reasonable and natural. You will let yourself be completely influenced by what we discuss, growing curious and aroused. Whatever we agree on, you will comply”. His dark eyes became misty while I sat relaxed again in my armchair.
“Sure, let’s go,” He said, unknowing that he was set to begin one of the biggest transformation journeys of his life.
“You won’t grow tired of it and leave in the middle of my questions, right?” I asked to make sure that he would stay.
“Of course not, now shoot it!”
“What is the gayest thing you've ever done?”
“I guess it was the circle jerks I did when I was a teen. Never touched any of the other guys' dicks, but it was pretty gay having a bunch of your friends just stroking by your side”. He answered like it was an ordinary question. Part of me was unsure if this was my command in action or if he was just honest like that.
“But you never wished to touch any of the other guys' dicks?”
“Nah, man, I’m satisfied touching my own,” Pedro said before giving a defensive laugh.
“Weren’t you even curious?” I instigated.
He rearranged himself on the cushion. “I think every man thinks about what it would feel like to hold something bigger or larger than his own, don’t?”
“I don’t know, you tell me”.
“Yeah, I think it’s natural to wonder,” he concluded, “spending so much time in the locker room with 15 other guys, you get yourself wondering about some of the other guys' equipment”.
“You know what, I agree with you. It’s only natural for men to wonder what it would be like to touch other men”. My words made him smile confidently. “So tell me, if it’s natural to wonder, is it also natural for men to touch each other?”
“Definitely, if it wasn’t, then we wouldn’t wonder.” His tone was almost as if I had asked if the sky was blue.
It was clear to me that my command was in full motion, and it was a matter of time for me to do whatever I wanted with him. My underwear had started feeling damp just by the thought of it. I continued with my questions, “So would you let another guy touch you?”
He stopped to think about it, glass in hand, “I wouldn’t mind, because it’s natural. But I don’t feel attracted to it, so it wouldn’t make sense for me, so no”.
“But what if you were blinded, and a hand touched your dick. You would be able to differentiate a hand?”
“No, hands are very similar”.
“So if hands are very similar, you have no reason to mind, right?”
“You are right, hands are very similar. So yeah, I would let another guy touch me”.
Fireworks exploded in my mind with this first, but definitely major evolution. I just had to keep working to get what I really wanted. My mind had settled that by the end of the night, I would be deep inside his straight ass, and he would be loving every second of it. “What about a mouth? A mouth you also can’t differentiate”.
“No, I have to disagree, man, a mouth is very different from a hand”.
“Of course you are right, they say men give better blowjobs than women. So you can’t differentiate, because one is better than the other”. This caused him to stop in his tracks, an interrogation sign plastered over his handsome face. “You know that, right?” I teased him.
His full lips opened up enough to mumble a “I don’t know about that, maybe. I’m not sure” while his eyes avoided mine like the plague.
“Think with me, it’s only logical. Imagine there are two people playing football. One has had a ball at its disposal since the crib, the other only played ball when someone would lend a ball to it. Who would be a better player?”
He didn’t hesitate to answer, the football analogy making him notoriously more comfortable than before. “Ah pá, obviously the one with the ball”.
“See, that’s why men give way better blowjobs than women, we know the equipment very well”. I could see the engines rolling in his head to make sense of this affirmation, but I had to keep pushing him. “Have you ever had a guy suck you?”
“No, I’m not gay”. His answer was as fast as a bullet.
“Who said anything about being gay. We just agreed that men touching each other is natural.” This stopped him in his tracks, as the glass went back to his mouth for another sip. “Besides, now that we agree that men obviously give better blowjobs, I bet you are curious”.
He drank again before answering a shy “Ah … maybe,” but his body rearranged itself at his seat, making me sense that my command was making him more interested than he would admit.
“Come on, be honest. This is a safe space”.
He sighed, “Yes, I’m curious”, his hands admitting defeat, combing his thighs, straightening the fabric, showing the first effects of our talk in the form of a volume. Interesting.
“Of course you are! In my opinion, no man has ever sensed true pleasure if he never had a guy blowing him, or had a cock in his ass”. There it was, laid out in front of him, my final trap.
