DISCLAIMER - This is a work of pure fiction and fantasy. David Beckham would probably not do what I have them do as described below. He is not gay.
Here is Part 6, let me know what you think: lidon.dyte@gmail.com
DAVID BECKHAM IN MIAMI - PART SIX
New York fashion week was fast approaching, and aspiring designer Victoria Beckham was preparing to leave her Miami home for the airport.
"David!" she called out to her hunky husband as she made her way to the front door. "The car's here David - I'm off!"
David Beckham was sitting in the lounge, nervously waiting for his wife to leave. He dashed over to her and gave her a kiss. "Good luck, darling," he said. "Knock em dead!"
"Thanks - I will," Victoria was too preoccupied with her busy week ahead to notice that her handsome, studly husband seemed tense and was almost ushering her out rather quickly.
The car had barely pulled off the driveway before Beckham had bolted upstairs and into the master bedroom. To say he was tense would be an understatement. Following his seedy encounter in a dingy office several weeks ago, the hunky tanned hetero sportsman had developed an insatiable appetite for anal play and the hunger had become intense.
It had not always been this way. In the past, he had been aware that his great athletic physique and handsome chisled facial features had sexual appeal to his substantial following of gay men. He had enjoyed showing off his sublime body during the many photoshoots he had done during his career, smirking at the camp "fashion queers" (as he thought of them) as their lingering eyes and stammering voices betrayed their nervousness at being in the presence of such a god. He loved the power he had to set their pulses racing with a cheeky grin and a playful wink, which was enough to get them going and make Beckham chuckle at the control he had over everyone around him. He would smile to himself, knowing the effect he was having, frustrating these soft gay men as he almost flirted with them, taunting them with his hetero magnificence, knowing that they would never get to do so much as touch his golden tanned and beautifully inked skin. He was a complete god, any everybody knew it, including him. Most importantly, his impressive beefy ass was strictly for looking at, never to be touched by anyone except his wife.
That had all changed. The cocky, proud hetero stud had agreed to give up his body on what he thought was a temporary basis in order to secure a real estate deal that would ensure that his project to build a new stadium in Miami could go ahead. Instead, the encounter had unlocked extreme, animalistic desires that he never knew he had. As much as he hated to admit it, his big, muscular, sporty bubble butt ass was a source of intense pleasure not only for the gay men looking at it (and, more recently, plundering its inner depths with their tongues, fingers and dicks) but also for its hunky and shameful owner, who now craved the incredible sensations of having it rimmed, tongued and fucked on a regular basis.
The worst of it was that, despite his new found love for butt sex, Beckham himself was still a straight man. His handsome face would burn crimson with shame even as he found himself begging for more as his chubby ass was pounded, and an uncomfortable look of reluctance would play across those chisled features as the stud was made to participate in the very gay acts that the other man would inevitably want - particularly kissing. Whilst every man he had approached or been approached by would leap at the chance of taking that famous ass, once they could see the hunky athlete's obvious hunger, they would avail themselves of his other charms - and in most cases, it was that stunningly handsome and famous face. Those brooding, chisled features were every gay man's fantasy - the wolf like piercing eyes, strong jaw and fleshy, well-sculpted nose had such a stong, manly, hetero beauty ... and to persuade their reluctant owner to give them up for a gay man's pleasure, allowing his hot sexy mouth to be taken in a full, passionate french kiss, was an opportunity that no gay man could resist. They had seen that hunky visage staring down at them from billboards with that intense sexual look, full of confidence and hetero machismo, a handsome god looking down on the little people. Now, they had that very same face pressed up against theirs, feeling the hot flesh and manly stubble, their tongues thrashing against each other, even moaning into each others mouths. Such an incredible experience would quickly have Beckham's lover fully primed and ready to complete the act of taking the soccer god's other stunning feature - his hefty muscle butt.
Since his regular lover, Lidon Dyte, was away on business, Beckham's sexual frustration had been steadily growing. Luckily, he had a solution of sorts. He had persuaded Dyte to let him keep the fat, vibrating eight inch dildo that he had been introduced to shortly before his second encounter with Cristiano Ronaldo. Usually kept hidden under the bed in the master bedroom, the deparate stud had taken it out and applied some KY jelly as lube. The hetero hunk shed his clothes in seconds, and began sucking on a couple of his manly fingers. He caught himself in the mirror and felt a stab of shame at the sight of his lithe, tanned form, adourned with the inked artwork, the beautiful features of his handsome face stretched erotically as his hot mouth accomodated those big manly fingers. To his surprise, and further humiliation, his fat cock actually began to plump as he watched himself slicking up his fingers, getting ready to penetrate his studly ass, ultimately for it to accomodate the dildo. Fuck, he thought, I'm actually getting turned on by being a slutty ass whore. He considered turning away from the mirror and getting on with his shameful act as quickly as possible, but soon realised that he couldn't. He actually wanted to watch himself as he submitted to his base lusts and desires, to witness his de-manning - to his horror, he realised, it was enhancing the experience. To be turned on by his own degredation - a further humiliating development!
