DISCLAIMER - This is a work of pure fiction and fantasy. David Beckham would probably not do what I have them do as described below. He is not gay.
Thanks for the comments and suggestions, please keep em coming.
Here is Part 10, let me know what you think: lidon.dyte@gmail.com
"Welcome to the Miami Sunshine Gym, Mr. Beckham," tittered the nervous young receptionist as she handed the bronzed soccer god his membership card. "We're very pleased to have you back with us. Will you be staying in Miami long term, sir?"
The handsome star gave a rueful half-smile as he took the small plastic card. "Yeah ... it looks that way."
The receptionist was an attractive blonde, 25 and pouty. "And, erm, when will your wife be joining sir?" she risked, tugging at her hair. "I ask because we are doing a couples discount and ..." she paused, flirtatiously.
Beckham dropped his gaze slightly. The girl clearly wanted him - and in usual circumstances he would have been banging her hard with his thick nine inch fucktool. But now he couldn't ... he was under orders.
"No," he said quietly. "She's working on her fashion projects in Europe. She might fly out in a few months."
"Well if you ever need anyone to show you aroud Miami in the meantime sir," smiled the receptionist, "I know this city very well..."
"Erm .. ok, yeah, thanks," mumbled the studly millionaire, moving away quickly.
His workout was not his preferred routine. Since retiring from playing soccer, he had kept his beautiful lithe athletic figure in a good trim state, focussing on CV work - spinning and jogging mostly - to keep that perfect trim waistline in top shape. Even though just a couple of months short of forty, he had the slimline rippled stomach of a teenager - such an erotic contrast to the manly, chisled features of his perfect face, and of course that massive beefy behind.
But now he was under orders. And required to undertake a different fitness regimen. For sure, he would jog for an hour or so - that divine rippled abdomen had to be maintained and his new owners did not want the stud putting on any belly fat. But the focus of his workout had changed - and as soon as the jog was over, the serious work would begin. He had been ordered to do squats - weighted and free - leg press, short bursts to activate the muscle; longer reps to build it. Hours and hours dedicated to toning and improving those beautiful meaty thighs and of course that magnificent colossal bubble butt ass. For the bronzed stud himself, there was no practical benefit really - now that he was no longer playing soccer professionally, he had no real use for the bursts of pace that such insanely developed glutial muscles. No - the exercise was for the benefit of his new masters - the elite and privileged group of gay men who had exclusive access to the godly stud's perfect face, body and ass.
His handsome chisled face contorted with the effort as the reluctant but willing stud squatted a the cold 200lb barbells. The other gym goers could not help but watch in awe at the sight of those big steely thighs strained and bulged under the weight; that perfect chunky butt poised obscenely and invitingly at the lower end of the squat, rising magnificently as the soft linen of the gym shorts glided tantalisingly over those shapely melons as the tanned adonis rose to the squat's high point.
The more observant would have noticed that the stud's delightful fleshy cock would plump slightly as his exertions continued. Beckham would wince as he realised the instinctive reaction of his treacherous cock; not from the physical stimulation of the workout, but from the erotic mental humiliation - the knowledge that he was developing those firm, ample muscles not for his own benefit of his own athleticism but instead to make his bronzed, muscular body a more attractive and pleasurable plaything for his new owners!
And so David Beckham would pass his time. Ostensibly in Miami to try to revive his MLS franchise, he would instead spend his daytime in the gym, developing his incredible body, and his evenings getting totally and utterly fucked. The workouts would build up his sexual frustrations and horniness and, as much as he would try to deny himself, by 8 o'clock every evening he would be unable to resist the demands issued by his owners. And what demands they were!
Sometimes it was for money. A wealthy businessman or closeted Hollywood celebrity would pay big money for a hot session with one of the world's leading icons of heterosexual perfection. It increased Beckham's shame further to know that his big studly body was been whored out for cash, used and exploited as mere property. $5k would get you a nice makeout session with the hunk; $10k to either blow his magnificent cock or to have the humiliated superstud blow you. $25k bought you an hour of eating and fingering that diving bubble butt with $50k the basic rate for the full fuck. Basic rate, of course, meant that there was scope for more; extras would include fisting, watersports and more. The sight of that handsome face, its chisled features cortorted in a mix of shock and sexual arousal as it looked down to see a full fist buried in that godly muscle ass ... unable to believe it yet reluctantly loving it at the same time ... was truly priceless.
Whilst the proper sexual acts were fantastic, there was also great erotic potential in the more subtle humiliations. On one occasion when Victoria had come to visit, Beckham had been ordered to book a luxury suite at one of Miami's top hotels. During the romantic meal in the hotel's top class restaurant, the hunk's cellphone buzzed no less than three times with an instruction to go to the bathroom. Obviously the stud could not excuse himself for more than a few minutes for each meet, but there was still time for the lucky few to have some fun.
