Soccer Day: Becoming a Bottom

Characters are over 18 years old.

.

.

I almost didn't go to Wilson's place to watch the game. His house was in a lowly part of the city, the people stared at my car as if it offended them. But I had nothing to do in that Wednesday, my girlfriend was sick and I needed a good excuse to not go there. I didn't want to get what she had.

I knocked at his door, and he came quickly, and greeted me. I forced myself to hide from my face the disappointment as he took me to his small living room. The place was neat, but too small, the walls had some brown marks, and there was a unpleasant smell that I associated with the word "poor".

Wilson was cool enough, though. Easygoing, and funny, I liked being around him, but maybe not here.

He brought beer, and we started to drink before the game begun. The first half of the game passed by without much excitement, but there had been a lot of friendly trashtalk.

I thought it was a good time to give back. I offered him to watch the next game in my house. That moment, he gave me a funny look, and complained that he has never been invited before. I realize it's true. A lot of times, me and my friends watched the game at my place, but I never asked Wilson.

He is smiling, but I sense some resentment. He accepted though, a few minutes later. The second half of the game was about to start.

Wilson asked me if he could take off his shirt, and all I could do was nod. It was impossible not to watch, his body was impressive, and I felt a little jealous for never have been able to accomplish that. His skin was dark but a bit pale around his well defined abs.

I gulped down my beer. I got the sense for a moment that he wanted me to look. Right about then I felt like I was in some kind of danger, but I wasn't afraid. My heart started to beat just a little faster.

My team scored a goal, and it was my turn to trashtalk him. He didn't take it well, and started to insult my team. There had always been talk about how my team was a favorite from the referees.

I told him that it was loser bullshit, that my team was the best, that he was just resentful. He stared at me for a moment, and seemed to take things personal. He called me a show off, a playboy who thought too highly of myself.

What the hell? What had that to do with the game?

I felt like going home. The silence just heightened the absurdity of his outburst. I didn't move. The game kept going.

I wanted to say something, to defend myself, so I looked at him, and stopped. His hand was on his crotch. A normal enough gesture for a guy. I didn't know why it bothered me. There he was, shirtless, tanned, and grabbing his large volume. He seemed to intent on the game.

My anger dissipates as I muser on my own reaction. I was actually trying to peek. Excited about it. Something was wrong with me. Guys didn't try to peek at other guy's crotch. There was something tempting about that.

He was still not looking at me. As if he was allowing me a forbidden snack. Wait, was his volume bigger? Was his cock getting hard?

I gave a little jump as he said something. A comment about the masculinity of my team players. Why this comment now? I was so ashamed I couldn't answer back. He laughed and looked at me, and I laughed back, feeling vulnerable. He kept at the offensive comments, calling my team a bunch of pussies, that they were the kind of guys that like to bend over, to bite the pillows. My cock got harder. It was obvious. I couldn't hide it. He notices, and our eyes meet.

At that moment, his team scored a goal. But he didn't care. He came closer on the couch, very next to me. My breath was getting difficult, and I took a deep one.

He was next to me and kept trashtalking my team, attacking their masculinity, calling them fags, who liked to have their asses filled with cum. Each word, I knew it was meant to me. I watched his mouth, mystified.

He slowly took my hand and put it on top of his so admirable crotch.

It felt heavy, somehow, thick and hot. The cock throbbed and I could feel it through his shorts. It was unbelievable. I removed my hand in a moment of reluctance, and Wilson encouraged me. His voice was low now, tranquilizing.

The game was going on. Someone else scored. My team was losing now. I snapped out of it and put my hands on my legs.

He teased me a little more, but I shook my head. He respected me, which was surprising. I noticed that his arm was around my shoulder, nearly touching me. His smell, too, was touching me heavily. I focused on the TV.

But as I watched, I realized that the game was almost over. I was losing. Losing the game. Losing time. My cock knew what I wanted. It betrayed me.

I placed my hand gently on his crotch. He let me. He took a deep breath and waited. I squeezed his cock, again feeling the warmth and throbbing nature. It was huge. When I pull down the shorts, it whipped out hard and bulging, the smell was so thick and musky and pleasant that I inhaled deeply. I bent over him, and put the cock in my mouth, thinking about how crazy that was, so crazy.

The sensation was crazy too. The cock was hard but I also knew that it was very tender and I needed to be careful, and I wanted to be careful, but I also wanted to suck hard. I couldn't put his whole length inside, I stayed on the top half, and it was still too big.

He didn't care, nor complained. He relaxed under me and said something dirty from time to time, called me a playboy, then his bitch. He enjoyed pulling my hair, making me look him in the eyes.

