I have written many gay/bisexual stories and would welcome any feedback. This particular story "Carter Plays Ball" is a novel about the sport of Soccer. It is available for the Kindle on Amazon.
Posh Timothy Carter immerses himself in the homoerotic world of soccer stars
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Carter Plays Ball
- Sex with Garry Again, and Again, and Again...
So, what had happened to me since that time in 1982 when Garry and I had fallen into our unusual, but workable, love for each other? Even now I can remember the lightness of heart I had felt, back then, while waiting for one of Garry's visits to my estate, Low Longdale in Yorkshire. The young footballer was returning from his summer trip back home to Australia and was visiting me before the started his training for the forthcoming 1982 soccer season. He had phoned me from his hotel room in Hong Kong with his actress wife sleeping in the other room. He had described their sex together and told me how excited his penis was over telling me about their intimacy. He had flirted with me in that peculiar charm that he had. I didn't mind his wife. I understood his needs. I understood his experimentation with his sexuality. And I loved his frankness and excitement over his discovery of the love of one man for another. He was some twenty years younger than myself and had enlivened me like nobody had done for years.
So on that day in 1982, little Peter had returned to the orphanage after his trial visit to my estate. He was a lovely boy, so sad, so beautiful, so polite and so loveable. I had fallen in love with him instantly and he seemed to like me too. How I hoped he would agree to the adoption. I wanted to care for him, provide for him and give him the best that life could provide. He had enjoyed playing with my drivers twins and I fervently hoped he had enjoyed his stay.
Gus, my young chef who I had rescued from the clutches of his evil employer had served me a delicious dinner and retired to his cottage for the night. He had settled in well and seemed happy to live with my three gardener lads. As far as I knew, they were happy with him too! But I didn't pry into that side of things. Not since my new-found efforts to be less of a predatory homosexual and to behave more honourably.
I retired to bed and dreamed of the arrival, tomorrow, of my lover Garry.
Next night, I was frantically rogering Garry after he had excited himself telling me in intimate detail of his sexual athletics with his wife. Now I was exposing his feminine side, in contrast to his asserted masculinity and he was loving it! His eyes rolled in delight at each of my thrusts, his teeth clenched in pure pleasure, his hands pawed eagerly at my backside, which pumped rhythmically.
His phallus lay half erect up his lovely belly, flopping and rolling around, trailing slithers of juice across his abdomen, which was amazingly free of pubic hair. His muscular chest heaved in pants of satisfaction at my manly rogering. His gentle, golden suntan spread evenly over his body. It covered his hips and groin, evidence of private sunbathing back home in Australia, these past few weeks. At the base of his phallus lay a small nest of fair, pubic hair. I groaned a huge groan and filled his lovely tight hole with my discharged load.
Still panting, I slid down his beautiful torso and took his staff into my mouth. His hands stroked my hair, his mouth moaned his satisfaction, his rod hardened and pumped its ammunition down my throat.
"Jeez mate!" He panted, as I lay on my back beside him. "That was fuckin' great mate!" He said in that Australian accent that I loved so much.
"Glad you enjoyed it young sir!" I joked. My breath smelt of his semen. His musky body next to mine, smelt of clean sweat and manliness. Not that Garry was a particularly masculine man. He was smooth and beautiful, but athletic and had the sleek muscles of a pro soccer player. At that moment, I was as much in love with him as I had ever been.
He went on to brag about all the "Sheila's back in Oz" who had "come-on" to him. Normally I disliked the modern vernacular but somehow it suited Garry and I suppose it made me feel younger to hear such a young man of his times, talking so frankly to me in this way. His swearing sometimes grated on me a little and I suspected he did it somewhat deliberately to "push my buttons" as the modern phrase goes.
"Fuckin' Jesus, mate. Sheila's with boobs like Ursula Andress would come to me on the beach and just ask if I wanted to fuck them!" He bragged.
The cursing was ameliorated by his use of the familiar "mate". How I loved him to call me that! I know he called all males his "mate" as is the Australian way, but somehow when he used it on me, my heart melted just a little more each time. And of course, it was an accurate epithet in the case of our relationship.
