Hot Jocks, page 13
Shit, this wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t get into the ring with this stud. No way. Hell, they were just going over moves and he had a fucking skyscraper in his trunks.
People being mean to puppies, people being mean to puppies, Cal thought. “People being mean to puppies.”
“What?” Logan asked.
Cal realized he’d spoken aloud. He gulped. “I was agreeing with you. Sounds good.”
“I thought you said something about puppies.”
“No,” Cal said, knowing he was blushing. Who the fuck heard of a professional wrestler that blushed? He pretended that he had an itch on the side of his face that needed scratching, hoping to hide the redness. He stamped his feet rapidly on the floor. “Just saying these puppies can’t wait to get started.”
Logan didn’t look convinced, but he let it pass. “So we’re cool on the finish? Torture rack?”
Had they gone over the finish? They must have, and Cal must have agreed to it, although he hadn’t really been aware of what he’d agreed to. Slung over Logan’s shoulders with his arms and legs dangling would be wonderful in a private match. In front of an audience, though, Cal knew the move would just draw attention to his boner-filled trunks. He could already hear peals of laughter in his head. Mommy, what’s that? some kid in the audience would ask.
“Sure,” Cal said, not knowing why he said it.
“Great.” Logan slapped him on the back. “Hey, I saw some guys I’ve worked with before in the locker room. I’m going to go catch up with them. Catch ya later, okay?”
“Sure,” Cal repeated.
Cal could see only two options available to him. Either he could feign sickness and cancel his match, or he somehow had to ensure he remained boner-free. The only way to do that was to have one hell of a wank before he climbed into the ring with Logan.
The locker room was out, for obvious reasons. There was a separate shower area, but the entry was wide open and anyone walking about the locker room could easily look in. Cal therefore headed for the boy’s restroom.
There were two entrances to this rather large facility. One could enter from the hall, as Cal did, or come in from the locker room at the other end of the restroom. There was no way Cal could lock the doors, of course, but at least he could step into a stall and have a relative amount of privacy. As long as he didn’t jack himself too hard and he refrained from moaning…
Cal stopped in his tracks. The stalls had no doors.
Of course, he was in a high school. They obviously removed the doors to discourage the teenagers from smoking. Still, no one seemed to be in the restroom. If he picked the stall the farthest away from the doors he should be safe.
Cal quickly walked to his chosen stall, rubbing at his trunks as he moved. He was uncomfortably aware that his boots were sticking slightly to the floor as he padded along, and he tried not to think about the amount of dried piss that coated the tiles.
Deep in his own thoughts, grunting sounds didn’t really register in his brain until he was at the door to the stall and looked up.
In the stall, the wrestler who called himself the Hurricane was huddled on the toilet, poised precariously on his hands and knees with his butt sticking out. Said butt was being vigorously fucked by another wrestler, Steve Williams. Williams, his long blond hair dripping with sweat, looked back at Cal with a snarl. “Hey, either join in or fuck off. This ain’t no peep show.”
Cal backpedaled rapidly. It was only after he’d made his exit that he realized he should have moved forward and joined the two. The Hurricane wasn’t really his type, but he could envision having some fun with the burly Williams. Unfortunately he hadn’t been able to think in the shock of the moment and now he would feel foolish going back and seeing if he could make the twosome a threesome.
Fuck feeling foolish, he thought. At least I’ll be getting off and hopefully keep my dick satisfied for the next couple of hours.
Cal started to push on the restroom door when Tenny appeared in the hall. The big man looked relieved when he spotted Cal. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you. You and Logan need to go on first. You’d better get ready. Show starts in just a few minutes.”
Cal tried taking deep breaths and then jogged in place. Nothing seemed to work. Whenever the vision of Logan Briggs popped into his mind, his dick began to swell.
He stood behind the partition that had been set up near the gym’s entryway, which served to keep the wrestlers out of sight from the crowd until it was time for them to make their grand entrance. He couldn’t see how many people were in attendance but it sounded like a fairly substantial crowd. He knew from peeking earlier that dozens of chairs had been set around the ring, in addition to the usual gym bleachers. Cal peered around the partition. He couldn’t see the ring area, but the bleacher area within his sight had well over a hundred people. Shit. If he was going to make a fool of himself in public, why couldn’t it be a small crowd, consisting mostly of people with narrow family trees and old ladies with gap-toothed grins?
