|
TITLE
: The Garden of Eidur John Terry, the young captain of Chelsea F.C.'s magnificent first team, was relaxing with his two equally young stalwart team mates, Frank Lampard and Eidur Gudjohnsen, at Gudjohnsen's house in London. They had agreed to do a photoshoot but rather than surround the three footballers by all the razzmatazz of Stamford Bridge, the Chelsea hierarchy had decided it wanted to show these popular stars in a more candid off duty kind of way. After a short discussion as to where the photoshoot should take place, Gudjohnsen had said they could use his place. It was set in its own grounds and had a large secluded garden obscured by trees, and as the weather was so fine at the moment, it would be nice to take the shots outside rather than in, without the fear of being overlooked.
The photographer had been due to arrive at three o'clock but it was now almost four and they still weren't there yet. Gudjohnsen had mixed himself and his team mates some drinks which had helped to soothe their irritation but now, as the minutes ticked past, they were all getting really pissed off sitting around doing nothing. It seemed a total waste of a warm, sunny afternoon; after some strenuous exercise at the training ground that morning, they could have been out playing golf somewhere down in Surrey.
Eventually, the wait got too much for the restless Lampard. "This is fucking crazy," he shouted. "Where the hell are they?"
As if bang on cue, the phone in the hall rang at that precise moment and Gudjohnsen went to answer it. Terry and Lampard continued sipping their drinks, straining their ears, but couldn't hear what Gudjohnsen was saying through the closed door. After a couple of minutes, however, Gudjohnsen returned looking very dissatisfied.
"That was the photographer," he said. "There's been a delay, they won't be able to get here for another couple of hours."
"Oh, that's fucking brilliant," said Terry. "What the fuck are we gonna do in the meantime?"
"Well," said Gudjohnsen, as if he had been giving the matter plenty of thought, "why don't we get changed and have a kickabout in the garden?"
"Good idea," said Lampard, "but we ain't got our kits with us."
"Don't worry about that," replied Gudjohnsen, "I've plenty of spare ones in the wardrobe in the bedroom. How about it, then?"
Like Gudjohnsen, Lampard and Terry ate, slept and breathed football which was hardly surprising seeing as they were all professionals, so even the thought of a kickaround in the garden was just as potent as a big game in front of the Stamford Bridge fans. Terry and Lampard readily agreed to Gudjohnsen's suggestion and wasted no further time following him into his bedroom.
Terry and Lampard were amazed at the extra number of Chelsea kits Gudjohnsen had tucked away in his wardrobe. They each selected a pair of the famous blue shorts and shirts and quickly stripped out of their clothes to get changed.
Football was like sex, Terry thought, prior to the three of them putting their kits on. As they dropped their underpants, discarding the Calvin Klein garments carelessly on the sumptuous bedroom carpet, the long uncut penises of the top class footballers sprang out in states of semi-arousal and they all knew it would take very little to send them on their way to full erected glory. None of them felt any embarrassment at having their willies, balls and arses momentarily exposed, of course, after all they had seen each other in the nude plenty of times in the changing room and communal bath.
However, their cocks were soon covered up as they pulled their shorts on and adjusted them around their middles, their long muscular legs protruding like giant tree trunks. Soon, the three handsome young men were trotting out of the open French windows at the back of Gudjohnsen's house, for all the world like they were emerging from the tunnel back at the Bridge.
They kicked around for half an hour or more, aiming the ball at an imaginary goal at Gudjohnsen's garage door. Several times the ball went into the shrubbery at the far end of the garden which meant that Gudjohnsen had to tread carefully over his flowerbeds to retrieve it. Every time he bent down to collect the ball, the fabric of his shorts stretched alluringly over his tight Icelandic arse, accentuating his crack and the firm alabaster loaves of his ample bum cheeks so that they stood out provocatively, allowing Terry and Lampard to admire them in all their beauty. Gudjohnsen, with that mop of blonde hair and disarming smile, was a very attractive young man who owned probably the sexiest arse in the beautiful game. And beautiful it was with guys like Gudjohnsen around, Lampard thought, it was always great to watch those fabulous cheeks rubbing together as Gudjohnsen ran around the pitch.