I knew his bragging was just that. That his faithfulness to his wife was complete, except for the satisfaction he derived from our Socratic love. He knew that I knew this too, but somehow he loved to release his sexual tensions with this frank bragging that I supposed many heterosexual men go in for with their male companions. I was not as sure, however, about his faithfulness to myself, as far as the special physical relationship that one man can have for another.
"They'd blatantly look at my John Thomas under my shorts and ask me if I wanted to screw them, mate!" He grinned mischievously at me, playfully trying to goad me into feeling jealous.
"I expect you reciprocated by allowing some engorgement of the said member in order to inflame their ardour and further exaggerate the feelings of unrequited lasciviousness that was engendered within their breasts" I replied.
"Jeez, mate!" Garry laughed. "You don't half talk some crap, mate!" He laughed again. "If you mean I got a stiffie, I sure did!" He leered cheerily at me.
I didn't really understand what he found funny in what I said, but it pleased me to amuse him like this. "I suppose you restrained yourself and saved yourself for the amorous meeting with your wife."
"Pent up like a dog on heat mate!" he replied. "Fucked the pants off her!"
Despite the crudity of his expression, I knew that he loved his wife Kate Mossthwaite, the glamorous actress, dearly. That he would not betray her for the sake of some shallow fling on an Australian beach with some beauty. Despite his crude talk, Garry was a romantic man who was a faithful lover and husband to his wife. His flowering to the homosexual needs of a man's love had been cautious and satisfied an aspect of his personality that could not be fulfilled by the feminine charms of his wife. In that respect he was still being perfectly faithful to his wife and their marriage vows. I was not sure, however that I commanded the same fidelity in him. He had already told me of his attraction for his soccer teammate Alan, and I was sure he would experiment further with the delights of male to male love, now that I had opened him up to it.
"And some of the beach boys too." I ventured, tentatively.
"Huh?" he said and rolled on his side to face me. He stroked my chest softly
"I expect some of the young surfer lads on the beach were more than a little excited at the prospect of sharing the sand with the famous and handsome Garry Newburn " I said.
His fingers stopped on my left nipple. "I guess so, but I'm not as famous in Oz as I am in Blighty, mate" he said.
"I wasn't referring to your fame, but to your features and your magnetic looks, which are bound to have more than the occasional young man's heart aflutter." I rolled on my side to face him and felt for his soft phallus, gently cradling it in my hand.
"Oh, you mean did any fags come on to me!" He laughed deeply and his testicles rocked in the cradle of my fingers. "Well there was one young fella, mate." His voiced tailed off teasingly.
"And did his attentions bring about, what you so charmingly called 'a stiffie'?" I asked, trying to hide my nervousness. How would I react if he said he'd engaged in mad homosexual passion with some youth with whom I couldn't compete for looks and firmness of flesh. Then I reminded myself of my many dalliances in the past. Who was I to feel jealous, if Garry had given way to his natural and new-found urges?
Garry smiled cheekily and said. "He was hot, mate. Blond and muscular. The geezer looked openly at the front of my shorts while these girls were propositioning me. When I told the chicks, thanks, but that I was happily married, they all walked off up the beach, but the hunk looked over his shoulder at me and the signal was clear, mate." Garry stared wide-eyed and excitedly at me. His penis swelled slightly under my touch. Just as happened when he told me of his sexual activity with his wife, the young man was getting excited at sharing the confidence of a stolen lustful look with some young man on a beach.
I relaxed in the knowledge that that was all that had occurred between the two men and my fingers gently manipulated his phallus into more activity.
"Then I saw him again, mate." Garry said and my heart sank a little. "That night in the bar. I was with some old schoolmates and the blond surfer dude came in. He smiled at me and offered to buy me and my mates a drink. The bastards left, mate! Had work the next morning. They thanked him for his offer and shook my hand, patted my shoulder and left me with this hunky fag! Jeez mate. I didn't know what to do. He sat next to me with the drinks and he looked so hunky in his black singlet and bronzed muscles. I wondered if I would go with him."