And so it was in full view of the mirror, taking in every shameful detail, that David Beckham, the hunky hetero superstud, worked the lubed up humming dildo slowly into his ass. The stud watched in shame as the erotic expressions played across his chisled features - his sexy brow furrowing, his mouth twisting as soft moans of pleasure escaped from it. His thick cock soon rose to its full nine inches, precum glistening at its flared head, the meaty pole twitching in response to the anal stimulation.
"Aaaaahhhh," breathed the horny hunk as he worked up a nice slow rhythm with the dildo. "Yeeeaahhh... fuck my ass ... yeeeaaahhh..."
His handsome face flushed yet more with embarrasment as he heard himself speak those degrading words. But yet again, the pang of humiliation was accompanied by a jolt of sexual energy. There was no denying it now - it was not merely the physical stimulation of his silky anal passage that was driving his desires, but also the shame and disgrace at the whoring of his big manly form.
"Fuck yeah," panted the soccer god. "Fuck my big ass ... oh, yeah, take my big ass ..." His big cock bobbed yet more frantically, flicking precum from its head, as its hunky sex-crazed owner spoke those humiliating words!
So caught up in the moment was Beckham that he had not heard the front door creak open, or the footsteps up the stairs. Neither had heard the camp tones calling out "Cooo-eee! Victoria, are you there?" Nothing, in fact, until the bedroom door was cautiously opened, and the queeny voice spoke again: "Hello? Are you in here?"
Beckham yelped out in surprise as he spun around to face the door. Staring back at him in shock was Carlo de Meyer, Victoria's good friend and fellow fashionista. Carlo had been helping Victoria out with her fledgling fashion design business, introducing her to the key players in the fashion world and making helpful suggestions to her own design ideas. He had met David a few times - Becks had been friendly enough but had not really taken notice. To him, Carlo was just another "fashion queer" - someone who would breathlessly fawn over the studly athlete (and who Beckham could tease with a little smile or wink) but otherwise not worthy of the real man's attention.
Carlo was stunned in to silence by the incredible sight before him. When he had first learned about the Beckhams setting up a base in Miami, he had made great efforts to inveigle himself with Victoria, knowing that she would be a great connection to have and that it would be fun to hang out with someone so famous. The fact that he occasionally got to ogle her hunky husband was a not inconsiderable added bonus - and to be sure, Carlo had allowed his gaze to linger on Beckham's impressive form, particularly that spectacular ass which looked so great in the tight designer jeans that Becks favoured. He had only had a few brief conversations with David, but even in those short moments he had felt a flutter as he looked into those dazzling eyes which sparkled with hetero strength and fire, and melted slightly at the stunning smile (Beckham seemed to be always smiling!) on that almost too-handsome face.
That beautiful face looked even more erotic with the expression of surprise and terror that was playing across it now. Naked and kneeling, his oversized cock leaking and wobbling, the lithe musclature nicely shaping under that golden tan skin, Beckham was quite a sight.
"I ... er ... shit!" stammered the helpless hunk.
Carlo quickly processed the scene. His first inclination was to run - to slam the door, calling out "sorry!" and to leave the house - persuading himself that he had caught Beckham getting changed or just out of the shower, rather than buggering himself silly with a big dildo. But then he composed himself, as it dawned on him that he now had the power. This, Carlo thought, could be very interesting indeed.
"Well," Carlo said archly. "I seem to have interrupted you. My apologies." He gave a very subtle smirk and cocked an eyebrow to let Beckham know that he knew exactly what was going on.
"I was, um ... it's not what it looks like," Beckham blustered. "I just, er ..."
"You ... accidentally undressed and started playing with your wife's sex toys," Carlo finished the sentence for him, his voice dripping camply with sarcasm.
Beckham's head dropped and his eyes closed. It was the first time that Carlo had seen a look of defeat and shame on that handsome face. He found it incredibly erotic - and realised that control had shifted from the formerly confident stud to him.
"Look," said Beckham softly. "Please don't tell anyone. Don't tell Victoria. I was just experimenting ... please, she'll go mad."
"Oh, I don't know if I can do that," Carlo said. "As you know, Vicky is a very dear friend to me. We girls tell each other everything. It would take a lot ... for me to break that trust."
The words hung in the air - Beckham's heart sank as he knew what they meant. He had surrendered his famous millionaire body in exchange for a strip of land - now he would have to whore himself out again, to use his tanned muscular physique, his rippling abs, his thick muscular thighs, his chisled face and of course his chunky bubble butt as a bargaining chip, this time to keep his shameful secret safe!
With a sigh, Beckham withdrew the dildo and stood up. "Fine," he said. "If we do this, you don't say anything, OK?"
Carlo was momentarily taken aback at the scene before him - now that Beckham was standing, the full glory of that insanely beautiful body was his to see. The athletic form was stunning - the musclature rippling nicely under that tanned skin which was glistening with sweat, those colossus like thighs built thick with muscle from many years of soccer, the thick cock still erect and bobbling gently as Beckham shifted nervously.
"Um ... wow," he said, struggling to keep his composure. He considered the moral implications for a second - after all, the handsome stud before him was married to his friend. But the sight and sound of this famous hetero hunk now offering up his godlike body was too much for any gay man to turn down. "Well ... fuck. OK!"
