DISCLAIMER:
The material presented here is not to be related directly to the celebrity mentioned in this fictional work. I do not know the sexuality of the person involved, and this is only a work of fiction.
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PART 1: THE BEGINNING
I've always felt- different. I don?t know how to explain it, you see, but I've always felt that I was not what you can call your standard teenage man, talking about how big those tits were and how you would love to fuck those bitches down the lane. Instead, I loved looking at shirtless images of football players, scrolling for hours and hours till I couldn't resist the urge to wish that I had even the smallest of chances to feel close to one of them. I knew that wasn't what my friends define normal, but I wasn't ready to admit that I was gay- fuck no!
Yet, one day changed everything- the day I interviewed one of the hunks I often drooled upon on my computer. It was the day I met Stevie Gerrard, and got closer to him than perhaps any other man on the planet.
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When I sent the email to the address available on Gerard's website, I felt hopeless almost immediately. I had sent it just to see what would happen, whether I would receive an answer, and how negative it would be. I was sure that I was not going to get to interview the Lord of the Game. Yeah, I had written a great letter, but nothing would be the fact that he was the famous player, and that he was not going to waste time with a seventeen year-old.
A week after I pressed the send button, I was on a plane to Miami, with my trusty microphone, video camera, and autograph book in my luggage. I could not believe it- all of it: how fast they had answered and how welcoming his press team was. Not only did they accept the interview, but I was going to spend a day with him! I'm no Liverpool fan, but I still felt excited as hell!
He was welcoming, smart, cordial, and funny. The interview went great. Much of the day, though tiring, was just awesome. I felt as if I was in heaven, taking photos with him and uploading them to my Facebook profile. God my friends were jealous, and I loved every second of it! But then, came the night, and with it?
I was not meant to go clubbing with him. My day was supposed to end at eight, at the steps of my hotel. Yet, then came the sudden question: You wanna come with me to chill mate?? I was shocked, but not mad: Sure of course Mr. Gerrard,? I muttered. How could I say no to more time with the legend? With a special pass (I wasn't old enough to enter clubs) I went in, and saw that he was a legend on the dance floor as well, shaking it like mad. I just set at a bar, and watched, drank, and watched again, till?
I found myself on a bed which I immediately noticed, wasn't the one of the hotel. I sat on the pillows, trying to fight the headache which seemed to pierce my skull. Then, the vision of Mister Steven Gerrard coming out of the bathroom shirtless didn't help the headache much.
I admit- I was prepared for everything, except for the image of the hunk I jerked off to so much on my computer. I could not stop the sweat from pouring out, the vision to blur, and my dick to stiffen. In a second, I was a hard, drooling beast, trying to fight my urges to touch myself. It was a surprise? a good surprise.
He didn't notice that I had woken up at first, he was busy making some phone call. Yet when he turned, he saw me all right- he saw everything. As he looked down at my starstruck expression, then my panting chest, and then my hard-as-rock tool, he couldn't resist the expression:
What the fuck?s going on here?
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To be continued
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