Garry was working my penis now and together we were encouraging our tired phalluses into action. "Then he put his hand on my knee, under the table, mate." Garry's voice was husky at the memory of it. "I've, I've never done anything like that with another guy, you know, except you, mate. Fooled around in the showers with the lads and with Alan, like I've told you, but never, never, you know, had another guy come on to me like that." His voice tailed off.
"What did you do?" I asked, hardly daring to listen for the answer. I was going to lose him. My darling Garry had discovered there were many men hungry for his lovely body. Many men younger and better looking than my forty-three years. My sweet, darling boy was learning the ways of the world too quickly!
"I was tempted, mate! He was so handsome and hot for me. I wondered what sex with him would be like. Would it be as great as it is with you, mate!"
We had stopped playing with our penises. The tension between us grew unbearable.
"His fingers traced up my bare thigh towards the hem of my shorts, soon, under cover of the table, those strong fingers would be on my John Thomas and I would be unable to resist. But there was something cold about it. His body was going to have my body. It would just be sex, not like with you, not like with my wife. No tenderness, mate."
I stroked his dear cheek.
"I got up and left, mate!" Garry concluded. "Went back to my parents' house, phoned Kate and whacked off afterwards, mate," he concluded rather sadly.
I kissed his tender lips and his fluttering eyelids. "Have you ever been with anyone else, Garry?" I softly asked him.
"No, mate. Just you, you and Kate" his voice tailed off again. We kissed tenderly and embraced. I felt him stir against my thigh in response to our tenderness.
"I think you will go with other men, Garry. I expect this and I want to tell you I will try to understand. You are young and will want to explore your new-found delight in male love."
"I will always love you, mate and will always be your lover" he said and fully aroused his manly ardour. I recognised the signs. Sometimes he needed to have his feminine side exposed to himself, right now he needed to feel his masculinity. I let him take the lead in our lovemaking.
We paused. Having already satisfied our initial lust with our first lovemaking, we were in no hurry. "Who do you think you might try it with?" I asked him between his kisses on my lips.
"I would like to try it with Alan, mate." He said.
"Yes, I know." I replied. It had been clear from everything he had told me about his teammate that there was a chemistry between them. They'd even flirted discreetly in the showers and kissed playfully in celebrations on the pitch.
"But, I'm not sure if he wants to. He has a girlfriend." He said.
"And you have a wife." I added, stating the obvious.
I don't know if it was thoughts of having sex with his young heterosexual friend or desire for me, but the lust in my lover grew uncontrollably and soon he had thrown me over on my knees on the bed and was forcing his eager rod into my anus. I willingly let him take me roughly.
Reaching his rapid climax and panting behind me, I wondered how his wife would react if she saw her husband grunting inside me!
Later that night, lying in his stomach, I stroked his golden tanned buttocks
Explored his curves and hollows. Garry said, "Will you come and watch me play, mate? The season starts in three weeks and I'd love you to come and watch."
"Oh, I don't know, Garry. I'm not really keen on Association Football." I replied, while he dreamily sighed over my fingers' explorations of his globes.
"You enjoyed the World Cup Final when we watched it together earlier this summer." He said.
It was true that we'd watched it together on TV and we'd cheered and hugged when his Italian heroes won. But, for me it was mainly the sharing of the event with my new friend, rather than any inherent interest in the game. It was the physical contact with him and his infectious enthusiasm that had really stimulated me rather than any love for the sport. Still, getting the chance to see Garry's cute body in those skimpy shorts that players wore, was appealing and he really was a most skilful player, according to the newspaper reports that I had read about him. Maybe I should share in his life a little more.
Before I knew it, he was affirming that he'd send me a ticket. I could attend with Kate. I had a twinge of guilt at the idea of attending with the person who shared his body, but Kate was a delightful woman and we had got on well when she'd come with Garry to stay at Low Longsdale earlier that summer. Amazingly it did seem to be working out, this way that he secretly divided his sexuality between us. I would not have credited that such a thing would be possible.