Date: Fri, 16 Sep 2016 19:48:35 +0100
From: Christopher Hudson <christopherhudson1970@gmail.com>
Subject: WHEN SATURDAY CUMS 13

So what of Will Brandt? What had that lovely young Dutch lad been up to
since his affair with Gareth Hicks had burnt itself out? Well initially,
not a great deal. To be honest, the shock of losing his handsome, well-hung
lover had quite simply numbed the boy into a sense of total disbelief.
After all, one moment he had been sharing every free second of his life
with the most wonderful being he had ever met in his life, the next, all
those safe assumptions had come crashing down around him, leaving but a
scattering of memories and unfulfilled dreams. No wonder then that he
should've spent the next few days in bed – scarcely eating, never once
mustering a wank and totally unable to face the prospect of a return to
work, where of course he would be faced by a constant barrage of reminders
of what might have been.
    And then, just as he had reached his basest ebb – when his self-worth
was at the lowest point he could possibly ever remember – who should step
back into his life but Drew Michaels. The timing (for Will, at least)
simply could not have been worse, for having put up such brave resistance
to the fellow in recent weeks, he now once again found himself vulnerable
and exposed. Years of misuse and desecration suddenly gushed to the surface
of his insecure psyche, and within minutes of meeting up with his ex, found
himself totally under the influence of the guy's manipulations. He was – as
had so often been the case in the past – utterly exposed, and found what
little wealth of resistance he had stored was quickly and mercilessly
washed away by the rising tide of Drew's devious machinations.
    Mind, he only had himself to blame, and looking back would surely curse
the lonely, winter's night that he decided to walk to the doors of the
Dungeon. Truth was he had only returned to work that day and had spent
almost all his time in a somewhat vacant doze – his mind totally obsessed
with the giant pictures of Gareth Hicks sprawled around the shop and his
behaviour reminiscent of his colleague, Michelle, who often gave the
impression of someone who was suffering from the early stages of a
degenerative disorder. Having been off work sick for the past few days,
however, he found that no-one questioned him too much about his behaviour –
which was just as well given that he would surely have burst into tears
under interrogation. It was a feeling that continued well into the evening,
and lying on his bed, clutching a `photo of his hero which he had taken
from work that afternoon, he pondered the terrible possibility that life
was not worth living any longer.
    It was in the midst of this despair that he began to consider the one
person in England that had never given up on him – the one person who had
always appeared to want him (albeit out of lust and his desire for power,
rather than for love). That individual, of course, was Drew – sleek,
professional, clean-cut Drew, whose hold over Will had always been most
extraordinary (not least of all when the demons in the younger fellow's
mind were at their most active).
    He slipped a coat on and left his flat, briskly crossing the city
amidst a flurry or two of snow. A short while later and he'd reached the
small black door that descended to the club. Passing through, he made his
way down the flight of stairs beyond, towards the double doors – which, as
always, were jealously guarded by a pair of well-built bouncers. Not that
they were going to let someone like Will Brandt proceed. No, he would have
to try and explain himself – hoping to goodness that at least one of them
would find the decency within them to assist him in his quest.
    Neither proved readily co-operative, however. They confirmed that Drew
was at the club, but both appeared more content at sniggering at the
vagueness of his intent (made all the worse, it would appear, by their
apparent xenophobia).
    `So, Mr. Michaels knows you, you say?' the one exclaimed – tall, dark
and with a smattering of stubble.
    `He does,' Will explained. `Please – I would like you to speak with him
... tell him that I am here ...'        They appeared to ponder his request,
but they were merely teasing him. Then the other fellow – who had longer,
blonder hair than his companion and who evidently fancied himself – made a
suggestion. If Will got on his knees and sucked his cock, then his friend
would go and tell Mr. Michaels that the lad was here and wanted to speak
with him ...
    `Suck your dick?!' the Dutch guy exclaimed – at first unable to believe
his ears.
    The fellow grinned – revealing a gold crown in his lower jaw – then
pulled at his zipper. `You heard me ...' said he.