The expression on his face blurred again, just like a serene pond that you’ve thrown a rock into. “I’m not so sure. The blowjob ok, I can understand, but being fucked? I don’t think that this is true pleasure”.
“Why not? It’s the biology of our bodies. If we are supposed to only have sex with women, why do we have a major point of pleasure on our ass at dick’s range?”
The younger Portuguese looked lost, as if he’d been introduced to a board game without the rules. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t find any words to say. So I continued, “I never saw a guy that, after trying, at least a tongue in his ass, didn’t like it."
“Shit, dude. I never tried, but I think I wouldn’t make the cut. I’m straight. My ass is only for the girls to grab while I’m plowing them”. Pedro said, trying to show some confidence in his sexual prowess.
“Never? Not even a finger?”
“No, it’s a one-way street. Nothing enters there”. Those Portuguese guys, and their ‘one-way street’ analogy. Ruben had said the same thing, but he would still let me rim him. Maybe that was it, that was how I was gonna push his walls down.
We both remained quiet, the tension thick in the room. I took a sip of my wine before I broke the silence. “Let’s make a dare”. His brown eyes quickly sparkled up. “I will rim you for 10 minutes, if you don’t like, I will give you what you want, a blowjob. If you like it, I win the right to keep showing you a good time. What do you say? You won’t back out from a dare, right?”
“Dude …” He said, thinking, scratching the back of his neck, unintentionally flexing his arms.
“Think about how nice a blowjob would be, so much better than a quick jerk before bed. If you are so sure you won’t like being rimmed, then the blowjob is certain”. I could almost see his mental obstacles disappearing, so I kept luring him on. “Remember the best blowjob you ever had, now think of something even better. That’s how you're gonna feel when you finally win”. His breath quickening, the mention of winning cleared, striking a chord at his core. “You like to win, right?”
His voice said, “Yeah, definitely,” in an almost confessional tone.
“There is your chance to win. You said it yourself. Who would know you better than yourself? You can decide what feels better, winning or having your dick sucked”. His tongue was pressing his lips while he thought. He automatically rearranged himself, showcasing a volume that had grown since it first appeared.
With his hands, he brushed his hair back over his head and exhaled,” Fuck it. This is probably the wine talking, but I accept it”.
I quickly rose up to my feet, smiling like a kid in a candy shop, “Let’s go then”.
Together we walked to the guest bedrooms, quiet like two church mice, but inside I was screaming with excitement. The guest bedrooms were all laid out side by side, in a corridor, at the other side of the penthouse, where the host couple was probably sound asleep, given the drunk state they were in. Neto’s room was the first, so we quickly hopped in, closing and locking the door behind us.
The space was very similar to my room: a bed, a built-in wardrobe, a full-length mirror, a very abstract (and probably expensive) painting hanging on the wall, and the door leading to the shared ensuite bathroom I had used to get ready for the party a few hours ago. Pedro stayed in the middle of the room, hands in hips, portraying a sense of power I knew was a facade.
“So how should we do this?” the Chelsea player asked, almost as if we were assembling Ikea furniture.
I mimicked his position, also facing him in the power pose, but being 2 inches taller, the impact, I bet, was more successful. “Undress, and wait for me, I will just grab something in my room real quick,” I told him in full authority, before escaping to my room to grab the travel-size lube tube I had bought just in case Ruben wanted to do something. I guess the other Portuguese would make do.
Waiting for me, sitting in the bed, was Pedro Neto, wearing only blue boxer briefs. His body was a light tan, probably paler by the distance from those glorious summer days he told me about throughout the night. Just like Ruben, his body was completely shaved; the only hairs I could see, besides the ones on his head and face, were the ones on his pits. I personally choose to blame Cristiano Ronaldo for setting this standard over the Portugal National Team. Although not a big fan of the ‘Ken doll’ no body hair look, I had to admit that it left his body clear to total appreciation. The muscles, even relaxed, had a definition that was impressive, mainly his arms, which I’ve been ogling for the last few hours. I whistled, just like a construction worker seeing a hot babe, making him lose his macho posture and laugh with his captivating smile.
“So, now, how should we do this?” the masked excitement in his voice adding to the thrill of it all.