Lampard's mouth was watering as he checked out yet again the visual delights of Gudjohnsen's bum. Terry's shorts were just as tight as Gudjohnsen's and showed the captain's arse off to perfection as well. As he continued to gaze steadfastly at the two tightly-clad posteriors, Lampard realised he was really horny now and that his cock, which always seemed to have a mind of its own, was now fully stretched within the confines of his shorts. There was only one way that Lampard knew to get it to go down and that would involve him making the first move. There was every chance he would make a complete fool of himself but only one way to find out.
Lampard went over to where Gudjohnsen was still searching for the ball and placed his right hand on Gudjohnsen's arse. As he began to caress the finely-honed backside through the material of Gudjohnsen's shorts, he heard a soft moan from Terry who was standing close by, groping his package and watching intently.
Even though Terry was dressed in soccer kit himself, the sight of the two other guys dressed exactly the same with one of them touching up the other's arse, was so erotic that Terry, who loved wanking, couldn't resist reaching inside the right leg of his shorts and taking out his tench inch boner.
Terry had always been immensely proud with what nature had bestowed upon him and he enjoyed the sensation of exposing his pride and joy to Gudjohnsen and Lampard. Terry's cock, now fully erect, stood out proudly from its pubic bush, complemented by perfectly formed low hanging balls which always seemed to be nice and sweaty, no matter how much he showered. Even moreso after a long and punishing ninety minutes of football.
Lampard and Gudjohnsen could hardly avoid catching sight of Terry's massive manhood poking out the end of his shorts. Lampard transferred his admiring gaze from Gudjohnsen's arse to Terry's cock as Terry began massaging his organ with slow rhythmic strokes. He needed to be a bit careful, he didn't want to come straightaway, he wanted some fun first.
Terry's cock was no stranger to Lampard, of course, but it was the first time Lampard had had the privilege of seeing it hard and up close and personal, too. "Fucking hell, man," Lampard said, smiling up at Terry, "you ain't 'alf got something to be proud of there."
Terry smiled back his appreciation. "Thanks," he said, "you can get your tongue round it later. But right now, what I'd most like to see is you licking Eidur's arse through his shorts."
Lampard turned his attention back to the Icelandic bum and spoke softly to its owner as he resumed stroking and petting the firm meaty butt cheeks and running his fingers up and down the cleft. "You've got a really sexy arse, Eidur," Lampard said to Gudjohnsen, "especially in those tight little shorts of yours."
"Yeah," replied Gudjohnsen, "but I've never let a man touch it before."
"Always a first time," Lampard replied. "Just relax and enjoy yourself."
Lampard didn't allow Gudjohnsen any time to protest as he knelt down and buried his face in Gudjohnsen's tight shorts-clad arse. Terry watched closely, his eyes transfixed on the scene that was unfolding so powerfully in front of him. Live action, Terry decided, was so much better than watching porn stars doing it on video.
Lampard was right about Gudjohnsen's arse, Terry thought, it really was very sexy indeed and delicious to look at but, then, so was Lampard's. His shorts creased around his cheeks which were even more pronounced, now that he was crouched on his haunches, admiring Gudjohnsen's bum, and Terry's cock responded to the view again as he wiped away some pre-cum with his thumb.
Terry decided there and then that before the afternoon was out, he was going to give those guys a service they would never forget. But there was plenty of time for that. For the moment, Terry didn't want to miss out on any of the fun that was going on right now under his nose and, holding his cock aloft, he walked over and kissed Gudjohnsen on the lips. Gudjohnsen, heeding Lampard's advice to simply relax and enjoy himself, responded hungrily, sending his tongue deep into Terry's mouth.
After they stopped for some air, Terry moved round to watch Lampard licking the back of Gudjohnsen's skimpy blue shorts. Lampard was in his element now, he had always loved men's arses, and his monster cock and balls were now falling over the wasteband of his shorts. Gudjohnsen, too, was now every bit as horny as his team mates and as he obeyed Lampard's command to bend over, Lampard yanked the blonde beauty's shorts down in one swift move, exposing the naked arse cheeks in all their denuded glory.
"Fucking hell," breathed Terry who was drooling with excitement, even though he and Lampard had seen Gudjohnsen's bare arse plenty of times in the Stamford Bridge changing room, "its magnificent." Never ever in a million years had Terry and Lampard ever imagined that they would not only get to see Gudjohnsen's arse but to touch, lick and eventually fuck it as well.