    Will desperately wanted to tell the guy to go fuck himself, but he was
feeling so low that he'd have basically done anything at that point to get
his way. As such, he did as the bastard suggested – prostrating himself
before the guy, who then pulled out seven inches or so of swelling man-meat.
    As it happened, the fellow's cock was actually rather thick and meaty –
but that was hardly the point. Will, after all, was not feeling turned on
in the slightest, although given his present sense of worthlessness, the
present act seemed almost strangely normal. As such, he found himself
giving head with near-pleasurable relish, trailing his tongue around the
bulging, purple head and feeding the solid rod deeper into his mouth. What
was more, he appeared almost to twinge with delight at the sudden
appearance of the other bouncer's cock, which the dark-haired fellow – who
was a little older than the blond, say in his early thirties – had now
drawn out from his own straining crotch. So it was that Will had two
pulsing shafts to please – both of which were fighting to achieve the
lion's share of his attention. As such, the lad had little choice but to
gorge on one and then the other – hoping that in some way he might prove a
little nearer to achieving his ultimate objective.
    Whether it would or not, however, appeared to depend upon how well the
young man could work those dicks and how much he satisfied their rather
earnest libidos. Spending their working lives barely feet away from the
sort of sexual debauchery that went on behind those double doors meant that
the two fellows were often as not as randy as dogs on heat and the firmness
of their shafts and the plentiful secretion of their balls seemed only to
confirm this fact. As a result, Will did not anticipate having to slurp on
their manful organs for long – which was just as well given that they were
in a public corridor, with the possibility of being disturbed at any
moment. Not that either of the guards appeared to care. All that concerned
them at that moment was that they were enjoying some of the same sort of
fun that the Dungeon's affluent clients were relishing from within.
    It was at this particular point that the youngster started to consider
the prospect of spunk – or, more precisely, where they intended to shoot
their spunk when the inevitable time came to unload their balls of their
white, milky contents. Just as he did so, however, the darker fellow (who
was the bigger of the two in all respects) appeared to retreat – pushing
his cock back into his pants and zipping up his fly, in a manner that
suggested he was already satisfied.
    But it quickly became apparent that that was actually not the case at
all ...
    `I'll stay here,' he proposed to his colleague. `You can go in the room
next door ...' – at which point Will found himself being escorted through a
door to the side, which he had basically failed to notice until this
moment. Nothing further was said, as the door closed behind them and the
lad found himself in what was little more than a store-cupboard, but Will
had the distinct feeling that the next exercise would involve him removing
his own trousers and bending over the table.
    `Right,' sighed the blond guy, with a twinkle in his sapphire eyes, `we
just wanna be quite sure that you're the genuine article. After all, we
don't wanna be upsetting Mr. Michaels unnecessarily now, do we?'
    `You want to fuck me, right?' Will observed, noting that the chap was
stripping away the belt from his trousers.
    `You come here uninvited – you get fucked good and proper! Those are
our rules ...'
    The Dutch lad was not going to resist. Actually, he was going to enjoy
it in a subservient sort of way – though that was clearly what years of
having a relationship with Drew had done to him. As such, he found himself
pulling away at his own jeans – slipping them down his legs and casting
them aside, before obediently presenting his tender little butt-hole to the
blond, blue-eyed stranger by bowing across the table.
    `Well,' drooled the bouncer – perhaps a tad surprised at the
unquestionable compliance of the fellow, `you're quite a little slut on the
quiet, aren't you ...?'
    `I like to think so ...' Will assured him, as the guy knelt down and
started to lap around his horny crack.
    The youngster could not help but shudder at this slight of the fellow's
tongue upon that little crimson pucker, but it was merely the result of
feeling the moist, inquisitive organ ferreting its hungry way into his
precious hole. Not that the bouncer intended to lube the slit for any
longer than was necessary, and before the Dutchman had chance to really
start to relish the experience, the guy had lifted himself back up and was
slipping a rubber over his throbbing seven inches.