I kept sucking him a good while after the game was over.

I went home with the taste of his cum still there, and I had to look people in the eyes on the way, and pretend that nothing had happened. My girlfriend wanted to see me, but I couldn't look at her at that moment. I felt like she was going to be able to tell just by looking at my eyes, like a little movie inside my pupils.

I kept in touch with Wilson, and we agreed that the next game would be at my place, next Wednesday. Again, I avoided my girlfriend. I gave her an excuse of why we couldn't be together.

A week later and I was actually excited, wondering if he was going to come. I cleaned myself, and spent some time trying to decide the clothes, and went for loose and relaxed.

Wilson came. We greeted each other as if we were the same pals, and I served him beer like he had. My house was cleaner, whiter, and the couch was bigger, the TV larger, but I was nervous, waiting for his approval. We sat close to each other. Well, I sat next to him. No need to pretend now, right? The game was about to begin. But neither of us was really interested.

He whipped out his cock, and it made the same whooshing move it had last week, and I thought it was impressive. I smiled, as I took it and bit my lip. Then I actually say it, out loud, that I missed his cock. It was gorgeous.

I knelt in between his legs, as he calls me dirty names, but very lovingly. Before I begun, he told me to take off all my clothes. It was easy. I was there in front of him naked and vulnerable. That is when I began to suck.

Wilson reached my ass with his finger. He felt my hole, giving it a sweet massage. He told me to suck his balls too. The smell of his cock was a hundred times stronger around his balls, I pressed my nose on them, carefully, then, carefully, sucked them.

He pushed my face hard against the hairy balls and I completely drawn in that smell. Sensations worked together to make me go crazy, the taste of his skin, and the weight of his cock against my cheek.

He pushed me away before he came.

I was weirded out by the emptiness in my mouth. I looked up at him, sitting back on the ground, and my lips throbbed with numbness.

Everything that he told me to do, I did. I bent over the little table on the center, a present from my girlfriend. I spread my ass cheeks apart for him and rejoiced at his compliments. He began to touch my hole again, then slipped a finger inside.

He used his tongue and pushed it against my entrance. And it's a whole new sensation that provoked a squeaky moan out of me, and I recoiled both from shame and pleasure.

As he fucked me with his tongue, I looked up at the TV screen, and my team was losing again. He bit me in the ass, gave me some slaps and called me some bad names.

He said he was going to fuck me, and I found some strength to say something. I insisted that it was crazy, I had never done it before, it was going to hurt. But he insisted. He said it wasn't much different from his fingers, and then slipped two inside me. I let out a big 'fuck'.

He spent a lot of time in that, grooming my ass. It worked. Because I found myself needing more and more, faster thrusts, more fingers. He said my ass was ready, and just like that, his cock entered me. And he fucked me. I laid my face down on the table and closed my eyes.

I could feel his length and the hardness, and the thrusts. My mouth couldn't take his whole cock, but my ass was definitely capable, after a few moments. He began slapping me, and I couldn't blame him.

I was taking it like a champ. The pride I was feeling really scared me. But damn, it felt so good.

He didn't warn me when he came. His cum was hot and dripped out, as he watched, opening my ass wide. I was shaking, feeling really tired all of a sudden.

His team won. Three to zero.

I put back my clothes on, and told him to ho away. He didn't understand my reaction, but I got to thinking about my life, my girlfriend, all that I had to lose and it terrified me. This lowlife was making me his bitch. I got angry, and followed him through the narrow hallway of my house, saying that he wasn't supposed to say anything to anyone.

He turned to me then, said that he had already fucked me, and didn't want anything to do with me anymore. But then threatened me, and it seemed like we were actually come to blows. After a long stare, he just left.

I thought I could just forget, you know. I took a shower right after he was gone, but still felt dirty. I thought about the threats Wilson had thrown at me, and fear swallowed. It was like a trap, because I also couldn't stop my desire for him, the low life, he had seemed very hurt about that. I didn't like the idea of actually being that kind of person, threats or no threats.

But Wilson didn't actually follow up with his threats. He ignored me. Completely. And I thought I was fine with that. But I couldn't ignore my new desires. So I ended up breaking up with my girlfriend a few days later. And in my mind, I only thought about that low life, maybe I should apologize, he had given me the best sex of my life.

On Thursday morning, with no games to watch, and no invitations, I was actually ready to go after Wilson, when he came at the door. He was all dressed up and using perfume. We hugged it out, and joked about stuff, you know. A huge weight had been lifted then, and I was so happy because I knew how I would be spending that day.

Wilson asked me if we would be using my bedroom that time. I said I wanted to go to his place instead.