This story is of course fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of Michael Phelps, Alain Bernard, Frederick Bousquet, Fabien Gilot and Amaury Leveaux or anyone else mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives.
Alain Bernard was still bummed out over the French's 4x100 freestyle relay team's second place finishing to that of the Americans. Prior to the race, he had said a few words concerning the chances of the American relay team winning gold in the race, indicating that he and his fellow countrymen would smash the Americans. Far from getting lost in the shuffle with the dozens of other stories coming out of the Olympics, it was picked up by the international press and soon was printed in every newspaper, shown on every television set.
While he and his countrymen had indeed swum a strong race, disaster had struck during the last leg of the race. While he was enjoying a comfortable lead going into the final leg, somehow the American Jason Lezak was able to erase his lead and win the relay by only a few hundredths of a second. Alain was forced to eat his words, and he never enjoyed having to do that.
While he was upset with Jason Lezak for making him look like a fool, he figured he would be able to show him up in the 100m freestyle swim that was scheduled to take place in a few days time, thus satisfying his anger with the American. Instead, where his real anger lay, was in the figure of Michael Phelps.
While swimmers from all over the world were competing at these Olympic Games, the only one the media seemed interested in was Michael Phelps, America's so called golden boy who had his eyes set on winning 8 gold medals. Though he would never admit it, Alain was jealous of the attention Phelps was getting. Other swimmers like him were merely footnotes in the sports pages or obstacles that Phelps had to get through in order to become the greatest Olympian ever. Combined with the fact that he had been on the American's 4x100m freestyle relay team which had defeated him, Alain was more upset than ever and was determined to get his revenge.
Sitting in his room in the Olympic Athletes Village in Beijing, Alain was waiting for his honored guest. Earlier that night he had been waiting to congratulate Phelps on his victory after the medal ceremony, but as soon as it had concluded, Phelps had disappeared. Deciding that he probably went to change, Alain figured he would go over the plan in his mind one last time while Phelps changed in the lockers and wait for him to come out. Alain waited around for what seemed like forever until he finally saw Ryk Neethling emerge from the locker room. Asking if Phelps was still in there, Ryk gave the Frenchman a sly smile and merely said that Phelps was cleaning up and should be out in a few minutes before he departed. Still wondering what the South African meant when he said "cleaning up", Alain waited ten more minutes until Phelps finally emerged from the locker room.
Running up to greet him, Alain congratulated him on he and his teammates race and hoped that there were not going to be any hard feelings between them or their teams. Phelps, perhaps a little naively, merely said that it was not a problem and the whole controversy was just water under the bridge as far as he was concerned.
"Thanks, nice to hear that coming from you." Alain said. "By the way, would you be interested in stopping over to my room for a little bit later tonight? I'd love to pick your brain on how you are able to do all that you do, maybe even pick up a little advantage for myself by learning directly from the master himself." Alain said with a wink.
"Oh, boy, I appreciate the offer, but I am trying to stick to my regimen, I've still got a few races to go." Phelps said, disappointed to let Alain down.
"I completely understand, but it will only be for a few minutes, just to say I had the greatest Olympian of all time in my room would be an honor. Come on, it will only be for little while." Alain was laying it on thick, but Phelps was completely unaware.
"Well, I guess it can't hurt for a few minutes, besides, I've hardly been able to spend time with anyone other than my coach, and it would be nice to meet some new people." Phelps said, his cheeks blushing slightly, embarrassed by the praise Alain was giving him.
"Great then, I'll see you in an hour or so, looking forward to it." Alain said as he turned to go. His plan was working perfectly.
Like most everyone else at the Olympics, Alain was well aware of Phelps and how he liked the men. Sitting in his room at the Olympic Athletes Village in just his tightest pair of white bikini underwear, Alain was sure that Phelps would not be able to resist his offer. He, like most swimmers, knew they had the finest bodies on Earth, and when coupled with the fact that Alain was a bit conceited by nature, made him all the more sure that Phelps would do whatever he asked.
There was a knock on the door and in walked Michael Phelps, clad in the warm up suit he had been wearing poolside.
