Chapter 17: Black, White and Blue

It was Twitter. I’d had been mentioned in dozens of tweets, but my phone beeped when someone I followed included such a message. It was from Betty Maxx: “Luv that my friend, @woodfordmarc, scored 2day. In every sense.” Included was a photograph taken from the cameras and no doubt published on GaySportsTV website.

I hummed and hesitated over the reply. “@BettyMaxx I did. Did you? :-)” Was what I sent back.

Almost immediately, my phone beeped again. Attached were two indecent photographs from her latest porn film. “.@woodfordmarc Fuck yeah! Pls take me up on my offer 2 join me?”

“@BettyMaxx Maybe,” I replied. She was adamant that she wanted me to partake in a pornographic film with her but I wasn’t sure I had the guts or the bottle to do so. Playing with other people in the sexually charged atmosphere of the changing room or the sauna was very different from a bland, soulless photography studio.

Anna and I kissed as I entered our bedroom; her skin danced with arousal as my fingers played gently with her naked flesh. No longer interested in her hospital soap opera, her body screamed arousal and she pressed her writhing body against mine.

I undressed, kissing her body as she purred with lust and begged for relief. My fingers swept over her clit, my lips brushed over her erect nipples and her eyes sparkled with desire. She wanted me. I wanted her.

More than ever, I wanted her. My fingers pressed into her cunt and I wrapped them against her G-Spot, pressing gently as my mouth sucked on her engorged nipples and our naked flesh pressed against each other.

She panted breathlessly, snatching at her breaths as she exhaled. I pressed harder against her insides, feeling her smooth engorgement inside her cunt. My fiancée writhed. Groaning. Squealing. Bucking her hips like a desperately wanton slut.

Her first climax was loud, her second was louder. Each time, her cunt got wetter as her pussy clenched and quivered. She begged for more, my tongue swept over her slit before flicking her cunt; my fingers scissored the orgasmic woman.

Finally, we fucked; my cock slipped inside her sodden cunt with ease as the sounds and smells of our sex filled our bedroom. She whimpered with every thrust of my dick into her oiled hole, exhaling sharply as I rammed into her.

We kissed as our bodies sung in harmony and I came, filling her cunt with my cum. Together we lay in our mess, savouring the moment we enjoyed the aftershocks and feelings of our sex.

“Love you,” I whispered.

“Love you too.”

And then we cleaned up, changed the bedding and cuddled in bed, hugging each other until we fell into a deep slumber.

“I think you should do it,” Anna told me in the morning as I recounted Betty’s offer to me. I checked my phone; the porn star was very far from prudish as to the images she uploaded onto the micro-blogging site, but the most indecent of pictures were sent to me privately.

Over the course of the week, Betty and I tweeted each other often. I sent her a picture of my extravagant lunch so she sent one back of her mouth over a cock.

The following day, she was horse riding as I was working in the office, and then she was cooking as I was training at the football ground.

The lads posed for a naked picture in the showers and I cropped the picture at neckline, sending it to Betty with the question, “can you guess who is who?!” She retweeted it to all 40,000 of her followers.

I expected the National Mail to continue their campaign against us, but despite the pictures taken and public interest in our team, they didn’t feature us or the league. I was happy that we weren’t national news any more, but the homophobic and conservative press were not going to allow our story to continue without further bad coverage.

On Friday, I received an email from “Lucy” about an offer I had made for her friend to join us at training. It took a few minutes for me to remember the chat I had with a naked dancer a few weeks previous. She had left a phone number and I rang the stripper back.

She explained that her gay friend – a male stripper in Manchester – was 21 the following week and she had no idea what to get him; could I help? I texted the coach and arranged for one of our biggest fans to join us at the next training session.

It helped that we had no game the following Saturday. Due to the odd number of teams in the league, we had two weekends in the season where we had no games scheduled and the weekend following our last-minute dramatic victory against Leyton Kennels was the second of these. My fiancée was due to attend a couple of wedding fayres. I was destined to spend the weekend debating the difference with rose and blush for the bridesmaids’ dresses. It made no difference to me and my opinion would be ignored by the bride but without an excuse I had no reason not to attend.

Fortunately, a Twitter conversation with ManLube opened a door for me to escape Wedding Fayre Hell; would I like to visit Julia and Daniel in Estonia?

It wasn’t phrased in those words, but I accepted their unsaid invitation to avoid packed halls of brides and wedding planners, and fly to Tallinn. In the Estonian Ultimate Humiliation League, each team could have a single non-registered player play for them each week as a “guest” and as ManLube were hoping to expand further into the Baltic regions, they wanted me to go over and play for Tallinn New Boys.

The spotlight would serve the Estonian team well, and the exposure of the ManLube logo would be free publicity.

