Date: Sat, 29 Oct 2016 19:01:20 +0100
From: Christopher Hudson <christopherhudson1970@gmail.com>
Subject: WHEN SATURDAY CUMS 15

The morning of Valentine's Day arrived -- and with it, the prospect of a
lonely, unromantic occasion for Will Brandt, who naturally could expect
little in the way of romance from Drew Andrews. The older man, after all,
had little (if indeed any) liking for the fineries of love and courtship.
He liked sex -- hard, unadulterated, meaningless sex -- and was not about to
waste his time trying to woo a young man who readily provided him with such
a diet anyway. If Will wanted romance then he could go and piss off and
find someone else -- but given the fact that no-one in their right mind
would want the sad loser (so he thought), he didn't feel he needed to worry
too much about that happening. No, the young Dutchman was there for him to
use and abuse -- a fact that he had rather relished pointing out to the
fellow during the days leading up to February the fourteenth. And whilst
Will was saddened by such pointed revelations, his genuine feelings of
worthlessness were such that he took such affront very much on the chin.
Drew was right, no-one else would* ever* want him -- a point that had been
clarified all the more by Gareth's painful snub. As such, he had little
choice but to accept his role in life: as a passive subservient, whose role
was merely to serve his master's twisted sexual whims and fancies as and
when the loveless Drew saw fit.

               And as if to prove the point, something happened at work
that morning that appeared at the time only to confirm how sick Drew
Michaels actually was and how much he enjoyed trifling with Will's fragile
emotions. Having spent the previous week coldly fucking the living
daylights out of the lad -- and taking the opportunity each time to point
out how bloody useless the youngster was in bed and how kind it was of him
to take personal pity on the fellow -- a bouquet of red roses arrived at *Red
Heaven*, whose intent seemed only to be to screw Will's mind up all the
more. Anonymously addressed and bearing the question `*Will* ... you be my
Valentine?', it was cast in a handwriting that the lad did not at all
recognise and the Dutchman could only assume it was yet another of his
lover's puerile games. As such, he took obvious exception to the delivery --
much to the confusion of the dizzy Michelle, whose curiosity was brimming
to overflowing and who was naturally too stupid to know when to draw the
line under her enquiries.

               `Well,' she drooled in her usual silly manner, `which young
girl's taken a shine to you, ay?'

               `I would be having no idea!' Will exclaimed sternly -- his
usually quite excellent grasp of English grammar apparently suddenly
affected by his shortened temper. It was a somewhat aggrieved disposition
that was made only worse by Michelle's inquisitiveness, and within minutes
of the flowers' arrival, the lad was ready to throttle the girl (as well as
Drew, who he knew only too well would be savouring every minute of his
present discomfort).

               In the end, of course, Will had little option but to make
some form of explanation -- though it bore little relation to reality.
`Truth is,' he explained, `they're from this girl I've been seeing -- but
I've finished with her now ...'

               `Well,' sighed Michelle, chewing gum at the same time, `it
doesn't look like she's got the message!'

               `No ...' replied Will, with a vacuous air. `No -- it doesn't ...'

               At which point he told the girl that she could have the
roses. After all, he didn't want them and it seemed a shame to throw them
away.

               She protested that she didn't want them -- a little too much,
perhaps -- but eventually she `reluctantly' conceded. For as Will himself
had said, it was a pity that such a beautiful bouquet should go to waste.

               And that was that. Michelle was happy to have got some
flowers on Valentine's Day (even if they were someone else's cast-offs),
whilst Will tried desperately to busy himself with work in an attempt to
forget his current problems.

               For all his activity, however, his mind was doing overtime --
slipping into the sort of depression that he had fought many times before
in his short life. Indeed, by the close of the working day he was feeling
decidedly morose -- to such an extent that, upon arriving back at his flat,
he did little but collapse onto his bed so as to slip into a deep,
dreamless slumber.

