Footballer

As before, this story is set in England - so by football I mean soccer, by mobile I mean cell phone and by fit I mean SEXY!

The usual disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. It contains scenes that involve sex between consenting adult males and if this offends you, or if you are underage, or prohibited by law from viewing such material, leave now.

Thanks for the overwhelming response I got to the first part of this story. Hope you guys enjoy part two just as much. I got a bit carried away with this one so it's twice as long and there's not as much sex in it as part one -- but I decided to concentrate on the story a bit more, and develop the relationship between the two boys. I promise there'll be lots more sex in part three :-)

Please continue to let me know what you think - blueboy3649@hotmail.com

THE FOOTBALLER - PART TWO

When I woke the next morning, it was a few moments before I remembered why I was in such a jubilant mood. A broad grin spread across my face as I reminded myself of the fact that last night I'd fucked Dan, the fittest guy on the football pitch, in the showers at the sports centre. He'd practically begged me up his arse. With these memories still so fresh in my mind, there was no resisting the urge to satisfy my morning glory, and I slid my hand under the covers and started to stroke my rock hard cock. I wondered what Dan was doing right now; perhaps he was also playing with himself in bed. With the image of his throbbing erection in my mind, I closed my eyes, kicked off the covers and began jerking off properly. Instinctively I started to raise my knees and spread my legs so that my feet were up in the air, and I slid my free hand down under my arse, and into my hole. Soon I was jerking off and fucking myself with my finger, imagining it was Dan's glorious hard-on, and before I knew it, I had shot a huge load all over my smooth chest and stomach. I lay there for a couple of minutes, still thinking about Dan, and then I reached over to my bedside cabinet and picked up my mobile. I wanted to send him a text message telling him exactly what he'd just made me do, but quickly decided it was too explicit for first thing in the morning and at this early stage in our hopefully existent relationship. In the end I settled simply on "Morning, big boy" and went off for a shower.

I hurried back to my phone after my shower but there was no reply; I had breakfast and still there was no reply; every few minutes I checked in case I hadn't heard the beep, but come the evening, he still hadn't replied. On the few occasions when I'd previously sent him a text about needing a lift to football, he'd replied straightaway. Maybe his phone wasn't working, I told myself, or maybe he'd been busy all day. Or maybe my text had been so trivial there was no need to reply; after all, it would have been pointless to reply "Good morning" in the middle of the afternoon. So I gave it until seven and when he still hadn't replied, I sent him another text, saying, "Hope the arse isn't too sore."

This message met with no better luck than the first one and by the following evening, I was feeling downright miserable. I desperately wanted last night to be the start of some sort of relationship with Dan. There was still a part of me that believed that he might not have received the messages though, so I made the five minute walk to his house, not really knowing what I was going to do when I got there, and after standing behind a tree for a minute trying to decide what to do, I heard his front door open. Feeling like a bit of a stalker, I peered through the branches and saw him walk down his garden path and into his car... talking into his mobile. My heart dropped about six inches. He was ignoring me.

Undeterred, I reached for my mobile again, deciding I needed to be more direct. What did I want from him? Sex. No, not just sex. I wanted to see him. To go out with him. That was it. I typed in the message "Wanna meet up for a drink on Saturday?" and, with a triumphant feeling, I pressed the send button. It was a direct but casual question, and one that demanded a reply.

But by Saturday morning, I had almost given up hope of getting a reply, and was consoling myself with the thought that at least I'd be seeing him at football in four days' time. In the middle of the afternoon, my phone rang and for one hopeful moment I thought it might have been Dan -- but it was Mark, one of the other guys from football, and the one through whom I knew Dan. He was at a loose end and asked if I wanted to go out for a drink that night but I declined -- I wasn't doing anything else but I wasn't really in the mood and besides I was still holding on to the faintest glimmer of hope that Dan might get back to me.

He didn't, of course, and I spent a dejected Saturday evening in front of the TV. I felt pretty bad then, but worse was to come. I happened to bump into Mark on Sunday afternoon and it transpired that Dan had been out with Mark the previous night, so that if I'd only agreed to meet Mark for that drink, I would have been with Dan too.

Those bitter pangs of regret only lifted on Wednesday morning, with the anticipation of seeing Dan again at football that evening. I knew that the mere sight of him tonight would lift my spirits infinitely, but it was more than lust -- if I wasn't in love with him yet, I was definitely falling that way. It hadn't occurred to me before but seeing him was what I looked forward to most about my week, and on the odd occasions in the past when he hadn't been at football for whatever reason, I had missed him tremendously. However, as much as I was looking forward to seeing him tonight, there was now a part of me that was angry with him for spurning me like he had done, and I wanted him to know how much it had hurt.

Not daring to text Dan for a lift, I went to football with Mark. I was stretching my muscles when Dan arrived and just as I knew it would, seeing him warmed my insides immediately. He was wearing his usual headband to keep his hair out of his eyes, and was looking all the more sexy for it, although not as sexy as I knew he would when it was drenched in sweat. He was also wearing the same white T-shirt and black shorts that he wore last week with, as I knew from last week, no underwear. I watched him walk towards the pitch, having already undressed him mentally, and imagined his sizeable manhood swinging from side to side as he walked. Unsurprisingly, he completely ignored me and walked over to talk to Mark. After a moment of hesitation, I walked over to them so that I was standing facing Dan directly.