"Hey Alain, it's me, just thought I'd let myself in and..." He was stopped in mid-sentence as he finally took note of the tall, lean and toned figure of Alain sitting on his bed, clad in only a clingy pair of underwear that left little to the imagination. "Maybe I should come back another time." Phelps said as he turned to go.
"Just come in and shut the door." Alain said with such an air of authority that Michael followed his orders without even thinking. "It's no secret you like cock, and I invited you up here to let you sample some of the best around, so why don't we cut out the pleasantries and get to the real fun." Alain said as he rubbed his ample cock through the thin fabric of his underwear.
Looking at Alain's handsome face, and then down his masculine and defined body and finally stopping to look at the basket of his underwear and the sizable lump it contained, Phelps knew he could not resist an offer such as Alain was proposing, and began to move toward the bed, stripping off his jacket, leaving him in only his warm up pants.
Dropping to his knees in front of the French god, Phelps buried his face into the crotch of Alain Bernard, smelling the masculine scent coming from between this man's muscled thighs. Gripping the waistband of Alain's underwear, Phelps looked up for approval before proceeding. Lifting his ass up slightly from the bed, Alain gave Phelps a nod in return, Phelps pulling down Alain's underwear, sliding them down his thighs, massive and hard as iron, letting them fall down to the Frenchman's ankles. Admiring the prize which lay before him, Phelps licked his lips as he took in the sight of the semi-hard cock that lay before him. It was a large one to be sure, 6.5" it looked to be right now and probably somewhere between 9" or 10" when fully erect, with a large foreskin that covered the head. Taking it into his warm hand, Phelps pealed back the hood of Alain's cock and bent down over it, licking it with his tongue, teasing the piss slit.
It did not take much work from Phelps for Alain to reach his full potential, as the thought of this American swimmer before him, the pleasure he was giving him and Alain's own plans for tonight combined to make him as horny as he had ever been. With his massive 10" cock now fully hard, he let Michael go to town, slobbering over and slathering his blue-ribbon cock with attention.
Phelps quickly sucked in the first 5" of Alain's cock into his mouth and used every trick he knew to please his French master. Circling the flared head with his tongue, licking the sensitive underside and sometimes flicking the head with his tongue, all in the hopes of making Alain happy. While his mouth and tongue were busy, Michael's hands also went to work, with one taking hold of Alain's massive organ at its base and stroking it, while the other toyed and played with his impressive balls, rolling them around in his hand, feeling the weight and warmth radiating from them, no doubt from the copious amounts of cum boiling in them, begging for release. Once, Phelps even let the cock leave his mouth so he could lick the prominent shark tattoo which was located just above Alain's pelvis.
Alain was in heaven, leaning back, his arms behind him resting on the bed, supporting his tall and muscular frame, his head thrown back, his eyes rolling back in his head, enjoying the head he was getting from his rival. Alain would coo and moan, letting Phelps know that he was doing one hell of a job sucking his prick, totally lost in the sensations Phelps was giving his cock. While Alain was a proud Frenchman, and believed the French to be superior in most things, he may have to reconsider cock sucking, as the American kneeling before him, was giving him one of the best ever. Alain relished the slurping and sucking sounds coming from Phelps, as he struggled to take Alain's entire dick.
Looking down at his subservient rival, Alain was struck at how every once in awhile; Phelps' eyes would roll up in order to catch a glimpse of Alain's face, to see if he was pleasing his French master. Alain was reminded of how when a puppy dog would beg for scraps of food from a table, the whites of his eyes would show as he looked up at his master; this was the same sensation he was getting by looking into Phelps' own brown eyes.
Eager to take control even further, Alain leaned forward to place a hand on the back of Michael's head, forcing him down on his dong even further. Leaving his other hand resting on the bed, he used it as leverage to face fuck the Olympic icon. Raising his ass off the bed in a rhythm, he began to pump his cock in and out of Phelps' throat, forcing it deeper and deeper with each thrust. Feeling his cock hit the back of Michael's throat, he wanted it to go even deeper, and continued to force feed Phelps' his prick. Finally, he felt Phelps' nose come to rest in his small patch of pubic hair, Michael's chin resting on his balls, and let it sit there, enjoying the feeling of having his monster dick buried in this American's throat.