On the first occasion, the camp restaurant host was waiting for him. Beckham sighed and hung his handsome head in shame as the grinning queer reached into the married stud's expensive designer suit trousers, into his tight Armani briefs, for a nice grope of that heavy, fleshy cock and balls. The look of shame on that studly face was replaced by one of panic as the outer door creaked open - the host barely had time to whip his hand out and Beckham to tuck in his shirt and make as if he was washing his hands.
The second time, the waiter who had just served their main course greeted the humiliated hunk with a broad smile, wasting no time in pushing the bronzed god up against the entrance door to the washroom for a full on french kiss, grinding their crotches together and greedily pawing at that chunky bubble butt through the tight expensive fabric. The hunk's moans turned from protest into passion as the inevitable surrender began .... this minimum wage nobody who had just served the millionaire superstud was now helping himself to those godlike statuesque facial features, beautiful lithe body and insanely beefy ass!
After a full five minutes of hot and passionate frotting and snogging, the stud was permitted to return to his table. His wife shot him a slightly concerned, slightly suspicious look but said nothing, not even noticing how her handsome husband blushed a little and avoided eye contact when their young gay waiter would check up on them.
"Everything OK with your meal, sir?" trilled the waiter with a sly grin.
Beckham could only mumble, his alpha male confidence sapped by the knowledge of their seedy encounter moments ago.
"And for you madam?" he asked Victoria.
"Actually the sauce was a bit rich," the fussy diva scowled. "And you didn't offer to freshen our water."
"I'm so sorry madam," said the waiter, "I'll get those freshened right now."
"What an idiot," scoffed Victoria, rolling her eyes. "Only the minimum tip for him. Service that had doesn't deserve to get anything!"
Beckham just nodded silently, knowing that the waiter had already had the best possible tip he would ever take in his life!
The third time brought a familiar face - Diego, one of the fashion queers from Beckham's first gang bang. And a well-hung top.
"Surprise, Becks!" he hissed between passionate kisses as he dragged the hapless hunk into the toilet stall. "You didn't think we'd let you go all night without giving that ass a good fucking, did you?"
And so the Beckhams completed their romantic dinner date: as the prissy Victoria stood complaining to the very same restaurant host who had shamelessly fondled her husband's monster cock and balls hours ago ... whilst her man himself was standing leaned up in a toilet stall, his $5,000 suit pants and Armani briefs pulled down those colossal tanned legs around his ankles, his voice quivering as he strained to stop shouting out as that awesome bubble butt was mercilessly pounded.
- "This really isn't the level of service we would expect!"
"FUCK YES! Fuck my arse mate ... fuck it hard!"
- "We've dined in the finest restaurants in the world, you know!"
"Jesus fuck YES! Araarrrgggh pound my big fucking arse ... come on mate, fuck! Harder!"
- "We certainly won't be coming here again!"
"AAARRRGGGHH!"
The fucked up hunk came HARD, his fat solid cock sending ropes of hetero man seed onto the cubicle wall.
"Wow Becks," Diego breathed in between soft kisses at that tanned, tattood neck. "You really are one fantastic fuck ... I could go on your ass all night honey." Beckham's handsome face turned crimson at the humiliating effect of those words. "I can tell you been working out too, baby. That ass feels so fucking powerful and tight ... and so fucking big. Jeez, you gonna need to go up a pants size if you make those buns get much larger!"
As Diego waited for his cock to deflate, his phone buzzed. He chuckled as he read the message.
"Says here your wife is complaining real good about the service," he said. "She now saying that the host was rude to her and is demanding to speak to the general manager ... it'll take a good quarter hour or so to get him ... assuming that the host tells her that he is around"
He leant in and brought Beckham's devastatingly beautiful face to his own for a nice wet kiss.
"You know," breathed Diego between kisses. "Your so fucking hot ... and that big white ass of yours is so juicy ... man I'm getting hard again. You want to go once more?"
The shame of the loving kisses, together with Diego's humiliating words, were having the inevitable effect on the crazed married hunk's treacherous cock.
"Oh baby," smiled Diego as he felt the hot, solid monster dick growing against his fingers. "I can feel you're ready ... damn you so freakin horny to get your ass plowed, huh?"
Beckham responded with low, manly moans into the kiss.
"So what do you want me to do?" teased Diego. "I can text the host to have him delay her whilst he gets the manager ... or tell him to let her know he's not around, and she'll be ready to leave now...?"
The humiliation of being forced to ask ... made to beg ... for his big, slutty married ass to be taken again was pushing Beckham over the edge.
"Delay her," croaked the defeated stud. "And fuck my ass again. Please..."
Behind him, he could hear Diego smirk and tap the message into his phone as he felt his fucker's cock begin to plump and fill to a full hardon buried deep in that heavenly ass. Two hands moving to his shoulders for leverage into the fuck. The motion of Diego's hips as they slowly powered up, first into a nice gentle rhythm grinding erotically into the tanned hunk's prostate; gradually building into a raw, frantic power fuck.