"Spread your cheeks," Lampard commanded and Gudjohnsen, still leaning forward, did as he was bid, reaching round with his hands to clasp his buns before prising them apart, opening up his crack and allowing Terry and Lampard a completely unobstructed view of his inner sanctum. With Terry still wanking and watching closely, Lampard ran his tongue deep into Gudjohnsen's pink-puckered arsehole and began to rim him with all the expertise he could muster, exciting Gudjohnsen to heights of satisfaction he had never believed possible.
"Lick that fucking Iceland arse," said Terry as he crouched down next to Lampard to get a closer look at the anal action.
"Yeah, lick my arse," Gudjohnsen managed to say as he continued moaning and enjoying the sensation of Lampard's tongue, wet with saliva, lubricating his arsehole as if in readiness for what they all knew was going to happen before the sex session came to its natural conclusion.
Lampard was only too happy to oblige and Gudjohnsen moaned contentedly again as Lampard's hot and expert tongue left no part of his arse unlicked. Gudjohnsen's cock had swollen to its full nine inches and as he pushed it through his legs, his two team mates gasped again in awe and wonder. Not for nothing was Gudjohnsen nicknamed the Icelandic Stallion. His cock was absolutely magnificent, huge with the pink bulbous knobhead peeping through an amazingly long foreskin and complemented by a set of oversized balls that reminded Terry of a couple of over-ripe oranges.
Terry was beside himself with joy now and needed to divest himself of his clothes, he'd spent enough time sodding about in soccer kit. "I'm getting undressed," he announced and without waiting for the others to say anything, he stripped off his Chelsea kit, allowing the shirt, shorts and socks to lie carelessly where he had thrown them on the grass. Stark bollock naked now in front of his mates, Terry's meat continued to throb unrelentlessly in front of him. It felt really good to be nude in the great outdoors, even if it was only the back garden of Gudjohnsen's home.
Lampard somehow managed to drag his tongue away from Gudjohnsen's arse to admire Terry's elongated shaft as the Chelsea captain stood there peeling back his foreskin as far as it would go before pointing the whole membrane confidently in the direction of Lampard's mouth. Terry had heard lots of rumours emanating from the changing room that Lampard was particularly good with the blow jobs and it was time now, Terry decided, to put his Essex contemporary to the test.
Lampard needed no further invitation to suck Terry's cherry, as it was known in the changing room, and after Terry had stuffed it into Lampard's mouth, Lampard took it right to the back of his throat. Gudjohnsen was standing now and taking his kit off, too, to join Terry in the nude. Only Lampard still had his kit on, but with his hard-on still visible over the waisteband of his shorts, as he continued to suck and lick his captain's tool before going down on his balls as Terry and Gudjohnsen kissed yet again.
There was no doubt about it, Terry thought, little old Frankie boy is one hell of a cocksucker. Lampard not only sucked, he licked, he kissed, he sniffed as well and all the time treating Terry's cock with a respect and an admirable display of reverence. Gudjohnsen, now happily erect and naked, moved in close and Lampard seized the opportunity to really shine and show what he was made of, taking both pieces of massive monster meat into his mouth simultaneously as, a few feet above him, Terry and Gudjohnsen continued to French kiss with an increased air of urgency.
Lampard was really enjoying sucking off both Terry and Gudjohnsen at the same time, going from their cocks to their balls and then back to their cocks again. Lampard hadn't realised until that moment that he was able to accommodate two such huge cocks in his mouth and his own cock was dripping with pre-cum as he continued to work his magic.
"Buy one, get one free," Lampard joked, as he came up for air and the others laughed too. Lampard stood up and belatedly took his shirt, shorts and socks off so that all three footballers were naked now, revelling in their shared full frontal nudity and enjoying themselves immensely. Lampard kissed first Terry and then Gudjohnsen as the three guys moved in close to each other so they could rub their giant man meat together. Lampard's cock was firm and as rigid as a ramrod with lots of pre-cum around the glans.
There then followed a strenuous fifteen minutes with them taking it in turns to blow job their cocks and balls and rim each other's arses during which the three horny footballers couldn't have been more turned on if they tried. They sucked and rimmed for all they were worth and wanted it to go on forever. Tomorrow morning and the rigours of another hard bout of training in preparation for Saturday's match against their London rivals Spurs seemed like a thousand years away.