    `You ready for a good fucking, boy?' he snarled – a rhetorical question
surely, given that Will appeared to now have precious little choice in the
matter, especially if he wanted to see Drew that evening.
    Indeed, the lad hardly had chance to think of a response when he felt
the head of the guy's meaty cock pushing through his sphincter – attempting
to fill those guts of his as quickly as possible. So it was that he held
his breath and gripped onto the edge of the table before him like a dying
man, as the thrusts from behind gained ever more momentum and the groans
and splutters on the part of the bouncer increased in their intensity.
    `God, your arse needs a good fucking!' he exclaimed. `Real good and
proper, man – you know that?'
    `... Ah, yes ...' the lad gasped – as he felt the guy's cock impale him
harder and deeper.
    But he evidently didn't answer the bouncer confidently enough, for the
bouncer now grasped him by the scruff of the neck and pulled his head back,
like a jockey training an unruly horse. `I said you need a real good
fucking!' he repeated.
    `Oh God, yes!' Will replied – this time with a little more gusto.
    Such confidence appeared only to encourage his rider all the more,
however, and before the youngster knew it, his backside was being pounded
like never before – the guy's hairy, swollen balls thrashing against his
Will's rump with almost a devilish inclination. But for all the violent
nature of the episode, there was something about it that the lad could not
help but find appealing, and turning round to kiss his master on the lips,
he began to gyrate his hips as if to underline his subliminal pleasure.
    Such movement on his part, however, appeared to bring the older fellow
to the point of completion, however – rubbing the fellow's shaft in such a
manner that the man was simply unable to contain his excitement any longer.
`Oh, fucking hell!' he bawled – apparently unconcerned that anyone might
hear them in the corridor beyond (not least of all his work-mate). `God,
I'm gonna shoot my wad! Oh yes, this son of a gun is gonna blast you to
kingdom come!!'
    And with that, he slipped his knob from its tight, young den and pushed
Will aside so that he might squirt the rich contents of his bollocks right
across the vinyl table-top. Blow after heavy blow emerged, and the younger
man could not help but note the look of dear fulfilment in the bouncer's
face. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open almost as a matter of
relief, and all the time his stiff, crimson cock was unburdening itself of
one of the most generous deposits it had probably made in years.
    It was at that point that Will thought the fellow might rescind on the
promise he had made to his mate and would go and fetch Drew Michaels
without giving him the opportunity to screw the young lad too – but he was
to be sadly disappointed. Even prior to the Dutchman having chance to make
the suggestion himself, the blond guy had grunted his appreciation and had
slipped back to his pal, who stormed into the room (whilst pulling away his
trousers), ready for the kill.
    It was pretty self-evident that the man – who was the bulkier, darker
and somewhat hairier of the two – was desperate for a shag, though quite
how desperate Will didn't maybe realise until the fellow had noted his
friend's spunk on the nearby table and had leaned over to trail his tongue
amidst the generous pools of excitement thereabout. Then he stepped nearer
to the young fellow and forced a long, drawn-out smooch on the boy, which
naturally resulted in the blond-haired chap's juices being passed from
mouth to mouth, dribbling over their tongues and out their lips, before
trickling from their manly chins. It was the sort of act that would've
motivated saints to sin, and even Will could not help but register the
appeal of a guy who could pull something like that off. As such, he found
himself unable to prevent himself from giving one of his best winsome
smiles as the older fellow finally pulled away Will's trousers (which at
this point were still around his ankles), picked him up and placed him down
onto the very edge of the table. Indeed, lifting and parting his legs in
anticipation, he sensed that this was about to be the better fuck of the
two (especially since this guy was clearly better endowed!)
    Actually, there was something a little more sophisticated about this
second fellow – maybe even a little more menacing, if truth be known – and
as such Will found himself opening up a little more readily than before, as
the guy slipped his sheathed lance into the very same hole as his mate had
dipped his wick just minutes before. `That good?' the bouncer grinned, as
the youngster threw his legs over the man's shoulders.
    `Yeah,' Will panted, noting that he was being pinned deeper than
before, but finding that it was an infinitely sweeter fuck. `Yeah, that is
good – real good ...' he gasped.
