Home Goal and My Goal: Two Gay Footballers Stories

by H J Perry

  A phone buzzed. A message. They both ignored it.

  The way Jason squirmed, he was too far into a different plane of consciousness to hear the phone. Scott had been on his case since they both woke up and that had been some time earlier. Enough time for Scott to take them both to the point of orgasm, which he had done several times, but kept them from stepping over the edge. Enough time for both of their phones to buzz far more than usual on a Saturday morning. They ignored the interruptions.

  Still, with Jason’s dick in his hand, Scott rolled until he was on top and he grasped at his own cock as well, rubbing them together.

  Jason’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth open. Scott covered it with his lips, and his tongue swooped in. Almost distracted, his heart pounding loudly with the need to fuck and come, Scott remembered his warning. He slipped down the bed, licking and kissing at every inch of Jason’s skin. Scott bit around Jason’s nipples with his teeth before sucking them hard. Jason’s dick was hard. Hard and demanding and bouncing between them and Scott wanted it. He reached out and grabbed the lube that he’d already picked up and put on the bed. Just for a moment, he was tempted to drizzle it over Jason’s fucking gorgeous cock and slide onto it. He knew Jason wouldn’t mind.

  He licked the precum pooled on the crown, a taste so sweet it guaranteed unlimited blow jobs in this household. Sucking and swallowing left Scott’s hands free for other activities. He uncapped the lube and drenched the fingers of his right hand. He knew Jason wouldn’t need much preparation after the morning’s erotic play. Mutual cock sucking, rimming, fingering, dick rubbing and dirty talking for an extended morning in bed always meant whoever was bottoming was relaxed and more than ready. It had been an hour, maybe two, since they started this; they weren’t keeping track of time.

  A phone buzzed again.

  Without waiting to be asked, Jason raised his legs, up and apart. Either he knew what was coming, or he was showing what he wanted.

  He was going to get what he wanted. One then two fingers slipped in easily.

  Jason moaned. “Fuck me, Scott. I can’t take any more of this.”

  Me neither, thought Scott. “Calm down. I’m going to fuck you now.” Scott didn’t feel calm either.

  He withdrew his fingers and worked on his cock. Despite his urge to fuck and thrust hard from the get go he entered slowly and waited. His cock was so much bigger than a few fingers.

  “Are you okay?” Scott asked.

  With his eyes still shut, Jason let out a huge breath. “Yes. It’s good.” And he took hold of his dick.

  A phone buzzed.

  “I’m almost done,” Scott joked. He loved to look at Jason at all times, but seeing him so aroused and watching him come was the best, something he wished he could capture on film. But, of course, he never had.

  “Fuck me, Scott.”

  Scott moved his hips with more self-control than he thought he possessed. Watching for the reaction of his lover. The reaction was good. Scott increased the pace and depth.

  “Fuck. That’s good.”

  “I’m going to come inside you, Jason.”

  “Fuck, yeah. Come in me. Come now, Scott.”

  Jason was clearly not able to hold off any longer either. With final thrusts, Scott felt the orgasm exploding through him. He felt Jason clenching on his dick as his seed pumped into his lover. At the same time, Jason’s hand between them eased out ribbons of white cum, which splattered them both.

  Scott was torn between collapsing in post orgasmic bliss onto his lover, with kisses and cuddles and semen squished between them, or getting up for mess limitation with the towel that was beside the bed but on the floor, just out of reach. He chose the first option. They could clean up later; it wasn’t as if it were night time and they were about to sleep.

  Jason found some super-human strength, pushed Scott off of him and they rolled on to their sides, legs entwined and kissing.

  The phone rang. Jason’s phone.

  “You better get it,” said Scott. “Perhaps there’s something we need to know.”

  Jason sat up and grabbed his phone. “It’s Mark.” He said. He hit answer and then loudspeaker and placed it on top of the bed.

  “Hello, Mark.” Jason resumed his position next to Scott, facing each other and cuddling.

  “Hi, Jase.”

  “Hi, Mark.”

  “Oh, hi Scott. Am I on loud-speaker?”

  “Yes and you’re in bed with us,” Scott replied.

  “Okay, sorry am I interrupting?”

  “No, not interrupting.” Jason kissed Scott.

  “We’re just carrying on. You speak, we’ll listen.” Scott wrapped his leg around Jason. Soft dicks didn’t have to stop the fun.

  “I’ve been texting you guys for hours. I would say where’ve you been, but I guess you’ve been there the whole time.”

  “Yes, Mark. We’ve been fucking to the delightful tune of our phones buzzing.”

  “Were the phones buzzing?” asked Jason.

  “I didn’t think you’d noticed, but that’s probably too much information for your work colleague.”

  “What were you guys doing? Oh, I didn’t mean that. I don’t need details, but I do have a question. Is it you they’re talking about in the newspapers today?”

  Jason and Scott looked at each other.

  “Depends, what are they saying?”

  “Two gay Premiership football players are going to come out, one of them is an England player. You fit the bill; I wanted to know if it's you.”