"Alright, Dan?" I said offhandedly.

"Alright," he replied, and our eyes met briefly before he looked away.

Someone else turned up and Mark went off to talk to them, leaving me alone with a very uncomfortable looking Dan. He started to walk away but I walked with him and, once I was satisfied that no-one was within earshot, I quietly said, "Why haven't you been replying to my texts?"

"Couldn't be bothered," he said.

"You couldn't be bothered?" I repeated incredulously.

"That's right."

We were now surrounded by others, bringing the conversation to a premature end, and anger was flaring up inside me. He couldn't be bothered? What a wanker. I was angry at him for treating me like dirt, and I was angry at myself for letting him. I wasn't normally the sort of person who would take any shit from anyone, so why was I taking it from him? I became lost in my thoughts... I don't need someone who does that to me... I'm not gonna stand for it... I can do much better than that... fuck him... oh yeah, I already have... ha ha... no, seriously...

"Lee?" I heard a voice say. I looked up and a few of the others were staring at me. "You're on that side, mate."

I'd been so engrossed in my thoughts I hadn't noticed that they'd already picked sides and someone had tried to tell me several times which one I was on.

"Sorry, I... I was..." I stuttered.

"You alright?"

"... miles away," I managed to conclude. I looked at Dan and he seemed to be wearing a satisfied smirk. I tried to give him a look of contempt but it suddenly dawned on me for the millionth time how fucking sexy he was, and my heart melted. I wanted to hurt him, but I also wanted to hold him. I wanted to thump him but I also wanted to touch him. Annoyed with myself for not having enough strength of mind to hate him, I turned and walked to my end of the pitch. I noticed Dan was playing on the opposite side to me this week so I decided I'd try and mark him as much as I could -- no matter that I couldn't decide what I wanted to do to him, I knew I wanted to be near him, and to stop him scoring would be one way of getting back at him. And of course, marking someone is always a good excuse for making subtle contact...

Dan didn't seem best pleased at my decision to mark him, and he tore around the pitch trying to shake me off. He was somewhat fitter than me (in more ways than one of course) so I knew that he was eventually going to outrun me, but I was determined to make it last as long as possible. Twice I blocked his shots, and twice I intercepted crosses to him; infact, I was marking him so tightly that his team-mates were passing to him decidedly less frequently. His frustration was beginning to show but so was his growing determination to overcome my challenge.

A quarter of an hour into the game, Dan still hadn't scored, despite several attempts. I had a momentary lapse of concentration when I happened to glance at Dan's crotch and thought I saw the outline of his dick through his shorts. Dan managed to get on the end of a cross and, not wanting my mistake to lead to him scoring, I grabbed the back of his T-shirt, not entirely on purpose, but more instinctively than anything else. Dan turned around, infuriated, but this time I wasn't going to take any shit from him.

"What the fuck's your problem?" he shouted at me.

"Fuck off, Dan," I said.

"You fuck off!" he retaliated, a little taken aback that I had told him to fuck off.

"Make me," I said.

"Come on, take it easy, lads," someone said, coming over to the scene.

Then I moved a bit closer to Dan and said with a crafty smile, loud enough only for him to hear, "Want another fucking, do you?"

He didn't say anything but scowled at me threateningly. I walked smugly back towards our half and play duly resumed with a free kick, although Dan failed to score from it. I was feeling all fired up now, and within minutes I'd scored a screamer of a goal from near the half-way line. Dan didn't look happy and soon he was charging down the left wing with the ball, a man with a mission, hoping to cancel out my goal. Only just managing to keep up with him, I got goal side of him, and blocked his hasty attempt of a shot, but the ball came back to him and he turned and looked around, guarding the ball closely and considering his options. Hoping to catch him off guard, I went for the ball from behind his legs and accidentally caught his left foot. He let out a yelp and I backed off slightly, holding my hands up apologetically.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he screamed at me.

"Sorry, mate, my foot slipped. I was going for the ball." I was enjoying winding him up and trying to conceal a smile.

A couple of players had quickly come over in an attempt to calm things down.

"Come on, mate," said one of the guys to me. "I saw what happened. You went in from behind."

"Maybe he likes it from behind," I said, now grinning smugly.

A couple of people laughed innocently at my innuendo; oh, if they only how much truth there was in it! Dan glared at me again, more threatening than last time, but his eyes also showed the fear of what I might say next. I walked away casually, and Dan took a free kick which went frustratingly wide of goal.

