My Boss Steve 2
Chapter 6
Hi, and thanks for reading my story this far. I'd love to hear what you think of the tale: my email berks4326@aol.com
The story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives.
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His career had taken off and he soon reached the rank of Major. When Izzy first lost interest in sex after the difficult birth of their second boy, for a while their routine was to `go upstairs to change the beds' on Sunday afternoons when Izzy would let him "please himself" on top of her. After a while she began more frequently to change the sheets while he was at work and would have plans to be out on Sunday afternoons. Steve would occasionally masturbate watching porn instead.
That was of course, until he found himself no longer needing porn to arouse him. He'd just think about the new recruit Stu that had started working for him and the brief glances he got of him wet or soapy in the showers after five aside footy, but what really got him feeling hornier than he had for years, was catching this new young lad Stu checking his own body out, then blushing attractively when their eyes met.
Steve woke with a start, unsure where he was. The knocking on the door of the flat grew louder and more insistent. He tried to shake the cobwebs from his brain and looked at his watch. Thank goodness, he'd only dozed for about ten minutes. He got off the bed and walked towards the door, aware now of his painful erection. He opened the door just enough to see who was there.
"Oh. Hello. I'm Joe. I live in the next flat. I thought Stu must be home. Is he in?"
The short young-ish man tried to peer past Steve into the living room.
"Er no. I'm, erm, he's back later tonight. I'm his boss. I'm just um, airing the place for him."
Shit. How the hell did that sound? Why did he tell the nosey neighbour he was Stu's boss? The guy left and Steve shut the door. So now the neighbour knew. It would be impossible for him not to guess what was actually going on. He began to wonder briefly how much longer this `affair' if that was what it was, could go on. It was beginning to get a bit awkward at work too. He quickly put these worries out of his mind and realised he had to get home. He had the following night to look forwards to.
In bed next to his wife later that night, Steve thought through his plans for the following evening. Everything was in place. His mind then went back to that tennis match. He'd put it out of his mind for so long now, so why was he thinking about it now? He began to re-live the match against Federer...... and what happened afterwards. It was a painful memory.
Steve had won enough of his matches against the other soldiers in the competition to get through to the finals on the last day. He was proud of himself, he'd played well and deserved his place. When it was announced that he was to play Roger Federer, it was the first time that he began to wonder if perhaps this had all been engineered, but quickly put the idea away as being too unlikely.
As he walked onto the court with the stocky Swiss champion, Federer said, quietly enough so only Steve could hear, "You're going to get well and truly fucked." Steve looked at the man, incredulous at what he'd heard, but he continued. "You're going to get a proper fucking, or as my English friends like to say, a right Rogering. Ha ha."
Steve knew it was unlikely he would stand a chance of beating the world champion, but thought that the man could have been a little more charitable. It was as if the guy was revelling in the fact that he was capable of wiping the floor with the amateur that Steve was and as he looked at the guy's smug expression, Steve began to realise that he was behaving the way that he himself used to, the way he was when he felt the need to prove himself as being the alpha, the superior male. He was pleased he had changed. It was not a pleasant way to be. He didn't realise then, that Federer meant more by what he'd said; a lot more.
Steve won the first few games, and after a long and tiring struggle, the first set. He felt he was playing his best and was on top of the game. The match continued and Steve began to feel that perhaps the Swiss champion was allowing him to win points. He felt he was being played with the way a cat plays with a mouse. The man had got him to confess to him his most closely guarded secrets, things he thought he'd never tell a soul and it had made him more vulnerable mentally than he realised. It felt that his opponent had stripped him naked and was systematically whipping his bare skin. No, it was worse than that, Steve thought, it was as if a protective layer; his actual skin had been peeled and his bare flesh was being thrashed raw.
Over and over again, he got close to winning, only to have his hopes dashed at the last minute. He was getting very tired now. They had been playing for over two hours and he knew his body was struggling. He was more than physically tired though. The effect on his mental state was taking its toll. Throughout the long match, for each and every strike of the ball, he saw the promise of winning a point, only to feel the disappointment of defeat after expending all his strength both physical and mental.
