Down for the Count

His massive forearms slowly tightened like a vise across my head, cutting off the supply of oxygen rich blood to my brain. I tried to break the hold to no avail, and next thing I knew, the gym slowly faded out...

I awoke I don't know how much later, but Zach was gone. I had a pretty good headache going and a bitter taste in my mouth. And not just from losing the match. I figured it was blood, the after-effects of a pretty good forearm shiver he'd given me that caught me a little too flush across the face. I peeled myself up off the mat, grabbed my stuff and headed for the shower. I rinsed out my mouth at the sink, expecting to see pinkish water when I spat, but it was as clear as when I cupped it into my mouth. Odd.

* * * * *

Zach and I ran "92", a flourishing wrestling academy on Chicago's north side. The club was named in honor of the glorious year Zach and I helped bring our college an NCAA wrestling title. I hadn't wrestled much after school, but Zach carried on a while. For a time he even ran in the professional wrestling circuit under the moniker The North Side Strangler. It earned him a little bit of dough and enough notoriety that we were able to turn "92" into a wrestling school of some renown. I ran the business mostly, leaving Zach to do the actual training.

Not that I couldn't take down most people who came into the gym, but Zach was clearly the man. I'm just a hair under 6 feet, and he had a good four or five inches on me. Plus he had to be at least 250 pounds of absolutely solid muscle. I was clearly softer than I used to be when I was competing, but I was well below his weight class regardless. He kept his medium brown hair rather long, whereas I wore mine in a buzz cut for simplicity.

Sometimes when classes or private tutoring sessions were done for the day, he and I would wrestle each other. Mostly Greco-roman style, but of course his career as a pro wrestler left him with a knack of throwing in the odd aerial move or two. Frankly, he'd often try and catch me off guard by reverting to some of his non-traditional moves. No stranger to the WWE myself, I'd try some of the things I'd see on TV right back at him. Though spirited, mostly the matches had always been in good fun. Recently though, he seemed determined to finish me off with a submission move that would knock me out. More and more often these days, I'd find myself coming to, staring at the ceiling.

* * * * *

"Had enough, Ruben?!?" He taunted.

Again I found myself in an uncomfortable, desperate position. He had my arms locked behind my back, while his legs scissored around my neck. As frantically as I struggled to free myself, I couldn't break free. I started to see stars.

"Good night my bitch," he muttered. I had just enough time to think "did he just call me his bitch?" before I went out again beneath his power.

I awoke on my back sometime later, alone. I dragged myself to the showers again, stripped down and turned on the water. Just as I was about to step under the water, I looked down at my trimmed pubes and saw they were matted in a couple of places. I reached down to feel, and found the spots somewhat tacky. It was like...like what? Like dried cum, I wondered. What the fuck was that all about?!?

How the hell did I get dried cum on my pubes? I know some guys got titillated in the ring, with all the close physical contact but I'd never had that happen. I certainly hadn't had sex or jerked off at all today, and I'd been around myself all day, you'd think I would have noticed. But that gave me pause. Because I hadn't technically been around all day, had I? I'd been out cold for part of it. After Zach laid me out. Had he called me his bitch???

Ohmigod, was this his cum on me?!?

* * * * *

I didn't know how to confront Zach about my suspicions. For right now, that's all they still were--suspicions. I needed some kind of proof. I thought about rigging up one of those nanny cams, but in the ended decided on a simpler strategy. I'd play possum. The next time he tried to put me out, I'd surrender to the hold earlier, only pretending to be unconscious. Then I'd see for certain if this was all in my mind of if Zach was doing what I feared he might be.

* * * * *

It still amazed me how easily he tossed me around sometime. This thought crossed my mind as he had my almost 200 pounds slung over his shoulder. Suddenly he jackknifed me around and slammed me to the mat. The wind went out of me in a whoosh, only worsened when he flattened himself down on top of me. Like lightening he'd swung around behind me, raising me up and wrapping me in a sleeper hold.

"This is it", I thought.

I put up an act of struggling to escape, hoping I was convincing enough. After a moment, I spasmed once, then slumped back against him, my arms falling limp to my sides. He continued the hold a moment longer until he must have been convinced, then let me collapse to the mat.

I lay there for what seemed like an eternity, afraid to move. I began to think I'd been wrong about the whole thing, when I finally sensed his presence beside me again. I had to remind myself to relax and keep breathing regularly.

Then there it was, his hand cupping my cock and balls. Massaging me. Slipping beneath the waistband of my shorts and underwear and wrapping around my cock. In that moment, I didn't know what to do. Of course I should have just jumped up and stopped this, but I had our 16 year friendship to think of. I had our business to think of. I had...well...I had to admit it felt good!

My cock was growing hard under his surprisingly gentle touch. He stroked me slowly for a bit, before he moved to slide my shorts and underwear down. I was now exposed to him.

Through drooping lids, I watched as he quickly pulled off his own shorts. His cock jutted straight out from his body. It had to be a good seven or eight inches long, thick around and cut. Before I could really process it, he turned my head towards him and pushed his cock into my mouth.

He slid back and forth along my tongue. I could taste his pre-cum, and I flashed back to that earlier match where I woke with a strange taste in my mouth. It was all coming together.

I should have been mad, but instead I was completely aroused. Zach had dominated me in the ring, and was now claiming his prize. It seemed so primal.

I ached to reach down and jerk myself off while he used my mouth, but couldn't move. I didn't know what would happen if he knew I was on to him. I just lay there and savored the feeling of his thick, hard, hot cock in my mouth. The head was spongier than I'd expected it to be, though I'd never really spent that much time wondering about the texture of cock flesh before.

I started to wonder what it would feel like when he exploded in my mouth. Would his cum be hot against my throat? Would I choke?

But I didn't get to find out. To my disappointment, he withdrew from my mouth and kneeled down between my legs. He began jerking himself off, pointing his cock at my own. His hand was moving at a rapid pace, his breathing ragged. He began to shoot his cum across my cock and balls, and indeed it was warm as it splashed over my skin. He tried to wipe me clean with his shirt, then stood to leave. As soon as I heard the door close, I reached straight for my straining cock and jerked myself until I came over my stomach and chest.

I lay for a moment thinking about what had happened. And how I had reacted to being taken advantage of. And what I might do next?