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Here's a story for everyone enjoying watching Wimbledon, and all those
hot tennis players. This story is fiction, featuring sex between male
celebrities - the story bears no resemblance to the real-life
celebrities. Stop reading now if you shouldn't be here, or if you're
going to get offended.


Andre Agassi loved Wimbledon. After having won the championship ten years
ago, he was back at the tournament, determined to show the world that he
could do it again. His tennis skills had suggested to the public that it
might be his year, and he had the honour of opening the show-court action
on the first day. It was not a particularly challenging match for him,
and he returned to the changing room, happy with a solid performance.

The other thing Andre loved was sex. The man was an animal in the sack,
and he liked taking every opportunity to show off his sexual prowess. He
could think of nothing better to do after a successful match than to
shove his thick, hard cock into an expectant mouth, and take out any
remaining energy, face-fucking whoever he had with him.

More often than not, Andre went for men. He had his times with women, but
Andre's cock craved a hairy cocksucker to work his magic. The changing
rooms at the major tournaments were arena for some sweaty, energetic sex
for most of the male tennis players. There was nearly always some stud
hanging around, waiting for Andre to pounce. As one of the most
experienced players on the tour, Andre had his pick of who he wanted to
fuck, and any other player would be grateful to have Andre fucking them.

So, after his first-round success, Andre returned to the swish Wimbledon
changing rooms, and began getting undressed out of his slightly
sweat-dampened clothes, ready for a shower to freshen up. There were, of
course, private showers for the players, but Andre always went for the
communal showers, hoping to find another guy, eager for a fuck. Wearing
only his tight, black briefs, he wandered into the shower area.

Thick clouds of steam hung in the air, and Andre could hear the rush of
running water from round the corner as he entered. He had to see who it
was, so he peeped his head round the end wall. There, half-covered in
bubbles, and sponging himself under the hot shower-head, was Marat Safin,
the tall Russian heartthrob, number 2 seed at the tournament. Safin was
known for his passion on the circuit - he had a strong temper, and
players did not enjoy getting on the wrong side of him. After a bad
match, Safin would often enjoy some revenge over his opponent by forcing
his delicious, Russian cock hard into his opponent's arse. His rough
fucking style was well-known in the tournament showers. Most players
would keep a wide berth, but Agassi was definitely on a high this
afternoon, and decided to approach the hot-headed Russian. He stripped
off his briefs, releasing his hardening cock, and strode over, without
making a sound.

Creeping up behind Marat, Agassi made sure he was silent, before
positioning himself a foot behind the Russian. Safin continued soaking
his soapy, muscled stomach, without realising who was behind him. The
tall Russian tilted his head back, with his eyes closed, and his face was
drenched with water as he turned round. He then heard, "Hey, stud."

Safin opened his eyes, wiped away the water, and was confronted with the
naked, hairy figure of Andre Agassi. The pair had never, amazingly,
fucked each other before, but Safin knew at once why Andre was there. He
glanced down at the American's crotch, seeing a thick snake of a cock
quickly hardening. He looked back up to Andre's face, and responded
seductively, "Hey, man."

Andre couldn't resist Marat's sexy Russian accent, and he looked Safin up
and down. Bubbles were running down his muscular chest and stomach,
washed down by the water, and dripped down off Marat's hanging dick.
Marat did not smile, but had a smouldering look about him, and droplets
of water were hanging from his chin. Agassi stepped forward, receiving a
few drops of water for the first time, and the pair's lips closed
together. Safin was the taller of the two, and pressed his moist stomach
against Andre's hairy torso. As their mouths pulled apart, Andre was left
biting on Marat's bottom lip. He let go after a moment, and heard Marat
speaking meaningfully in Russian. He didn't have a clue what Safin was
saying, but was taken aback when Safin grabbed him and pressed him up
against the tiled wall under the shower.

Marat was well-muscled and sufficiently strong to lift Andre off the
floor against the wall.His cock was soon hard, and as Marat held Andre
up against the wall in another long kiss, Andre could feel Marat's hard
pole rubbing up against him. Safin reached for his small bottle of shower
gel and drizzled it over Agassi's broad, hairy chest. Years of tennis had
given Andre a very well-defined chest, and Marat massaged the shower gel
through Andre's chest hair and around his hard nipples. Marat drizzled
more of the gel across Andre's stomach and crotch, his hands delving deep
past Andre's hard cock to grasp and massage Andre's balls.