               He did not awake for several hours -- and even then it was
perhaps only because someone was knocking on his door. Not that he felt
inclined to answer it at first. Instead, he lay quite motionless in his
darkened room, hoping to goodness that whoever it was (Drew, no doubt)
would leave him alone and go away. It was a wish, however, that appeared to
go unfulfilled, for the knocking still continued and with a determination
that merely served to add to Will's present angst.

               `What the fuck do you want, Drew?!' he finally exploded, as
he jumped up, switched on the light and opened the door. `Can't you tell I
want to be --'

               He suddenly stopped dead in his tracks -- and why? Well,
because glancing out into the corridor beyond, he had unexpectedly realised
that it wasn't Drew Michaels that he was dealing with here ...

               `Gareth ...' he ejaculated -- almost without thought. `What the
...?'

               The footballer -- dressed as he was in a trendy and rather
expensive looking overcoat -- appeared sheepish (in total contrast to the
persistence he had displayed only moments before. `Will ...' he stuttered in
reply.

               The Dutch lad didn't know whether to laugh or cry, whether
to embrace him or shut the door in his face. `You've had your hair cut ...'
he whimpered finally -- totally lost as to what to say.

               Gareth brushed his fingers across his fuzz, but didn't say
anything about having had it done in an attempt to free himself from his
past. `It's easier to manage ...' he smiled -- a toothy grin that did little
but melt Will's heart.

               A moment or two of almost embarrassed silence broke between
them, until Gareth finally found the courage to speak again. `You mentioned
Drew ...' he remarked with a distinct hesitancy.

               `I did?'

               `Yes -- as you were answering the door,' the soccer-star
insisted, recalling the history that Will shared with his ex. `You still
seeing him?'

               A look of pure embarrassment clouded the young man's face --
embarrassment that he was seeing Drew again, horror that Gareth might think
that he'd been seeing the man even at the height of their own affair. `I
did a stupid thing,' he admitted.

               `Tell me about it!' Gareth laughed nervously. `I did a
stupid thing once, too ...'

               `I went to see him,' he started sadly, before continuing
with a tirade of everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks --
and this with them both stood at the doorway still. `It was stupid, I
know,' he carried on. `I hate the man -- and I know he does not care for me.
But I felt that I deserved him, in a strange sort of way -- after what
happened ...

               `By the way,' he abruptly remarked, `how did you know I
lived here? I do not think I have ever told you ...'

               The footballer smiled. `I have my spies ...' he admitted
vaguely.

               Will nodded his head -- though he was still none the wiser.
`So what was the stupid thing *you* did?' he quipped.

               Gareth glanced down at his feet, as if to gain the courage
to speak, then gazed up into Will's dark eyes. `I got rid of the one person
I've ever met who has ever meant anything to me,' he sighed. `And since
then, all I've been able to wish is that I could somehow turn back the
clock and change things ...'

               The younger lad wished at this point that he was of the
disposition to prolong Gareth's obvious agony -- but somehow, weak as he
was, that had never been his style. Instead, he found a smile creeping up
on him, and before he knew it, had invited the fellow into the room.

               The soccer-ace was as relieved as he was horny -- though as
this stage he thought it wise not to underline the point. Instead, he
glanced around the room -- seemingly puzzled about something, though he
didn't readily admit anything.

               `You okay?' Will queried -- now aware of the fellow's
bewilderment.

               Gareth turned and smiled. `*Will* ... you be my Valentine ...?'  he
teased.

               For a second the younger lad simply looked bemused -- before
the meaning of the question at last began to dawn. `It was you ...' he gasped
-- realising now where the roses had come from. `But I thought ...'

               The footballer was not Brain of Britain, but he was no fool
either. `You thought they were from Drew, didn't you?'

               Will grimaced. `I gave them away ...' he admitted.

               `Which explains why I can't see them here ...' Gareth laughed.

