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An Essex Boy's Dream

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Joey studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His skinny yet toned physique was the envy of so many of the boys he’d met in the nightclubs around London. He twisted around until he could see his arse in the full-length mirror that stood before him, it was firm and tight and he was glad he hadn’t been neglecting the gym recently, but most of all he was glad he’d remembered to have it waxed that morning. Every beautician in Essex was well aware of the high maintenance grooming routines of the men that lived there, but when Joey had approached the desk at the salon that morning and requested a “back, sack and crack”, the bleach blonde behind the counter had still given him a knowing smile. He had also gotten a spray tan and a haircut, but neither of these differed from his weekly routine. Joey knew he was a good-looking lad without all the pampering but even still, if asked this morning, he could never have imagined where he’d be standing right now, in the hotel bathroom of David Beckham’s private suite at one of the most luxurious hotel’s in London, about to act out his fantasies with the man he’d idolised for so long.

Joey couldn’t believe his luck at first, of course he was a regular at some of the most exclusive clubs in London, but it was very unusual for him to be directly escorted to the VIP section. Beckham had requested him and from the moment he’d started talking to the man, the desire had been building. Drinks flowed freely and when the footballer had rested a hand a on Joey’s thigh, it began to become clear that the boy’s desire was not entirely unrequited. From that point onwards the two had struggled to keep their hands off each other, one thing lead to another and now here he stood. Taking one last look in the mirror Joey had to admit, even by his own standards, he looked perfect, and he felt so ready to be ruined.

Feeling the anticipation coursing through his veins, he slowly turned the handle and opened the door. Joey took a step forward and for a moment stood still. He felt the soft cream-coloured carpet beneath his feet. Standing in the doorway in nothing but his tight, black boxer-briefs, the boy felt strangely underdressed. The sight before him made Joey stir beneath the fabric of his underwear, David Beckham sat, legs spread in the corner of the room on a chic white leather chair, wearing his Liverpool FC kit. Joey could do nothing but grin.

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"Over here, on your knees”, said Beckham in his confident manner. He watched carefully as Joey gave him a smirk and walked towards him, raising his eyebrows and giggling.

“What’s so funny then?”, asked David, without a hint of amusement in his voice.

“If all you wanted was a game of footy you should’ve just said so Becksy”, Joey laughed, showing the perfectly white teeth underneath his lips. He waited for a smile to cross the older man’s face, but it didn’t come. Instead, he felt the man’s hand grip him roughly by his hair

Beckham scowled at him, “Let’s get one thing straight lad, I’m in charge here. You’ll call me Sir or Mr Beckham, you understand?”.

“Yeah alright then, I do like to…”, Joey felt the grip on his hair tighten, “Yes Mr Beckham, I’m sorry Sir”, Joey pleaded.

“That’s better, now be a good cock slut and I might even let you cum yourself”, said David, shoving the younger man’s face down into his crotch.

This was when Joey realised the football kit Mr Beckham wore must not have been washed in weeks. A strong musk filled his nostrils and Joey was intoxicated by the scent, nuzzling into the fabric that lay on top of Mr Beckham’s sweaty balls. He could feel his dick growing harder by the second.

“Fuck, I should’ve known a little cock slut like you would get off on my scent alone. Well you’re in luck”, remarked Beckham, his voice thick with arrogance. David sat back, lifted his right arm, resting it behind his head, and pulled Joey’s head away from his crotch towards his armpit. The desperate look on the boy’s face said it all, his mouth hung open and it was obvious this perfect lad needed to be fucked, hard.

“I worked hard in the gym today so a boy like you could smell these pits, this jersey’s rank, so you’d better enjoy it”, David said, his low voice steeped with dominance. He rubbed Joey’s pretty face up and down against the red jersey fabric on his underarms, David noticed the boy seemed to get off on the sweaty football top almost as much as he did, watching the way he palmed desperately at his rock-hard cock beneath those tight boxer-briefs.

Joey had never done something like this before, not imagining he could get such a hard-on from being forced to sniff another man’s dirty armpits. He breathed in deeply, getting as much pleasure as he could from this new fetish before his brained kicked back into action and he pushed himself away from the muscled chest.

“Time to get rid of the jersey then Joe?”, asked David, cocking an eyebrow.

“Ehh, yes please Sir”, replied Joey giving the man a quizzical look. In truth he’d expected to be pushed back down into the pit, in fact he’d yearned for it, not that he’d ever admit that. Even still, he was glad he wouldn’t have to humiliate himself any further – being a sweaty armpit slave didn’t do wonders for his perfect little Essex boy persona. He watched as Mr Beckham pulled the top up over his head, screwed it up in a ball and threw it towards the far corner of the room. He was built like a tank, powerful muscles covering ever inch of his torso. He had a perfect eight-pack and his pecs were covered with two large tattoos. There was no hair aside from a thick happy trail and the growth of hair Joey could see sticking out from below his armpits.

It was then that Joey realised the mistake he’d made, Mr Beckham placed his arm back behind his head and already Joey could smell the pungent stink.

“Well, what are you waiting for? I took the top off now get to work”, David said.

Joey moved tentatively towards the hairy armpit; nose turned up at the smell.

“I said, get to work”, David repeated, this time his voice ringing with authority. He then grabbed joey by the hair and pressed him into the armpit.

Joey felt the moisture of the older man’s sweaty armpit hair pressed against his cheek, resisting the ripe pits and feigning disgust at where his nose was buried. He didn’t like the idea of breathing in the rank scent of sweaty pits, but when his animalistic urges took over, he knew he just couldn’t help himself. Mr Beckham must have seen him try to pull away because within seconds he felt a strong hand pressing his face tightly against his under-arms, his nose buried deep within the bed of shimmering hair.

“Breathe it in, and then you can lick it clean for me like good little slut boy, no point in gaining some pride now, you’ll do what I say, when I say and if you don’t you’ll bare the consequences”, David loved the control he had over pretty guys like Joey, deep down they were all the same, they needed to submit to men like him to satisfy their desires.

Joey loved the feeling of losing control. Immediately he took a deep breath in, being consumed by the musky stench filling his lungs. He set about cleaning the armpit with his tongue. Fuck, Mr Beckham even tasted manly, it wasn’t long before Joey emerged from the armpit, mouth closed with a salty drool dripping down his chin. As he started work on the other pit, an involuntary moan escaped the boy.

“Fuck you’re enjoying this even more than me you little whore, you’re practically begging for my sweat, aren’t you?”, David mocked. This was already sizing up to be one of the hottest experiences of David’s life and he hadn’t even taken his shorts off yet.