After a quick pause for a sharp intake of air, Lampard took hold of Gudjohnsen round the stomach and turned him slightly before pressing him down so that Gudjohnsen's bum was level with Terry's face. For a man who had never had sex with another man before, Gudjohnsen was learning fast. His arse felt nice and supple after the good long rimmings it had enjoyed and it was time now, he realised, to proceed to what he had hankered after from the moment Lampard had first fondled his arse.
"I want you both to fuck me," Gudjohnsen said, almost whispering.
"Don't worry," Terry replied, "I'm going to."
Before Gudjohnsen knew what was happening, Terry had placed him in the doggie position and slammed his manhood deep into Gudjohnsen's virgin tight white arse, ramming it in right up to the hilt. Gudjohnsen had screamed like Fay Wray in King Kong (though it felt more like King Kong was in him) as Terry initially steered his cock into the willing arsehole. Gudjohnsen had never felt pain like it but he soon realised that, after the pain, there was nothing but sheer unbridled pleasure and he was amazed at how much he was enjoying it.
Gudjohnsen realised then that he'd be prepared to put up with the pain barrier any number of times if it lead to more pleasure like that which he was receiving now from Terry's cock, in so deep that Gudjohnsen could feel Terry's balls slapping against the cheeks of his arse. Gudjohnsen was in paradise and already wondering why he had never taken cock up the arse before.
Terry came out of Gudjohnsen and laid down on his back, pointing his still hard cock in the air. Lampard smiled his all-knowing smile as he helped Gudjohnsen to his feet. "John wants you to sit on his dick."
"Okay, then, anything to please," Gudjohnsen said, straddling Terry who looked up through Gudjohnsen's legs and licked his lips at the view one normally only gets in porn films. Gudjohnsen slowly lowered himself until he was sitting firmly on Terry's dick which was swallowed up immediately so that Lampard could only see Terry's balls as he watched the scene in amazement.
As for Terry, he felt great fucking the sexiest arse in football and knew that whatever happened in the future, he would savour this moment for the rest of his life. He also wanted to give Lampard a good seeing to as well but there was still plenty of time for that, Terry didn't want to rush things.
Terry could have gone on fucking Gudjohnsen all afternoon but it was not in his nature to be that selfish and he knew Lampard was itching to get inside Gudjohnsen too. Tactfully, Terry lifted Gudjohnsen off his dick and placed him on his back.
"Put your legs in the air," Terry said, "and let Frank go to work now."
Gudjohnsen thought he was dreaming. Any minute now he felt he would wake up and find that he had been imagining the whole thing. But no, as he lifted his legs up around his ears, there was Lampard poised in front of him, ready to go in. Gudjohnsen found he enjoyed that way round best of all because not only did he enjoy a good fuck but also had the pleasure of seeing more easily the very person who was ploughing him.
Terry watched Lampard fuck Gudjohnsen for ages, Gudjohnsen whimpering and simpering as Lampard hit the right spot over and over again. Eventually, though, Lampard pulled away, only to see that Terry had arched his body forwards and, just as Gudjohnsen had done earlier, was spreading his cheeks as he knelt in the doggie position so that the whole of his arsehole was on show. Lampard knew what that meant and barely pausing for breath, he stood up, ready to enter Terry from behind.
Gudjohnsen had collapsed prostrate on the grass, his arse still quivering from the penetrations it had received. But Lampard wasn't going to let him linger there for long.
"Hey, Eidur," Lampard said, "come and watch me fuck and John."
Gudjohnsen got slowly to his feet, fingering his arse which felt a bit sore which was hardly surprising but it was a nice kind of soreness. He had got his breath back now and was raring to go again.
"How's about we spit roast him?" Lampard said.
"Spit roast him?" Gudjohnsen looked mystified.
"Yeah," said Terry, still holding his bum cheeks wide apart, wishing they'd hurry up and get on with it, "it means getting fucked and giving a blow job at the same time."
"Sounds great," said Gudjohnsen and quickly moved over to stand in front of Terry, holding his cock out in readiness.
"All in good time," said Lampard. "We need to lubricate him a bit more first. Get down on your knees, Eidur baby, and start rimming John's arse."
