The Bet
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,461
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,461
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Bet
Disclaimer: I dont own David Beckham, Grégory Coupet, Zinedine Zidane, Wayne Rooney, Djibril Cisse, the World Cup, and whatever else is in here.
Yeah, this is my first PWP. I dunno, but i had the funniest idea and thought I\'d write it. Hope you enjoy!
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
T’was final match of the FIFA World Cup 2006 in Berlin, Germany between England and France and the players are on the field prepping for the match. What’s this? They’re sending Grégory Coupet in, instead of Fabian Barthez? It seems that the crowd is in agreement, well the French anyways. The English look scared shitless but are trying to hide it. Look at that man stretch. Woah! Look at that! David Beckham! Holy shit! And Wayne Rooney. France looks screwed. Unless… Djibril Cisse and Zinedine Zidane! Damn. I think I will leave you all to the announcer, Adrian Philander for the duration of the match.
“England vs. France! It can’t get any better than this!” bellowed the dumbass announcer I left you with. “5 minutes until the start of the match so I guess I will continue to talk aimlessly about the teams.”
No way in hell am I gonna make you all sit through that so, t-vo!
“14 minutes into the match and Beckham and Rooney are launching a counter attack to Cisse’s earlier attempt!” yelled Adrian. “OH MON DIEU ! I have never seen a save like that before in my life! Coupet literally had to stretch to the top left corner of that goal to save that one. Beautiful. Simply beautiful. This is what the World Cup is all about. Dang, that corner was useless too, or not. Zidane is running like a maniac! No one can catch him! And this is gonna be a… GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLL!
16 minutes and the score is 1-0 in favor of France.”
The match continues at a pace close to that, meaning without any more goals, until the end of the first half. We find ourselves in the locker room with the English coach yelling at his players. Oh, that was cold. But, I think it got the message across.
“Second half begins with a brutal onslaught by Beckham and Rooney!” exclaimed Adrian. Is it just me or can announcers not yell? “OH! MY! GOD! WIL THIS BE A GOAL! I THINK IT WILL! AND IT IS! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!! I don’t fucking believe it. Within 30 seconds of the second half England scores. What the hell did the coach say?”
We then have a second amazing goal from the amazing Ruud van Nistelrooy at the 89th minute, brilliantly ending the game. The two teams congratulate each other on a heck of a good match.
Alright, so locker room celebrations, locker room chastisings, interviews, blah dee blah dee blah… Ahh here we are. The party. In Beckham’s house. Of course there’s gonna be a party. It’s the fucking World Cup. So, all the kick ass teams are invited: England, Brazil, Argentina, France, Germany, Nigeria, Japan, South Korea, China, Iran, and the US cause they wouldn’t leave.
Beckham maneuvers through the crowd and finds a certain Coupet sitting at the bar and taps him on his left shoulder but stands to Coupet’s right. Coupet turns to the left and finds no one there so he turns to his right and finds Beckham sitting next to him. “Not funny.”
“Aww. Is someone in a bad mood ‘cause they lost the World Cup?” replies Beckham
“Shut it,” says Coupet.
“Well, if I remember correctly, I do believe we had a bet. Did we not?”
“Possibly.”
“I think we did. And I think that since I won I get what I wanted, right?”
“Possibly.”
“Well I’m sure you remember the bet so follow me.”
Beckham gets up and Coupet sighs and follows Beckham up the stairs to Beckham’s ridiculously large master bedroom.
“You just got lucky this time,” stated Coupet.
“Well you should have won the World Cup then,” replied Beckham.
“Lyon kicked your and the rest of Real Madrid’s asses so you can shut up.
“But you still lost The World Cup. You didn’t get a trophy for that one match but I did for this match so there.”
Coupet mumbled something inaudibly but Beckham managed to catch something along the lines of “cocky Englishmen.”
Beckham grabs Coupet and throws him onto his double king/full/insanely huge silk sheeted bed and straddles him. Coupet quickly regains his composure and wraps his arms around Beckham’s neck while Beckham starts to grind his clothed manhood against his. Beckham swallows Coupet’s moan with a mind blowing kiss. Coupet allows Beckham to ravage his mouth while Beckham finds the zipper on Coupet’s ADIDAS shirt. He pulls it down but realizes that it is one of the zippers that do not go all the way down. Now frustrated, Beckham just rips the shirt off.