The extreme, unbearable pressure on him continued and he lost the match as he was bound to after two and a half hours. This was clearly what the Swiss man had meant when he told Steve he was going to get fucked. The man was clearly a sadist and the broad grin on his face for his many fans there only made Steve feel worse.
The trophies were awarded and after a few short speeches thanking the stars that had played, Steve started limping back to the private changing room that he and Federer were using. He just needed to rest now, but would have to shower and change before he could get himself back to the room he shared, and his bed, and sleep. He stripped off, grabbed one of the big fluffy towels ready to shower and, sat on one of the low trestles that formed the seating for the rectangular table at the side of the room. He hung his head, resting it in his hands, feeling utterly defeated, not only in the tennis match, but defeated as a man and as a soldier. He wanted to weep for his sorry state. He was broken. He thought about his military training. This is what it would feel like to have lost a battle and to be captured by the enemy, demoralised and utterly defeated.
He felt a jolt of shock; a panic, when Federer walked into the room, a broad smile on his face. "Ah Steven. How are you my friend?"
Steve couldn't answer and certainly didn't feel the man was his friend. He looked up and watched as the stocky Swiss stripped off his top and shorts, revealing the mass of jet black hair that covered his chest and flat, solid stomach. He walked over and stood in front of Steve. Close, too close, his jock-strap at eye level. It was a brand Steve was not familiar with: `Aussiebum' emblazoned across the elasticated waist band. If the garment was supposed to stop the guy's bollocks from bouncing about on the tennis court, someone should tell him it wasn't working, Steve thought idly. What it did do though, was to give him a very impressive profile however, the bulge now inches away from Steve's face.
"Go and shower, Steven. I want you clean."
Feeling numb, Steve walked mechanically to the bathroom, hung up his towel and was soon under the therapeutic hot spray. He soaped himself all over, not wanting to leave the soothing, safe environment, trying not to think about what might happen to him next.
The hot spray of the powerful shower helped the ache in his tired muscles, but did nothing to ease his mental state. Federer was right when he said that tennis was as much a psychological as a physical game and the champion had made full use of that knowledge in the most sadistic of ways. Steve shuddered with the thought of what he'd just endured. It was almost like being tortured by an enemy, in military terms.
When he turned the shower off, he realised that the Swiss man was in the luxurious bathroom too and once again felt the panic. He watched as the stocky man put a finger into his mouth, pushed Steve forwards, then unceremoniously shoved the hairy digit into his rectum. "Does that smell clean to you?" the finger was now under Steve's nose.
"Er, no", he almost sobbed, his utter physical exhaustion and the winning man's mind games leaving him helpless now.
"I don't think so either. You'd better try harder hadn't you. I want my prize. Use this." The stocky Swiss handed him a tube of hand cream. Steve looked at Federer, loathing in his eyes he knew was impossible not to show. Realisation passed between the two men and then he was once again alone in the shower, knowing what was expected of him, he squirted some of the perfumed cream onto his finger and slid it inside himself, then did the same twice more. He sniffed and his finger now just smelt of the cream.
Steve returned once more to the main changing area. The famous tennis star was sitting on the long, low wooden seat in front of the table. He was completely naked, his body covered in thick jet-black hair that was a mat over his deep and solid chest. Steve's eyes ran down, following the trail running in a denser, darker line down across the centre of his flat stomach where it joined the thick, though clearly trimmed thatch above his genitals. And there it was, the Swiss champion's fat dick. His impossibly powerful legs were spread wide, his penis swollen and sticking out horizontally. The most shocking though, was the size of the man's balls. They were resting on the wood of the bench he sat on and would clearly swing heavy and low if he were standing. As it was, they were splayed out where they rested, looking massive, enhanced even further by their covering of black curly fuzz.
"Come here, Steven, sit beside me, I want to see my prize." Steve moved closer and felt his towel being slid off from where it was wrapped tightly round his waist. "Very nice. Very nice". He watched the dark brown piggy eyes ogling him up and down and shivered.
He was being pulled to sit down as the other man stood closely in front of him until his face was right next to the stirring penis, the smell strong and pungent.
"You have a nice mouth, Steven; nice lips".
