Beck Home


It was a rainy evening in Worsley, England. David Beckham stared out of the window of his expensive home. There was little to see, apart from the drizzle and the usual photographers across the street. Usually there were at least ten of them, waiting for his every move. But he had stayed inside all day and the depressing weather had driven most of the vultures away to some other victim's house.

David took another drink. He still felt miserable, even lonely. His fiancée Victoria was off to some concert with the remaining Spice Girls. And he had not been in the mood to join her. In the old days they could occasionally sneak out together, to some party or some friend's place. But nowadays wherever they went the press hunted them down like they were wanted criminals. And all this because of one stupid foul for which he had apologised anyway.

Life had not always been this cruel. Only a few weeks ago he had been the golden boy of English soccer. One of the best players of recent years and certainly the most attractive. His great skills had long been apparent to the many followers of the world's most popular game. For Manchester United he had performed magnificently, even scoring one of the most memorable goals ever. A terrific kick from within his own half which had totally dumbfounded the Wimbledon-goalkeeper and delighted everybody else.

He had been an obvious choice for England's worldcup squad. With Paul Gascoigne a shadow of his former self, Beckham was one of the few, perhaps the only one, who could bring some creativity to the side. But to David's astonishment, manager Glen Hoddle had not even picked him for the first match. The result was predictable: England beat Tunisia but it was an uninspired game. Then came an unexpected defeat against Rumania and the English worldcup-dream was in grave danger.

But against Colombia David did play and how! He directed the play, scattering brilliant passes. And from a free kick he scored a magnificent goal from thirty yards. It was not only his goal that delighted millions, but also the sight of the blond hunk on his knees, celebrating. At twenty-three he was the perfect mix of grown-up athletic stud and boyish hunk.

His luck was to change dramatically though. In the second round against Argentina he started well enough. And what a match it was: 2-2 at half time, with that other gorgeous teen idol Michael Owen scoring an unbelievable goal. But at the start of the second half David was brought down and as he lay helplessly on the pitch he kicked the culprit. It was a worthless kick but it happened in front of the referee who sent him off. The rest is history: England was knocked out on penalties and Argentina went on. On to a memorable defeat to Holland in the quarterfinals.

Then it started: The English, and especially the gutter-press, in desperate need for a scapegoat, turned against him with great fanaticism. One national newspaper had the headline "Ten brave heroes and one stupid boy" all over the front-page. When he went to New York with Victoria, for a short holiday, the paparazzi followed them everywhere. He feared he had just replaced the late Princess Diana as the most hunted person in Britain. And one silly mistake had caused all that.

Coming home had done little to change his mood. Occasionally the phone would ring and some drunk would shout abuse at him. Or it would be a journalist whose first question would be: "How do you feel, having left down your country?" Although he tried to act sturdy, it was far more than David could stomach. And now he was alone. Alone with his thoughts, with his worries and his beer.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. It startled David. He was not expecting any visitors. Reluctantly he walked to the front door and opened it.

"Hi Becks..."

Luckily it wasn't a drunken "supporter" or a tabloid man. It was his Manchester United teammate Ryan Giggs.

"Hi Ryan, come in."

Ryan walked in and took off his expensive leather jacket. He shook his curly head like a puppy and waterdrops spattered across the hall. He giggled.

"Sorry 'bout that. Terrible weather."

"Oh, that's all right Ryan."

The boys entered the living room. Giggs sat down in one of the posh designer-chairs. He looked around.

"You all alone? Where's Vicky?"

"She's off to some concert. I don't think she'll be back this weekend. You want a beer?"


David went to the kitchen to get it. He was pleased Ryan had come to visit him. At first they had been seen as rivals. Beckham had been called "the new Ryan Giggs." But they had proved they could play well together. And they got along really well too. Ryan was only a year and a half older than he was and they shared many interests. They both loved expensive clothes and cars. And they were often seen at only the trendiest nightclubs. They had a lot in common.

He brought his friend a designer bottled beer and sat down on the sofa. For a moment he was silent. He took a good look at Ryan, who was certainly worth one. Of course he had a nice athletic body. All great footballers have. But he had beautiful brown eyes and cute curly brown hair too. Before Beckham came on the scene Giggs had been the favourite of the young girls on the stands. But David was in a league of his own as far as looks are concerned. And he knew it.