I pondered for a few seconds before giving my biased opinion. “Maybe you should get on all fours, that way you can focus only on what it feels like, forgetting that it is a bloke doing the work.”
“Ok, you are the expert,” he said, promptly turning on his knees and getting into position in the middle of the bed.
“Hey, you basically called me a slut” I said, in good spirit, after all, with this man on all fours, strong ass stretching his underwear, nothing could ruin my mood.
He turned his face back, looking at me with a smug grin, full of himself, tongue licking his lips. “If the shoe fits. Now hurry up cause the sooner we begin, the sooner I get that blowjob”.
His wish was my command, and after hastily removing my shirt, kicking off my shoes, and dropping my pants at my feet, I joined him at the bed, leaving the lube tube I had brought lying on the mattress for easy access. As I positioned myself behind him, between his strong legs, I felt like I was dreaming. With my two hands, I grabbed the hard, muscled melons in front of me. The size, together with the heat of those plump cheeks, and the small amount of jiggle that they gave when handled, made it a perfect example of a juicy ass. I worked them for a few moments, massaging the deep muscles, making them relax so I can work them open in a while.
“This is not your mouth I’m feeling, man, come on. Be done with it”. The Portuguese’s voice ordered, so I obeyed. With my fingers hooking on the branded waistband of his blue underwear, peeling them with delicate touches, like an art restorer. What I revealed was even more beautiful: two round, smooth, naturally tanned cheeks, one of them with a small beauty mark. On the trench between them, a sparse coating of hair had survived the purge, working as an enticer for me. This was a man’s butt that I was gonna rim. Directly under his globes were 2 balls, unusually large for his average heighted body, behind them the dusty pink head of his cock could be seen, it appeared chubbed up, but majorly soft. I scored big time.
“Fuck, that’s a hot ass,” I murmured, genuinely awed. My paws now making bare contact with his tender skin, groping the gluteus in front of me.
While I was lost in the sight, mouth watering, and dick fully hard in my briefs. The player seemed fixated on moving on, anxious for the, in his mind, inevitable blowjob. “I know it's nice, my girl always tells me that. But remember, 10 minutes. Have you set the timer yet, man?”
Fuck. I had fully forgotten that this was timed, so, honoring my word, I jumped out of bed, grabbing the phone in my discarded pants pocket. Pedro used my absence to fully remove his boxers, which now lay near his foot. Seizing the opportunity, I discreetly took a few pictures of his behind, just like people do in restaurants when the meal is served.
“Ok, I’m setting it on. Are you ready to have your mind blown?” I said, reassuming my position.
“I’m ready to get my dick wet, this is just a toll I have to endure,” his voice replied, while he shifted his body weight trying to get more comfortable. I pressed my fingers slowly on his flesh and parted them, revealing his wrinkled hole that I would soon get familiar with. I brought my face closer, the smell of masculinity and bodywash overwhelming my senses. I blew some hot air from my mouth at it, making the virgin button wink at me. “Fuck, this is really weird” was his feedback to this first interaction. Let’s see how his opinion changes.
“Ok, here it goes,” I informed him, as I hit play on the timer, and with my hands on his golden-skinned hips, I leaned in. Gently resting my tongue over his most intimate part, I tasted his skin for the first time. A screech yelp, followed by a little moan, were his immediate reactions as I lapped the few dark hairs he had around his hole. Slowly, I increased the pressure my tongue applied to his entrance with each lick, to a point that he was naturally opening up for me without any trouble.
Patience was the word of the day. I didn’t need to rush this, so I took my time appreciating the manly taste that Pedro had between his glorious thighs. At first, he was hesitant to vocalize his sensations, only letting low groans and murmurs break free of his lips. As his body relaxed, his moans started filling up the room. “Jesus, man, that’s fucked up”. Avoiding talking and ruining the magic to which he was falling for, I simply took the opportunity to shape my tongue in a cone and snake it up his now inviting pucker, the first insertion on his straight male pussy. “OH FUCK” he screamed as I slithered through his warm, tight channel, purposing spit-drenching his walls. With my face practically smothered between his magnificent cheeks, it was impossible not to feel him start pushing back his hips, grinding his muscular glutes on the stubble of my 5 o’clock shadow.