This time, the sex maniac hunk made no attempt to control himself. Bellowing out loud, the married star roared as he demanded his big, hetero ass be pounded harder, fuller, deeper, faster! Diego bit his lip as he struggled to hold on ... even having already shot a load into that divine butt, the sheer sensations of those amazing taut globes around his pounding cock, the sight of that famous handsome face in its stunning profile as the head was turned slightly, those sculpted chilsed features contorted in erotic agony. The sound of those manly Brit tones - of the perfect married hetero hunk, begging to be roughly taken ... pure heaven for any gay man!
Beckham finally arrived at the luxury suite of the hotel, exhausted and truly fucked. His highly-strung wife had only just arrived herself, having been detained in conversation with the apologetic (yet somehow smug looking) general manager.
After listening to her ranting complaints for ten minutes or so, the gorgeous tanned stud finally spoke up.
"So ... I'm going to turn in," he said. "I'm exhausted."
Victoria smiled and stroked his sexy tattooed arm. "Good idea," she smiled. "Give me five minutes the freshen up and you can help me forget about that idiot waiter."
Beckham lifted one of those big manly hands to his furrowed brow. "Um ... nah. I meant ... I need to sleep. Sorry ... I'm feeling really beat..."
Now his wife scowled. "What the fuck?" she spat. "David, I've come all the way over here ... it's been months!"
"I'm sorry, I just..." her husband stuttered.
"Is there someone else?" seethed the angry wife. "Jesus David ... if you've got some little whore ..."
"No!" protested the flustered hunk. "It's just been really tiring... what with the stadium plans and..."
"Oh, fuck this," Victoria whined. "You know what? You can sleep on the couch if you're not going to be a man and fuck me!"
The luxury suite was indeed an impressive layout. The glamerous bedroom had a sizeable anteroom before it, which had a large leather couch. A solid wooden door separated the two.
"Oh, come on Vic-"
"You're in there!" thundered Victoria, ushering her studly husband into the anteroom and slamming the heavy door shut.
Beckham barely had time to collect his thoughts before his cellphone buzzed. Sighing, he almost knew the message before he read it.
** SOUNDS LIKE IT'S SAFE TO PLAY NOW? XX **
There was a light tapping at the door. Beckham hesitated for only a few seconds before surrendering to the inevitable and answering the door to a smirking Diego and an eager looking band of queeny hotel staff. He blushed as he realised that this had all been perfectly planned.
And so the great David Beckham spent the night - the night that the studly hetero hero should have been pleasuring his model wife - instead in the room next door to where she slept, having his bountiful arse plundered by a procession of gay men. The fact that his furious wife lay only feet away from where the married hunk was openly allowing his perfect body and beefy ass to be brutally fucked only added to the sheer erotic tension of the act. Into the early hours, creamy loads were deposited at regular intervals into that muscular man-ass and gorgeous mouth; that brawny tanned body enjoyed by a succession of hungry and horny gay nobodies, its shamed owner pleading for more in hushed tones.
Beckham was finally permitted a couple of hours sleep after having been roughly fucked no less than twenty times and shot his own shameful load at least six. His big hetero balls were utterly drained, he awoke at 7 am in a panic at how much the anteroom reeked of hot gay sex! He had barely had enough time to open the windows and air out the room before his grumpy wife awoke and walked in.
"Sorry about last night," she soothed, having regreted her harsh words (and of course missed the excellent fucking of her husband's sizeable cock). "I guess you slept well. Take care of me now and all is forgiven."
Beckham stared at the floor in silence. A long night of powerful bottomming had exhausted even his athletic talents. He could not perform ... not without intense anal stimulation. He was a wreck and he knew it.
"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" screamed Victoria at her husband's reaction. "Is the little whore you're shagging better than me? Is that it?!"
"No!" protested Beckham, weakly. "It's just .. erm..."
"Fuck this!" spat his irate wife. "I'm going back to London. Call me when you can get a fucking hardon for your own wife." She spun around dramatically as she exited: "And fuck you!" She slammed the door shut.
Beckham rested his handsome head in his hands. What should have been a romantic weekend with his wife had turned into a disaster ... instead of satisfying his model wife he had allowed his perfect body to be taken by an unknown number of random queers ... and had loved every second of it!
His thoughts were interruped by the buzzing of his phone. A call from Diego.
"Morning Mr. B!" cooed the camp top cherrily. "How are you?"
Beckham sighed. "I'm tired. What do you want?"
"Manners, Becks," cautioned Diego. "The morning crew have arrived and they are very eager to get a piece of what their lucky colleagues on the night shift got to experience. Something about an insanely whorish party bottom completely turning himself out for the entire hotel staff..."
The recollection of the evening's events cause the shamed stud's cock to plump. He could end the call now ... have the hotel call a limo to take him home. He could catch some rest, get his head together, and rebuild things with his wife. Or ...
"Give me ten minutes," whimpered the hunky star.
On the other end of the line, Diego smiled and winked at the assembled morning crew.