Acting as though we hated each other's guts was somehow really turning me on. To be honest, I couldn't decide whether he really did hate me, but I could certainly never hate him. I decided he was probably ashamed of the fact that he'd let me fuck him, and seeing me was a constant reminder of the encounter. I probably shouldn't keep winding him up like this, I thought to myself. So with ten minutes to go, and our team four goals up, I resolved to leave things alone for the rest of the game, marking him only loosely and when really necessary. Dan made another couple of determined runs but neither of them created any goals. With two minutes to go, he was on the ball again, dribbling it down the left wing, and I went in to tackle him. He was facing with his back to the rest of the players, and I was in front of him. Despite having promised myself to behave, I was still feeling in a mischievous mood, and found myself unable to resist a wicked idea that had just come into my head. I made absolutely certain that no-one could see, and tentatively moved closer to him, making it look like I was trying to get at the ball. Then I gave his cock a soft but lingering squeeze through his shorts. Dan was completely taken aback. Taking advantage of his lapse of concentration, I got the ball, took it past him, dribbled it back up the pitch and scored, to much cheer and applaud from my team-mates.

In the end we won 9-4, largely due to my malicious antics, and I felt great. I was in a better mood than I'd been all week, although there was something nagging at me in the back of my mind and I didn't know what it was.

Ensuring I was in full view of everyone, I held out my hand and Dan shook it half-heartedly. Meanwhile Mark was telling anyone who'd listen that it was his birthday on Saturday and he was hoping to see them for a few drinks in the Rat and Parrot in town. He'd told me about it a couple of weeks ago but it had completely slipped my mind.

"You'll be there, won't you Dan?" asked Mark.

Dan glanced quickly at me, and then spoke hesitantly. "Er -- I'm not sure, mate, I..."

It occurred to me that Dan didn't want to go if I was going to be there. But of course I wanted Dan, more than anyone, to be there. The very sight of him would brighten up my evening. Maybe it would also give us a chance to talk properly, because I wanted to clear the air after tonight, and there was a lot of air to be cleared. If nothing more, I wanted us to at least be friends again, but since Dan had snubbed my offer of going out for a drink, this would be the perfect opportunity -- as long as he turned up. Which he would if he thought I wouldn't be there, I sensed...

"Mark, I'm not gonna be able to go," I said, loud enough for Dan to hear. Dan shot another pensive glance at me, as I thought he might.

"Why not?" asked Mark.

It hadn't even occurred to me to come up with an excuse, but fortunately thinking on my feet was one of my strengths (except when I had hard-ons in showers).

"I've got this family thing to go to," I said, feigning disappointment. "Can't get out of it."

Mark looked at me as though I'd let him down. We'd been mates for years so I felt a pang of guilt, but then I realised I wasn't actually letting him down at all, for I had every intention of turning up.

Suddenly Dan didn't look so uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I'll be there, Mark," he said happily.

"Excellent," Mark echoed my sentiments.

I got a lift back with one of the other guys, seen as Dan and I weren't exactly on the best of terms. While I was in the shower, I reflected on the evening's events and realising what it was that had been nagging at me earlier, I started feeling guilty about taunting Dan on the pitch like that. We were winding each other up and I shouldn't have risen to it. I didn't want him to hate me. I wanted him to feel the same way I felt about him and, while I knew I couldn't force that to happen, I certainly didn't want to do anything that might risk driving him away from me, which is what I would surely do if I carried on behaving like I did tonight. I resolved to talk to him the first chance I got on Saturday night, but that was three days away, so I decided to send him a text message saying "I know you won't reply to this but I'm sorry for what happened on the pitch." At least it would tell him I didn't mean it.

Unsurprisingly, Dan didn't reply to the message, and I couldn't help but still feel guilty for the next couple of days. But when I woke on Saturday morning, the guilt had turned into anticipation -- I would be seeing Dan tonight, not at football but socially, and I was looking forward to it more than anything.

Everyone was meeting in the pub at eight but I decided not to get there until nine, to make it look like I had got out of my "family do", and also because that way there was less chance of Dan making excuses to leave as soon as he saw me. I entered the crowded pub and looked around, finally spotting Mark and a few of his mates in a corner. But there was no sign of Dan, and my heart sank. For three whole days I'd been looking forward to seeing him, and now he wasn't here, I almost felt like crying. Had he decided not to risk it just in case I changed my mind and turned up? Did the thought of being around me really sicken him that much? Had I been that much of an asshole at football?

I walked over half-heartedly to a surprised looking Mark. At least he was pleased to see me.

"Couldn't let your old mate down, eh!" he grinned.

"Course not. Good turnout," I said, looking around, although I noticed there was no-one from football.

"Yeah, it's not bad is it?"

"Apart from the football lot," I said, wanting desperately to know why Dan hadn't showed.

"A couple of 'em might come down later. Knew I could rely on you and Dan though."

And just at that moment, Dan, looking gorgeous as ever, arrived carrying a tray of drinks. Why hadn't it occurred to me that he might have just gone to the bar? Muppet. My heart jumped and my evening had suddenly got a thousand times better.

"Alright, Dan?" I smiled warmly at him.

"Alright," he replied, trying to hide his surprise at seeing me. He was looking as cute as always, his floppy hair casually unstyled, and he was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved checked shirt, which really suited him, although not as much as wearing nothing suited him.

"Shit timing," Mark said to me, as Dan distributed the drinks people had ordered. I went to the bar to get myself a pint, glancing anxiously over at Dan every now and again, just to make sure he wasn't going to do a runner.