  “Okay, Mark. You can tell the whole team and anyone who knows about us that it is not me. I did hear about it. I was asked if I wanted to be a part of a group of players who come out publicly on the same day, sometime in the offseason, but I declined. And I don’t know who the other players are so there’s no point in asking me.” Jason winked at Scott.

  “You’re not kidding me? I was sure you were going to say it’s you.”

  “I promise you it’s not me. There must be loads of gay players in football but I don’t know who they are. We don’t have a secret club or code for recognizing each other.”

  “If you could see him this morning, though, Mark, it’d be very obvious he’s gay.”

  “Scott, when I see him with you, it usually is obvious you’re both gay.”

  “And Mark, that’s why I’m retiring from football next year. This is just between us, not the whole team, not yet. Scott and I are getting married in 2016, and I’m not playing in the Premiership again.”

  “Congratulations. But you should think about staying in football. You’d be a great role model, married and gay.”

  “I’d be a target for abuse and so would Scott. It’s not the life I want. I hope the other guys take the world forward. I might come out publicly, but it’s not part of my agenda.”

  “It’s a long time away yet so you could change your mind, but in the meantime, my phone has been red hot with messages from players this morning. Of course, everyone on our team knows about you and Scott, so they think it's you. And you play on the England team, but you've got no idea who it is?”

  “No.” Jason and Scott exchanged knowing smiles.

  “I’ll ring round and let everyone know it’s not you in the news.”

  “Thanks, Mark.”

  “Bye Mark,” said Scott, before adding, “we’ve one hell of a mess to clear up here.”

  “Don’t want to know, Scott. See you later, Jason.”

  THE END

  Jason is not the only gay man in the fictional Birmingham City South football team. There is more of Scott and Jason in My Goal.

  MY GOAL

  by

  H J Perry

  CHAPTER ONE

  June 2012

  CARLOS

  "We need to talk about the transfer window."

  The agent was on the phone already, and Carlos hadn't even had breakfast. "Tony, do we have to talk about this now? I've got a cup final to win tomorrow." He slumped down between the
covers on his hotel bed.

  "And the transfer window opens officially tomorrow. Come on, Carlos, I've been trying to get you to talk about this for weeks."

  "I've been a little busy traveling around Poland and the Ukraine in case you hadn't noticed."

  The end of the official season allowed no rest to those playing in the Euro. It involved traveling to stadia around Eastern Europe for training sessions and matches. Carlos was exhausted.

  "I know that means you've spent hours with nothing to do. You can talk to me. I've got football clubs ready to bid for you. So what's your problem?"

  "I've been busy winning the football games." Exhaustion. It was fucking tiring. "I'm not joining any team in July. I'm not going on tour or to summer camp. That's final. I need a proper break, cold alcohol, fatty food, and ready women. I'm going on holiday."

  "Fine, have a month off. Just turn up for the fitness test and be ready to work at the start of the season. But the question is, where do you want to go? You are hot property right now, especially for advertising. If Spain wins tomorrow that makes the World Cup in 2010 and the Euro in 2012. You are the unstoppable Spaniard. You're playing well. You're in your mid-twenties, so not too old to get a bumper payout."

  "And you'd get your terrific commission."

  "For the contracts I negotiate for you, I'm worth every penny," Tony said.

  "I'm just saying it's in your interest for me to move as well. That's how you make good money."

  "I'm looking after your career, Carlos. The life of a football player at that top level where you are now is short. Your window for making a shed load of money diminishes quickly, but right now you're still the most recent World Cup winner until 2014 when some other team takes the glory."

  "I don't want to go from here straight on to some advertising campaign and a training camp. I don't need it, so don't even ask. As for what club I should go to that's your job. Come back and tell me the offers. I'm only interested in the top teams, so I'll go to Spain, England, Italy, you know which clubs. You don't need me to list them."

  "You'd be happy to stay in England instead of going home to Spain?"

  "Tony, I've got Spanish parents, but that hardly makes me Spanish. I have a European Union passport, and I've lived in England half my life. The Manchester teams are among the best in the world right now, so they'd be among the top of my list."

  "The Spanish teams would like you."

  "Fine. Get me an offer I can't refuse from one of them, Barcelona or Madrid. I don't even know why we are talking about this."

  Carlos wasn't sure which of them was being the dick in this conversation, him or his agent. He feared it could be him; he knew he was exhausted. Perhaps he wasn't thinking straight. Maybe he was missing a part of the bigger picture.

  "Tony, I want an offer that marks me out as one of the best football players in the world. I want people to mention me when they talk about Ronaldo and Messi. I'm working toward the legend of Garcia; a player they'll remember. I'm doing my bit, but legends are made with the help of great agents getting the right contracts."

  "It's a lot to live up to. Isn't it daunting?"

  "Nah. I am Carlos Garcia."

  "I'll do my best, Carlos; it just helps to know your priorities. Have you seen the new website?"

  "Yes, it's exactly what we need to promote the Carlos brand." The website under construction looked awesome. "Who wouldn't like a virtual world dedicated to himself? There is a fan zone where they can upload comments and memes."

  "Great. What about controlling abuse?"