He could hear Phelps begin to gag, as he rarely had a cock this large to service, and never had had one that he had been forced to deep throat, but Alain kept his hand on the back of Michael's held, holding him there even as Phelps attempted to pull off the dick buried in his throat, his lungs and brain begging him for air. Alain was no fool though, he knew Michael and most swimmers had amazing lung capacity and continued to hold him there for a few seconds, until finally letting him come up for air.
However, far from being a turn off for Phelps, it only served to increase his already active sex drive, and within moments, Phelps was back on Alain's cock, sucking the spongy tube with his able and willing mouth.
The vacuum like seal Phelps had on Alain's dick was mind-numbing and he knew it would not be long before he would cum, but he had to hold off for the next phase he had planned. As Michael continued to expertly suck the Frenchman's cock, there came a knock at the door. As Michael panicked, he let the cock slip from his mouth as he stood up, however, Alain was much calmer, even seeming a bit relived as he continued to recline on the bed, simply turning his head to the door and saying "Enter."
As the door opened in walked the other three members of the French 4x100m freestyle team, Frederick Bousquet, Fabien Gilot and Amaury Leveaux. As Michael was still reeling from their sudden appearance, it did little to take any of the edge off his sexual fervor, as his cock was rock hard, making a noticeable tent in his warm-up pants.
Alain merely nodded at his fellow countryman and then turned to Phelps.
"We decided we could use a little more practice as a relay team, and thought your ass would make the perfect workout, so why don't you be a good little slut like we know you are and take off those pants for us." Alain said.
While Alain was giving Phelps his ultimatum, the three other Frenchmen were already stripping out of their clothes and underwear, standing there naked before him. They apparently had been standing at the door, listening to the sounds of sex that had been coming from the two great swimmers, and playing with themselves at the same time, as to Michael's pleasant surprise, each one of the Frenchman were hard and erect as soon as their clothes hit the floor. While each of their bodies was without fault, none of them had a cock that could rival Alain's. Leveaux and Gilot both had cock's that were about 7", while Bousquet, with his longer hair was closer to 8", but it was clear who the alpha male on this team was with Bernard's 10" cock.
At first unsure of what to make of the situation, Phelps was overcome by the sight of the four man, all in their prime, hard cocks at the ready. Taking a deep breath, and without even thinking it through, he undid his pants, letting them fall to the floor, and walked over to the bed just vacated by Alain.
Seating a now fully nude Michael Phelps on the bed, Alain pushed the American stud onto his back on the bed before grabbing hold of his muscular legs and pulling him towards him until his ass just barely hung over the edge of the bed. Using his own legs to kick and force Michael to spread his legs, Alain quickly sucked on two fingers before bending down and reaching under Michael, searching for his asshole. Finding it, he quickly inserted them, past the still uncannily resisting sphincter and into Michael's warm ass. Burying them in Phelps' ass, a moan of contentedness came from Phelps as Alain turned to his teammates to give his assessment of the situation.
"God this fucker is tight, I guess what they say is true." Alain said as he continued to play with Michael's ass, using his two fingers in a scissoring motion while still planted in Phelps, stretching him and making their slave moan.
"No doubt this is going to be one hot lay gentleman, so I suggest we enjoy this American cunt for all he is worth." Alain said to his teammates while removing his fingers from Michael's tight grip, a sigh of disappointment coming from Phelps at the sudden removal of the fingers from his ass.
Moving in perfect unison, as though they had it prepared, the French Relay team moved to their positions. Alain and Bousquet each took hold of one of Michael's legs and lifted them up and out, opening his ass for further exploration. Meanwhile, Gilot took his position kneeling on the bed, next to Michael's head, while Leveaux spit into his hand and rubbed it on his cock, lubing himself up.