Mark and his mates were a good bunch, and I spent the next hour or so cheerfully flitting between various people. I was in a particularly buoyant mood now that I was with Dan, even though he was doing a great job of avoiding me. I didn't mind too much though, the night was still young, and there would be plenty of opportunities to corner him. What was worrying me a little, though, was the fact that there was a busty blonde by the bar he kept making eye contact with. It was hardly a surprise when I'd learned that Dan was a big hit with the ladies -- I couldn't see why any straight woman or gay man wouldn't fancy him -- but there was only one person I wanted him to pull tonight, and it certainly wasn't her.

My first potential chance to talk to Dan arose when he went to the toilet. I quickly followed. I hadn't really rehearsed what I was going to say to him, but I knew I wanted to make sure there was no animosity between us after the football match. The toilets had one long urinal with no separators -- just how I liked them, as they provided the best "view". I unzipped next to Dan and looked down at his dick, recalling with a smile the memories of the last time I saw it, when it had been considerably bigger and harder. I saw him glance down at my own manhood, but he looked away as soon as he knew that I'd noticed.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "You?" keen to break the uncomfortable silence that always accompanies two guys pissing.

"Yeah. Look, are you OK about footie the other night?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine."

"It's just that... I just get a bit carried away sometimes. You really fucked me off, you know, when you..."

"Yeah, I know," he said quickly, obviously not wanting strangers to know about him ignoring my text messages like some celebrity and his stalker.

"So are we alright then?"

"It's fine, honestly."

He finished his piss and started shaking his dick, so I put mine away too, even though I'd already finished a few moments earlier. We walked to the wash basins, he washed his hands (something I was silently pleased about, because not many guys do) and I did the same. Wanting to maintain our conversation as we walked out, I said, "So you on the pull then?"

"Huh?" he muttered, clearly unsure what I meant.

"That girl with the big tits you keep looking at."

"Oh, her."

"Yeah, nice girl," I said. "You can do better though." And I threw him one of my meaningful looks.

"Maybe," he said.

"Definitely," I smiled.

As we approached the others, Mark was eyeing us with suspicion. I gave him a questioning look, which he read.

"You two alright, after the other night?" he asked.

"What?" asked Dan, a little too anxiously.

"You know, at football."

"Oh yeah, it was nothing," I said, and Dan looked immensely relieved.

"You were having a right go at each other!" Mark said.

"I was just in a bad mood, that's all," I explained. "I'd been in a bad mood all week" -- and I gave Dan a subtle but knowing look -- "and it all caught up with me on the pitch."

"Why, what's up?" he said, referring to my bad mood.

"Oh, nothing, just... just been getting some shit off someone, but I think I've sorted it out now." And I shot Dan yet another one of my looks.

"You sure you're alright, yeah?" asked Mark.

"Yeah, mate, it's sorted."

"Cool," he said, seemingly satisfied, and then proceeded to talk to me about the afternoon's football results. In the mean time Dan had got away and was talking to someone else, further away from me than I wanted him to be. But again, I wasn't too bothered, there was still plenty of time to talk to him more.

As was usually the case when I was drinking lager, my bladder seemed to shrink after a couple of pints and half an hour later I felt myself needing a piss again. As luck would have it, I spotted Dan heading for the toilet just as I was thinking of going, and I quickly followed him in again. He took a space in between two other guys, which meant I couldn't piss next to him, but I stood on the other side of one of the guys next to him. Dan saw me and looked slightly annoyed but I just smiled at him and then looked down, casually admiring my neighbour's impressively sized dick and the stray blonde pubes sticking out at its base. Just as I felt I might be in danger of getting an erection, he finished and turned to leave. I looked over at Dan and tried to remember where our earlier conversation had finished so that I could resume it. But it was too late -- he was zipping up and quickly heading for the washbasins, and this time I couldn't follow him because I was still in the middle of emptying my bladder.

During the next hour, Dan avoided me even more. He went to the toilet when I went to the bar, and went to the bar when I went to the toilet. He and the blonde tart were still eyeing each other up, which I wasn't happy about, and now they were even exchanging the faintest of smiles. My only consolation was that, with an hour to go until the closing time of midnight, neither of them had come over and talked to the other yet, so perhaps it wasn't going to happen. The jukebox was playing an eclectic mix of music, and when one of my favourite songs, 'Don't You Want Me' by the Human League came on, it made me feel a tiny bit better about things, as music always has a way of doing. I silently sang along to the words, and when the chorus kicked in, I made sure I was looking straight at Dan while mouthing the words, "Don't you want me baby... don't you want me, oh..." He caught my glance a couple of times during the first chorus, and again during the second chorus. However, when the third chorus played, he completely ignored me and instead mouthed the words at his blonde bit of stuff, who smiled back at him. He was using my trick against me, the little bastard, and what was more, he was smiling at me tauntingly afterwards. Try as might, though, I just couldn't hate him for it.

