Date: Sat, 11 Aug 2007 15:43:48 -0700
From: Curtis F <curtiswriter@gmail.com>
Subject: Dmitry, Robby, and Me part 1

Disclaimer:

The following story is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to imply
anything about the sexual orientation of the celebrities mentioned in the
story, and the author does not have any personal knowledge of their private
lives.

This story contains graphic depictions of sexual acts between adult males.
If this offends you, or if it is illegal for you to read such materials
where you are located, please do not continue.

The usual disclaimers about having unprotected sex apply.  Just because my
characters are doing it, doesn't mean you should be.



It all started simply enough.  I finally made the drive to Sacramento to
watch a Sacramento Capitals World Team Tennis Match.  I had lived in
Northern California for 12 years, and I've been a tennis fan for my whole
life.  Yet, every year it seemed like the season came and went so fast that
I never managed to catch a match.  But this year, I planned ahead of time,
and even coordinated with my older sister who lived just outside
Sacramento.  She lives on the other side of the city, so we drove
separately and met at the Club.

The match was a blast.  World Team Tennis is very different from regular
tennis tournaments.  They play loud music on the changeovers and encourage
the crowd to be as rowdy as possible.  The players are more relaxed and
seem to have a lot of fun.  Even so, the quality of the tennis was great
and the players really wanted to win.  This was the last match of the
regular season.  The Caps were playing the team from Newport Beach and
needed a win to make the playoffs.

It came down to the last match of the night: men's doubles.  The top male
player for the Caps was Dmitry Tursunov.  Tursunov was born in Russia but
had been raised just outside of Sacramento since he was 7 years old.
Russian or not, he was the local favorite, and the crowd loved him.
Dmitry's doubles partner was Robby Ginepri who was born and raised outside
of Atlanta, GA.  They were up against a tough up-and-coming doubles team
from Belgium or the Netherlands or something.  The visitors jumped out to
an early lead, but with the crowd urging them on, Dmitry and Robby lifted
their games and pulled out a thrilling come-from-behind win.

After winning match point, the stadium exploded.  The fans jumped up and
down, and Dmitry and Robby pulled their shirts over their heads and ran
around the court like they were soccer players who just scored a goal.  I
was thoroughly enjoying this part of the match.  I had nicknamed them
"Dreamy Dmitry" and "Hot Robby", and every gay tennis fan I knew had a huge
crush on at least one of them.  Personally, I loved them both.  Robby had a
dark hair, dark eyes, and a deep tan.  He had a beautiful hairy chest and a
deep sultry voice.  I tend to prefer hairy guys, so he was very much my
type.  Dmitry, on the other hand, had blonde curly hair, blue eyes, and
only a hint of blonde hair sprinkled across his taught torso.  He had a
fun-loving personality and a killer smile that could charm anyone - male or
female, gay or straight.

Dmitry and Robby did a victory lap around the court, high-fiving all the
fans in the front rows.  After they finished their lap, Dmitry jumped up
into Robby's arms and gave Robby a big kiss on the lips.  Dmitry's legs
were wrapped around Robby's waist and Robby was holding Dmitry up with his
ass cradled in his hands.  The Russian was known for being a bit of a
clown, so the crowd laughed and took it in stride.  I pulled out my camera
and snapped a few pictures, figuring it would make great jerk off material.
Through the lens of my camera, I saw Dmitry's hand brush across Robby's
hairy belly.  Robby moved the Russian's hand away, but there seemed to be a
certain amount of intimacy to their movements.  Before my overactive
imagination could go too far, an announcement came over the public address
system.

"The winner of tonight's drawing is the lucky fan in Section D, Row 4, Seat
15!"  A spotlight was suddenly focused on me.  It was my seat.  "This lucky
fan will get a personal tour of the Club from our own Sacramento Capitals
players.  Let's give him a round of applause!"

My sister gave me a hug and I felt my face turn flush.  The whole crowd was
looking at me and cheering.  My embarrassment turned to excitement when I
looked down at the court to see Dmitry and Robby, bare-chested, looking up
at me and applauding.  I was actually going to get to meet these guys!

The crowd shuffled out and my sister said good-night (she had to relieve
the babysitter), before I knew it, I was being escorted to the court by a
perky Caps P.R. woman.  Robby and Dmitry sat next to the court, drinking
Gatorade and talking tennis with the two female players on the team, a 17
year-old Russian up-and-comer and a veteran doubles specialist from
Australia with a mullet.  Dmitry seemed to be flirting with the Russian
girl.  I figured that he was banging her and tried to forget the kiss he
planted on Hot Robby.

My knees were wobbly as I crossed the court.  I'm only 5'8" tall, and even
the women were taller than me.  I sucked in my beer belly, hoping it would
make me look like an actual tennis player.  My cubbish build works fine for
me when I'm out at the bear bars, but I was about to meet world-class
athletes.  I wanted to make a good first impression.