Steve had had sex with a man before of course, but this was not what he wanted, to have to fellate this foul cock. Then his barely functioning brain managed to conclude that if he tried hard enough, he might be able to bring the guy off and then it would be all over. He realised though, drawing from his soldier's training that whatever happened, this sadistic man would do what he wanted, but Steve would not lose his life; he would not die and if he just complied, at worst he'd have a sore jaw and it would soon be over and he could then sleep at last.
Steve parted his lips and sucked in the strong-tasting tip of the knob in front of him. "Yes, yes", the man gasped. "Suck on my big Swiss dick and get it hard and wet; get it ready to open you up. He stopped listening as the prick in his mouth grew harder and fatter and just complied when he was pulled up to a standing position and then pushed forwards so he was leaning over the wooden table. He let out a small yelp when the lubed up, tapered tip of the searingly hot knob was pressed forcefully against his tightly clenched sphincter, forcing it to open and accept its fate; to submit, just as Steve himself had to. In the forceful intruder slid, further and further, stretching open the reluctant flesh as it went. Steve was determined not to let Federer know how much it hurt; to give him the feeling of power over him, of even more dominance. He just clung onto the certainty that it would soon be over. Only it wasn't.
Where did this man get his inexhaustible stamina from? Steve was hauled off the table onto a towel on the floor where he was laid on his back with his legs lifted while the short fat prick pounded in and out, then he was rolled onto his front and felt the weight of the solid mass of the Swiss man on top of him as he was taken from behind.
He lost track of time as his body was punished over and over again. The man proved his incredible strength as Steve was hauled all round the small room, his assailant grunting and calling out in German or French and occasionally in English as he took his pleasure.
"Stand up, you insignificant little English soldier", Steve felt himself lifted and his face pressed against the wall, his painfully weakened legs barely able to support him. The words didn't hurt, he barely heard them. What did hurt, was his sore hole as it was once again forced open and the thick, dark-skinned penis pushed in. He was held in place by strong arms, but slumped down when that support lessened, seemingly at the same moment as each thrust which meant his weight helped the stiff knob to slide in even further.
The thrusts were getting faster and more powerful now and Steve knew his ordeal would soon be over. The loud grunts and the foreign words that announced the stocky Swiss man's orgasm were just ambient noise as he felt the strong, rhythmical throbbing inside his gut and the weight of that hairy body slump on top of him as they fell to the floor and Steve felt the welcoming arms of sleep envelop him.
It felt like only a few moments later that he awoke with a jolt, in a panic barely remembering where he was, but then the hard floor beneath him reminding him of the torture he'd just endured.
"I must get back", he said , surprising himself at the faintness of his own voice. He pushed himself up with difficulty, his whole body aching.
"No, no. I haven't nearly finished with you yet", was the response. Steve groaned inwardly, his confidence and his will ripped from him once more. He closed his eyes. How much more could he take? How much longer could Federer go on for? He was being rolled over onto his side and his leg lifted. The searing pain as once again he felt the blunt end of his captor's knob being pushed against his ravaged hole gave him the energy to jump away. "More lube, for pity's sake man, please", he blurted out, not really wanting to give the man the benefit of feeling he was any more in control than he already felt.
"Ah, so my big Swiss prick is too much for the poor little Englishman to take is it? Your poor little British hole is too delicate for a powerful Swiss champion dick, yes? Well, think of it as me toughening you up you poor, soft so-called soldier. Yes, I'm doing you a favour, ha."
He did however, to Steve's relief, reach for the tube lying next to them and squirt some on his stiff cock, then the pain was back and the vile man was pressing into him again. He kept his gasp as quiet as he could and then felt the pounding begin harder than ever.
Once again, Steve was pulled and pushed into whatever position the big hairy brute wanted to try next. The painfully thick cock pistoning inside his arse, he was sure, was going to take longer this time to reach its sickly finish. He was constantly being moved from lying on his stomach with the man's solid weight on his back, to being on his back with his legs held high and seeing the big, red Swiss face clearly enjoying his suffering. Then he was hoisted up, so he was sitting on the tennis star's lap, impaled on the burning hot, solid prick which his own weight ensured was as far up him as it would go. At least it meant it couldn't thrust in and out so much and Steve's tired muscles meant he was unable to help, not that he wanted to.
"Ouch", Steve yelled. The guy underneath him bit hard on his shoulder.
"Now I'm going to fill you up with more of my babies, you poor little English loser."