“I liked that shirt.”
“I like it better off.”
Beckham takes his own shirt off and proceeds to ravage Coupet’s well sculpted chest. He takes one nipple into his mouth, while fondling the other causing Coupet to moan. Beckham could feel that go straight to his groin as he switched nipples. Once finished with that task he venture down Coupet’s stomach with his tongue and became face to face with his prize, concealed in Coupet’s ADIDAS pants.
“Clothes are so over rated,” remarked Beckham.
“If you feel that way, why do you wear them?” retorted Coupet.
“Sarcastic much?” said Beckham as he untied Coupet’s pants and slid it down and off along with his boxers. He sat up on Coupet’s legs to marvel at the body he was to which about to give a thorough fucking. Coupet grasps Beckham by the beck of his neck and pulls him down for another mind blowing kiss which he now dominates after a short struggle with Beckham. Beckham breaks the kiss and begins a trail of kisses down Coupet’s neck and chest until he reaches his naval in which he dips his tongue, smirking at the soft moan Coupet lets out. He then move further southward until him again come face to face with Coupet’s manhood. Not that penises have faces, but they do have heads. Beckham licked his way from the base to the tip and took the tip into his mouth, evicting a loud moan from his companion.
“You like that, don’t you?” asked Beckham cockily.
“No, I just moaned for my health,” replied Coupet sarcastically.
Beckham then deep throats Coupet’s cock sliding his tongue along the underside. Coupet fists the silk sheets and moans like some bitch in heat. Beckham proceeds to bob his head up and down on the thick cock he was sucking off, while grabbing the lube of the nightstand. He coats three of his fingers with lube and slides all three into Coupet’s hole.
“Oww. Usually one prepares their lover one finger at a time,” remarked Coupet.
“So you admit that we’re lovers?” Said Beckham as he finger-fucked his alleged lover.
Coupet just nodded dumbly while moaning as he pushed back against Beckham’s fingers. Beckham returned to sucking off his lover. Once finished with preparing his lover he releases his lover’s weeping cock and coats his own cock with lube and buries himself deep within Coupet. Both groan very loudly at their respective turn-ons. Beckham begins to move at a very frantic pace causing the ridiculously huge bed to shake.
~-~-~-~-~Back at the party~-~-~-~-~
“I don’t think I want to know what’s going on up there,” stated Zidane to Rooney as he looked up at the shaking chandelier.
“I have a hunch as to what is going on,” replied Rooney.
~-~-~-~-~Back in the bedroom~-~-~-~-~
“Oh god, yes. Mmmn… Harder! Faster!” screamed Coupet.
Beckham purposely angles his next thrust against Coupet’s prostate causing Coupet to moan loudly.
“Goal!” shouted Beckham.
“Gods, you’re retarded,” said Coupet.
Beckham continues to do this so the scene ends up sounding something like this:
“Goal!”
“Oh God yes!”
“Goal!”
“Mmmmn.”
“Goal!”
“Aaahhhh!”
“Goal!”
“Yes, right there!”
“Goal!”
“Oh mon Dieu!”
Beckham then thrusts in the opposite angle of Coupet’s prostate and exclaims, “Corner kick!”
“Oh Jesus,” says Coupet in anticipation.
Beckham then thrusts directly forward causing Coupet to moan and yells, “And the header!”
And finally he angles his thrust hard against Coupet’s prostate and shouts, “GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLL!”
Coupet has probably the most explosive orgasm of his life and some of his cum lands on his chin. Beckham feels Coupet’s muscles clench around him, squeezing his seed out he groans along with his own orgasm. Beckham collapses on top of Coupet, panting and smears Coupet’s seed all over both of their chests. Finally he pulls himself out of Coupet and rolls off to the side and licks the cum off Coupet’s chin.
“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” asked Beckham.
“Sure, but you made a mess,” replied Coupet, indicating to their chests.
“One that’s your cum so its not my mess and two I have an idea,” said Beckham as he proceeded to lick the cum off his lovers chest.
~-~-~-~-~Back at the party~-~-~-~-~
“Now I’m certain I don’t want to know,” said Zidane.
“Then how do you explain that bulge in you trousers?” inquired Rooney
Zidane blushed furiously while Rooney smirked triumphantly.