While my mouth organ was busy drilling his warm insides, harvesting his lustful howls. I started to explore his body with my hands, curious to feel how his cock was responding. Sliding my hands around his hips and through his smooth, shaved crotch. It wasn’t a surprise to feel the shape of his dick completely hard. Letting some of my spit flow from my mouth, and his hole, down the bull balls. The slickness, together with his precum, had started to drip from his head, creating the perfect combo for a pleasurable milking of his meat. “Why does it feel so good?” He asked in a sultry voice to no one in particular, knowing well that I wouldn’t be able to answer, with my mouth focused only on creating pleasure for him.
When my tongue started to get tired, I pulled back, admiring my work. His tiny dusty rose pucker now glistening with my drool, winking anxiously, expecting a new incursion. Under it, his ball sack hanging low, completely covered in spit, and his dick, with my hand still holding it tightly, feeling the blood pulse through his veiny skin. With a quick look at the timer, I assessed that I still had 3 minutes until his ultimatum, but decided to check if he had changed his mind already. “Lie on your back. I want to see the face of someone who had his world rocked.” I commanded, to which he hastily obeyed, turning and facing me with his dark, wide eyes. His hair was sweat-glued to his forehead, his mouth was open, and his tongue was out, as if in the process of licking his lips. “So? There are still 3 minutes left, but I’m afraid you already have your verdict”. He looked at me still, his chest the only thing moving, up and down on long, deep breaths.
“I don’t know how, why, but this is like sorcery, dude”. He said, " Those deer eyes fixed on me.
“Does that mean that I won?” I asked with my hands on each of his inner thighs, groping the big muscle. “That I keep playing with you for the night?”
“Do you have anything better than this in store?” his voice had already recovered some of the rascal quality he had shown all throughout the night.
I canceled the timer before leaning down, my mouth closed enough of his hard cock that he could feel the warm air of my breath while I breathed in his musk. I answered a cheeky “You have no idea”. Closing in the gap, I licked his meat, savoring for the first time the salty mix of precum and my own saliva that covered the pulsing surface. His cock was of average length, six and a half inches, a little over 16 cm, with a big red mushroom head. But just like Ruben, it was thicker than mine, filling my hand as I jerked it over, and over again.
Even winning, I decided to show him the full range of my abilities. With my lips covering my teeth, I gulped down the head of his cock, my tongue wrapping around the mushroom head like a vine. “Shit,” he sighed and moaned. His hands were resting on top of my head, motivating me to swallow more and more of his flesh weapon. Discreetly, I slid a finger alongside him, letting it be covered by the tangy mix of spit and precum that filled my mouth. With caution, I searched for his tight opening and started caressing with care the skin folds of his asshole.
His dick was smaller than the 3 others I had already sucked, so getting to the point of deepthroating it wasn’t hard, even with the challenge of the extra thickness. I calculated my time with Swiss precision, and right at the moment I relaxed, and let it burst in my throat, I pressed my finger in, and burst in his warm hole. He screamed a lust-filled “OH GOD” that made me really hope that Maya was a heavy sleeper. Throwing caution to the wind, I kept torturing the young Portuguese, layering pleasure over pleasure. At the same time, his tube was massaged by my throat and mouth, and I explored his virgin straight pussy, making him buckle at the mattress like a mustang. He kept being vocal about the bliss waves washing over his body, primarily after I discovered his G-spot. It didn’t take long before I was able to fit another finger in his insides, scissoring and opening him up for the next part of my plan.
Lodged in my mouth, I could sense the signals with ease. The bloodflow rushing up his prick, making it extra hard, his balls retracting, his breath reaching a crescendo. To avoid an early ending to our night, I stepped back, removing my fingers from him, and spitting out his dick, covered in slime. Pedro moaned a disappointed yelp before stating, “Porra … I was so close”.