How could I refuse? Anna sulked briefly when I told her. I feigned forgetfulness when she mentioned the wedding fayre and I muttered apologetically but a few gentle kisses on her lips and a lot more kisses on her cunt, and she had forgiven me.

“Don’t get too attached to the Estonian girls,” she warned me as I packed and her hands encircled my body.

“What about the Estonian boys?”

Her lips broke into a smile; her hands danced over my crotch as she whispered in my ear. “As long as I get stories and photographs, of course!”

I left work at lunchtime and drove the 100 miles to the airport; ManLube had provided my airline tickets, that I collected from the brightly-coloured check-in desk and I flew on the packed flight to Estonia’s capital city.

It was dark when I arrived. A representative of the company was waiting for me at the airport and the Estonian national greeted me warmly as he recognised me walking through the throng of travellers.

Petr was chatty; he longed to correct any misconceptions I had over his country while discussing their new league and even the weather. He drove me to my hotel in speeds that terrified me, and the modern hotel, housed in a Gothic building, was far more luxurious than what ManLube had provided at the sex show.

I didn’t know whether Julia and Daniel knew that I was coming, and at 10:30am, I got my response when a naked brunette threw her arms around me when I walked into their changing room.

“I’m your guest player,” I needlessly added.

“I beat you in midfield,” she cried as she turned to her coach. “He ... fuck good, tackle shit!”

“Oi,” I moaned and she giggled as she untangled herself from me.

ManLube’s representative had given me a number of items and they filmed me exchanging “gifts” with the captain of Tallinn New Boys. The box of presents included a Woodford Wanderers shirt, our crest and several boxes of ManLube products. In return, I was given a Tallinn New Boys kit, which I had to change into.

I didn’t realise that I would be taking part in the first game of the Ultimate Humiliation League, and rickety facilities we were in was just their training ground. Adjacent to the training ground was a 3,000 seater indoor stadium and a European-based pornography website had bought the rights to show live matches.

The last training session before their big match was a gentle kick around the freezing pitch; Julia passed with precision and the talented girl was blessed with a beautiful eye for a pass.

It must have been several degrees below freezing but I seemed to be the only person struggling in the cold weather. The team were a lot stronger than when they were in Italy; in the intervening weeks they had strengthened and become fitter. A couple of new faces were skilled strikers of the ball and I wasn’t sure if Woodford Wanderers played them now whether we would win.

A short lunch of bread and fruit followed and we drank liquid. A number of the players struggled to converse, given the lack of a shared tongue, although Julia offered to translate; I noticed a malevolent gleam in her eye and knew her English to Estonian translation wasn’t completely accurate. Julia’s team-mates laughed at something I said, and she later confessed she had told them that I had “the smallest cock in the league.”

The coach read out the teamsheet and talked tactics with Julia translating for me; I would play in midfield alongside Julia, protecting the defenders. We were warned about Tartu County’s skilful “number eight” and the pace of their wingers.

The indoor stadium had artificial grass and was used by a number of different teams; Tallinn New Boys were just another tenant of the recently built community facility that had the largest changing room I’d ever used.

Butterflies swam inside; I don’t think I’d ever felt like this before a match and the Estonian national anthem bellowed as we took to the pitch; several degrees warmer than outside.

The stadium was packed; dozens of flags waved from the stands and a roar echoed in the enclosed space. I looked in awe around me, seeing a woman with a microphone and camera walk towards me.

I was interviewed in broken English, as was Tartu County’s guest: the American goalkeeper from New York Champions. Our opponents, resplendent in their bright red shirts and white shorts, kicked off and immediately their talented player danced past two tackles to nutmeg Julia. I cleared the ball into touch with my outstretched leg as he threatened to run past us.

Every time Tartu got the ball they sought their creative midfielder who loved to show his skills. The twinkle-toed figure had a new trick every time he got the ball, and the diminutive player oozed confidence.

But Julia and I worked well. Each time, one of us would go to challenge while the other one covered the space, and although Tartu had seen more of the ball by half-time, neither team had had many chances.

All in all, it was becoming a dull game, that sparked into life after the break. They scored when their wingers got behind our defence, and then we equalised from the penalty spot. As the game headed towards a 1-1 draw, a Tallinn corner was played into the box and it bounced off the defender, spinning towards me.

For a moment, time stood still. It was an identical chance that I had buried against Leyton Kennels. I felt the wind rush for a moment as I positioned my body to strike it cleanly.

And I missed.

I missed the ball entirely, kicking the air as the football bounced underneath my volleying foot.

I could perhaps claim the artificial surface had adjusted the bounce compared to the grass I was used to. But I hadn’t missed a kick all game and when I did, it was at the most important moment.

Half-a-second later, the ball struck the back of the net; Daniel was behind me and leathered the football past the despairing dive of their American goalkeeper.

Relief more than anything flooded through me as the young player was mobbed by his team-mates celebrating the goal with wild abandon.