Gudjohnsen didn't have a chance to think about it as Lampard pushed him to his knees. It was a gentle push rather than an aggressive one but it still served its purpose. Just as he had never been fucked until a few moments earlier, neither had Gudjohnsen licked another man's arse and it was with a tentative air that he ran his tongue along Terry's exposed crack. It tasted good, however, and Gudjohnsen soon speeded up until Lampard decided that enough was enough. He couldn't wait any longer to get his cock inside his captain's arse.
"That'll do," Lampard said, hauling Gudjohnsen to his feet. "You can get back in front of John now and stick your cock in his mouth."
Terry hadn't said a word while Gudjohnsen was rimming him, he had been too lost in a world of his own as he savoured the young star's hot tongue which had become more confident by the second. Terry was thrilled that someone so inexperienced could be so damn bloody good at it, it was amazing how soon Gudjohnsen had cottoned on to the technique of rimming.
Now, though, Terry let out a loud "aaaagh!" as Lampard began to insert his cock. The sight of the sexy Gudjohnsen, standing with his cock less than an inch away from Terry's face, and the feel of Lampard's meat in his bum, took Terry to the very heights of sexual gratification. As he began sucking Gudjohnsen's cock, Terry reflected that there was nothing in the world quite like a good spit roasting: having the cocks of two gorgeous men in both ends, and for several blessed minutes he was able to surrender completely to the excitement of it all, forgetting all about the pressures of his career in top flight football and the fact he was the captain of one of the most prestigious and successful teams in the country.
Lampard liked and respected Terry too much to want to hurt him unnecessarily so he was as gentle as possible as he attempted to help Terry across the threshold of pain but, once he had, Lampard began the fucking motion in earnest, pounding Terry's arse with the same kind of O.T.T. enthusiasm he displayed on the soccer pitch. Lampard's dad, Frank Lampard senior, the one time player at his son's old club West Ham, had instilled in him from an early age that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing well, and fucking Terry was, Lampard junior knew, worth it a million times over.
Lampard continued to pump Terry's arsehole as Terry continued to suck Gudjohnsen's cock. The rest of the world had simply ceased to exist, nothing else mattered at that precise moment in time, other than what was happening in The Garden of Eidur. How fortunate that they had decided to do the photoshoot there and that the photographer couldn't be bothered to arrive on time. None of this would have happened if they had been punctual, nor, indeed, if the footballers had had to pose for more formal pictures within the hallowed walls of Stamford Bridge.
After several more strenuous thrusts, Lampard was nearly at his climax and could control himself no longer. With a last awesome shudder, he withdrew his cock from Terry's arse and unleashed an orgasm of hot creamy spunk all over Terry's bare bum cheeks. When it had all drained away from his cock, Lampard sighed happily.
"Bloody hell, man," he said, as he got his breath back and thinking how great it had been, especially considering that he hadn't been at all sure of the reaction he would get when he first started fondling Gudjohnsen's bum, "that was one fantastic fuck." He sat down on the grass with a smile of satisfaction on his cute, unlined face and looked at the others; Gudjohnsen still had his cock in Terry's mouth and Terry's arsehole was now red raw from Lampard's fuck.
Gudjohnsen had a different kind of smile on his face. He took his cock from Terry's mouth and with a wry smile which grew broader every second, he said simply: "now its my turn."
Even though he had spent himself, Lampard knew he couldn't go for a shower yet, he just had to stay there and watch the tables being turned as Gudjohnsen fucked Terry. Overhead, the sun was slowly starting to sink although the birds were still singing but not loud enough to drown out Terry's moans and groans as his arse took its second pounding of the day.
Just as Gudjohnsen had never rimmed a guy before until that afternoon, neither had he fucked one but he soon got the hang of it. Terry's gasps diminished into little whimpers of sexual delight until Gudjohnsen reached his own orgasm, withdrawing and climaxing as effectively as Lampard had, his deposits landing on Terry's arse where they mingled with those Lampard had left behind earlier and which were now congealing very nicely in the warm, setting sun. Lampard and Gudjohnsen smiled at each other, thinking how great Terry's tight bare arse looked, now that it was covered in thick white globules of cum.
"That was ace," Terry said. As he rolled over and stood up, Terry realised he was not through yet. He might be the youngest of the three but it was time for him to take control of the situation now, as a good team captain should.
"Get over there and stick your arses in the air," Terry commanded. "I'm going to give both of you something you'll remember for a long long time."
