Here's a story for everyone enjoying watching Wimbledon, and all those hot tennis players. This story is fiction, featuring sex between male celebrities - the story bears no resemblance to the real-life celebrities. Stop reading now if you shouldn't be here, or if you're going to get offended.
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Andre Agassi loved Wimbledon. After having won the championship ten years ago, he was back at the tournament, determined to show the world that he could do it again. His tennis skills had suggested to the public that it might be his year, and he had the honour of opening the show-court action on the first day. It was not a particularly challenging match for him, and he returned to the changing room, happy with a solid performance.
The other thing Andre loved was sex. The man was an animal in the sack, and he liked taking every opportunity to show off his sexual prowess. He could think of nothing better to do after a successful match than to shove his thick, hard cock into an expectant mouth, and take out any remaining energy, face-fucking whoever he had with him.
More often than not, Andre went for men. He had his times with women, but Andre's cock craved a hairy cocksucker to work his magic. The changing rooms at the major tournaments were arena for some sweaty, energetic sex for most of the male tennis players. There was nearly always some stud hanging around, waiting for Andre to pounce. As one of the most experienced players on the tour, Andre had his pick of who he wanted to fuck, and any other player would be grateful to have Andre fucking them.
So, after his first-round success, Andre returned to the swish Wimbledon changing rooms, and began getting undressed out of his slightly sweat-dampened clothes, ready for a shower to freshen up. There were, of course, private showers for the players, but Andre always went for the communal showers, hoping to find another guy, eager for a fuck. Wearing only his tight, black briefs, he wandered into the shower area.
Thick clouds of steam hung in the air, and Andre could hear the rush of running water from round the corner as he entered. He had to see who it was, so he peeped his head round the end wall. There, half-covered in bubbles, and sponging himself under the hot shower-head, was Marat Safin, the tall Russian heartthrob, number 2 seed at the tournament. Safin was known for his passion on the circuit - he had a strong temper, and players did not enjoy getting on the wrong side of him. After a bad match, Safin would often enjoy some revenge over his opponent by forcing his delicious, Russian cock hard into his opponent's arse. His rough fucking style was well-known in the tournament showers. Most players would keep a wide berth, but Agassi was definitely on a high this afternoon, and decided to approach the hot-headed Russian. He stripped off his briefs, releasing his hardening cock, and strode over, without making a sound.
Creeping up behind Marat, Agassi made sure he was silent, before positioning himself a foot behind the Russian. Safin continued soaking his soapy, muscled stomach, without realising who was behind him. The tall Russian tilted his head back, with his eyes closed, and his face was drenched with water as he turned round. He then heard, "Hey, stud."
Safin opened his eyes, wiped away the water, and was confronted with the naked, hairy figure of Andre Agassi. The pair had never, amazingly, fucked each other before, but Safin knew at once why Andre was there. He glanced down at the American's crotch, seeing a thick snake of a cock quickly hardening. He looked back up to Andre's face, and responded seductively, "Hey, man."
Andre couldn't resist Marat's sexy Russian accent, and he looked Safin up and down. Bubbles were running down his muscular chest and stomach, washed down by the water, and dripped down off Marat's hanging dick. Marat did not smile, but had a smouldering look about him, and droplets of water were hanging from his chin. Agassi stepped forward, receiving a few drops of water for the first time, and the pair's lips closed together. Safin was the taller of the two, and pressed his moist stomach against Andre's hairy torso. As their mouths pulled apart, Andre was left biting on Marat's bottom lip. He let go after a moment, and heard Marat speaking meaningfully in Russian. He didn't have a clue what Safin was saying, but was taken aback when Safin grabbed him and pressed him up against the tiled wall under the shower.
Marat was well-muscled and sufficiently strong to lift Andre off the floor against the wall.His cock was soon hard, and as Marat held Andre up against the wall in another long kiss, Andre could feel Marat's hard pole rubbing up against him. Safin reached for his small bottle of shower gel and drizzled it over Agassi's broad, hairy chest. Years of tennis had given Andre a very well-defined chest, and Marat massaged the shower gel through Andre's chest hair and around his hard nipples. Marat drizzled more of the gel across Andre's stomach and crotch, his hands delving deep past Andre's hard cock to grasp and massage Andre's balls.