Alain turned to a clearly surprised Phelps. "You think we did not have all this planed? You really are naïve. We plan on treating this just like any relay with Leveaux going first and me taking up the anchor, so I suggest you hold on, because this time we are going for the gold." Alain said.
With Alain and Bousquet taking an even firmer grasp on his spread-eagle legs, he could feel Leveaux line his spit lubed cock up with his asshole and thrust forward.
Leveaux's cock speared Michael in one thrust, the 7" cock coming to rest firmly planted in Michael's ass. So sudden and forceful was the entrance that Michael opened his mouth to scream, only to have it muffled mere moments later. As soon as his mouth opened, Gilot used his strong hands to turn Michael's head 90 degrees and into view of Gilot's cock. Taking advantage of Michael's open mouth, Gilot plugged it with his own cock, forcing Michael to gobble down his second French cock of the evening, but something told him it would not be his last.
Lying on the bed, his legs forcefully lifted and spread, sucking a dick while another one pummeled his tight ass, Michael had no doubt that this French team wanted gold and the event was going to be gang bang.
As he lay there, totally helpless to resist, he could not help but take in the sensations that were all around him. While he had been with two men before, never had he had four at once, but he had to admit that this was really turning him on. As Leveaux began to get into a real rhythm, Michael was in a euphoric state. The position the Frenchman was entering him was ideal, and the prick was pummeling his prostate, driving him to new sexual heights. The slapping of Leveaux's glands were mixed with the sound of Michael trying to cry out with pleasure, only to have it muffled by the cock buried in his throat. Gilot did not complain though, as the cries in Michael's throat only created vibrations which further stimulated his own swollen cock. All the while the Frenchmen were egging each other on, encouraging Leveaux to ride Phelps' ass ever harder. The loudest among them was Alain, who told Leveaux to "Fuck the American's pussy, ride him like the bitch he is, and make him cry out to be fucked harder, to be fucked by French cock."
The gang bang continued with Phelps taking it as hard as Leveaux could dish it out, his asshole sucking in Leveaux with each stroke, resisting each time he tried to pull out. Once or twice Phelps had tried to reach down to stoke his own raging 7" dick, being bounced around wildly as his ass was taking one hell of a pounding, but Alain would slap his hand away, telling him that it was not his turn, and that he would decide when and if he would get to cum.
Minutes passed as Leveaux had broken into a sweat as his cock seamlessly glided in and out of Michael's reddening asshole, never missing a stroke. He suddenly called out that he was getting close, that he would be cumming soon, and the French team sprung into action. With just as much expertise and finesse as their swimming relay, the French team switched positions. Leveaux slid his cock out of Michael's gaping hole and took hold of the leg Bousquet had held, freeing him up. As Bousquet let go of Phelps' leg, he jumped on the bed, taking over the exact spot vacated by Gilot, who took over the position between Michael's legs that Leveaux had just giving up.
Michael knew he must not have been their first gang bang as a team, but still, he was impressed. In only a few seconds the cocks in his ass and throat were replaced with new ones, and the fucking continued. So fast was it, that his ass did not even have the time to close up, and Gilot was able to slide his slick cock right back into the same chute Leveaux had just left. Michael was in heaven, as he continued to suck Frederick's dick and push back on Gilot's prick, all the while hearing the whoops, hollers and cries of encouragement the French team was giving each other.
Thirty minutes had passed and Bousquet announced that he was getting close to cumming, pushing his long sweaty hair back and out of his face. When Gilot had announced he was getting close, the team had done exactly what they had done when Leveaux had said he was getting close, with Bousquet taking a turn at his ass, and Alain placing his cock in Michael's mouth. Now that Bousquet was getting close, there was only one dick left to be put up his ass, the monster cock of Alain Bernard.
However, when Bousquet pulled out, this time was different, Alain did indeed take his position between Phelps' legs and force his monster cock into Phelps' ass, but this time he took hold of Michael's flailing legs himself, the other three Frenchmen taking places on the bed. When Michael turned his head to try and get at one of their dicks, they turned his head forward, so that he had to look directly into the face of Alain Bernard as he relentlessly and without mercy fucked Michael Phelps up his ass. While the other Frenchmen had been able to plant their cocks deep into his ass in one thrust, Alain was so large and thick; it took minutes to get him buried to the hilt in Phelps' ass, even with the workout it had received from the three previous cocks.
