Finally Wrestling Erotically

I had only ever wrestled Russ a few times. He lived locally and was a nice guy but as far as "wrestling" he was – to put it mildly – a little lame. He was good, don't get me wrong, but we would wrestle and as soon as one of us was pinned or submitted the wrestling was over. No second round, no rematch, no nothing. Our longest "match" went about half an hour and once it was over he got up, got dressed, thanked me and left. Had there been anything "erotic" and he had left money on the end-table I would have felt just like a prostitute.

I was never able to figure out why he believed that once our match was over the wrestling was over for the day as well. I didn't know much about his personal life. I didn't know if he was married or not. I didn't know what he did for a living. I just knew that he could usually meet early on a Wednesday or late afternoon on a Saturday. I was fortunate to have a job where they trusted me with the keys and we would go in on Saturday afternoons when nobody else ever showed up and wrestle in the empty conference room which was never used.

Russ was a good guy and a lot of fun to wrestle because we both liked the same things. We liked long-held holds and enjoyed watching our opponent "sell" the holds – suffering in agony and begging for mercy and pounding his fists and all that. We were never actually hurting each other – at least not as terrible as our performances suggested – so I would get frustrated when he would "submit" and get dressed and leave. As a result, we had stopped meeting. It had been several months since I had last seen him.

The other thing about Russ is that he did NOT want to do anything erotic. Ever. He professed up and down how he was "not gay" and did not want to do anything sexual. It was ironic (to me) that he would say this since he always wrestled in a pair of white Fruit of the Loom briefs which looked as if they were one size too small for him. When we wrestled I could see his cock swelling up the front of those briefs and yet he would ignore it. Maybe he would give up and leave so abruptly because he was afraid we might go farther but I had never pressed the issue and never tried to force myself on him.

He knew the kind of wrestling I enjoyed. He had read my stories and told me how much he enjoyed them ... another thing I found strange – if he wasn't "gay" why would he enjoy my highly erotic stories? The first time we had chatted I told him the style of wrestling I liked the most: naked and the man who forces his opponent to orgasm is the winner. He had told me it sounds "interesting" but he wasn't into that and when we planned to meet for the first time he made certain I understood that his genitals were entirely "off-limits."

So, we had wrestled a few times in that empty conference room and then I switched jobs and no longer had access to a wrestling space so Russ and I drifted apart. He would send me an email every few weeks to ask how I was doing and if I had wrestled and I would write back that I hadn't had any matches and then we wouldn't have contact again for a few weeks. It was both civilized and tame. We always finished our emails with "hope we can get together to wrestle again soon" but we were never able to coordinate our schedules enough to meet.

Then, about a week ago, I received an email from Russ. His tone in the email was different – he seemed very excited and was anxious to meet me to wrestle as soon as I was able. We figured out that we could both get away the following Sunday and agreed to meet at an inexpensive hotel about half an hour's drive from both of us. We planned everything down to the time each of us would arrive and that Sunday I arrived first (as planned) and got us a room on the first floor at the end of the building ... room twelve.

I'm not going to pretend this motel wasn't a dump because it was. It was clean and had what we needed – a large enough bed to wrestle on and a bathroom. Everything else about the room would have made any wary traveler run screaming but for Russ and me, it would do. I stripped down to my boxer briefs (I selected a black pair for today) and pulled a six-pack of beer and two bags of sourdough pretzels from the grocery bag I had brought with me. I sat on the bed, cracked open a beer, and waited for Russ.

Right on schedule, he arrived. I had left the door unlocked so he just walked in and smiled when he saw me. He carried the pizza he had said he was going to pick up "for us to each after our first big battle" which was surprising for him to say but I wasn't going to question it. He set it down and locked the door and stripped down to his white Fruit of the Loom briefs.

I suppose now would be a good time to describe us. Russ is an older man – probably in his late fifties to early sixties although I've never asked. He is fit and active doing all the running and swimming he can to keep himself in shape. He has a bit of a belly but he claims he keeps that part of his body soft for the "abdominal claws" that he enjoys receiving. He stands about five foot ten and about one hundred and eighty pounds. I am in my forties and an inch taller than Russ. I am larger but I have been working out and lost weight so I look more "menacing" than "flabby" now. Russ has never complained about my build although I think it could stand some more work. Of course, when both of us are standing in our underwear staring at each other it doesn't matter. What matters is the wrestling ... and we got to it right away.