Kneeled between his muscular legs, with a hardon making an undeniable tent in my underwear, I looked over his astonished, handsome face, trying my best to be charming. “I know, that’s why I couldn’t let you finish. I still have things to show you”. Just the idea of new delights made an involuntary drop of precum flow out of his cock. “Get back on all fours,” I demanded, and he obeyed. Probably craving the denied orgasm so much that questioning probably never came to mind. And soon he was presenting me again with the beautiful sight of his round ass. I used both of my hands to grab his cheeks, letting my thumbs close enough of his pucker that I could keep massaging the pink button. He shuddered every time my finger was about to enter his hole, the desire explicit by the hard cock hanging between his legs. “Do you want me to get back in there?” I asked.
“Fuck yes,” he groaned complacently.
“Do you want my tongue or my fingers?” One of my thumbs pushed in enough so that it seemed he would burst in the muscle ring, without really breaching it.
“Anything,” He moaned frustratedly, “just make me cum, please”.
Once again, I moved away from him, using the space to remove my briefs and to grab the lube. As I spread the cold product over my 7 inches, I took a quick look over the full body mirror nearby, wondering if maybe I could see myself fucking the shit out of this “straight” guy, but sadly, the angle didn’t allow it. I thought I saw a glimpse of something through the open door frame, a shadow moving, almost imperceptible. But decided to ignore it, blaming the hormones flowing through my brain right now. I was completely lost to lust.
Applying more lube to my hand, I started to smear the viscous substance over his tight rosebud, small gasps flying through the room like fireflies. Slowly, I began fingering him, his channel quickly accepting me in, and in no time, his ass was backing into my hand, at the same time as the volume of his pleading was rising by the second. Enough was enough. It was showtime.
I picked my dick with my right hand and started getting closer to the gaping ring. “Relax, take deep breaths,” I instructed him, as my pink head kissed his opening softly, before I nudged it past the muscle gates, and stopped. A sudden movement in my peripheral vision brought my attention back to the mirror, and I guess my hormones weren’t to blame. There, under the frame, bathed by the low indirect lighting of the room, wearing only his white boxer briefs with the undeniable shape of his hard, big dick under it, was Ruben.
His face, a mask of animalistic desire, like a predator gawked at mine, making my heart beat faster. But at the same time, knowing I had an audience made me grin like the cat who got the cream, and Dias, seeing this battle of feelings in my expression, winked at me, putting his finger over his lips, signaling silence. I complied and resumed the manhandling of his buddy.
“Jesus, God!” the no longer virgin Pedro Neto moaned lustfully, completely unaware that his friend was watching his deflowering. “It’s so weird, and it’s so big”. I massaged his back with my free hand. Staying still till I felt his body had adapted enough for me to keep pushing. When the pressure on his tight entrance faded, I pushed more of my cock inside, the work I’ve done previously, together with the spit and lube, making it way easier to slide in.
“Man, it hurts, take it out!” he pleaded after I pushed more inches into his hot insides.
“Don’t chicken out so early in the process, man. Breathe in and out. If it doesn’t feel good soon, I'll take it out”. He took my advice, and the sound of his shaky breathing became noticeable, while I kept still. Resuming the massage, tracing circles over his smooth skin, seemed to help. I felt him start to relax again, his muscle ring no longer gripping my dick. “Good Boy. I’m moving again, ok? Don’t fight it”.
My coaching session seemed to do the trick; this time, he didn’t flinch as much as he did before, and I could push more of myself and even begin a smooth in and out of his ass that got his first moans of pleasure, not of pain.
Accidentally, I moved my meat downwards, hitting his prostate like lightning. “Drew, oh man, there!” Neto’s blissful voice said, his hips moving, searching for the magic position that made him feel so good. In the mirror, the other Portuguese kept attentive eyes on the scene. His hand was massaging the volume under the white cloth.
“Oh yeah, buddy?” I asked, sliding out before rocking back in, this time on purpose. “This?”
“Fuck me YES,” the Chelsea player moaned. On the door frame, Ruben had removed his underwear and stroked his cock in a slow rhythm. The wet sounds were covered by the sound that Pedro and I were making together.