Shortly after that Dan went to the toilet and again I was right behind him, muttering to myself, "Third time lucky." Quite what I expected to gain by repeatedly following him into the toilet, I didn't know. I just knew I wanted to be near him, watch him, talk to him, even touch him. I opened the door after he had walked inside and this time, to my delight, we were both alone. I stood behind him for a moment or two, admiring his arse, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to walk up to him, put my arms around his waist, pull myself close to him, gently plant a kiss on his neck, slide one hand down to hold his dick, let him finish his piss, pull his foreskin back and forth, make him hard again, like I had that night...

"Why d'you keep following in me in here?"

The sound of Dan's voice brought me briskly back to reality. I moved forward and stood next to him, casually glancing down at his exposed manhood.

"Maybe I just like to watch you having a piss."

Dan looked infuriated, and turned away a little in a failed attempt to block his urinating dick from view. I didn't unzip, partly because I didn't actually need a piss and partly because of a rapidly growing hard-on.

"Lee, what exactly d'you want?" he said.

"Right now," I said dreamily. "I just wanna rip your clothes off."

"Well, it ain't gonna fuckin' happen, alright!" There was anger in his voice now.

"You're so sexy when you're angry," I said, in what I hoped was a lustful tone.

"Fuck off!"

"That's not what you said the other night," I said, grinning.

Dan started to say something but realised he had no answer to this. Then suddenly, he said, in an exasperated tone, "Look, right, just leave me alone, OK? Don't keep texting me, don't keep following me, don't even talk to me. Just fuckin' keep away from me!"

Now it was me who was lost for words. I'd pissed him off again without really intending to and far from bringing us closer, I realised it was driving him away. At that moment, a couple of guys came in to use the toilet, and I turned around and left, full of remorse and trying desperately to think of a way back into Dan's pants and, just as importantly, heart. I re-joined the rest of the group and waited for Dan to emerge while I made small talk with someone called Stuart, who I didn't know that well. Not altogether interested in what Stuart had to say, I watched Dan come out of the toilet, but instead of walking over towards us, he had slipped into the crowd and was walking over to... shit, he wasn't, was he... but next moment, my worst suspicions were confirmed; he was with Busty Blonde Tart, mouths glued together and hands all over each other, groping disgustingly. They hadn't even bothered to introduce themselves. Tarts. I felt sick. I didn't want to look but I couldn't tear my eyes away. I tried to imagine being her but that didn't help. The guy called Stuart was saying something to me but I wasn't listening. I felt as though my insides were silently being ripped apart. Someone was offering me a drink on their way to the bar but I ignored them; I already had a cocktail of emotions swirling around inside of me, one shot of anger and two shots of jealousy; one shot of regret and two shots of misery.

Then they stopped kissing and Dan shot me a teasing glance, raising his eyebrows. It was as if he had only got off with her to spite me. If only I hadn't said all those things to him in the toilet, if only I had restrained myself... but no, Dan would be screwing some slapper tonight and it was all my fault.

"Does it every time, the bastard."

It was Mark's voice. He was standing next to me, also watching Dan and the Tart, who had now resumed their game of tonsil tennis.

"What's up with you?" Mark asked when I didn't reply. "Jealous?"

Come on, I told myself, pull yourself together. The last thing I needed was for Mark to find out about my feelings for Dan. Although he probably meant was I jealous of Dan.

"No, it's not that," I explained. "I'm just... just wondering how he does it."

"Yeah, mate, aren't we all."

"He didn't even talk to her! Just went up to her and stuck his tongue down her throat."

"Wish I could do that."

"Yeah, I wish I could pull anyone I wanted."

"Well, we can't all be as fuckin' good-looking as Dan, can we?"

"No," I whole-heartedly agreed. Even Mark, who was undoubtedly straight, thought Dan was good-looking.

I was glad of the conversation with Mark, because it pulled me out of my semi-trance and took my mind off Dan, if only for a few moments. Thankfully, though, the Tart was now reunited with her friends, no doubt telling them what a great snog Dan was, and he was fighting his way through the crowd back over to us, trying only slightly to conceal a proud smile.

"You're such a fuckin' tart!" Mark said genially, when he arrived.

"Yeah, you are," I agreed, although in a deliberately less cheerful tone. Dan just grinned.

"Going back to hers then?" asked Mark. I was dreading the answer.

"Not tonight," replied Dan, and my heart rose a little. "Got her number though." He showed us a phone number written on the palm of his hand; he obviously hadn't bothered bringing his phone out with him. I knew there was next to no chance of Dan and I getting together tonight, but it was of some consolation to know that he wouldn't be screwing her either.

It was now a quarter to twelve, and the bell rang for last orders. I looked around and noticed that in the time Dan had been snogging Tart, most of Mark's mates had left, presumably to get cabs before it got busy at closing time, as some of them lived quite far away. Only myself, Dan, Mark and Stuart were left and, spotting a recently vacated table, the four of us took our drinks and sat down at it for the remaining quarter of an hour, glad to be seated after hours on our feet. We chatted idly for a couple of minutes, about nothing in particular, and then the conversation turned towards our love lives, and the lack of them.

"I need a good woman," slurred Mark, now a little pissed.

"So do I," said Stuart. "Ain't had a shag for ages."

"Same here," added Dan, after a brief glance at me, and that gave me an idea...

