Do you think that Gareth Hicks has got a girlfriend?' pondered Michelle dreamily one afternoon early on in January. She worked in *Red Heaven* with Will Brandt and had always been a bit of a flighty soul even at the best of times. Nevertheless, glancing up at the footballer's photo up above, she seemed ever more air-brained that day than usual – as if she was half in love with his picture and actually believed she stood a chance of wooing him should opportunity arise. As such, her question merely reflected the fickle, transitory nature of her mind (which Will had now almost grown used to).
`Who knows?' the Dutch lad casually quipped in reply, trying desperately not to let on his own infatuation – as he busied himself with the task of sorting out the replica away shirts. Actually, he had something of a penchant for football shirts and found even the silky touch of them against his skin to be more than a little arousing. On this occasion, though, he was determined not to embarrass himself, and glancing away, he made every solitary effort to dwell on something other than the thought of City's new striker donning his freshly-garnished kit.
All the same, there was no way that he could easily ignore the girl's next question – uncompromising as it was. `Do you think he's got a big one?' she queried – as though Will would in some way be a leading expert.
The young man glanced back at her in embarrassment – not so much for what she had said, as for the fact that it was a question he had asked himself time and time again these past few weeks. Then again, what gay man hasn't asked that sort of question about his icon in his time? For the size of a hero's cock seems almost integral to his standing as an idol, and as such Will felt sure that Gareth Hicks must boast an organ of above average proportions. Not that he was about to disclose any of these ideas to blonde, leggy Michelle, who was not aware of his sexuality (as far as he knew). Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and claimed that it was something that had never crossed his mind – totally unaware that it would actually only be a matter of hours before the subject of his deepest fantasies was to suddenly and quite unexpectedly become a reality and that by the end of the day he would even be able to answer the young girl's last question with full authority.
Being utterly unaware of this forthcoming development, however, the lad had little option but to remain frustrated – with the continual sense of pent-up cum in his churning balls, which seemed to distract him all too easily from his job of dealing with customers and tidying shelves and rails. A half-raised hard-on appeared to nestle in his crotch – though that in itself was not exactly unusual for a guy of his age. After all, he was young and very horny, with sex almost continually on his impressionable mind and it was only natural that he was in a state of almost continual arousal. Will just hoped that no-one noticed the bulge in his trackers – though Michelle was so positively dippy that it was hard to imagine that she would.
Not that a girl presented him with any temptation whatsoever, anyway, for cunt was about as appealing to the young Dutch lad as the idea of sleeping under a wet duvet. No, the fact of the matter is that Will needed hard cock to satisfy his burgeoning desires and there was no way that any woman would ever to be able to provide him with that. Marriage – a matter occasionally raised by his parents when visiting them – was, it seemed, very much out of the equation.
For a while, the lad appeared almost able to control his physical urges – well, at least he didn't have to get cock out and give it a wank! In the end, however, the desire to express his sexual desires slowly became more and more unrestrained, and noting that it was rather quiet on the sales floor, the fellow explained to Michelle that he would just have to slip out to the toilet. After all, Will couldn't stand the frustration a moment longer, and racing into the cubicle, he pulled down his boxers and trousers so that his hard, excited, throbbing cock was at last free to bounce up for the wanton attention it so earnestly craved.
The lad sat down on the seat and grasped the aching shaft before him – noting as he did that a rich pool of pre-cum was already oozing from the piss-hole capping the purple crown. For a moment, Will stared in joyous wonder at the sight – in a manner that might almost have suggested to an onlooker that this was the first time he had ever laid hands on his cock. Oh, but if only that was the case! The fact of the matter was that Will Brandt was a very hearty wanker, who relished his own stimulation at present far more than he craved the attention of the odious Drew Michaels (of whom he had fortunately seen very little since Christmas). Yet the young fellow knew, deep down, that jacking-off would not provide ultimate satisfaction in his life. That objective would only ever be achieved by meeting someone special – someone who really meant something to him and to whom he would mean something special in return. It was, if anything, the dream that kept him going, and slowly closing his eyes, he imagined that the sensual slip of hand along his length was in fact the urgent caress of that special-someone's lips.