Carlo approached Beckam slowly, not quite believing that this was happening. Despite Beckham's clear humiliation, Carlo still felt a little nervous - he had never done anything with a straight guy before, and having one of the most famous straight men in the world as his first experience was certainly going in at the deep end. His nerves soon settled, however, as he moved in for the kiss and Beckham responded by pressing his lips against Carlo's, and then opening his hot, sexy mouth to initiate the full frenching.
Carlo's confidence grew as he settled into the kiss, and his eager hands began to explore the bountious delight before him. Running his hands eagerly over the well-toned flesh of the athlete - the lithe musclature of the back, those beautiful inked arms - the fashion queen's high-pitched moans soon came. Beckham's humiliation grew further as he recogised the sound - those camp "ooohs" and "aaahs" that he heard in the background as the fashion queers purred over him during photo shoots, with him sneering to himself knowing that those desparate homos would never get anywhere near his fantastic form. Now, those very same sounds were echoing in his head as they rose from the camp gay man that he was now passionately frenching! Beckham cursed himself as he realised that this loser would probably have been content just to feel his muscles or even suck his dick - the full kiss was a prize he could have withheld. In his desparation, he had surrendered everything without thinking. When Carlo's marauding hands finally reached the heavy, hefty globes of that chunky bubble butt ass, the squeals of delight that resonated through the passionate french kiss cut like a dagger into Beckham's hetero mind. Of course, to Beckham's dismay, as the humiliation level increased, it fed the shameful hunger within him - and without thinking, he found himself responding to Carlo's shrieks of delight with deeper, manly hetero moans of involuntary pleasure!
As the two men continued their embrace, Carlo began to grind his crotch against Beckham's, his much smaller erection rubbing against Beckham's mighty tool through Carlo's pants, which began to stain from both his precum and the more copious amounts of sex juice that were leaking from the studly soccer star's organ. The grinding increased in its intensity as Beckham, almost on autopilot, responded by rubbing against Carlo with equal vigour, spurred on by Carlo's hands which were now grabbing fistfuls of ass flesh as they continued to grope and mash those immense muscular globes. At last the combined senations emanating from his hands, his mouth and his crotch became too much for Carlo. With one final high-pitched moan into the hunk's hot mouth, the fashion queen shook violently as his orgasm took hold, his hands pulling Beckham towards him from behind as his crotch ground into Beckham's from the front. Spent, he pulled away from the kiss, dazed and smiling.
"Wow," he finally breathed. "That was fucking awesome."
Beckham took a step back - Carlo smiled at the look of complete shame and humiliation which suited that handsome, chilsed face so well.
"Sorry, Becks," Carlo said, "but I am going to have to do that again. That was just too good for a one off special. Victoria doesn't have to know anything ... but your face and body are mine now and I am going to use them again."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Beckham, impatient that his own fucklust had not yet been satisfied, and in fact had only increased at the further humiliation of having surrendered himself to such a camp, queeny gay man of the kind he had once considered a lower form of life. "Are you not going to, erm..."
Carlo frowned slightly as he tried to work it out. Then his expression changed to on of surprise and mischief as he realised what it was.
"Oh ... you thought I was going too fuck you!?" he exclaimed.
He laughed as Beckham hung his head and slowly nodded.
"Sorry, Becks. I never top. You'll have to make do with that," he laughed, gesturing toward the dildo.
Then an idea occured to him. "You know, there's a party tomorrow that I think you'll enjoy," he said. "An exclusive crowd, very discrete. All friends of mine from the fashion world. Anyways, there's a good mix of tops and bottoms - and a few who do both! - so it usually ends up getting pretty ... exciting."
Beckham screwed up his face. "Nah, I don't think so. You've had your fun for now - I'll take care of myself, thanks. And just rememeber to keep you word."
Carlo tried to hide his disappointment. "Well, OK then," he sighed. "It's a shame - everyone there has a great time and, like I say, it's all very discrete. You're not the only married man with a 'secret'."
Beckham shook his head - Carlo sensed that it was time to leave. As he exited the door, he turned and said, "Well, I'll certainly be coming back tomorrow for a repeat service. And ... you should think about coming to the party. Trust me, everybody leaves there satisfied and - well, frankly, you look like you need satisfying, stud!" And then he left.
IN THE NEXT PART: Beckham finds it impossible to get the full release from using the dildo alone and ends up even more horny and frustrated after reluctanty treating Carlo to another hot and heavy makeout and frotting session. Arriving at the party, his heart sinks as he walks into a room of camp, shrieking fashion queers, all salivating over the prospect of getting to enjoy the hunky superstar in a variety of humiliating ways. The soccer stud panics as he recognises a couple of queens from a fashion shoot he did a few weeks ago ... and having set their hearts fluttering with his trademark smile and even a cheeky wink, they are eager to work out their frustrations! They are delighted to find that the once remote and distant object of their lust, whom they could only admire longingly from afar, has become a helpless cock whore, his confident manly smile giving way to horny moans of lust and surrender as he cries out in shameful pleasure at the pounding of his big, muscular, slutty bubble butt ass!