"But you had a shag the other day," I said to Dan.

"What?" he said, looking slightly alarmed.

"He told me earlier in the toilets," I said to the others, seeing their equally surprised looks.

"You sly dog!" Mark said to Dan.

Dan smiled nervously. "Well..."

"How come you never said? When was this?" asked Mark.

"Oh, a -- just --"

I thought I'd help him out. "A couple of weeks ago, you said, didn't you?"

"Yeah, about that." said Dan. He shifted uncomfortably.

"So what's she like? Is she fit?" asked Stuart, his and Mark's faces clearly rapt with attention.

"Oh, she was alright..." he said, but I cut in.

"You said it was the best fuck you ever had," I said, grinning.

"He's so modest, isn't he?" I said to Mark.

"He's one sly dog!" Mark repeated.

"You seeing her again then?" asked Stuart.

"Er -- no," said Dan, clearly not wanting to answer any more of these questions. Going to the toilet would have been a good excuse, but I was hoping it wouldn't occur to him.

"Why not?" asked Mark.

"Oh, it was, you know... just a one night thing," said Dan, throwing me a dirty look.

"I think you should see her again," I said.

"Well... the thing is..." began Dan, and then he stopped to think for a moment before continuing. "She won't leave me alone. She keeps texting me. She's obsessed."

Mark and Stuart were gaping at him with more renewed interest. So he was finally ready to play along with my game!

"Yeah? What do the text messages say?" I asked. I was really starting to enjoy myself now.

"Some of it's a bit rude," he said, thinking for a moment.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Well... for a start she calls me big boy."

Mark and Stuart sniggered.

"Is that cos your head's so big?" I joked.

"No, the rest of my dick's just as big," he replied, now smiling.

"Well, if she's calling you big boy, she can't have had many other guys," I said.

Mark and Stuart were looking on at us in amusement, as Dan and I tried to outwit each other.

"No, she hasn't. Just you, she said. That's all she had to compare it to."

I was struggling to find a suitably clever response to this.

"She's obviously a very polite girl. Doesn't like to offend," I said.

"Can you start drinking up, please," came the monotonous voice of someone who was collecting glasses. There was a short silence following this interruption in our witty repartee, and then Mark said, "Big boy" mockingly and laughed.

"So what have you been replying to these dirty text messages?" asked Stuart.

"Nothing," said Dan. "They're not all dirty anyway. She sent one saying she wanted to meet me for a drink." He flashed me a quick glance.

"And?" enquired Stuart.

"And nothing," said Dan. "I couldn't be bothered."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Cos I don't wanna go out with her," he replied, matter-of-factly.

"Well, I think you should," I said.

"I don't see why I should. And I don't see why she has to keep texting me."

"Maybe if you bothered to reply, she wouldn't have to keep texting you."

"Yeah but... maybe she should take the hint."

"Maybe she just likes you," I said, feeling a little strange to be referring to myself as a woman. At last we were getting to the point and having the conversation I wanted to have, albeit in this slightly bizarre manner.

"Maybe she does," said Dan.

"So why not go out with her? She probably just wants to get to know you."

"Maybe I don't want her to."

"Maybe you're scared to."

"Scared of what?"

"I dunno, just--"

"Maybe she should just take the hint that I don't wanna see her!"

Mark and Stuart were gaping at us both in turn, seemingly captivated by this extraordinary conversation. Little did they know that I was Dan's mystery shag.

"But if you got to know her, you might find you really like her," I said.

"I won't."

"How do you know?"

"I don't."

"Exactly."

"Alright, I don't want to," he conceded.

"Thought so," I muttered.

Mark, who was studying Dan with a rather perplexed look, now cut in. "This is one weird conversation. Dan, why don't you just meet up with her for a drink? Can't hurt, can it?"

"Yeah, and if you're lucky you might even get another shag out of it," I said, with a sly smile.

"Exactly," said Mark.

"Maybe I don't want another shag out of it!" said Dan.

"But you said it was the best sex you ever had!" I reminded him.

"Yeah, well..." Dan began, but he seemed to have no reply for this one.

"I think you should just use her for sex," I said, still smiling.

"You're nuts," said Mark.

"Yeah, well it's... more complicated than that," said Dan.

"What d'you mean?" asked Mark.

"It.. it just is," he replied.

"Yeah, it is," I thought to myself. "He fancies a guy and he doesn't know how to deal with it."

Dan had had enough now. "Can we talk about something else," he said.

"As long as it involves women," Stuart said.

Mark turned to me. "What about you, mate? You not seeing anyone?" His voice was slurring again from the drink.

"Well there is someone I like," I said, looking thoughtfully at Dan, who was avoiding my eyes like the plague. "But..." I stopped myself because I didn't want to refer to him as a woman. "It's just not happening", I said.