"So," said Ryan. "How have you been?"

"Oh. Just terrible."

Ryan felt his mate was telling the truth and felt a bit uneasy. Of course he knew everything that had happened. Hey, they have television in Wales too! But what was he supposed to say? He said nothing.

David stretched himself and wiped his long bleached blond hair from his forehead. He took a sip of his beer.

"It's bloody ridiculous!" he blurted out.

"What is?"

"The way everybody behaves. It's like everyone is down on me. And those goddamn photographers. They drive me mad!"

"Oh, come one Becks. They're not worth it."

"Really man, they follow us everywhere. Did you see those pics they made in New York?"

Ryan had and it had been pretty embarrassing. David and Victoria had gone to the States to get away from it all. Instead they had been hounded and the pictures of the young couple had been all over the papers. Holding hands, she touching his gorgeous butt, the great British public had been seen it all. And everything accompanied with the usual derisive captions. David had become Fleet Street's favourite hate-figure.

"Yeah, I did. But so what? This'll blow over."

"Will it? They seem to enjoy it."

In one gulp he emptied his glass. He now knew what he wanted to do tonight. He wanted to get really drunk and his pal Ryan was going to be his drinking-chum. And so it happened. They drank a few more beers and then turned to whiskey. And as night progressed the mood got more and more emotional.

"You know," said David. "I'm really thinking of moving. Victoria wants to move to Italy anyway. So why not? What's left for me here?"

"Man, you can't be serious! Think of us; think of all your pals here. Think of your family."

David sighed. He had thought of that too. It was some dilemma. But he knew things couldn't go on the way they had. These past few weeks had been a nightmare to him.

"I know Ryan, but it's ... it's too much. I don't think I can take much more of this shit."

He felt a tear in his eye. And then another. Before he knew it tears were streaming down and he was holding his head in his hands.

Ryan Giggs looked on uncomfortably. He knew his friend was an emotional man, but he had never seen him cry before. And he had hardly realised how dreadful life had been for him recently. He felt so sorry for him and he hated to see any man weep, let alone his friend David. Ryan got up and sat down on the couch next to him. He put his right arm around his neck and whispered.

"Come on Dave, it'll be all right."

Then he put both arms around David, who was sobbing audibly. Ryan pulled David's head towards his chest. He now held him in his arms, like a mother comforting a child.

"It's okay, Becks. It's okay."

The boys sat like this for some time. David trying to regain control, Ryan holding him tight. And although he had only wanted to console his friend it sure felt great. Feeling that terrific body pressed against his, that beautiful face resting on his chest, it excited him. He loosened his grip a bit and moved his hand up David's back. Slowly he started to stroke him.

"There... It's all right David."

Beckham did hardly realise what was happening. He was too sad, too drunk and too glad that he had found a shoulder to cry on. When the entire world had turned against him and even his girlfriend had left him to his misery, at least one man was there for him. One real friend.

But his friend was getting more and more excited. With one hand he continued to caress David's back and with the other he stroked his long blond locks. It was something Ryan had always wanted to do, but had never dared to. And now he did it. Not out of malice, abusing someone at his lowest low, but because it felt like the natural thing to do. He wanted his friend to feel better and this seemed the best way to do it. And it certainly made him feel good: he could feel the pressure in his groin.

Ryan lowered his left hand and ever so gently touched David's right cheek. He brought his face closer. He could feel the heavy breath of the gorgeous hunk in his arms. He stared into the younger man's dark eyes. It was too much: Ryan bent over and pressed his lips to David's neck. He kissed him, paused and kissed him again.

David could only murmur. He was too surprised. Something was happening to him, that had never entered his imagination. Another man and a very good looking man too, was touching him, caressing him, kissing him. And it was someone he knew very well. Or at least he had thought so. Ryan? Gay? Never.

"Ryan, stop it."

But Ryan did not stop. He couldn't. Ever since he had first laid eyes on beautiful Beckham he had had the hots for him. He had never seen a more attractive man in his life. And he had seen a lot of attractive men. Most of them on video and a few in the occasional bar in Amsterdam. Not in Manchester or London. Ryan was not that stupid. He knew the British press too. What a story that would have been: "Randy Ryan!" or "Giggs in gay bar-shocker! World exclusive!" It would have turned his life into a nightmare, so he had always been careful. And until now even his closest friends on the team had never noticed anything. As far as they were concerned he was just as straight as the rest of them. But whenever they showered after a match he could not keep his eyes off David's gorgeous body. And at long last he had succumbed to the temptation.