Soaked in sweat, Alain pounded into Phelps' upturned ass, eliciting moans and cries of pleasure from Phelps, no longer muffled by a cock stuffed in his throat, but able to cry out freely. Alain thrusted, looking down and enjoying the sight of Phelps' writhing on the bed, his body racked with indescribable pleasure as his prostate was being nearly bruised by the workout Alain's monster cock was giving it. Alain's balls slapped against Phelps' ass. Alain Bernard reached down, grabbing his rival's nipples and twisting them, bringing further moans from Phelps' swollen lips.
Combined with the two masterful suck jobs Phelps had given him earlier tonight, Alain knew he would not last long, and motioned to his teammates. Moving into position, the three Frenchman pointed their cocks at Michael's face and began stroking and masturbating themselves.
Phelps was beyond turned on, and it only took a little help from Alain to put him over the edge. It was indeed as much as he could take when Alain wrapped a hand around his cock, pressed a thumb into his slit and started to stroke him firmly and perfectly. His orgasm was one of the most violent that he had ever had and he lurched and shuddered, cum spewing from his cock head, spraying his pecs and abs with its creamy treat.
Seeing this pushed the three Frenchman on the bed over the edge as well, and almost in perfect unison they each blew their load right onto the handsome face of Michael Phelps. Opening his mouth to try and catch as much of the precious ooze into his mouth as possible, the Frenchman came more than Phelps could handle, forcing Phelps to try and swallow some while most escaped out of his mouth and ran out the sides while the rest painted his face, hair and neck with creamy white goo, obscuring his vision.
The sensations of Michael's spasming ass, as well as the ejaculations of his teammates were too much for Alain, as he gripped Michael's nipple again and with all the power in his hips he slammed back in, to the very root, and started pummeling the tight clenching over-stuffed chute, amazed at the sensations that Phelps' love tube could create on his cock.
Suddenly he exploded. He threw his head back, droplets of sweat spraying from his forehead as his eyes shut tight and he yelled out with delight. His balls drew tight in their sac and he pumped so much hot cum directly into Michael's ass that it could not take it all, and it began to flow freely out of the still clenching asshole and onto the sheets of the bed.
Coming down from their sexual peaks, the three Frenchman on the bed, Leveaux, Gilot and Bousquet slapped each other on the back and high-fived as they looked down on their conquered opponent; face still covered with their sticky seed. Alain could only smile and nod approvingly to his teammates at the thorough and complete fucking they had just given their American rival. Getting off the bed, Leveaux, Gilot and Bousquet headed to the bathroom, still congratulating each other on their awesome fucking, commenting on how tight Phelps' ass was, how skillful his mouth was at sucking cock, how hot the whole affair had been.
Alain and Michael were left alone, Michael's ass empty for the first time in over an hour, though still hungry for more cock, betraying him for the pig bottom he knew that he was. Alain threw him a towel and smiled down at his conquest.
"You might win more gold medals than me Phelps, but remember, it was me and my teammates who fucked you good and hard the night you won your relay, and once you are the bitch of a Frenchman, you are always the bitch of a Frenchman." Alain sneered as he left to join his teammates in the bathroom.
As Phelps was left there to recuperate, he knew Alain was right about him and his teammates being the ones to fuck him good and hard after his relay victory, but if he hurried, and had a little luck, he could make sure that they were not the last. Getting off the bed and getting dressed, Phelps looked forward to the next sexual encounter he might find at these Beijing Games.
That is the end of part 3; I hope you enjoyed reading it. I've been getting great responses so far and I would love to keep this going even after the Olympics as long as there is interest, so please keep the feedback, comments and suggestions coming. I am always more apt to keep something going when I know people enjoy reading it. Let me know what you think and what you would like to see next at badboy50040@hotmail.com
Look forward to hearing from you!