We both crawled up on the bed on our knees and locked up. I maneuvered Russ down and wrapped my arm around his head and clamped on a headlock which made him moan and buck like a bronco. He pulled himself out of it and wrapped his hands around my waist, pushing me onto the bed on my side. It had been a while since we had wrestled so I had forgotten than he'll go straight for your belly the minute he gets the chance and he quickly rolled me onto my back, straddling me at my thighs so my legs were trapped together and his left hand snapped down into my middle. His right hand wrapped around his left wrist and a perfect ab claw was applied ... and I started my show.

I writhed back and forth and slapped my hands into the bed. I looked down at my belly and then up at Russ – whimpering and panting with a pained look begging for him to show a little mercy. He held onto the claw hold and I grabbed his arms, trying to pry him off of me but he held on tight, shaking his head "no" as if to signal that he wasn't letting me go.

And, of course, this little bit of "pretend abuse" had gotten my cock rock hard and it stretched out my boxer briefs uncomfortably. I gasped and moaned as his fingers dug into my belly and – I have to admit – it wasn't the most comfortable feeling in the world but it certainly wasn't the "torture" I was displaying. I threw my head back into the mattress and began to cry in agony before I started changing his name ... "Russ! Russ, Russ, Russ, Russ!" I don't know why I was calling out his name ... perhaps it was to "beg for mercy from his soul" or some bullshit.

And that's when I felt the strange sensation in my groin. At first, I couldn't figure out what it was but then I realized that Russ was rubbing his rock hard cock against mine! He had never done this before! I wasn't sure if he was aware he was doing it or if it was just some "heat of the moment" thing but I looked up at him and realized he wasn't looking at me – he was looking down at his fingers pressed into my abdomen and he was breathing heavy – very aroused by this.

I decided to see how far he was willing to take our match and with a growl, I sat up and managed to force him off me and onto his back. Having wrestled a couple of "first to cum loses" matches I knew where to put my hands and body to secure him in a very compromising position and quickly moved up along his right side, trapping his right arm beneath my body, my left arm quickly snaking behind his head to grab his left wrist and hold it secure. His right hand slapped ineffectively against my back as I snapped my free right hand over his belly.

"Oh, fuck no! Oh, no! Oh, please NO!" He shook his head furiously as I hovered my hand over him like a claw in one of those arcade machines.

"As if you had so much fucking pity for me?! Well, I'll show you the same now!" and with that, my fingers dug into his abdomen and he began to buck and howl. I held him secure as he squirmed and tried to escape but I wasn't about to let him go so easily. I held him like this for a few moments when he suddenly turned to look at me – no more acting. His deep brown eyes were staring directly into mine as he calmly whispered: "put your hand lower."

I'll admit – I didn't understand what he was asking me to do. My hand was just above his belly button so I moved it to below it, just above the waistband of his briefs. He shook his head and, as calm and clear as he could, said "no. Lower."

I thought about this a moment and just stared at him but he nodded at me and I finally nodded back and my hand went down and my fingers wrapped themselves around his cock – swollen and straining against the fabric of his underpants. He threw his head back a little and gasped with pleasure, his eyes closing slightly but never taking them off me. I ran my fingers slowly up and down the length of what seemed to be a pretty impressive dick and he remained in my grip and groaned his enjoyment.

This went on a few moments – perhaps longer than I should have waited – maybe not long enough – but no words had been spoken between us and I finally decided to test the waters and took hold of his waistband. I waited for a reaction from him. I looked at him to see if he would give me a signal that he didn't want to go this far today. He merely closed his eyes and I gently pulled those white Fruit of the Loom briefs

down until they were around his upper thighs ... the same as I had imagined doing after every one of our matches.

His cock was impressive. It was thick and the same length as mine – perfect for an evenly matched cockfight if I could ever convince him to try that. I slowly wrapped my fingers around it and Russ cried out. I held my hand still, holding his throbbing manhood while I waited to see what he was going to say ... and what he said surprised me more than anything I could have possibly imagined.

"I want to wrestle the way you described in your stories." I thought about this a moment and knew exactly what he meant ... I just wasn't sure he knew what he was asking me to do. I began to glide my hand up and down his cock and he moaned loudly – much louder than I had ever heard him moan. I began to stroke him slowly, watching him as he closed his eyes and his breathing got deeper and faster.

I don't know how long I held him like this and continued to stroke his cock ... five minutes? A half an hour? I believe we both lost all track of time and seeing Russ under my control and having him moaning and feeling his body trembling I didn't care how long it would last – I just wanted it to keep going. But, as with all good things, it finally came to an end ... as much as he did. He arched his back slightly off the bed and begin to cry "oh, no! No, no, no!" And a moment later he began to shoot a very impressive load of cum onto his stomach. The first eruption was so impressive that it landed between his chest muscles. He didn't breathe until it was almost over, then sucked in as much air as he could before he slowly began to calm down.