"David, I can't. I want to make you feel better."

He pressed his cheek against David's. His lovelock touched the other man's forehead. His lips found their way to David's ear lobe. He lovingly kissed it.

This was too much for David. He pushed Ryan away. He stared at him with bewilderment in his eyes. Deep inside he felt the urge to hit him.

"What the hell is this?" he yelled. "I don't believe it!"

He got up and staggered.

"What do you want from me?"

All of a sudden the situation had reversed completely. David had regained control of himself. For a moment the worries and doubts had been forgotten and replaced with bewilderment and fury. Fury because a man had done all those things to him. And bewilderment because that man was Ryan. Good old Giggsy with whom he had been to all those clubs, drinking beer and chasing girls. Girls!

Now it was Ryan who felt desperate. What had he done? He could feel his face turn red. He had only tried to comfort his mate and his instincts had got the better of him. Instincts he had hidden so well for so long. Now it would all come out and he would lose a great friend and gain an enemy.

"Oh God, David, I'm so sorry..."

"Sorry! I'll make you feel sorry! You fucking faggot! Get out!"

"Oh Becks, please let me explain..."

"Don't you Becks me! Dirty little bugger!"

"Please, David..."

Ryan could hardly speak anymore. He felt a lump in his throat and a tear welling in his eye.

"I only tried to help you... I'm so sorry..."

"Help me? Fuck you! You're just like the rest of them! Trying to take advantage of me!"

"No! No!"

"And what's all this shit about making me feel better. I'm not a fag! Hell, I've got the hottest girl in London and I'm going to marry her. Marry her, you hear!"

This time Ryan was the one who burst into tears.

"Oh David, I shouldn't have been so stupid. But you were so down. I just had to do something, you looked so sad. I'm so sorry."

And in tears he told his friend the secret story of his young life. Of having to be cautious all the time, not making anybody suspicious. Of having to laugh at all the terrible jokes his teammates made about gays. Of having to be seen in public with girls on his arm for the sake of the papers. It was a long story (leave that to a Welshman) and it had at least one positive effect: it calmed David down.

"And I'm only human Dave, and you're so beautiful. Hell, you know that... Why do you think all those girls scream at you? I can't help it... Ever since we first met I've only thought of you... David... I love you."

He cried again. He felt heartbroken and he looked it. David started to feel sorry for him. Life must not have been easy for Ryan either. And after all, he had been the only one he could turn to. No, Ryan wasn't too bad. He had done a stupid thing, but hell, don't we all. And what were we talking about anyway? A few kisses. As if David had never been kissed in his life... And they had not been bad kisses too. He grinned. And the hugs hadn't been so awful either.

"Come on, Ryan. Stop crying."

But Ryan couldn't stop crying. He had never felt so miserable in his life. He had come here to cheer his friend up and it had come to this.

"Come on man, stop it. I forgive you."

David walked to the couch, grabbed Ryan by the hands and pulled him up. Smiling he looked in Ryan's brown puppy-eyes. He ruffled his friend's curls and embraced him.

"There, that's better."

They stood there for ages. Ryan dared do nothing. His arms hung limpsy. But he could feel David's flesh pressed against his and the tension in his crotch returned. Hesitantly he put his arms around David's waist. So they stood, just like a young couple in love. It was enough to make Ryan's head spin.

"Becks, I'm so sorry about all this..."

David was still smiling. Crazy Giggsy, in love with him! Who'd have thought it? And he had to hand it to him: it certainly felt good holding him like this. Not the way it felt holding Victoria of course. Different but good. Ryan was a lot taller and firmer than any girl he had ever hugged like this. More muscular. That wasn't bad at all.

Suddenly David felt two things he had never experienced before. Ryan's hands were lowered onto his bum! And at the same time he felt a bulge pressing into his crotch. A stiff cock pushing against his own. And two strong hands grabbing his ass. Groping them, moulding them, stroking them. He wanted to shout and opened his mouth. But before he could speak two firm lips were pressed against his in a hot passionate kiss.

He tried to push his would-be lover away, but the grip on his body was too strong. Ryan kissed him again, on his mouth, on his neck, his mouth again. And he continued to feel David's tight butt.