Tenny came up next to him. “Ready?”
“Not really.”
Tenny’s big hand slapped him on the back. “You’re gonna do great. Trust me. Briggs knows what he’s doing out there. Just watch for his signals.”
Cal was saved from having to answer when his theme music suddenly blasted from the loudspeakers.
“You’re on,” Tenny said, smacking Cal on the butt.
Making his way to the ring, Cal scanned the crowd. It was worse than he had anticipated. Not only were his mother and little brother sitting ringside, but Cal spotted several buddies from his high school days cheering him on as well. And he wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw his old math teacher, Mr. Connelly, standing and yelling out Cal’s name.
So far, though, his dick was behaving. The shorts were still too skimpy, but at least he wasn’t tenting them.
Cal vaulted over the top rope and landed neatly, bouncing on his toes. The large crowd screamed and shouted, cheering him on. Cal only wished he could enjoy their adulation. He bit his lip as the announcer gave his vital statistics.
Then the loudspeakers blasted out a new tune. The volume was too loud, causing a lot of distortion, but Cal recognized the song as Nickelback’s “Burn It to the Ground.” It was obviously Logan’s entrance theme.
Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him.
Cal looked.
Logan swaggered to the ring, hot as hell. He seemed to bask in the boos and catcalls coming from the crowd. He slid into the ring and bounced to his feet, giving the audience the finger with both hands. The jeers increased in volume.
Cal barely heard the bell ring. He was too busy looking at Logan’s magnificent chest.
They started the match slowly, as they’d planned. Every time Cal started to gain an advantage, Logan would either look to the referee for help or else slide out of the ring to gain time and marshal his thoughts. The crowd booed every time Logan stopped the action.
Cal controlled himself fairly well for a while. He managed to shut off his mind to everything expect the match, and he tried to think of Logan as just another opponent. He would scoop Logan up into his arms and body-slam him, but he was just a guy. Not the hottest wrestler Cal had ever seen. Just a guy.
It all went to hell when Cal went to stomp on Logan’s back. He’d just clotheslined the young man and Logan was lying prone on the canvas. As Cal’s boot was about to come down on his opponent’s clavicle, Logan started to raise himself up. Logan’s perfect bubble butt loomed in Cal’s vision. From Cal’s vantage point, it looked like Logan was preparing himself to be buttfucked.
Cal’s trunks instantly morphed into Boner-land.
His boot barely connected with Logan’s back, although Logan reacted as if he’d just been pounded. To make up for it, Cal stomped again. This time he put a little too much force behind the move and Logan’s agonized writhing probably had some truth to it.
Finally it became time for the tide to turn. Logan got in a cheap shot, kicking Cal in the balls. An easy target, Cal thought. Just aim directly under the huge hard-on.
The kick gave Cal a chance to clutch his groin and quickly rearrange his junk. He slid his hard cock sideways. It would still be visible, but it wouldn’t be jutting straight out.
The match went on, Cal taking bump after bump. Logan slammed fists and boots into his face and midsection, got him into camels and Boston crabs, and generally pounded the hell out of him. Logan knew his stuff. The kicks and punches were stiff enough to look real without doing any real damage. Cal barely noticed the abuse his body was taking, however. He was too worried about what his mother must be thinking.
Finally the referee gave them the nearly imperceptible wink that told them to wrap things up. Logan smacked a boot down on Cal’s abdomen before scooping him up for a body-slam. Cal writhed and groaned after hitting the canvas, letting his eyes go slack. Logan pulled Cal up by his hair and hoisted him over his shoulders for the finishing torture rack. It was a move Cal usually enjoyed being in—but this time he knew he was displaying Massive Weiner.
Cal was surprised, though, when being hoisted up, that Logan positioned his hand right over Cal’s crotch. Cal was stretched out across Logan’s shoulders, Logan holding one hand on Cal’s chin and the other—Cal couldn’t believe it—actually cupping and fondling Cal’s hard cock and aching balls.