Even though Lampard and Gudjohnsen had already come, they were both eager to feel the Barking Boy's cock inside them and, since they recognised orders when they heard them, immediately did as they were told. Both their cocks had gone down slightly when they shot their loads but were now rapidly rising to the occasion again.
Terry crept up behind Gudjohnsen first and rimmed his hole for a few minutes before giving him his second fuck of the afternoon, penetrating as deep as he could go, or as deep as Gudjohnsen would allow. After several mind-blowing thrusts, Terry withdrew and returned the compliment on Lampard, rimming Lampard's arse first and then fucking him with a fervour even he hadn't been aware he possessed until that moment. Terry was in his element now, he'd wanted to fuck those two gorgeous footballing arses ever since he had first set eyes on them in the Chelsea changing room.
Terry could feel his orgasm approaching now, it was bound to be a good one, they always were, promising plenty of cum, especially after all the fabulous sex he had enjoyed that afternoon. He definitely wouldn't be going home disappointed.
"I'm gonna come," he said as he felt his cum-filled balls start to explode. Almost as soon as he finished speaking, Lampard and Gudjohnsen knelt in front of Terry to receive the fall-out on their faces. They had to be quick as it took only a few more seconds for the Chelsea captain to shoot his load, reams and reams of the sticky white fluid spilling out of his piss slit with all the swiftness of a waterfall and landing precisely where he had meant it to, over and around Lampard and Gudjohnsen's mouths so that they were able to swallow it quickly.
The three young footballers, with cum from their sated cocks all over them, stretched themselves out on the grass and lay there relaxing after their exertions in the late afternoon sun. It was great but it was all over now - until the next time, of course. They all knew there would be a next time and that that afternoon wouldn't simply be a one-off. It had been too successful a sex session and besides, Lampard hadn't yet been fucked by Gudjohnsen so they already had the excuse they needed for organising a follow up.
Strange then that, before another horny get-together could be arranged, the next time they would meet would be in the glamorous but homophobic world of professional football when they played Spurs on Saturday. As if with a sixth sense, they all knew what the others were thinking and didn't have to voice the fact that what they had got up to that afternoon would forever remain their special secret.
"Well, I didn't expect any fun like that this afternoon," Lampard said eventually, grabbing hold of his shirt and wiping the remains of Terry's cum from his face. Terry had the remains of both Lampard and Gudjohnsen's cum still smeared all over his bum and he stood up and wiped it off with his shirt, smiling to himself that Gudjohnsen would have to get the washing machine going before any of them ever wore those particular shirts and shorts again.
Gudjohnsen wiped his face on his shirt too as he said: "yeah, its been great. Maybe we can have a drink now and then, if you don't have to rush off, another round this evening."
Lampard was up for it, he'd always had a strong sex drive, and Terry would be as well, usually, but he'd promised his mum he would call in on her on the way home after the photoshoot that never was.
Suddenly, with that thought in mind, Terry realised to his horror that they had forgotten all about the photoshoot. "Shit," he said, "what time is it?"
"'bout six," said Lampard. They had all taken their watches off when they got changed into their soccer kit so it was only a guess.
"What's wrong?" asked Gudjohnsen.
"That photographer should be here any minute, its gotta be two hours or so since they phoned," Terry replied. He gathered up his dirty clothes and stood up. "Quick, let's get inside and get cleaned up and dressed. Don't want them to see us like this."
"You been seen already," came a voice from the back door of Gudjohnsen's house. Startled, they looked in the direction from where the voice had come and saw a guy about thirty years old standing there, smiling and holding a camera. The footballers' faces dropped almost as low as their dicks. Automatically, they grabbed their sticky shirts and shorts and held them in front of their mid-drifts in an attempt to regain a modicum of modesty. But it was too late.
"What the fuck ..." began Gudjohnsen. "How long have you been there and how did you get into my garden?"
"In answer to your first question," the man replied, "a good ten minutes. As for the second, I rang the bell several times and when there was no answer, I walked round the house and found the gate open. Boy, that was some gay porn show you guys were putting on, I wanted to join in. But you were so engrossed, you never even knew I was here. So I just kept quiet and began snapping. After all, your boss did say he wanted the pics to be candid and informal, didn't he?"
|
If you enjoyed this story, please post feedback in the forum for him.
| HOME | FICS | MAILING LIST | LINKS | EMAIL | SUBMIT FIC | FORUM | PHOTOS |