He sank back into the wall of cistern behind him – continuing to ride his knob with his searching, probing fingers as he did so. The pre-cum, which welled so freely from his gaping eye, smeared itself with a thick, matt-like consistency over his knob-head, so that the skin glistened in the artificial light from above, whilst his hairy, pulsing balls wrenched themselves even tighter into his groin, swelling with the copious amounts of spunk that they contained as they did so. After all, getting rid of all that juicy cum was basically what this present exercise was all about – emitting the bountiful cream that his young body over-produced on almost titanic proportions, so that the rest of his firm, handsome body might be able to function without too much more distraction. Well, at least until the next time, anyway – which given current tendencies would probably be in about thirty or forty minutes. Still, such is the marvel of a young man's libido.
His one hand continued to pulse up and down the seven inches of proud, uncut flesh – the sound of slapping skin serving as the only indication to anyone beyond the cubicle as to what he was up to. His other hand, meantime, dropped across his clenched stomach, through his pubes, past the heaving base of his shaft ... before finally cupping his balls between his fingers, squeezing the precious organs one by one as he did so. The journey of exploration did not stop there, however. Before many more moments had passed, he was pushing along the hairy strip of flesh that lay between his sac and butt-hole – sinking further down on the seat as he did so, so that his crack was even more accessible. After all, he now wanted to feel the slip of a digit beyond his ring almost as much as he wanted to sense the grasp of his hand upon his aching shaft, and rolling his dark eyes to the back of his head, he gave a soft smile in anticipation of the pleasure that he felt sure was about to come his way.
The finger trailed slowly around the magic hole, but refrained from any immediate impasse. Instead, it seemed to linger almost of its own accord, as Will held his breath with quivering expectancy. Ultimately, however, the yearning grew too overpowering and with the help of a little spit the young lad finally pushed his searching digit towards the dark, pleasing recess beyond. It slid in with almost startling ease, and before he knew it, Will could feel his knuckles rapping against his arse. This, together with the continued pull upon his straining cock-head, was already beginning to bring him to a fine, moist conclusion, and gliding two fingers inside his guts, he bit his lips in recognition of the veritable geyser that was surely about to show.
Waves of indulgence were now beginning to grip his entire being, as a heavy, eager surge started to form deep within his fuzzy bollocks. Millions of sperm wrestled in expectancy, jolting in the delightful prospect of spurting from that thick, inflamed knob-end – blissfully unaware, no doubt, of the sheer depth of gratification that they would provide the young man. As such, their passing would not be in vain – nor, indeed, would it ever be. As long as Will enjoyed sex and relished the pure, unadulterated, primal passion of ejaculation, they would continue to provide him with one of the very basic joys of being a man – and who in this world could ever put a real value to that?
He retracted his fingers from his aching butt, then began to wank almost feverishly on that stiff, slimy love-pole, which by now was on the verge of bursting at its very seams. A frantic gasp of breath and the first spurt of pearly white cum shot boldly upwards – appearing almost to hang in the air for a split second, before splashing upon the muscled ridge of his stomach and sliding down towards his dark, frizzy pubes. A second later and another bolt appeared – this one soaring even higher than the first shell – at which point Will's self-absorption was suddenly and abruptly interrupted by the sound of Michelle calling for him from outside. It was just the sort of hindrance that the young lad didn't want, and for a few moments he tried desperately to ignore her summons – whilst all the time continuing to emit a fine salvo of man-juice across his belly. Yet the girl's insistence (no doubt quite unintentional) was such that the guy eventually had to make a response.
I am coming!' he finally exclaimed with his guttural accent – and with brutal honesty. Hold on! I am coming!'
The girl huffed in recognition of his response, then disappeared again – much to Will's great relief.