    `You want it deeper?' the top enquired – though in truth Will was gonna
get it deeper whether he liked it or not (and did not even bother with a
reply). Instead, he grasped hold of the edges of the table and grimaced as
the prodding gained intensity with each and every thrust – reaching a
point, in fact, where the lad honestly thought that he might split in two!
That said, at least the slap of yet another set of balls against his own
appeared to confirm that the penetration had reached its peak, and grabbing
hold of his own cock before him, he began to jerk himself to the mix of
discomfort and pleasure that was now his to savour.
    The rub on his prostrate was serving only to encourage Will at this
point, as he played with his own cock – pulling it back and forth and
extending the fold of skin over the moist, scarlet knob-head. He lay back
on the table, amidst the pools of spent cum from his previous shafting – an
act that only served to impale him even further onto the stranger's cock
and which resulted in him bubbling forth with the sort of gusto that only a
young man in his prime like himself can muster.
    Spunk erupted from that solid pole in great globs of manly glory –
spewing across his belly and then reaching up to cover his shirt and jumper
(which had been pushed up over his chest). For all the fact that he would
not have chosen to have been fucked by the two bouncers, the quantity of
the jizz his balls produced appeared to testify a private satisfaction, and
glancing down, he noted that his cock was still firing a great geyser-load
of spume (much to the other fellow's quiet amazement). Mind, by this point
even the older guy was burgeoning on the brink of a sticky cascade, and it
was with something of a deft slip that the youngster somehow managed to
pull himself away before the spunk began to fire. After all, it was bad
enough that he'd plastered his clothes with his own nad-juice, without
staining himself with someone else's! Consequently, it was something of a
grand relief when he saw the fellow explode across the surface of the table
– lashings of creamy white that underlined the wanton pleasure that Will's
butt had quite plainly provided him and a grin on his stubbly face that
confirmed the point still further.
    `You know what, son,' the fellow teased, as they both pulled up their
trousers and checked on their general attire, `I'd have gone and got Mr.
Michaels for you without going through all this business – had you
insisted! But you know what? I reckon you secretly wanted us to screw you
anyway, didn't you? Seems to me you're that sort of horny young man ...'
    Will refrained from comment. He'd done as they requested and he'd
enjoyed it in so far as it went. But now he wanted to see Drew – and idle
banter with the bouncer was not on his agenda. As such, he repeated his
intent – at which point the dark haired fellow appeared to take exception
and threatened to ensure that the Dutch lad would not achieve his
objective. The argument continued as they stepped back out into the
corridor, where the blond-haired fellow joined in the affray – though by
now Will was getting increasingly exasperated, fearing that his efforts
were not be duly rewarded. Little wonder then that some manner of fury was
now entering his voice, as the usually mild-mannered fellow sensed that he
was set to be cheated after all, and stepping forward, he threatened to
take them both on (though he hadn't a snowflake's chance in hell of beating
them).
    Their fracas was getting extremely vocal by this point – and there was
the distinct danger that the Dutchman was about to get his head (or
something worse) kicked in. It was just as well, then, that they were
interrupted by the arrival of a rather beefy, well-dressed gentleman, whom
Will could only assume (given the bouncers' suddenly respectful attitude)
was the club's proprietor. He readily took exception to the scene and
demanded an explanation – upon hearing which he immediately ordered one of
the guards to fetch Mr. Michaels immediately. Moments on and Drew had
emerged from the darkness beyond – bemused at being requested to accompany
the guard and even more surprised to see Will Brandt standing there before
him.
    Drew, however, was not the sort of man to allow his composure to slip
for very long and quickly confirmed that he knew Will – expressing his
apologies to both Mr. Davies, the proprietor and the stern-faced bouncers.
`I'll take the boy home,' he explained, tipping the two look-outs. `He can
get a little excitable sometimes,' he continued – as if Will wasn't even
present – `but I'll make sure it won't happen again ...'
