Disclaimer: This is a fictional story and does not indicate knowledge of the true sexuality of the tennis players involved. I don't know anything about the personal lives of Rafael Nadal, Roger Federer and Andy Roddick, and nothing that is written here is meant to imply those celebrities are actually gay.
Please feel free to email me at anpouria80@yahoo.com about this story and to give me suggestion for new chapters: any tennis champions you'd like to see in hot gay action?
A lot of people emailed me asking me to transform Roddick into a whore and slut, preferably by Federer... Well I didn't really follow their suggestions, but they should not despair. Roddick will be begging for it too in future chapters.
CHAPTER 2 - Revenge is sweet
Triumphant, delighted, happy, Roger Federer entered the locker room after having won his third straight Wimbledon final. The fact that his victim of the day was Andy Roddick only added to the pleasure of the moment: no one on the tennis circuit could stand Roddick's cockiness and arrogant attitude.
Federer was smiling. Roddick had been humiliated and he had won a third Wimbledon title! He was truly the best!
As he entered his private locker room in the tennis facilities of the All England Club, Federer suddenly stopped: Rafael Nadal was standing there, waiting for him. He was wearing his traditional sleeveless shirt, revealing his huge muscles and beautifully chiseled arms. Hair was popping out of his manly armpits. He was barefoot.
In awe, Federer immediately closed the door behind him and dropped to his knees. He seemed to have entered a trance. Nadal grinned. Federer crawled in front of Nadal and kissed the left foot of the Spanish champion, then the right one.
"Good bitch. You know your place", said Nadal. "Good match today. I like it when my sluts win, and then end up kissing my feet only hours later." With that, he put his left foot on Federer's head and lowered it until Federer's head touched his right foot!
"Lick it bitch!" Federer started licking Nadal's foot eagerly, like a good little puppy. He remembered how this had all started, back in May in Paris. After the young Spanish 18 year old had completely dismantled Federer in the semi-final of the French, he had humiliated the Swiss champion even more in the locker room. Just by flexing his muscles and revealing his glorious teenage body, Nadal had gotten Federer on his knees worshipping him. Since then, Nadal often used Federer as his bitch. The first week of Wimbledon, Nadal had used Federer for hours just before one of Federer's match. When Federer had gone on court, he almost derailed and got beaten, since he only could think of his teenage master's hot cock in his mouth and ass.
Nadal knew Federer felt really humiliated while on his knees in front of him. He also knew that Federer tried to recover some self-esteem by dominating other players. Earlier in the week, Nadal had felt that his friend and fellow Spaniard Juan Carlos Ferrero was acting strange, so he had insisted until Ferrero had told him all about how he had become Federer's bitch and how he loved it.
Nadal liked hearing how Ferrero had become a cockslave, but he was afraid Federer would get to confident if he got to many males on their knees worshipping him. It was time to show Federer how much of a true cockslave and cumslut he really was.
"What are you Roger?" asked Nadal.
Federer looked up into Nadal's face and answered, "I am your bitch. You have transformed me into your cumslut. I crave your cock now and can't think about anything else than sucking you, than licking your balls and having you treat me like the whore I am."
"Good. Then why did you make Juan Carlos into your slut? Answer me bitch? How did you dare make a Spanish male your cumslut."
"I didn't know you'd disapprove master. He seemed to want it."
"You still haven't completely accepted that you're my bitch have you boy? You know what? After I'm done with you today, you'll have lost all resistance. Wait and see!"
Worried, Federer kissed Nadal's feet again to show his devotion.
"Get naked bitch and stay on your knees. I'm gonna leave for a while but I'll come back soon." Nadal slapped Federer as hard as he could, as Federer answered "Thank you." Nadal then left the room, leaving Federer horny and kneeling.
Nadal was smiling. If his plan worked, this was truly going to be a day to remember.
Andy Roddick was feeling pretty low. For the second straight year, he had been roundly beaten in the Wimbledon finals. He knew he was good. He was the best. How dare this stupid Federer win against like this? He had the power. He had the serve. He had the looks. He was American. Every girl and guy he fucked ended up admitting how superior he was. So what was this?
Unfortunately, Roddick knew it was too late. He had been beaten; he couldn't recover from the humiliation. He'd have to wait one more year before winning Wimbledon, and Federer would probably get in the way again. Plus he'd have to face Roger's smirk and grin everywhere.
Roddick was boiling with frustration and rage against the man that was ruining his career. He had always been promised victory. He was introduced as the greatest tennis player ever, and Federer was going to steal it away from him?
Lost in his thoughts, Roddick suddenly jumped up when he heard a familiar voice:
"Hi Andy!" It was Rafael Nadal! Nadal knew he'd find Andy there in the locker room. He could imagine the state of mind Roddick was going to be in, and he was planning on taking advantage of it.
"Oh hey Rafa! Come to tease me have you?" Deep in his heart, Roddick hated Nadal: after all, Nadal had succeeded in beating Federer and had just a month ago won the French Open. Feeling Nadal's superiority was a difficult thing for the American champion.
"No, not at all Andy. I've come to offer you revenge."
Surprised and puzzled, Roddick looked at the face of the young Spanish player, wondering what he had in store.
Back in his locker room, Federer was unaware that his master was off talking to Andy Roddick. He himself was faithfully waiting. He was still kneeling, still completely naked. His cock stood hard and erect. His hormones had taken control of his body. He wanted to get up, go out, find his fianc^Îe to celebrate his victory, go talk to journalists, and dominate Ferrero or one of his many bitches on the circuit for a hot session. But here he was, on his knees, waiting for Rafael Nadal. He just couldn't get the image of that piece of Spanish meat out of his mind. He wanted it in his mouth and in his ass badly. And he was ready to do anything to get it again.
The door opened. Federer raised his head, eager to see Rafael Nadal's youthful muscular body. But instead, Federer got the shock of his life.
Andy Roddick had just entered the room and was looking down at him with a huge evil grin on his face.
"Oh my fucking God" said Andy in one breath. The sight was indeed breathtaking. The two champions of male tennis were standing in the same room, but the power relations were incredibly tense: Federer was naked, on his knees, looking up to the fully clothed man he had just beaten in straight sets less than an hour ago in front of millions of people.
The two champions had their eyes locked into each other's eyes. Federer tried to get up.
"Stay on your knees." Andy had said that in a calm voice, without raising his hand or threatening in any way. He expected to be obeyed. Federer hesitated, but his mind was unable to get his body to stand. The situation was making him feel insanely horny and wanting to submit. He tried to fight it but he just fell back on his knees. From then on, he knew there was no turning back.
"So it's true..." whispered Andy, while stroking his cock through his shorts.
"Of course it is Andy", said Rafael Nadal while entering the room and sitting down discretely in a corner.
"You just obeyed the most humiliating thing I could have told you Roger", said Andy in awe! "This is incredible!"
Federer felt really confused, but somewhat realized that he felt at the right place. Yet, submitting to Nadal was one thing, but submitting to Roddick, the cockiest player he knew? What was he getting into?
"Bitch, look at me. You want this body don't you? Tell me you want it and I'll let you worship it."
Federer looked up. He was red of shame, but he knew he couldn't resist for long. He desperately wanted to worship Andy. He licked his lips inadvertently.
Roddick grinned, knowing in a matter of minutes Federer would be his whore, willingly submitting to him and begging him to be allowed to worship his manly superior body.
Revenge is sweet, and Federer was soon going to learn why.
To be continued
Hope you enjoyed it! Once again email me at anpouria80@yahoo.com for suggestions or advice or anything!