               Such merriment did not last long, however. Before either man
knew it, a somewhat impenetrable silence had descended upon them again, as
each now appeared to contemplate the apparent seriousness of their
situation. For the issues that had divided them before had not gone away.
Rather they remained as real and unresolved as ever before, and though both
of them were now consumed with fresh carnal desire, there was no denying
the fact that sex might merely further complicate an already confused and
muddled situation.

               But of course asking these two horny studs to refrain from
their impending sexual antics was almost akin to asking Sir Alex Ferguson
to give his knighthood to Arsene Wenger, or asking Roy Keane to invite Mick
McCarthy round for Christmas dinner  -- a sheer impossibility that not even
the bravest soul would counter. As such, there still appeared a certain
naturalness about their movement towards each other -- dallying ever nearer
and nearer, though appearing to hold back from the ultimate goal of
physical contact until they had reached the point where their every bone
and sinew was crying out for just that!

               Their fingers finally united -- clasping each other and
drawing their bodies so close that it seemed not even a hair could've
passed between them. `I'm sorry about the flowers ...' Will finally sighed --
an almost lamentable apology, that Gareth himself seemed almost to take
pleasure in ignoring by giving him a full-blown kiss upon the lips instead.

               Before either lad really knew what was happening, their lips
were opening out like rare, fresh flowers -- their tongues slowly brushing
against each other, before pushing on into the moist, wet darkness that lay
before them. Their hands, meantime, caressed and searched ... pulling away at
whatever clothes lay between them and the delightful touch of warm, young
skin.

               And then, just as it seemed that the two of them would get
completely carried away with the whole situation, Gareth appeared to pull
back for a moment. `Will,' he sighed, looking deep into his eyes and gently
toying with the Dutchman's piercing in almost nervous fashion, `I wanna
tell you how sorry I am -- you know, for what I said to you ...'

               Will could hardly deny the pain that the fellow had caused
him and the smile that he gave in return was an admittedly timid affair.
`You hurt me,' he confessed -- his cock pounding away in his jeans as he
spoke. `You really did. But I forgive you, Gareth. I forgive you because I
love you more than I have ever loved anyone -- anyone I have ever met ...'

               Neither of them could've actually said where they went from
this point -- at least not in the long term. There were so many obstacles
before them, so many barriers to prevent them from a full expression of
their natures. And yet both knew that each represented what the other
wanted -- more than anything else that this vain world could offer.

               But that, of course, was the whole crux of their problem!

               For the immediate moment, however, they appeared content to
put aside their problems, as they stripped away to their boxers and
tee-shirts and then fell down together upon Will's bed. By now, of course,
both guys were supporting the stiffest, most engorged hard-ons that one
could even begin to imagine -- but that was hardly something either of them
were about to complain about. After all, both Will and Gareth were big fans
of hard, throbbing cocks -- especially each others'!

               The tension between them was now almost electric, but for a
moment they simply lay together and marvelled in the sudden realisation of
what had happened that evening. `I can't believe you're here ...' Will
sighed, trailing his hand across his lover's taut, young body and noting
that Gareth already boasted something of a wet, sticky patch on his boxers.
Truth was he was dying to get his lips around the footballer's man-rod, but
sensed that taking things steadily was probably for the best under the
circumstances. All the same, the pounding in his own groin told him that he
wouldn't be able to resist the temptation held out before him for too long
-- abstinence never having been his strong point!

               `I'm sorry that I accused you of only loving me for who I am
--' Gareth finally began.

               But Will shushed him down almost at once, leaning over him
and casting a finger upon his lips. `Gareth,' he sighed, `*of course* I
love you for who you are! Not because you're a famous footballer, not
because you're rich and have a nice house, not because I think you're some
sort of meal-ticket, as they say! No, I love you because you're you -- and I
would still love you even if you were none of these things ...'

               His words seemed almost to hang on the air for a moment or
two, with a degree of two of expectancy. And then suddenly, all the
hesitancy that had so far marked their encounter appeared to dissipate. The
flood-gates that had stood between them were breached, and feeding off each
others' faces with a blast of sexual hunger that was almost enough to steal
one's breath, the two finally began to engage in the sort of feverish
exploration of their hard, horny bodies that they had been craving for ever
since Will had first opened to the door.