The final, tired spurts of fresh cream bolted from their happy base, smearing the lad's clenched fist with the sweet produce of his loins – at which point Will perhaps first realised the delicacy of his situation. After all, it was pretty clear that he was wanted back in the shop – but the fact remained that his front was presently covered in a rich blanket of jizz, which was very much in danger of slipping down onto the floor, or (worse still) onto some of his clothes. As such, it was with a somewhat dainty slip of the wrist that he reached for some tissue paper – whilst all the time keenly aware of the passing of each minute, knowing as he did that questions would be asked of his absence and that he would obviously be unable to answer them!
Needless to say, there was a telling blush on Will's sweet face when he re-emerged onto the shop floor – though the expected questioning on the part of Michelle was fortuitously cut short by a couple of customers, who wanted to know if they could order team-shirts with the name `Hicks' on the back. It was a query that almost immediately brought the Dutch lad's thoughts back to that veritable demi-god, whose gorgeous image was almost indelibly etched on his mind's eye, and it was with a somewhat knowing smile that he took their particular order. There were many others, it would now appear, who thought the man to be some form of messiah. That said, not all of them were like Will, whose interest in the striker had less to do with football, more to do with the fact that the man was a fucking magnificent specimen of manhood in its prime.
The young lad passed the rest of the morning in much the same manner of dreamy introspection as he so often seemed to do these days – although at least he was feeling a tad less horny than before, which made for a little more physical comfort in his boxers. But it was a state of being that was never destined to last long, especially given that he was constantly surrounded by the cock-stirring images of manly athleticism, and by lunchtime Will was already wishing and praying that he could meet the soul who would steal such self-engrossment from him. After all, it wasn't healthy for him to be living in this fantasy world all the time. He needed something real, something tangible – and above all, something long and hard, which he could suck off and ride over and over and over again to his heart's content!
Stepping out of the shop, however, such wishing seemed to be rather forlorn, and glancing first to his left, then to his right, he wondered how best to pass the next half-hour without having to dwell too deeply on his present frustrations. He was totally unaware of who or what lay waiting for him just around the next corner – though in all fairness he would not have believed someone even if they had forewarned him. For cutting across the management car-park, with the intent of heading on into town, who should he stumble across but one Gareth Hicks – leaning against the bonnet of his scarlet Alfa-Romeo, with shades to cover his hazel eyes and a baseball cap over his short, brown hair. As such, it might have been very easy for Will to have almost walked past him without realising – save for the fact that the young Dutch lad was very much clued up on his football players and would almost certainly have recognised that fine, dimple-puckered chin and sleek muscular body anywhere.
For all that, however, it was not actually Will who spoke first, but rather the handsome soccer-star, who enquired of the time.
Will – who had never for one moment expected the great and mighty Gareth Hicks to speak to him – almost glanced round to check if there was anyone else about before he replied. `It is ... er ...half past twelve ...' he finally spluttered.
The footballer noted the younger lad's accent and pulled away his glasses. `You foreign, mate?' he queried.
Will was not exactly sure how to take the question. Yes,' he replied at last, I am. I am from Holland ...'
Gareth paused in thought – observing the succulent, manful body stood before him and secretly feeling a tussle in his jocks. `I don't suppose you know anything about cars?' he quipped at length.
`Cars?'
I came here for a meeting with my agent this morning. Now I've come to go home and my car won't start. I've called the RAC, but they say they won't be here til one ...'
The Dutch lad saw his chance and stepped forward – so close to his hero now that he could almost feel his breath. Yes,' he smiled, I know a little about cars ...'
That, in fact, was no word of a lie. Will had done a variety of things since arriving in England and garage work was just one of them. As such, he lifted the bonnet with private confidence – though his hands were visibly shaking from the sheer recognition of whose beautiful car it was and who was now standing a mere hair's breadth distance from him. No wonder, then, that an unmistakable bulge of hardness should quickly begin to show in his black joggers, as his hands played around with the internal components of Gareth's car – probing and greasing the parts with a somewhat sleek and professional ease.