    He pulled angrily at the Dutch lad's arm and Will obligingly followed –
the young man already aware that he was falling into Drew's hypnotic spell.
Had the older chap been calm and understanding then maybe his appeal would
not have been so great, but the youngster was conditioned to his own
self-worthlessness and seemed to be encouraged at being reminded of the
fact. To anyone else, being described as `shit-head' and `tosser' would've
been enough to send them scurrying down the road, wondering why they had
allowed themselves to be buggered for the sake of a man who clearly had no
respect for him whatsoever, but to Will, who knew that Drew loved no-one
but himself, it was merely part of the course.
    `So what do you want, then?' the older guy demanded, having finally
returned to Will's flat on the other side of town.
    The youngster tossed his coat aside – hoping that Drew would not notice
the cum-stains on his pullover. `I wanted to say that I was sorry ... sorry
for what happened between us ...'
    Drew laughed – with more than a hint of mockery. `Ah, so you've come
running back to see me, eh? What's happened? Your new boyfriend given you
the push? Mind, doesn't surprise me – you having such a small dick and all
that!'
    Will did not wish to be reminded of Gareth Hicks – particularly given
that he still considered a kiss from the footballer would still have been
worth a thousand fucks from Drew – and so tried to quickly move the
conversation on. `I do not know what I was thinking ...' he sighed. `You were
always more than generous to me and looked after me when I needed you.'
    `I thought you said you never wanted to have sex with me ever again,
gay-boy?' Drew snarled – unaware that if Will was truly honest with
himself, he still didn't!
    `I ... I was wrong ...' he stuttered.
    The older fellow stepped closer, with a menacing air. `Lucky for you I
hadn't fucked anyone yet at the club, then ...'
    `Lucky me ...' Will sighed.
    Drew reached out and rubbed the younger lad's crotch, grinning from ear
to ear as he did so. `Did you honestly think that a shit like you deserved
someone better than me?' he quipped. `Did you ... ?'
    Will could feel his cock swelling in his jeans, but it was more an
instinctive response than the result of affection. He knew, of course, what
was coming – he'd known it even before he had first left the flat to meet
up with Drew again – but it was not something he really wanted. Sex with
Drew remained an anathema, but now that Gareth had made him realise that he
really was worth nothing more to anyone than a quick and easy lay, he felt
he had little choice but accept his role in life.
    `You haven't answered my question ...' Drew finally reminded him, clearly
distrustful.
    `There has never been anyone else!' Will insisted.
    `You sure ...?'
    `I am sure, Drew.'
    `Good,' the fellow insisted, now that he was barely a hair's-breadth
distance, their faces almost brushing against each other. `Because I'm the
jealous type, gay-boy ... and there's no saying what I might do if I find
you're two-timing me ...'
    `I am not two-timing you ...' Will assured him – confident that he was
telling the truth, but sensing that Drew perhaps knew more about his
relationship with Gareth Hicks than the man was letting on (though maybe it
was only guilt that made him feel that way).
    `That's okay then ...' Drew assured him – before kissing him squarely on
the lips.
    And then –
    And then he fucked Will like he'd hadn't fucked in years! Truth was, of
course, he secretly adored the younger lad and couldn't believe his luck in
finding that their paths had crossed again. All the same, he was not about
to let on his affection – that, after all, would be a sign of weakness. So,
as he slipped a rubber over his cock and thrust the weapon deep inside the
lad, he never once told Will that he loved him. Instead, he thrashed that
tight, hairy butt-hole like he wished to punish it for all the pain and
grief that he felt the youngster had caused him (and also because he
enjoyed the abuse of power).
    He didn't once notice the tears that rolled down the Dutch lad's face
as he screwed that young slit – tears of a young man who longed only for
the touch and sensitivity of someone who truly loved him, but who genuinely
felt that he didn't deserve such fortune. After all, he was nothing more
than a gay-boy, a tosser, a wanker with a small dick, a sad nonentity in
life ...
    ... And above all, a private whore for a man who knew every single one of
his insecurities and who was willing enough to use them to his advantage.