               What items of clothes that still remained were pulled
desperately away, as their hearts began to race, their throats started to
dry and their breathing became shallower with the gaining tide of
excitement. Within what seemed like seconds, the pair were as raw and naked
as the day they had been born -- their hardness now well and truly out into
the open (as indeed it should be!) No wonder then that Will's hand should
now have crept its way across the dark patch of curly hair in Gareth's
crotch -- his fingers reaching out to grasp the solid pole that stood out
proudly in all its crimson glory.

               Will could have almost cried for joy as he moved down the
bed to examine Gareth's meaty offering -- in a manner that suggested he was
still not sure whether all this was for real. He arched his head towards
its moist, sweaty nature, sniffing it almost like an animal to remind
himself of what he had been missing these past few weeks, then moved back a
little as if to reconfirm its regal splendour in his mind's eye once again.
God, it was a fucking gorgeous shaft -- seven-and-a-half inches of pure,
unadulterated manly pleasure, from its firm, hairy base right up to the tip
of its lovely skinned crown. For a minute or two, however, the youngster
appeared to hold back from kissing and sucking the beast -- his reticence
the result, not of any uncertainty on his part, but of his desire to
prolong an experience that he honestly never imagined (until about ten
minutes previous) would ever, ever happen again!

               And then the urge to embrace Gareth's handsome dick with his
lips slowly overcame the fellow -- drawing him closer and closer to the
ultimate consummation of his affection. Pulling back the generous prepuce,
Will rolled his drooling tongue around his mouth, then glanced up with a
smile at the footballer, who by now was simply aching to feel the touch of
warm and generous wetness on his exposed and raging head. An almost wicked
grin formed on the Dutch lad's smooth, sweet face -- but it was only a
passing apparition. After all, he was as desperate to lap that phallus with
his tongue as Gareth was to receive the commendation, and opening wide his
jaws to accommodate the shank, the youngster finally reached his cherished
meal -- slipping and slurping over the swelling grain and slowly pushing
himself over the cap with the sort of candid eagerness one might reserve
only for a special lover on Valentine's night.

               The cock was thick and nourishing -- just as Will had always
remembered it -- and within moments he was acting with such skilful love
that one would have struggled to believe that the two fellows had ever been
apart. Indeed, any observer on their love-making would surely have sworn
that Gareth's knob and Will's cock had a defined naturalness about them
that would've made one think that they were almost made for one another --
which in all fairness they probably were! For when all was said and done,
Will loved nothing better than to have his mouth open and engaged upon his
lover's manhood, whilst Gareth, whose ability to oblige such luxury might
have been almost legendary, was only too eager to allow the youngster his
pleasure.

               That said, the lad was undeniably frisky as fuck himself and
could barely contain his own desire to slip his red, silky lips upon Will's
pulsing member -- which at present was going to waste in the young man's
groin. Not for much longer, though -- and despite the fact that they had
only a single bed to satisfy their carnal cravings, the two guys were soon
laid out head-to-toe, their mouths and cocks the only parts of their fine,
young, muscular bodies that appeared to have any importance.

               Not that Will could keep his attention to Gareth's cock
alone, for by this stage he was gradually turning some of his attention to
his lover's big, fat balls -- brimming with juicy cream and churning in
anticipation of the sure-fire eruption to follow. His tongue trailed the
underside of the soccer star's love-handle, then bristled down towards
those two low-hanging, hairy orbs, which even now were aching from desire.
Yet the discomfort they felt from an undeniable over-production of man-milk
was nothing in comparison to the wanton pleasure that they gained from
being sucked hard into Will's hungry mouth -- a sensation that almost
bordered on sadistic amusement. Indeed, noting that the fellow groaned and
arched his back each time he played with those rich and fertile bollocks,
Will could not refrain from rolling them over on his tongue the more. They
were once again his now, after all -- and the glint in his chocolate eye
appeared to indicate that he was about to make the most of such dear
fortune.