By now, it was closing time and we were being ushered from our seats and out on to the streets. I smiled at Dan but he just scowled at me. I think we had sort of cleared the air but I wasn't entirely sure. Mark suggested we get a cab but Dan, after I'd agreed to get in it, said he would rather walk as he needed the fresh air. I was very wary of making anything look too suspicious so I was reluctantly forced to get in the cab with Mark and Stuart when I really wanted to walk home with Dan -- after all, he only lived five minutes away from me. But as soon as we pulled away, I knew I had to find a way of getting back to Dan and this time have an open, honest talk with him, without winding him up. Perhaps I could wait outside his house until he got home. But as we stopped at a set of lights, I had an idea.

"I think I'm gonna walk after all," I said to Mark. "I need some fresh air. Dan had the right idea. I'll see you at football."

I gave Mark some money towards the fare, and got out of the cab. There was a park in front of me, and Dan's route home was on the other side of the park. I figured if I walked through the park, I would surely catch him. And sure enough, I did.

"For fuck's sake," he muttered when he saw me. He looked incensed.

"What?" I said.

"You're fuckin' stalking me!"

"You're making me out to be some kind of psycho!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!" I said, feeling annoyed with him already.

"You fuckin' are! Everywhere I go you're there. I can't get away from you."

"I just wanna talk to you, that's all."

Dan let out a defeated sigh. We started walking, at first in silence, while I tried to think of what to say.

"That was funny just now in the pub, wasn't it? That conversation?" I asked finally.

"Yeah," he said sarcastically. "Fuckin' hilarious."

"Well, I thought it was," I said quietly. We walked on in silence for another minute.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" I asked finally.

"D'you blame me? Hanging around me all the time like a bad smell! You won't leave me alone."

"Is that what you want? You just want me to leave you alone?"

"Yes!"

"But that's not what you wanted the other night, was it?"

Dan didn't say anything. It was clear that the other night was a subject he was less than keen on talking about. I didn't want to force him to talk about it but it was the only way we would get to the bottom of things.

"The other night was fantastic," I said. "And don't say it wasn't 'cos I seem to remember you saying you loved every minute of it."

Dan still didn't say anything. His silence was starting to frustrate me.

"Say something," I said.

"I've got nothing to say," he said. I decided to be more direct.

"D'you wanna do it again some time?"

"No," he said defiantly. But I got the impression he wasn't being honest.

"Yeah, you do," I said.

"Don't tell me what I do and don't want!" he said, sounding irritated.

"Alright, but tell me the truth."

"I am!"

We turned into an alley, which was a commonly used shortcut to Dan's road. It was dark and secluded and I felt like grabbing Dan and kissing him.

"I know you fancy me. I can tell," I said.

"I'm not..." he began, and I was sure he was trying to say the word 'gay'... "I'm not like you," he said in the end.

"You mean you're not gay?"

"No."

"So what was the other night about then?"

"I don't wanna talk about the other night. You might have noticed."

I laughed quietly.

"What?" he said, still looking very annoyed.

"You're so in denial, it's funny."

"Just fuck off," he said, even more annoyed.

"You're scared to admit you like me. You're scared to admit you're gay."

"Fuck off!" he shouted again, and now the anger was rising in his voice.

"Gay!" I repeated.

"Just fuck off, alright!"

"I used to feel like that aswell," I said, more calmly. "I didn't wanna face up to it. You'll feel much better if you do though. I know exactly what you're going through."

"You don't know anything about me!"

"I know you take it up the arse."

This was the last straw. Dan grabbed me by the collar and threw me against the wall, his face close to me and his eyes narrowed and face red with anger.

"You're really fuckin' asking for it," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet full of threat.

"Why, what are you gonna do me?" I asked calmly. Dan didn't reply but just glared at me in silence. I probably should have been a bit more scared than I was, but I was actually enjoying this immensely. Maybe a like I bit of rough, maybe I enjoy a little danger, but somehow I had this overwhelming feeling of security; despite his threatening behaviour, I somehow knew he wouldn't hit me. I had him where I wanted him.

"Man, you look so fuckin' sexy when you're angry," I whispered, eyeing him lustfully. I expected him to tighten his grip on my shirt and his face to go redder, his anger to intensify.

Instead he just moved his face closer and said, "You really like winding me up, don't you?"

"No. I mean it," I said. "You're fuckin' beautiful."

Dan swallowed. And then I saw the anger in his eyes was subsiding, slowly being replaced by something else... something more gentle... something I'd been hoping for... something that looked almost like... lust... I wanted him so badly at that moment, and I knew he wanted me too. Our faces were so close together I could hear him breathe. But I decided I wasn't going to give in to him. He made the first move last time and he was going to do it again. I didn't want to scare him off and I wasn't going to give him any reason to accuse me of taking advantage. And then, sure enough...