Steve couldn't understand, of all the man's words, why he was more upset by being called `little' than anything else, when he was a good few inches taller. It made no sense, but then none of this did.
He found himself back on the floor with his face on the towel and his bum lifted high. Now the muscular Federer was pumping into him faster and harder that before, finally sounding a little out of breath for the first time. Steve realised their bodies were moving slowly across the tiled floor as the pounding got harder and faster. Then his head was bumping against wall until he lowered it and his shoulders braced him and kept him steady.
"Yes, yes. Take it, take my cum you sad loser". Steve felt the hard organ spasming inside him for the second time. Each strongly pronounced pulsing feeling mechanical somehow, more like a machine clicking as the hot, hard, foreign prick spat its load deep inside.
Steve opened his eyes, aware of the cold, hard floor beneath his painfully aching body. Was this the end of the horrible ordeal? Was it over at last? Was he still here? He barely dared to look. If he moved too much, or showed he was awake, it might start off even more torture.
There was no-one there. He was alone.
He slowly pulled himself up, every part of his body hurting, every muscle complaining. He gradually realised how cold he was lying on the hard tiled floor, got to his feet, found his shorts and pulled them on. Draping one of the towels over his shoulders, he limped slowly and painfully the short distance to the room he shared with the Czech soldier. The agony in his arse-hole was a painful reminder of the fact that the sick, sadistic Swiss man had taken his pleasure there and, he now realised, for the best part of two hours. But it wasn't the only way the evil psycho had abused him; he'd also taken his self-esteem, his confidence. Steve felt broken. No longer did he feel he was the strong, tall leader of men, the proud member of the Queen's army. He opened the door and walked in, dropping his heavy bag with relief. He pushed his shorts down his long legs with difficulty, every movement a huge effort and kicked off his shoes.
Steve looked at his bed, almost hallucinating now about the soft welcome of the mattress and the soft warmth of the feather duvet. His room-mate was already in his own bed, the tall Czech soldier lying in a foetal position and apparently asleep. It was when he was walking finally to his own bed that Steve heard what sounded like a sob. His room mate, Radek was lying in his bed, and yes, his body was shaking with each soft sound. He was crying quietly.
Steve's officer training quickly kicked in as if instinctively and he thought back to that part of his course. `Soldier in distress; comfort him, get him talking, empathise, remind him he is a strong, highly trained soldier and his country is relying on him'. Not a lot of content he now remembered, the final advice, simply to ask the man or woman concerned, what they themselves thought they needed by way of help.
"What is it, Radek? What happened?"
"That Djokovic was brutal. He -- he.... I just don't even feel like a man any more. You won't understand." He pulled the bedding closer and pressed his face into the pillow.
"I do understand. Federer was as bad with me too."
"No, no, I don't mean just the tennis. I expected to lose. He played his mind games with me; made me tell him things, secret things I have never told anybody. Then he used what I confided to him, that knowledge, to ware me down so I .... so he could... it hurt so much. My body and my mind. I don't know if I can go back to the army, or even to Czechia, my country."
"What can I do my friend?" Steve asked simply.
"Please Steven, I want to feel that someone likes me, values me, treats me warmly"
"You need to be comforted Radek?"
"Yes, yes, that's it. I need to feel safe now. Please Steve, please hold me, just for a little while. I need to feel someone cares."
The big Czech soldier lifted the bed clothes and Steve climbed in behind his long, slim body. He was still trembling slightly, so Steve pulled closer against his back, put his strong arms around him and pulled their bodies tightly to each other. He heard a pained sigh, then Steve realised the big Czech was asleep, peaceful at last. Steve felt strangely proud. Proud that he was, once more the stronger man. Proud that he was protecting the frightened young man he was holding close. His own exhaustion and the thought that the other poor, damaged soldier was now, thankfully breathing peacefully meant he too was quickly asleep.
Steve was getting his revenge. He pushed his solid erection against the plump buttocks of the man bending subserviently in front of him. But it wasn't Federer, the sadistic Swiss star who had tortured his so much, it was Djocovic. He pressed himself harder, enjoying the glorious sensation of his hardness being squashed between their two bodies. Then he opened his eyes
He was in bed, but not his bed, the bed of his room-mate who had asked for his comfort and the other soldier was pushing his rump hard against Steve's swollen hardness. He had been dreaming of course, but this was real. Was the man still asleep? If he was, he was clearly enjoying the sensation too. Steve tightened his arm around the man's chest and pulled him closer.