               Ultimately, however, his desire was for them to make love.
Not just to fuck, in the cold and heartless fashion that Drew appeared to
adore, but to enact the sort of true, self-sacrificing union that only two
men who love and worship one other can encompass. As such, it was almost a
magical moment for Will when Gareth finally drew his attention to his
boyfriend's butt-hole -- licking his one digit, before steadily working his
way through the tight, little sphincter that guarded the youngster's
pleasure-dome. From that point on, it was merely a case of easing more and
more fingers past the muscular ring -- with Will gasping for breath in sheer
delight of it all. By the time Gareth was nigh on fisting the lad's rump,
the youngster was on cloud nine -- calling for his friend to replace the
hand with hard cock, which he knew only too well the older lad could
readily supply.

               Indeed, moments later and the footballer had slipped a
rubber over his drooling shaft and had lubed Will's slit sufficiently to
allow the easiest of entrances. The Dutchman -- laid on his back with his
legs in the air (his favourite position) -- wrapped his arms around Gareth's
neck, then pulled his lover down upon himself. As a result, he was soon
able to rest his feet on the celebrity's rear, so that the two of them were
now embraced in near ball-like fashion -- their bodies slowly gyrating
together in growing waves of passion. Having been separated for several
weeks, they were at last re-united, and though their location was perhaps
not ideal (Will's one room flat not being the most salubrious of
backdrops), it was the fact that they were together that surely mattered.
Indeed, it is questionable whether either lad had really taken note of
their present surroundings -- for neither appeared to care for anything
other than their present carnal satisfaction and that, it seemed, could be
achieved anywhere!

               Gareth's firm, unrelenting flesh was now thrashing the
crimson lips of Will's young arse-hole -- digging deeper into his guts with
every passing stroke of his pen. Despite such intensity, however, the young
foreigner appeared unable to encourage his lover enough, and hugging the
soccer-star ever more tightly, he begged for his friend to express his love
as wantonly as possible. For Will desperately wanted to know that Gareth
loved and wanted him -- and all the more so given their recent separation.
Insecure to the end, it seemed, he needed now to feel his boyfriend's
affections in purely physical terms, and finally sensing the crack of the
footballer's hairy balls upon his own, he seemed be satisfied at last that
he was loved and wanted for all the best of reasons (a testimony that Drew,
that life-long user, could never have given him).

               `Oh God, I love you, Gareth ...' he declared, drawing his
lover's head back a moment so as to look into his eyes.

               `I love you, too, Will ...' came back the somewhat rasping
response. `That's why I came back ... because I realised how much I do ...'

               They kissed once more -- their mouths each submitting to the
attention and demands of the other -- but it was pretty self-evident that
their fusion was but leading to a single point. Indeed, before Will really
had chance to make any further comment, his lover had pulled his cock from
its cherished bounds and was arching his back in anticipation of the flood
was welling out of his balls. A grunt or two on and Gareth's knob-head was
bursting -- wad after heavy wad cascading from the eye-hole and splattering
relentlessly on Will's smooth flesh below. `Oh fuck!' he heaved, as yet
more cum erupted from his balls in volcanic splendour. `Oh, I love you ...
fuck, I love you, Will ...'

               And then, as if to prove that the affection was
reciprocated, the younger lad (who had now started to rub his shaft up and
down as well) started to spume in a similar pattern -- albeit over himself,
of course. Not that Gareth was going to miss out on the good fun hereby
presenting itself, and bending down, he trailed his tongue across Will's
sticky, cum-laded belly. Finally (and with a mouth brimming with cum), he
reached up to kiss his man -- an act that surely served to cement their
deep-felt bond on this Valentine's night.

               Yet it was still with a sense of futile hope that they
together afterwards. True, they loved each other dearly -- but, when all was
said and done, would that really be enough to help them overcome the
problems that they faced together?

               As so often in life, only the course of time would tell.