His face moved forward another fraction of an inch, and our noses touched. Then he tilted his head, closed his eyes and kissed me. If I'd had any doubts about what he wanted, they were quashed in an instant. A surge of excitement rushed up my spine. He pulled back a little, opened his eyes to look at me again and now I saw that they were full of unmistakable desire; they told me everything I needed to know. I slid my hands up his back and pulled his body closer to mine, at the same time moving my head forward to kiss him again. I was met with no resistance to either move and, on the contrary, he loosened his grip on my shirt, letting his hands rest on my chest. Then he slid his tongue inside my mouth and we were engaged in a full-on passionate French kiss. His mouth tasted of beer and I liked it. As our tongues wrestled delicately with each other, he started to move his hands up and down my chest, and I moved one hand up to his neck, massaging it softly. He pressed his fingers against my nipples, and I continued upwards, running my fingers gently through his hair, while massaging his butt cheek with my other hand. Dan continued to rub my chest with both hands, and then came down over my stomach and slipped one hand under my shirt and back up over my bare flesh, giving me immediate goose pimples as he moved his hands around my chest and squeezed my erect nipples. Taking Dan's initiative, I slipped my hand under his shirt and gently rubbed his smooth, firm six-pack of a stomach.

Then, becoming aware of my erection, I decided I wanted to investigate Dan's. So I moved my hand slowly downwards on to his crotch, and found that he was quite as hard as I was. I gave it a good squeeze and Dan let out a muffled moan over our kissing, prompting me to squeeze it again. The alley was dark, there was no-one around and I was feeling in a daring mood... I undid his flies and reached for his cock from inside his boxers. Dan made no objections and instead gave a satisfying groan as I took it out to meet the fresh air.

We were still locked in our beer-flavoured kiss, and Dan was still playing with my nipples. Now I began stroking his hard cock, pulling his foreskin back and forth over the head. Dan seemed to be enjoying it, judging by his groans over our kissing. But I wanted to give him even more pleasure than this. I wanted his hard-on in my mouth. Hesitantly, I broke away from our kiss. I moved away from the wall he still had me up against, and gently turned him around, pushing him against the wall instead. I returned his slightly bewildered expression with a seductive smile and then got down on my knees. The stony ground felt sharp and uncomfortable but it was hardly a deterrent. I brought my eyes down on Dan's beautiful manhood, still standing to attention, and the memories from ten days ago came flooding back. Reliving the episode in my mind, I grabbed Dan's ass for support, closed my mouth tightly around his cock and began licking and sucking my way up and down its shaft.

"Mmmmm..." came Dan's familiar moan.

I came up for air and licked the head softly, making Dan moan even more. I swirled my tongue around the slit and felt a taste of precum. I felt his hands on my head, as he gently ran his fingers through my hair, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The thought that he was consciously doing it made it even more stimulating. He seemed to sense my arousal, and brought his hands down to my ears, playing with them tenderly. It was driving me wild.

"I'm coming," whispered Dan suddenly, and I wanted him to come inside my mouth. Sure enough, moments later, Dan purred with delight, and the warm, salty taste of his man-juice invaded my mouth. Spurt after spurt hit the back of my throat and I swallowed each one down quickly and eagerly, ready for the next. Finally, Dan's orgasm subsided, and I felt his dick start to soften, still inside my mouth. I took it out and gave it a squeeze with my hand, and a few fresh drops of cum emerged, which I licked up. Dan was breathing heavily, as I stood up, unexpectedly feeling the pain in my knees from the rough ground.

All of a sudden, Dan turned to look at a spot in the distance, a look of panic on his face.

"What was that?" he whispered.

"What?" I asked, confused.

We both looked in silence but there seemed to be nothing there.

"Didn't you hear it?" he asked, his voice still scarcely above a whisper.

"Dan, there's no-one there."

"I fuckin' heard them!"

"It was probably just a cat or something," I said re-assuringly. But Dan was far from re-assured. He quickly put his dick away and zipped up.

"I gotta go," he said, and started running off down the alley.

"Wait!" I shouted, hurrying after him.

We only stopped when we were out of the dark alley and back on a lit street. Unfortunately this was where our respective routes separated. I looked at him enquiringly.

"There was someone there," he said. He was definitely paranoid, and that didn't really surprise me. He'd been doing something his mind was telling him he shouldn't be doing, and the fear of getting caught had crept up on him. Not wanting to provoke another argument, I didn't say anything else. We stood there for a minute, getting our breaths back, and then Dan said, "I'm going home, I need to get some sleep."

"Yeah, same here," I said reluctantly, thinking how good it would be sleep together instead of going home to separate beds. Still, it had hardly been a wasted night, having ended with me giving Dan a blowjob. Progress had undoubtedly been made, and we were back on speaking (and cock-sucking) terms. But I wanted to be sure the air really was clear between us.

"Sorry for winding you up earlier," I said.

"That's alright," said Dan. "Sorry for... you know, almost losing it. I wouldn't have hit you, you know."

"Yeah, I know," I smiled.

To my surprise, Dan smiled back at me warmly.

"Are you gonna ignore me again if I text you?" I asked.

"Probably," he said, still smiling. But he also seemed to be contemplating something.

"Great," I said, sarcastically. "Don't suppose you wanna meet up some time?"

"Tomorrow," he said. I didn't know whether to believe him or not.

"Come round about two," he continued. "I'll have the house to myself."

He smiled and turned to walk away.

"Alright, see you then," I said, still not daring to believe that Dan had invited me over for... what else but sex?

I started off in the opposite direction, occasionally turning to look at Dan. Walking was difficult, with my head pounding with excitement and my heart jumping for joy. I had never looked forward to a Sunday afternoon so much.

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