The assault on his prostate put any past pain or discomfort in the past, and allowed me to fully plant myself in his love tunnel. Feeling his tightness, and warm compression massage my dick. I didn’t hesitate to increase my speed and vigor. Really drilling the Portuguese male pussy with passion. “Yes”, “Oh God”, and “Fuck me” escaped his lips like slutty confessions as I jackhammered him on the mattress. Thank God for the strong legs of these football players.
“Look at you, begging to be fucked, I told you you didn’t know what you were missing,” I told him, before hitting his ass playfully with my open palm.
“So good, so fucking good,” he murmured in response.
“Yeah, that’s right, keep it low. I bet you don’t want Ruben catching you this way, getting railed like a cheap whore” he moaned at what for him was a hypothetical scenario, while I winked at my friend in the mirror. “Or maybe you would like that. Maybe he would realize how many opportunities he wasted over these summers you spent chasing chicks while this tight pussy was nearby just waiting to be fucked”.
His moans grew louder and incomprehensible, while Dias jerked himself faster and faster. Both Portuguese completely surrendered to the taboo images I kept placing in their minds.
“Or maybe he would want to make up for the lost time, and join in right now, and get my sloppy seconds. Enjoy while you are still wet and open. Tell me, Pedrinho, would you like that?” Neto couldn’t form any cohesive sentence, so I kept pushing him further, and further over this fantasy I’d woven. My pace was near my limit, his tight channel now used to my dick kept mushing over the veiny tube, making it even hotter for me to drill the previously straight player.
“I bet you would like that, bet he has a nice thick cock …” look at me saying from experience “… that would fill you up so good. Think about the opportunities this would bring, each match, each training session an opportunity, each summer a complete debauchery.
I felt in my meat that he started tightening more than usual, and suddenly he proclaimed “I’M CUMMING, FUCK!”, and without thinking, I put my hand under the head of his 6.5-inch dick, catching the 5 blasts of thick cum that erupted with force. I was not so behind, and as the hot goo drenched my hand, I closed my eyes and started cumming, drenching the newly established boypussy of the Chelsea player.
When opening them, I saw that the man in the mirror had disappeared. I looked over the room, but we were completely alone now. Making good use of the opportunity, I extracted myself from him and turned his muscular compact body, making him lie on his back. Sitting on his chest, he was facing my deflating cock covered in my male juices. “Open up,” I ordered, and Pedro, still flying high from his orgasm, obeyed, without any resistance. I turned my hand over his open lips, making his own semen drip over his tongue. The tangy taste made his eyes shoot open.
“Argh, mate, that’s disgusting,” He said with a grossed-out expression.
“It’s your own man, mine is deep inside your lovely cunt” the reality of the fact making him blush, ashamed of his acts. “Have you never tried your own cum before?”
He looked at me in disbelief, like I just told him I was an alien. “No. Every girl who ever sucked me said that it’s gross. That’s why they never swallowed. Everyone tastes the same?”
“It’s an acquired taste. There are some small variations, but almost all of them have this tangy salty taste,” I thought about Ruben’s almost sweet complexion, Declan’s Alcalyne, or mine and Lucas’ regular flavor. “If you are curious, have a sample”. His mouth was still gaping open, making it easy for me to guide my dick inside.
The shock at first made his lips press on my meat tube, but I kept it planted there, and not long after I felt his curious tongue explore my head, mixing his own cum taste with mine, and his own ass juices. A wicked blend. I supported myself with one hand over his sweaty hair, and the other, still partially covered in his semen, resting at the side of his abs. Making good use of my touch, I whispered in the commanding tone that made my powers stronger, “Taste the differences, realize that it isn’t that bad, that it’s something you can grow quite fond of. Don’t waste more of your own cum after jerking off, or after breeding someone else, or if someone else bred you”. His eyes were closed, but I could feel the impact of my words in the movement of his tongue around my sensitive head. “That’s right, explore. Don’t be ashamed of what we did here. Remember the pleasures that you discovered, and how good they felt. From now on, I’m a friend of yours you can count on to help you explore this new side of yourself”. He kept munching on my cock, the new changes making an effect on his body, and soon there was not a mL of cum left. So I, more tired than wanting to instigate a round 2, extracted myself.
He grinned with that charming smile he had, letting his tongue escape from his mouth, and cleaned his lips with it. “Yeah, maybe it’s not that bad”.