Marat's gel-coated hands then reached round to rub over Agassi's perfect arse-cheeks. His hands slipped over the cheeks, then began pulling them apart. Safin's fingers ran through Agassi's crack as the pair continued to kiss. He began pressing a finger into Andre's hole, widening the way for his 9in pole. Andre groaned as they kissed, but Marat pulled back once again. Andre went for the plunge, saying, "Talk dirty, stud."
Safin began growling dirty talk at Andre, completely in Russian. Andre didn't understand a word, but loved every second. After a minute, Marat pulled his finger out and pressed hard into Andre with his cock, parting Andre's cheeks with a couple of fast thrusts. Agassi felt like he was being ripped apart, but was soon enjoying the pumping sensation of Safin's thrusts. Marat continued talking throughout, which drove Andre wild. The water beat down from above, Marat's arms still holding Andre's legs up, and bouncing him up and down on his cock against the wall. The slapping of flesh on flesh was loud and fast, as Marat's speed increased. People weren't joking about Safin's rough style, as the guy didn't let up for a moment.
Agassi's prostate was pummelled solidly for what felt like (and probably was) half an hour. The Russian's stamina was amazing, and he managed to keep Agassi off the floor for the most part. Water gushed down over Safin's chest, washing the sweat down to the drains in the floor. When the thrusts had reached maximum speed, and the Russian's hips were pounding into Agassi's aching arse, the pair were both yelling with pleasure. Safin's dick throbbed and spurted waves of cun deep into Andre, with a final shout. In that moment, Marat clawed down Agassi's chest with his nails, giving Andre a magnificent feeling.
He let Andre drop to the floor, his cock popping quickly out of Andre's hole, and dripping a few last drops of spunk onto the floor. Andre then took his turn, using his strength to grab Marat's shoulders above him, and push him down to his knees. Agassi stood under the shower, with streams of hot water running down his hairy body, with Safin knelt in front of him, his mouth inches from Agassi's thick 10in shaft.
Agassi commanded, "Suck it," and Safin obeyed at once, licking round Andre's large, pink cock-head. He began taking Andre's shaft through his lips, his face receiving a spatter of water from the shower above. Andre held the back of Marat's dark-haired head with one hand, and stroke his own washboard stomach with the other. Marat tilted his head into position after a few seconds to accommodate the whole of Andre's length. Agassi's monster filled Safin's mouth and throat, causing Safin to gag at first. Agassi's thickness and length often had this affect on his cocksuckers, but Safin coped very well. Soon, he was wolfing down the whole length of Andre's pole, and sucking with all his remaining energy.
As he sucked back, he teased Andre's cock-head with his tongue, and then he took all of Andre in, so that his nose could inhale Andre's musky scent from his damp mass of pubes. Agassi continued to hold Safin's head, while pinching and twisting his own nipples and rubbing his wet stomach. Safin was an expert cocksucker, and had Andre groaning loudly. Andre had to stop rubbing himself and grab onto a pipe on the wall for support as he gave in to the pleasure of Safin's tongue.
It took a good fifteen minutes for Andre to finally blow his load, but Safin continued taking in Andre's length. As his orgasm approached, he pumped hard into Safin's mouth, face-fucking the Russian for the last half-minute. His fist tightly grabbing the water-pipe on the wall, he shot waves of spunk down Safin's open throat. Marat guzzled down every drop, and Andre's whole body clenched for a moment. His strength inadvertently caused the pipe to come off the wall suddenly. Andre nearly fell over as the pipe showered the sweaty pair with a burst of ice-cold water. They ran from the vicinity, shouting from the cold, and came together for a final kiss, their muscled torsos pressed against each other. They then walked off, not saying another word to each other. An unforgettable fuck for them both.
Andre walked back to his bag of clothes, smiling. "Better than tennis," he said to himself.
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Hope you enjoyed that. I can't help but imagine those sexy players in these kinds of situations when I'm watching Wimbledon. If you have any comments about this story, send them to muinimula@hotmail.com - they will be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, have a look at my other gay celebrity stories, "Sexy Stars At TOTP".