TBC! Peut-être… (Maybe)
~Phoenix
Woo! My first ever fic. And knowing me, it’s a PWP. Tell me what you think.
Yeah, this is my first PWP. I dunno, but i had the funniest idea and thought I\'d write it. Hope you enjoy!
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
T’was final match of the FIFA World Cup 2006 in Berlin, Germany between England and France and the players are on the field prepping for the match. What’s this? They’re sending Grégory Coupet in, instead of Fabian Barthez? It seems that the crowd is in agreement, well the French anyways. The English look scared shitless but are trying to hide it. Look at that man stretch. Woah! Look at that! David Beckham! Holy shit! And Wayne Rooney. France looks screwed. Unless… Djibril Cisse and Zinedine Zidane! Damn. I think I will leave you all to the announcer, Adrian Philander for the duration of the match.
“England vs. France! It can’t get any better than this!” bellowed the dumbass announcer I left you with. “5 minutes until the start of the match so I guess I will continue to talk aimlessly about the teams.”
No way in hell am I gonna make you all sit through that so, t-vo!
“14 minutes into the match and Beckham and Rooney are launching a counter attack to Cisse’s earlier attempt!” yelled Adrian. “OH MON DIEU ! I have never seen a save like that before in my life! Coupet literally had to stretch to the top left corner of that goal to save that one. Beautiful. Simply beautiful. This is what the World Cup is all about. Dang, that corner was useless too, or not. Zidane is running like a maniac! No one can catch him! And this is gonna be a… GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLL!
16 minutes and the score is 1-0 in favor of France.”
The match continues at a pace close to that, meaning without any more goals, until the end of the first half. We find ourselves in the locker room with the English coach yelling at his players. Oh, that was cold. But, I think it got the message across.
“Second half begins with a brutal onslaught by Beckham and Rooney!” exclaimed Adrian. Is it just me or can announcers not yell? “OH! MY! GOD! WIL THIS BE A GOAL! I THINK IT WILL! AND IT IS! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!! I don’t fucking believe it. Within 30 seconds of the second half England scores. What the hell did the coach say?”
We then have a second amazing goal from the amazing Ruud van Nistelrooy at the 89th minute, brilliantly ending the game. The two teams congratulate each other on a heck of a good match.
Alright, so locker room celebrations, locker room chastisings, interviews, blah dee blah dee blah… Ahh here we are. The party. In Beckham’s house. Of course there’s gonna be a party. It’s the fucking World Cup. So, all the kick ass teams are invited: England, Brazil, Argentina, France, Germany, Nigeria, Japan, South Korea, China, Iran, and the US cause they wouldn’t leave.
Beckham maneuvers through the crowd and finds a certain Coupet sitting at the bar and taps him on his left shoulder but stands to Coupet’s right. Coupet turns to the left and finds no one there so he turns to his right and finds Beckham sitting next to him. “Not funny.”
“Aww. Is someone in a bad mood ‘cause they lost the World Cup?” replies Beckham
“Shut it,” says Coupet.
“Well, if I remember correctly, I do believe we had a bet. Did we not?”
“Possibly.”
“I think we did. And I think that since I won I get what I wanted, right?”
“Possibly.”
“Well I’m sure you remember the bet so follow me.”
Beckham gets up and Coupet sighs and follows Beckham up the stairs to Beckham’s ridiculously large master bedroom.
“You just got lucky this time,” stated Coupet.
“Well you should have won the World Cup then,” replied Beckham.
“Lyon kicked your and the rest of Real Madrid’s asses so you can shut up.
“But you still lost The World Cup. You didn’t get a trophy for that one match but I did for this match so there.”
Coupet mumbled something inaudibly but Beckham managed to catch something along the lines of “cocky Englishmen.”
Beckham grabs Coupet and throws him onto his double king/full/insanely huge silk sheeted bed and straddles him. Coupet quickly regains his composure and wraps his arms around Beckham’s neck while Beckham starts to grind his clothed manhood against his. Beckham swallows Coupet’s moan with a mind blowing kiss. Coupet allows Beckham to ravage his mouth while Beckham finds the zipper on Coupet’s ADIDAS shirt. He pulls it down but realizes that it is one of the zippers that do not go all the way down. Now frustrated, Beckham just rips the shirt off.
“I liked that shirt.”
“I like it better off.”