I chuckled, telling him a biased “I told you so”.
Not long after, Pedro was asleep, sprawled over the bed, face down with my cum still leaking between his asscheeks. I silently gathered my things and walked back to my room through the joint bathroom. But as I was crossing it there, I saw, over the sink counter, a pair of white briefs, the same ones that I saw our voyeur wearing in the mirror.
I touched the piece of fabric carefully, like managing a relic, but as soon as my fingers made contact with it, I felt the wetness covering the cotton cloth, and without needing any kind of further evidence, I knew deep inside that this was his male juice, his delicious cum drenching the underwear, cum he produced by watching me sodomize one of his closest friends. Not wasting the opportunity, I brought the piece to my face, breathing in his manly scent, letting my tongue taste his cream. Shit, that felt so wrong, but also felt so fucking good.
With the underwear over my face, one of my hands jerking my equipment, while the other pinched my own nipples, the second wave of pleasure came quick, and I came over my own fist, and stomach. I jumped into the shower for a quick wash before walking back to my bedroom, and falling asleep almost instantly.
The morning after was pretty uneventful. The host couple was pretty hungover at the table, poking and moving food in the recovery meal the private chef had cooked for them, while I munched on the pancakes he so gladly offered me. Pedro was still out, and apparently it wasn’t anything new for Ruben, who told the table, “That’s why he has to schedule 7 alarms when we are at Portugal training”.
I didn’t stick much longer, leaving for my train soon after, the white boxer Ruben had left at the bathroom, packed neatly in my bag. A personal party favor. I was almost near home, sitting in a cab, when a message popped up on my phone.
“Did you like the present I left for you yesterday? 😈” Ruben had sent, probably finally feeling more like himself after what I imagined was rest, water, and aspirin.
“def. did you enjoy the show?”
“So fucking hot. Who would’ve thought my mate was such an eager slut?”
“You should’ve joined us. Although it was hot having a voyeur.”
“Next time. You keep working him over. I want him eager when it’s my turn.”
“hell yeah, I will make sure he is ready. send him my number, I bet he wants it”.
"What do I get in return?"
"this" I added the picture I took of his friend on all fours, completely naked, to our chat.
"Fair trade" was his response, together with Pedro's number.
"pleasure doing business with you xo" I typed quickly, as the cab parked in front of my building.
Water covered the floor in the hall, dripping through, usually not visible, but now completely exposed, a pipe. The mailboxes had been removed and lay on the floor, almost as if impersonating kids’ cubbies. When I took the first step on the stairs, Carl, the building superintendent, appeared from the basement door. “Well, hello, Andrew. Can you believe my luck today? These old pipes, I’m telling you, someday we will wake up swimming.” He brushed his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. While I was thinking that this explained the puddles and the torn-up wall. The old man continued his debrief after I expressed my solidarity. “Leonard gathered your stuff from the mailbox. I think you were one of the lucky ones who were saved from soggy mail.” Again, I expressed my solidarity and resumed climbing up the stairs, wishing more than anything to finally get home.
I opened up the door, and Carl was true to his word. Over the dining table, a small pile of apparently dry envelopes waited for me. I removed my shoes, walked to my bedroom, and started unpacking right away. I knew myself, if I didn’t do that, this suitcase would be left full for 2 whole weeks. The sounds of footsteps made me look to the door where Leo stood with white crew socks, short gym shorts, and an old gray Arsenal t-shirt. A look that he used so much it was almost a second skin to him. In my first ‘gay days’, these outfits had such an appeal to me that I had to control myself to not break up when he wore them, but now I have grown used to it, to the point that I don’t even notice anymore. It had become part of the landscape.
“Hey, man, I stumbled upon Carl in the hall, and he told me we were lucky that our shit wasn’t affected. Is it true?” I asked while removing the clean clothes that I overpacked.
His usual smile was nowhere to be seen, and his blue eyes were tempestuous, like the sky before a storm. In his right hand, an envelope was held like a knife. My question remained unanswered because he latched onto a question of his own.
“Who are you? Why the fuck did you receive an invitation to Ruben Dias birthday?”
Fuck me.
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