Cal screamed out his submission so loudly that it surely must have hurt the eardrums of even the people highest up the bleachers.
Even thought the referee was shouting and signaling for Logan to release Cal, the young stud continued bouncing Cal across his shoulders. Logan whispered quickly, trying not to move his lips. “Dude, meet me in the restroom. Five minutes!”
Cal didn’t get a chance to reply, although he didn’t know what he’d say in any case. The next thing he knew Logan had dropped him like a sack of potatoes. Cal quickly rolled over onto his stomach. He allowed himself a quick look. Yep, it was bad. There was even a little wet area where his precum had oozed through. Thank God they were black trunks. On his white trunks, his spunk would have shone like a spotlight.
Cal accepted the help of the referee to get to his feet after Logan had triumphantly exited the ring. The crowd seemed to be cheering for him and Cal listened carefully to see if he could detect any laughter. He couldn’t, but he still got out of the ring a little too quickly for someone who supposedly had just had the snot beat out of him.
Hands slapped his back as he made his way, head down, toward the locker rooms. No one pointed at his crotch or jeered. Could the impossible have happened and no one noticed?
Once behind the partition and through the doors Cal stopped acting like a beaten dog and picked up his pace. He strode down the hall and passed up the locker room door, going straight to the restroom.
There he found Logan, standing at one of the sinks, mopping the sweat from his face with a damp paper towel. “Hey, dude. I was hoping you’d show.”
Cal found himself slightly out of breath and he knew it wasn’t entirely from his exertions in the ring. “I…” He stopped, realizing he had no idea what to say.
Logan chuckled as he tossed the wadded paper towel into the trash. His gym bag was on the floor beneath the sink. Cal realized Logan must have rushed into the locker room after the match to retrieve it. Logan, a sly smirk on his face, picked up his bag and headed toward the rear stall. He looked back. “You’re supposed to follow me.”
“In there?”
“Yeah. Everyone uses this stall when they have shows at this school. You didn’t know that? I’ve done about a dozen shows here. Used the stall about half of those times. Good match always gets me going and I’ve gotta get off after. Some guys like before, but I prefer to wait until after. You coming?”
Cal had to force his legs to move. “I saw Hurricane and Williams in here before the show started.”
“Yeah. Those two always fuck before a match, whether they’re wrestling each other or someone else. They say it’s for good luck, but everyone knows they’re sweet on each other.” Logan plopped the bag down and turned, grabbing the front of Cal’s trunks. “Come here, you hot fuck,” he whispered.
Cal had the choice of having his junk painfully yanked or shuffling close to Logan. Cal shuffled. Before he could react Logan kissed him hard, shoving his tongue into Cal’s mouth. Cal allowed himself to relax and entwined his tongue with Logan’s. Their arms went around each other and then their hands began exploring, kneading muscles and stroking nipples. Logan finally broke off the kiss with a moan.
“You wanna fuck me?” he whispered.
Cal almost laughed. “Fuck yeah.”
Logan grinned. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He fished into his bag, where a small compartment was apparently used to store lube and several packets of condoms. He tossed a packet to Cal. “I always come prepared. You never know when your opponent is going to be a hot stud.”
Cal had never thought of himself as a hot stud, but he wasn’t about to argue the point. He and Logan kissed again, their hands pushing and grabbing until they were practically wrestling, or as close to wrestling as two guys can get in a restroom stall. Logan’s right hand suddenly slipped down the front of Cal’s trunks and Cal thought he was going to cum right there and then just from Logan’s first stroke of his cock.
Luckily he didn’t. The kiss seemed to go on forever, but finally Logan, grinning, broke away. “Lube up, stud. The grin widened. “Or do you want me to do it for you?”
Cal knew he was ready to burst and the slightest touch from Logan might cause him to shoot. “I’ve got it,” he said, pulling down his trunks.