"David, I love you so. You're such a hunk. And you're so sweet."

"Ryan, stop it."

But Ryan had only just begun. He parted David's lips with his tongue and gave him a long french kiss. And he pushed his erection deeper and deeper into his friend's groin. He was rock-hard by now.

"Oh my God."

David couldn't believe what was happening to him. He was being tongued by a guy! A guy was groping his buttocks! A guy was making love to him! And to make things worse the constant pressure of Ryan's cock made his own stiffen! He was rapidly getting hard himself. Ryan felt this too and took one hand of David's butt. He grabbed the other boy's hard-on and fondled it.

"You like it?"

The blond stud was speechless. Did he like it? Did he like his ass being played with? Feeling two hot lips on his? Being grabbed by the balls? A guy holding his cock? His cock that was by now fully erect.

"Looks as if you like it."

Ryan smiled at him. David couldn't help but notice it was a stunning smile.

"Man, stop it."

But David's voice wasn't as forceful as it had been. All the feeling, the grabbing, hugging and kissing had got him excited. Was he losing his mind? A GUY was exciting him! Turning him on! He groaned.

This was enough encouragement for Ryan. He quickly unzipped David's designer jeans and janked them down. The bulge in Becks' drawers was huge. Ryan went down on his knees in front of his friend and bent forward. He put his hands around David's ass and slowly kissed the top of the lump. It got larger instantly. He moved closer and shoved his face in David's groin, moving his mouth around the cock.

David groaned and moaned as the tension in his balls got almost unbearable. He could think of nothing else.

"Oh man, yeah."

He looked down at the curly head in his crotch. The feeling of the hot lips licking his big dick through his briefs made him quiver. And it made his balls ache. This was too much. He desperately needed to release the pressure. Without thinking he bent over and took off his Calvin Klein's.

The huge cock slapped Giggs in the face. It was so stiff and so big! Although Ryan had seen plenty of it in the showers at Old Trafford, he had never seen it this huge. At least ten inches. It would have made David a successful porn-star had he not been such a great athlete. Ryan gazed at it with amazement and delight. The cock was throbbing wildly with every anxious beat of David's heart. Ryan didn't hesitate. He had wanted to do this for so long and now he had the chance. He gently put his lips over the fat purple knob.

"Oh yeah! Suck it Ryan!"

Ryan licked the piss-slit that tasted of sweet pre-cum. He lapped the big shaft like the hungry puppy he was. Then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and went down for the kill. Part of the huge cock filled his mouth. But even with his experience at cock sucking he could hardly take it all. This boy was enormous! He could feel the corners of his mouth around it. The head deep in his throat.

"Oh yeah! That's it! Suck me!"

David grabbed Ryan's head and pulled it closer to his abdomen. More of his cock entered. It made Ryan choke. With wild gestures David started to face-fuck him, ramming his pole all the way down his sore throat.

"Oh God, yeah! Take it all! Yeah!"

It felt wonderful. Nobody had ever taken so much of David's penis. He was getting close. He fucked his friend's mouth faster and faster. Then he felt his body stiffen. Two more thrusts and then he exploded.

"YEAH!! OH YEAH! Oh my God!"

A fountain of cream squirted up Ryan's throat. David pulled his cock out and jerked it with both hands. More cum splashed into Ryan's face.


All the tension ebbed from David's body. His knees felt wobbly. In all his horny life he had never experienced an orgasm like this one. He tried to regain his breath, looking down on the man who had given it to him. Who had serviced him like a pro. Who had made him feel so exhausted and so good. He reached down, grabbed Ryan under his armpits and lifted him up. David pressed his lips against Ryan's mouth, still covered with semen. He pushed his tongue inside, tasting his own cum for the very first time. Ryan breathed heavily in his ear. They kissed and licked while their hands felt each other's back.

"Ryan, that was great! I feel great..."

"Oh David, I love you so much."

They broke away. David pulled up his trousers and took a seat but Ryan remained standing. He was close too. And he wanted to put up a show for his mate. Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hairy chest that had turned on so many teenaged girls. Then he took off his shoes. David, still leg-weary, followed his moves with interest. Lastly Ryan dropped his pants and there he stood, stark naked, sporting an erection that was almost as big as David's had been.

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