  Tony was a great agent, but a dinosaur when it came to the internet and technology in general.

  "Yes, Tony. The webmaster is managing all that. I wouldn't want a free-for-all on my website. That could backfire big time. But while the fans love me, and I interact with them, the content will stay fresh and entertaining."

  "This will certainly support and enhance your image. I like the 'Get a bit of Garcia,' line on the home page."

  "It's promoting the Carlos Garcia brand. CG should be synonymous with suave and sexy."

  Tony laughed. "You're crazy, Garcia."

  "I may be, but who is the best footballer in the world right now?"

  "The photos look superb."

  "You've seen them?" Images were found to illustrate Carlos's soccer career to date. They weren't all football kit pics. Some were candid shots, and publicity poses. "I was pleased."

  "You look like a highly marketable sex symbol from what I've seen."

  "Tony, I never knew you felt that way." Carlos laughed and heard the agent chuckle too.

  Of course, as a millionaire in his mid-twenties, and with less than a decade left ahead of him in which he could expect to play football at the top level, sex appeal was exactly what he hoped he had going for him. A modeling career lasts a lot longer than a footballing one.

  "When people think of the top five footballers, my name should instantly be one of those that come to mind right there alongside Messi and Ronaldo."

  "So you want a contract that reflects your image."

  "Of course. It's pretty obvious, isn't it? If I'm moving, it's got to be to one of the top teams in the world."

  "How would you feel about playing for one of the Spanish teams and relocating to Spain?"

  "Good. I could work on my tan and speak my mother tongue. I know plenty of the guys.

  "You could see more of your parents if you lived in Spain. But what about your girlfriend in England? What was her name? Christine or Catherine?"

  "Kerstin. I had to let her go."

  "What was wrong with Kerstin Newport?"

  "You know how it is with these girls. The fun is in the chase, but I get bored with them pretty quickly."

  "Carlos, I think you just find the wrong women."

  "I am definitely finding the wrong women. But there is so much of me to go around it would be a shame to limit something this good to just one woman."

  "You are such a tart."

  "Given the opportunity, yes."

  HARRY

  "I can manage more." Harry already held two boxes in his outstretched arms, but they were small and not particularly heavy. "You can put another on top."

  "No, I can't, because if you can carry three boxes it makes me look bad unless I also carry three boxes."

  Scott appeared young and fit, but it reminded Harry of the vast differences between them—the athlete and the geeky science student.

  Another two differences were that Scott was out and had a boyfriend. Harry had no boyfriend, and he lacked any romantic or sexual experience worth mentioning. So he didn't mention it. He didn't tell anyone he was gay, not even his closest friends, Scott, Jason, and Liz.

  Scott was out, and always had been. But Scott's boyfriend Jason remained firmly in. He wasn't ready for the exposure as the first out gay football player.

  And neither was Harry.

  Even his closest friends didn't know his secret, but he barely had a secret to share.

  "Boys, boys, you don't have to show off. Neither of you are going to impress me by breaking your backs carrying too much stuff at once. What I'm really wondering is why we don't use the elevator?"

  Liz held a bulging black garbage bag, presumably full of valuables, not refuse, which she had just brought from the car. She dumped it in the lobby.

  "I'm not boasting or trying to impress either of you. But by the time we load your stuff into the elevator, go up one floor, and unload it again, it will take longer than just running up the stairs, even if I do it alone."

  Harry didn't intend to show off, but as a professional athlete, he wasn't going to break a sweat moving a carload of boxes stuffed with the accoutrements of student life.

  "Jason's front door is just at the top of this first flight of stairs. This is nothing compared to my daily workout. It doesn't seem worth putting them down and picking them back up again. It's easier just to run up lugging your valuable possessions."

  Liz shrugged. "Let him work lik
e a mule if he wants."

  Scott placed another box on top of Harry's pile.

  Scott and Liz were moving to the apartment below Harry's, which they would share with Scott's boyfriend, Jason. He wasn't just Harry's neighbor, living below him in the luxury apartment block in central England, but a fellow football player for the Birmingham South City Football Club. BSC consistently finished in the top six teams in the Premier National Football League. As such, it was one of the best soccer teams in the world, although it was the two Manchester teams which secured the top two places in the league in May of this year.

  "Remember, Jason and I lift weights in a gym three or four times a week. Strength and fitness is our job," Harry called over his shoulder as he jogged up the stairs with ease. Even though it was several weeks into the off-season, like most elite professionals he still maintained an exceptional level of fitness by working out most days.

  "I thought their job was running about and kicking a ball for a ridiculous amount of money." Liz's comment to Scott was barely audible as Harry dumped the cartons in Jason's hallway.

  A high-profile, celebrity sportsman on mega money, Jason was on the multimillionaire wage after a lucrative transfer to the team the previous summer and as a player on the English National Team.

  Earning just under a million and never invited to play for his country, Harry didn't dwell on his fortune as the poorer team player.

  Harry smiled. He knew that you didn't have to hang out with a footballer for many weeks before you discovered they lived under an intensive health and fitness regime.