Logan turned and bent over the toilet stool, yanking down his own trunks. His perfect bubble butt was pointed straight at Cal, looking so good it was all Cal could do to refrain from taking a bite out of it. Cal wasted no time. If there was a record for preparing a cock for entry, he was sure he set it. In his excitement he didn’t pause to allow Logan to relax his muscles either. He shoved the head of his dick inside Logan’s hole quickly, causing the wrestler to shoot forward with a jolt.
“Take it a little slower, would ya? I don’t get fucked all that often. Usually I’m in the driver’s seat,” Logan said.
“Sorry.” Cal tried again. He slid his cock forward until his public hair nuzzled Logan’s asscheeks. Logan tensed and then relaxed. Cal bit his lip. His chest was aching from trying to hold his breath, but if he let himself go he knew he’d plow into Logan and it would all be over too soon.
“Fuck me,” Logan whispered. “Give me that hot cock of yours.”
Cal needed no more encouragement. He grabbed hold of Logan’s hips and started bucking his hips, driving his pole in and out of Logan’s ass. He forgot about his embarrassment before and during the match. He forgot about “showing” in front of his family. His entire world was the hot stud still wearing wrestling boots rocking on a toilet stool before him.
Logan arched his back and let out a low moan. “Fuck,” he muttered, “that feels so good. Fuck me harder!”
Cal did. Then his mind went white with pleasure as he shot his load. Cal heard someone scream out and then realized it was his own voice. His orgasm was so intense that he felt light headed.
Logan was pumping his own massive dick and was loudly moaning, also ready to shoot. Cal couldn’t see Logan’s dick, but he was able to see the ropes of cum as they shot out, hitting the toilet lid, the wall and the floor.
When they could finally breathe and move again, Cal slowly removed his cock. Logan laughed and crawled off the toilet stool. “They should pad that thing. It’s not the most comfortable way to fuck!”
They used toilet paper to clean up. Logan kissed Cal again, tenderly. “Best way to finish off a match.”
“I agree,” Cal replied, his voice still sounding weak from his exertions.
“Hope we have another match together soon.”
“How about,” Cal asked, “tomorrow night?”
“Cool. Where you wrestling tomorrow?”
“My apartment,” Cal said. “Private match. We can work on some moves.”
Logan, smiling, pulled Cal close. “Sounds good. I know some moves I’d like to work on.”
“Do you?”
“Oh, yeah. Mind if I drive tomorrow?”
For his answer, Cal pressed his lips against Logan’s. Their tongues had a wrestling match of their own.
COLLARED
Cage Thunder
I climbed through the ropes, naked.
I couldn’t help but smile. I had lost count of how many times I’d wrestled in this ring, but one thing I did know was I’d never climbed into it stark naked before. Of course I’ve frequently BEEN naked in here, I reminded myself with a bemused smile, but never, ever to start with.
Usually I was in full pro regalia, from boots to knee pads to trunks to gloves to my hallmark—the mask. But this time I was barefoot, my cock and balls on display. I’d already stretched in the locker room and stripped down. The air-conditioning wasn’t on—one of the conditions for the match we’d agreed to beforehand—and all the lights were off save for a single one directly over the ring. The rest of the gym was in darkness, and the bulb in the working light had been switched out from white to red. The entire ring was bathed in an eerie, rosy light, which gave it a seedy, almost sleazy air—and I liked it. It was easy to imagine a crowd sitting in the dark, waiting for a main event. My dick was starting to stiffen, my armpits were moist, and beads of sweat were breaking out on my forehead. It was a hot humid night in south Florida, and once the fight started we were both going to be drenched in sweat.
And nothing turns me on more than sweaty muscle.
When Tom had emailed me back with a challenge, I’d been caught off guard. We’d taped a match three years earlier, and while it was fun (they always are) I’d also been a little disappointed. The Boss always puts the wrestlers he’s pairing together for a taping in touch with each other beforehand—sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. I’d been lusting after Tom and his fucking amazing body for years—but he didn’t tape much anymore and pretty much considered himself retired from the wrestling video world. So when the Boss told me he was up for a match with me and gave me his email address, my dick had immediately gotten hard, and I hadn’t wasted a second in emailing the big stud.