"Thank you Steven". So he wasn't asleep. "That is nice", he said softly, moving his hips so that his rear rubbed side to side over Steve's dick. "I can feel your pleasure, Steve. I want to feel needed, to have your comradeship, your affection. It seems like you have a lot to give. I can feel it". Steve could hear the smile in his voice. He was obviously feeling better.
"Please Steve, please. I want you to -- I, I want you." He turned so they were facing each other in the bed. Steve felt the man's muscular chest pressing against his own; powerful legs against his thighs and their two cocks squashed together, separated just by the thin material of underwear.
This was not something he had wanted or expected. He considered his new friend as just that and had never considered him sexually. But this was, it seemed, what the soldier wanted, needed, to aid his recovery after the dreadful ordeal he had suffered. Steve thought for a long moment as to what he should do and the longer he thought, the more he began to realise that it was what he himself needed too. He needed to feel powerful again; feel he was in charge, that he was an alpha-male once more. He pulled backwards, holding the hardness of the muscular body next to him, rolling him over slightly so he was half on his front, then sliding his leg over the other man's.
"I want you lying on top of me, to feel your weight." The other soldier rolled over so he was completely on his front, his face pressed against the soft pillow.
"Are you sure you want this? Aren't you still sore after -- after, you know? I'm quite big and I don't want to hurt you."
"Please Steven, my friend. I need to feel wanted; need to feel all your warmth. Please be gentle though. Djokovic was big too. You'll need to go slowly, but it is what I want."
Steve was still doubtful; unsure if this was really a good idea, but his cock was rock hard and the man's willing hole was so close, just waiting for him to slide into the already plundered opening. He saw the man reach over to grab a tub of lotion and load up a finger with a generous dollop. So this was really going to happen, Steve realised the loaded finger disappeared between the man's muscular mounds, his briefs now round his thighs. He lifted himself, pulled the other soldier's underwear right off and moved so he was lying on top of the long body, covering him, his legs between the other man's, forcing them apart.
He moved his hand to pull his solid shaft out of the leg of his own briefs and guided the plump, swollen knob at the end so it was resting between the round, muscular cheeks in front of him.
There was a whimper, then a gasp from the big Czech, muffled by the pillow as Steve pushed in, his red, swollen glans bursting through the strong ring of muscle. The warm tightness of the man's hole as it gripped hard on his intruding shaft was giving him so much. It was not just the ecstatic pleasure, it was the confirmation of his masculinity, his ability to comfort and give pleasure too. He slid slowly further into the grip of the welcoming sleeve.
"Oh yes Steven. Please. You are making me feel so nice. I can feel the heat of your need. Please let me have all of you. I want to feel how much you want this too. Oh. Oh. Mmmm." the man gasped. "Please love me. I want you to make me feel special. You must show me how good I make you feel."
"I want to give you all of me Radek, but are you sure you really want that? You can't expect me to stop when I am deep inside you."
"Yes, yes, do me with all of your big, fat soldier cock. All of it; please all of you."
Steve pushed in further. The other soldier seemed to need this unusually unorthodox act to assuage his hurt from the brutality of the famous Serbian tennis star, and again, Steve knew this would be his own deliverance too. He slid in further, jabbing keenly now.
"Oh Steve, oh yes, That's it, that's it. That makes me feel so good now I can feel your whole size inside me, loving me."
Steve felt the muscle squeeze tightly as if to trap him inside. "You OK? You want more of me still?"
"More?" the man sounded genuinely surprised and a little shocked.
"Yes Radek. So nice. I can't stop now." He pushed in further, needing to get his entire length buried in the hot, tight space. He heard the man's voice but was no longer able to comprehend the words. He gripped the hips he was lying on and held his body tight against the other man's buttocks, his powerful strength pushing hard to keep his erection completely sheathed.