Beckham takes his own shirt off and proceeds to ravage Coupet’s well sculpted chest. He takes one nipple into his mouth, while fondling the other causing Coupet to moan. Beckham could feel that go straight to his groin as he switched nipples. Once finished with that task he venture down Coupet’s stomach with his tongue and became face to face with his prize, concealed in Coupet’s ADIDAS pants.
“Clothes are so over rated,” remarked Beckham.
“If you feel that way, why do you wear them?” retorted Coupet.
“Sarcastic much?” said Beckham as he untied Coupet’s pants and slid it down and off along with his boxers. He sat up on Coupet’s legs to marvel at the body he was to which about to give a thorough fucking. Coupet grasps Beckham by the beck of his neck and pulls him down for another mind blowing kiss which he now dominates after a short struggle with Beckham. Beckham breaks the kiss and begins a trail of kisses down Coupet’s neck and chest until he reaches his naval in which he dips his tongue, smirking at the soft moan Coupet lets out. He then move further southward until him again come face to face with Coupet’s manhood. Not that penises have faces, but they do have heads. Beckham licked his way from the base to the tip and took the tip into his mouth, evicting a loud moan from his companion.
“You like that, don’t you?” asked Beckham cockily.
“No, I just moaned for my health,” replied Coupet sarcastically.
Beckham then deep throats Coupet’s cock sliding his tongue along the underside. Coupet fists the silk sheets and moans like some bitch in heat. Beckham proceeds to bob his head up and down on the thick cock he was sucking off, while grabbing the lube of the nightstand. He coats three of his fingers with lube and slides all three into Coupet’s hole.
“Oww. Usually one prepares their lover one finger at a time,” remarked Coupet.
“So you admit that we’re lovers?” Said Beckham as he finger-fucked his alleged lover.
Coupet just nodded dumbly while moaning as he pushed back against Beckham’s fingers. Beckham returned to sucking off his lover. Once finished with preparing his lover he releases his lover’s weeping cock and coats his own cock with lube and buries himself deep within Coupet. Both groan very loudly at their respective turn-ons. Beckham begins to move at a very frantic pace causing the ridiculously huge bed to shake.
~-~-~-~-~Back at the party~-~-~-~-~
“I don’t think I want to know what’s going on up there,” stated Zidane to Rooney as he looked up at the shaking chandelier.
“I have a hunch as to what is going on,” replied Rooney.
~-~-~-~-~Back in the bedroom~-~-~-~-~
“Oh god, yes. Mmmn… Harder! Faster!” screamed Coupet.
Beckham purposely angles his next thrust against Coupet’s prostate causing Coupet to moan loudly.
“Goal!” shouted Beckham.
“Gods, you’re retarded,” said Coupet.
Beckham continues to do this so the scene ends up sounding something like this:
“Goal!”
“Oh God yes!”
“Goal!”
“Mmmmn.”
“Goal!”
“Aaahhhh!”
“Goal!”
“Yes, right there!”
“Goal!”
“Oh mon Dieu!”
Beckham then thrusts in the opposite angle of Coupet’s prostate and exclaims, “Corner kick!”
“Oh Jesus,” says Coupet in anticipation.
Beckham then thrusts directly forward causing Coupet to moan and yells, “And the header!”
And finally he angles his thrust hard against Coupet’s prostate and shouts, “GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLL!”
Coupet has probably the most explosive orgasm of his life and some of his cum lands on his chin. Beckham feels Coupet’s muscles clench around him, squeezing his seed out he groans along with his own orgasm. Beckham collapses on top of Coupet, panting and smears Coupet’s seed all over both of their chests. Finally he pulls himself out of Coupet and rolls off to the side and licks the cum off Coupet’s chin.
“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” asked Beckham.
“Sure, but you made a mess,” replied Coupet, indicating to their chests.
“One that’s your cum so its not my mess and two I have an idea,” said Beckham as he proceeded to lick the cum off his lovers chest.
~-~-~-~-~Back at the party~-~-~-~-~
“Now I’m certain I don’t want to know,” said Zidane.
“Then how do you explain that bulge in you trousers?” inquired Rooney
Zidane blushed furiously while Rooney smirked triumphantly.
TBC! Peut-être… (Maybe)
~Phoenix
Woo! My first ever fic. And knowing me, it’s a PWP. Tell me what you think.