Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. I do not claim to know anything about the sexuality of any of the celebrities mentioned. Feel free to e-mail me comments I will do my best to reply.
Roger stepped off centre court feeling very pleased with himself. He had proven that he could beat Nadal and had once again showed himself as the king of the grass court.
He had to talk his way through countless press interviews. The whole time Roger's eyes kept straying to the winners board as the process of engraving his name for a fourth consecutive year began. Only Bjorn Borg and Pete Samprass now had more Wimbledon men's singles titles than him.
Also he had kept that Spanish punk away from the Wimbledon title for at least another year. But not only had he done that, he had reaffirmed his position as the Alpha Male of the world of tennis.
However, there was one thing left to do to drive that advantage home. As Roger finally arrived back in the locker room, he arrived to a locker room full of hot steam. It was so misty he could hardly see across to the corner where his kit bag lay. He could still hear the running water of the shower. Roger couldn't help but smile to himself. He was worried that he might have missed Rafa...
Roger pulled of his t-shirt.... as he pulled it over his head he could smell that musky male scent caught within the fabric. He had sweated in that shirt and it felt damp. Now Roger involuntarily grabbed at his crotch as he approached the shower area. He turned the corner and then checked himself.
He could just see the naked form of Rafael Nadal from the back. His strong muscular back that broke out into those round, firm buttocks, which in turn flowed seamlessly into his taught, tanned, Spanish legs.
The hot water was running down his body, dripping from his long black locks. Roger was hard. His dick was stretching his jock strap and his tennis shorts. A large bulge had developed and Roger was groping himself vigorously.
Rafael was rubbing his hands across his front. Roger could tell he was soaping up his firm chest. He could only imagine those dark nipples pointing through the soap suds.
As Roger watched through the steam, he slipped his hand into his shorts. He was now rubbing at the fabric of his jock strap. Roger slipped off his trainers and threw his sports socks across the room. Then slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts he hooked them off. Now the Swiss tennis stud was wearing just his straining white jock strap as he perved on the young Spaniard showering.
Rafael was now clearly soaping up his crotch. Roger longed to be able to see. His wish was granted. Rafa turned around.
"Roger" he stammered in slight surprise.... "I did not know you were in 'ere!"
"Carry on.... I was enjoying the show," Roger replied, smiling. He stepped forward. Rafael's eyes dropped to Roger's crotch.... they were fixated on the bulge it was concealing....
Roger was going to enjoy this.....
To be continued.........