Radek was yelling, trying to tell the heavy man pressing him into the mattress that he was too much, but his shouts were muffled and anyway, he felt the man wasn't listening to his pleas anyway. He felt the monstrous thing now begin to slide back a little and he sighed, but then it was once again being forced deep into his depths. Back and forth the big, hot tool slid and very slowly he began to accept that the fullness he was feeling, and the gentle friction of the massive organ was giving him a unique pleasure.
Steve now knew for certain that this was exactly what he needed to help his recovery. After the humiliation he'd felt from Federer's bullying he was now, once more the powerful male, his body honed to perfection, in complete control and capable of being the strong but gentle man now giving his friend what he needed; the feeling of being taken care of, wanted and, yes, loved. His sexual arousal had surprised him, but the tight muscle gripping his highly sensitised, rock hard prick as he slid slowly but forcefully in and out of the gasping man beneath him began to take over his emotions. He was moving faster and pushing in deeper and harder and when he felt the Czech soldier move his legs so they were in-between his own, he lost control completely. He was hammering into the slimmer man whose moans and shouted alien words muffled by the pillow only encouraged him to get his own, selfish pleasure as quickly as possible. Steve squeezed his legs tightly together which made him feel the tight space he was ploughing into was gripping his tool even tighter and with one final, powerful lunge, he began pumping his seed deep inside the gasping figure writhing underneath him. He shut his eyes tightly as his highly sensitised, rock-hard cock pulsated over and over again, giving him the longest and most ecstatic orgasm he'd ever felt and desperate to make the feeling last and to plant the last drops of his fluid, he thrust four or five more times before finally collapsing exhausted in the warmest and most pleasurable post-climax relaxation.
Steve gripped the other warm body tightly as sleep once more pulled him into its own all-enveloping arms.
"Steve. Steven, you're a bit heavy", the tall Czech soldier eventually pleaded. Steve blinked his eyes open and rolled onto his side.
"Sorry", he breathed softly, still in a daze.
"That was so nice. Thank you Steve. You were more, how do you say it? You had more that I expected. So much more. You are a very lucky man and I feel I was lucky to, erm, meet you, to have you. So very nice. Thank you Steve."
The two large men embraced warmly. Two friends now who had both been through their worst experiences with the two tennis stars but two men who had found their own ways of recovering. They slept finally, feeling safe and wanted in each other's closeness.
Steve shook Radek's hand as they said goodbye the next morning. They looked deeply and knowingly into each other's eyes but nothing more was said.
He found his colleague Mark, waiting for him at the entrance, looking a little awkward; awkward and exhausted.
"What happened to you? I haven't seen you for two days. You look worn out. How was your Bulgarian tennis champ Dimitrov? Did he; was he erm, was he OK with you?" At least Steve had got away from Federer fairly quickly, as had his new pal the Czech soldier Radek from Djokovic. Steve had worried about what had happened to Mark as it seemed all these famous players had conspired together to humiliate their chosen soldier tennis partners.
"Oh, Grigor was very nice thank you".
"So where have you been? What have you been doing?"
"Well, we were both very tired". We both needed to rest"
"What, you slept for two days?"
The other soldier, Mark, was definitely blushing now. "Well, we got up for meals of course, but then we went back to bed. We were tired, as I told you. It was hard", he turned his head away and added quietly, "hard all the time".
Studying the man's face closer a little later, Steve could see he had a sort of dreamy look. It was clear what he'd been up to and Steve felt he had to leave it and say no more on the subject, but he couldn't resist one last. "So you had a good time. You enjoyed yourself; made the most of it?"
"Oh yes, yes I did. Grigor is such a lovely guy. He taught me a lot" He responded with a soft, almost indiscernible sigh.
"Yes. I bet he showed you all his moves". Steve turned away so as not to show that he was openly grinning now, then added almost to himself, "and over a couple of days quite a lot of his powerful shots!".
At his office desk, while he waited for an update of the arrival time of the flight his young and enthusiastic sex partner and employee Stu was on, Steve realised that he hadn't thought about that tennis tournament for a very long time. For the first time, remembering what had happened made him feel horny. He realised he had actually enjoyed feeling the large, hairy body of the Swiss tennis champion pressing against his, and the friction of the man's hard, fat cock as it slid in and out of his rectum had felt very good as it rubbed all the right places.
The stiffness in his boxers showed just how much he wanted his boy home.