`Looks like you're very good with your hands ...' the star remarked with a clearly suggestive smile on his comely face. He was painfully aware of the fact that he shouldn't make any advances to a stranger – professional suicide that it was. But there was something about Will that attracted him enormously and he almost found himself saying things that he had never before even dreamt of saying to anyone outside the team dressing room.
Will, for his part, could hardly believe what the fellow had said, but tried desperately instead to concentrate on the job in hand. `You need to try the engine,' he finally remarked – as coolly as he possible could.
Gareth removed his cap and threw it onto the passenger-seat, before sitting down and turning the key – at which point the car resurrected itself into life.
Bloody hell, mate!' exclaimed the football-star excitedly, jumping out of his seat – with the engine still purring away. How did you manage it?'
The Dutch lad gave a coy smile. `You had a connection that was loose – that is all ...'
Before he had even thought what he was doing, Gareth stepped forward and gave this stranger an affection hug – Will holding his grimy hands up in the air in vulnerable fashion, so as to prevent them soiling the celebrity's expensive denim jacket. As they fell into each other's arms, however, the footballer suddenly seemed to recognise the more-than-friendly swelling in the other lad's trousers and he almost immediately stepped back again as a result.
For a second there was nothing but silent embarrassment, with both parties appearing unable to say another word and only the sound of the car's engine to prevent a complete stand-off. On this occasion, however, it was Will who was the first to speak – enquiring of the other lad as to whether he had any tissues.
Gareth seemed almost to balk at the question. `Tissues ...?' he quipped nervously.
`For my hands!' the Dutchman laughed (more confidently), waving his arms demonstratively.
The footballer reached inside his car again, switched off the engine and then handed a box to Will (who by now had closed the bonnet). I was wondering ...' he began – his mind telling him that he really should just express his gratitude to the lad and drive off, but his groin telling him something completely different indeed. I was wondering if you'd like to go for a drink. You know, just to say thank you ...'
`There is no need!'
No, I insist. Besides ...' he continued, glancing down at Will's straining bulge, ... it'll give me chance to check out that growth you seem to have between your legs!'
If truth be known, Gareth could hardly believe that he had dared say those words, and the moment he had finished speaking he almost wished the ground would open up and swallow him. After all, it was the most stupid, reckless statement he had ever made in his life – and he knew only too well that if Will took it the wrong way, his football days might be numbered.
Fortunately for the handsome soccer-star, Will Brandt was flattered rather than insulted – though he still could not quite believe the statement the fellow had made. After all, everyone knows that football players are manly, strong, virile ... and, above all other things, straight! True, they kiss on the pitch and have showers together afterwards, but their behaviour is always professional and utterly platonic and there's no way that the young Dutch lad would ever have believed anything but.
Until this moment, that is! Until this very moment – when Will was suddenly propositioned by Gareth Hicks. Gareth Hicks – of all people! Gareth Hicks – the £5 million striker, who played for City and who was adored by thousands and thousands. Gareth Stephen Hicks – whose sweet, boy-like face always gave the impression that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth and who no doubt adorned the bedroom walls of teenage girls for miles around ...
I'm sorry!' the star now apologised – perhaps taking Will's silent thoughtfulness as a sign that he had made a very big mistake and stepping back to prevent any further embarrassment. I shouldn't have said that ...'
Will smiled. It is alright!' he insisted, moving towards the fellow. I am not offended – honestly. By the way, my name's Will. Will Brandt ...'
Gareth nervously held out his hand. `Gareth Hicks – the footballer,' he replied – as though Will didn't know.
Actually,' the Dutchman smiled cheekily, I wouldn't mind you checking out the growth between my legs anytime! If, of course, that is an offer that is still open ...'