I was introduced to the women first.  They were cordial, but they wasted no
time before they excused themselves.  The Australian left with her
girlfriend, and the Russian girl walked away with her cell phone in her
ear.  My excitement faded as I realized that these players had no interest
in chatting with a star struck fan.

The P.R. woman began to look nervous and upset.  "It looks like the women
had plans for this evening.  Hopefully the guys will have a few minutes to
stick around and chat."  She shot a pleading look towards Dmitry.

"Of course," Dmitry responded, smiling broadly.  He jumped from his chair
and shook my right hand while he placed his left hand on my shoulder.  His
baby blues locked on my brown eyes.  "Those girls are boring.  It's more
fun to hang out with the guys."

He looked Robby's way.  "Right, Robby?"

Robby shot an uncomfortable look back at Dmitry.  There was definitely some
tension there, and I was intrigued.  Robby could tell that I knew something
was up, so he spoke up to change the subject.  "So, do you live here in
Sacramento?"

"Nope," I answered, "I live in San Francisco - in The Castro."

"Ah!" Dmitry raised an eyebrow.  "So you're gay, then."

"Dude!" Robby scolded his doubles partner.

"It's cool," I said.  "Yep, I am gay."

"Robby grew up in the South," Dmitry explained, "he thinks it's best not to
talk about such things."

"Whatever," Robby turned and headed off the court, "you liberal
Californians can figure out how to save the world.  I need to go soak in
the hot tub."

I was alone on the court with the handsome blonde Russian.  Dmitry turned
to me, his blue eyes sparkling deviously.  "OK, you won a tour of the
facility with a tennis pro, and it looks like I'm the only one left to give
it to you."  I smirked at his choice of words.  "Let's start with the
locker room, I need a shower."

Dmitry put his hand in the small of my back to direct me off the court.  He
kept his hand on me as we walked down the poorly lit hallway the leads to
the men's locker room.  He began to move his hand further south.  He
started to caress the top of my ass crack with his fingers.

Our pace slowed as I looked up at him to take him in.  He was about six
feet tall with a mess of short, blonde curls on the top of his head.  He
never put his shirt back on, so I got a good long look at his lean athletic
chest, covered with only the slightest amount of blonde hair.  He had
perfect six-pack abs, and small, flat nipples.  I felt my hard on pressing
against my shorts, begging for escape.

When we reached the locker room door, I grabbed Dmitry by the back of the
neck, pulled his face to mine, and gave him a deep, passionate kiss.  He
responded in kind, and our tongues explored each other's mouths.  The kiss
lasted for minutes.  We would've devoured each other if we could have.
Dmitry's hand slid farther down my ass, and I felt his finger pressing
against the pucker of my ass hole.

Reluctantly, we pulled our lips apart.  "You're an amazing kisser," Dmitry
whispered, his blue eyes gazed into mine.

"It takes two, handsome."  I shoved my hands down the front of his shorts.
His cock was semi-hard, and grew in my hands.

"C'mon," he said, "let's hit the showers.  I stink."

"Yes you do."  I buried my face into his armpit.  The smell and taste of
him made me dizzy.  I pushed his back against the wall and began to assault
his left pit with my mouth - licking, sucking, biting.  I was taken over by
lust.  I felt my cock pushing out of the top of my shorts, and his was
fully hard in my hand.  It didn't even matter that the hard cock in my hand
belonged to a tennis star.  I just wanted this body that I was pressed
against.  Every inch of it.

I finished cleaning his left pit and moved to the right one.  His knees
buckled at the sensation of my tongue against the tender skin, and I had to
grab hold of his waist to hold him up.  He looked down at me dizzily.
"Let's hit the shower.  I need to cool down."

I sniffed the musky scent of his crotch on my fingers.  He made a face.
"How do I smell?  Pretty gross, I'll bet."

"You smell fucking great.  You smell like a man."  I licked my fingers.
"How does my ass smell on your fingers?"

Dmitry made another face.  "I'm not into dirty stuff, unless it's with a
chick."

"Yeah?  Well, tonight's going to be different."  I grabbed his hand and put
it up to his nose.  He pretended to fight me, just enough to turn me on.
"And," I continued, "this is the last time I want to hear about sex with
women, unless you're telling me how much better I suck cock."

He took a whiff of the finger that he had pressed into my butt.  "Mmm.
Your ass smells good.  Almost as good as a girl's."  He smirked.

I went straight for his chest and bit down hard on his right nipped.
Dmitry moaned for a moment, and then he smiled.  "Was that supposed to be a
punishment?  That just gets my dick leaking."

I looked down at his shorts.  There was a wet precum stain on the front of
his shorts, and his dick was rock hard.  "That's okay," I growled, "I'll
punish your ass later."

He shook his head and smiled.  "I don't get fucked.  You're the
Gay-Castro-Man.  That's your job.  I love to fuck."

I didn't say anything.  I just pushed him through the locker room door.  I
knew my cum would be dripping out of his ass soon enough.