Marat's gel-coated hands then reached round to rub over Agassi's perfect
arse-cheeks. His hands slipped over the cheeks, then began pulling them
apart. Safin's fingers ran through Agassi's crack as the pair continued
to kiss. He began pressing a finger into Andre's hole, widening the way
for his 9in pole. Andre groaned as they kissed, but Marat pulled back
once again. Andre went for the plunge, saying, "Talk dirty, stud."

Safin began growling dirty talk at Andre, completely in Russian. Andre
didn't understand a word, but loved every second. After a minute, Marat
pulled his finger out and pressed hard into Andre with his cock, parting
Andre's cheeks with a couple of fast thrusts. Agassi felt like he was
being ripped apart, but was soon enjoying the pumping sensation of
Safin's thrusts. Marat continued talking throughout, which drove Andre
wild. The water beat down from above, Marat's arms still holding Andre's
legs up, and bouncing him up and down on his cock against the wall. The
slapping of flesh on flesh was loud and fast, as Marat's speed increased.
People weren't joking about Safin's rough style, as the guy didn't let up
for a moment.

Agassi's prostate was pummelled solidly for what felt like (and probably
was) half an hour. The Russian's stamina was amazing, and he managed to
keep Agassi off the floor for the most part. Water gushed down over
Safin's chest, washing the sweat down to the drains in the floor. When
the thrusts had reached maximum speed, and the Russian's hips were
pounding into Agassi's aching arse, the pair were both yelling with
pleasure. Safin's dick throbbed and spurted waves of cun deep into Andre,
with a final shout. In that moment, Marat clawed down Agassi's chest with
his nails, giving Andre a magnificent feeling.

He let Andre drop to the floor, his cock popping quickly out of Andre's
hole, and dripping a few last drops of spunk onto the floor. Andre then
took his turn, using his strength to grab Marat's shoulders above him,
and push him down to his knees. Agassi stood under the shower, with
streams of hot water running down his hairy body, with Safin knelt in
front of him, his mouth inches from Agassi's thick 10in shaft.

Agassi commanded, "Suck it," and Safin obeyed at once, licking round
Andre's large, pink cock-head. He began taking Andre's shaft through his
lips, his face receiving a spatter of water from the shower above. Andre
held the back of Marat's dark-haired head with one hand, and stroke his
own washboard stomach with the other. Marat tilted his head into position
after a few seconds to accommodate the whole of Andre's length. Agassi's
monster filled Safin's mouth and throat, causing Safin to gag at first.
Agassi's thickness and length often had this affect on his cocksuckers,
but Safin coped very well. Soon, he was wolfing down the whole length of
Andre's pole, and sucking with all his remaining energy.

As he sucked back, he teased Andre's cock-head with his tongue, and then
he took all of Andre in, so that his nose could inhale Andre's musky
scent from his damp mass of pubes. Agassi continued to hold Safin's head,
while pinching and twisting his own nipples and rubbing his wet stomach.
Safin was an expert cocksucker, and had Andre groaning loudly. Andre had
to stop rubbing himself and grab onto a pipe on the wall for support as
he gave in to the pleasure of Safin's tongue.

It took a good fifteen minutes for Andre to finally blow his load, but
Safin continued taking in Andre's length. As his orgasm approached, he
pumped hard into Safin's mouth, face-fucking the Russian for the last
half-minute. His fist tightly grabbing the water-pipe on the wall, he
shot waves of spunk down Safin's open throat. Marat guzzled down every
drop, and Andre's whole body clenched for a moment. His strength
inadvertently caused the pipe to come off the wall suddenly. Andre nearly
fell over as the pipe showered the sweaty pair with a burst of ice-cold
water. They ran from the vicinity, shouting from the cold, and came
together for a final kiss, their muscled torsos pressed against each
other. They then walked off, not saying another word to each other. An
unforgettable fuck for them both.

Andre walked back to his bag of clothes, smiling. "Better than tennis,"
he said to himself.

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