Gareth glanced across at the other lad's deep, brown eyes. He had met many men in his time and had enjoyed sex with a fair few of them. But this guy was somehow unique – somehow very different. And Gareth Hicks liked him a lot. In fact, more than a lot. Gareth Hicks liked him a hell of a lot. So much so, that he was about to do something very, very silly indeed ...
`Jump in the car!' he insisted – a request that Will met with astonishing ease.
Seconds later and they were speeding out of the car-park, down Brandon Road (passing the RAC van along the way) and across the city. Ten minutes on and they were pulling up outside the house that Gareth was currently renting.
They passed no formal introductions as they stepped in through the door. Instead, they fell together almost the moment the front door was closed – their mouths opening and their tongues lapping together with heady desire. Such frantic manners only continued as they tripped their way up the stairs and on into the main bedroom – by which point both guys were already stripped of their shirts and were recklessly trying to remove their trousers.
Gareth pushed Will back onto the lily-white sheets and pulled away his last remaining clothes – at which point he sank his open mouth upon the aching flesh before him. For all the fact that the Dutch lad had wanked that morning, his cock was now already aching in sticky anticipation, and before he could really fully comprehend what was happening to him, he found his hard, uncompromising shaft striking the back of the young footballer's throat. As such, he gasped in almost uncontrollable delight – perhaps thinking that this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, which he would forever look back upon with a gross sense of total disbelief.
But there was no time for quiet, passive reflection. Cocks were stiff, balls were tight ... and Gareth wanted to pierce that sweet, young butt-hole of Will's more than he had ever wanted to do anything before. What's more, the rasp of the Dutch lad's breath seemed to indicate that he wanted it too. The air around them was heated, their skin glistened with sweat and fury, and slipping a condom over his engrossed weapon, the footballer began to lube the younger guy's crack with spit. A moment or more on and he had thrown Will's hairy legs over his shoulders and was pushing himself into that ring of fire.
Fucking hell!' exclaimed Gareth with unrestrained lust, wanking Will's pulsing cock as he screwed the fellow. I wanna shoot my cream inside you! Did you know that? As soon as I saw you ... I knew that's what I wanted to do!'
His lover could hardly reply – his breath stolen from him as the footballer eased his pole deep inside him. But the truth was that he felt exactly the same way. It had been lust at first sight – truly, madly, deeply. And all the risks in the world clearly weren't going to prevent either of them from grasping this particular opportunity.
This was always destined to be the very briefest of encounters, and as if to prove the point, both lads were brimming with plentiful quantities of spunk before either had chance to think otherwise. So it was that Will started to pump a fine fountain of love-juice across his belly, whilst Gareth grunted and groaned the entire contents of his furry balls inside the younger lad's butt – the rubber barely managing to contain the gush of milk. The session had been short, but very sweet, and lingering for a kiss, both parties now wished with all their heart that they might do it all over again.
But they did not have time. Will had to get back to work – though in fact he was late already. And Gareth, it turned out, had a training session that afternoon. As such, it was a case of having to get their clothes back on, before shooting straight back into the car and back to the training ground.
`You live round here, Will?' Gareth quipped, as he pulled the Alfa-Romeo to a halt.
`I work in Red Heaven ...' the Dutch lad replied – perhaps without thinking.
`You're kidding?'
`And I'm fifteen minutes late!'
`Do you want me to come and tell them I held you up?' Gareth smiled.
Will glanced across at him in apparent disbelief. You fucked me ...' he murmured. You actually fucked me!'
`You got a problem with that?'
`No! Fucking hell, no!'
`Then I'd like to fuck you again sometime – if that's okay with you ...'
Will opened the car door. `I had better go ...' he stuttered.
`I'll see you again?' the soccer-star urged, as his companion stepped dreamily out of the vehicle.
But the Dutch lad never replied. Instead, he gave a rather nervous wave as he crossed the front of the car, and then ran as quickly as he could – still totally bewildered as to what had actually happened to him.
One thing was for sure. Will Brandt was never going to look at those pictures of Gareth Hicks in the shop in the quite the same light again!