"Fuck," I said to myself. "Our first erotic match and he just lost and now he's going to want to leave." I finally released him and went into the bathroom to grab one of the hand towels and came back out to wipe him off. He was still lying on the bed, his eyes closed. I started to wipe his chest and he grabbed my wrist to stop me and looked up at me.

"I'm sorry," he said "I didn't realize it was going to feel like that and ... I didn't even try to fight back."

"It's fine," I lied. It wasn't fine. I had finally gotten him to have a sexually charged "first to cum loses" match with me and we didn't even get a chance to wrestle – I held him down and stroked him off. I had won. Hooray for me. Now he would get dressed and leave and I suppose I would turn on the twenty-year-old television in the room and see if there was an episode of "House Hunters" on ...

"I read your stories again and I realized how excited I was by them," he said as he finally sat up. "They always got me excited but I never really understood why and I suppose that was stupid of me, but ... I wanted to try this and now we did and we didn't even get to do anything. I just let you hold me and ... you won."

"Yeah," I said, trying not to sound disappointed. "It's fine. Maybe the next time we get together we can do some wrestling before we get to that."

"Next time?" he asked me with a confused look. "Are you getting rid of me already?"

"No!" I said, "I just figured you were going to leave because ..."

"Because I leave every other time right after one of us wins, right?"

I nodded. There was no point in lying to him.

"I always left because I always got so excited when we would wrestle and I was afraid ... I was afraid it was going to lead to this – what we just did – because I was certain that I didn't want to do that."

"So, what made you change your mind this time?" I asked.

"I don't know. I suppose I was tired of trying to suppress it and wanted to see what it would be like to do it ... finally."

I nodded my understanding and got up but he held onto my wrist and looked at me.

"I want to wrestle some more. I want to do all those exciting and erotic things you've written about. And I want to do them with you ... right now."

I was confused for a moment at this completely different person I was looking at, a man I had wrestled a few times before who was now sitting with his underpants around his knees on a motel bed and wanting to wrestle the way I had always wanted to wrestle with him. I finally smiled and nodded at him.

"Of course, you do have a disadvantage now," he said with the slightest grin. "Since you've already gotten me to cum it's going to be more difficult to get me to do it a second time." I spread myself flat on the bed next to him and looked at him with a grin. "Well ... you could do something to even the odds" I said as I took the waistband of my boxer briefs and pulled them down to my ankles and tossed them into a dusty corner of the motel room.

Long story short, it took Russ a bit longer to figure out what to do since he had never done this with another man but once he got the "rhythm" he was very, very good at it. I figured since this wasn't our legitimate "match" I didn't need to give him any encouragement so I just enjoyed it as his hand worked my cock until I finally rolled my head to the side and grabbed the sheets in my fingers, yanking them up in two clusters as my cock spewed onto my body. I calmed down and Russ handed me the hand towel so I could wipe myself off. After that we ate and had a few beers and talked about nothing of much significance for about forty-five minutes before we were ready for our first official "first to cum loses" wrestling match.

Somewhere in those forty-five minutes of talking, I decided that either Russ was having a moment of temporary amnesia or had taken something which had disabled his inhibitions and we were never going to get the opportunity to do this again. So, I decided that we were going to do everything I could think of to try with him. We both stood up and I pulled him over near the front door to the room where we had more open space and I grabbed his cock and began to fondle it, trying to get it hard again. He was a fast learner and grabbed mine, fondling it as well. It didn't take long before we were both rock-hard and once we were I told him to put his hands on his hips. He obeyed and I moved in and began to slap my cock against his. He smiled wickedly and instantly began to smack his cock back against mine.

And we had a wonderful cockfight – truly the best I had ever had. He would bring his hard cock down on top of mine with a loud grunt and smack and slap mine and I would bend my knees and gasp at his cock's superiority ... and then I would grab him by the waist and glide my cockhead up and down the underside of his tool while he looked down at it and whimpered helplessly. We slapped our cocks against each other from side to side and both of us gasped and whimpered when our cock was the victim and chuckled and sneered when our cock was in control.

For as great as it was I wanted to try more and wanted to get Russ over to the bed. I lifted my hands up and around his middle and pulled him into a tight bearhug. Our cocks slapped together and the feeling of his naked body finally against mine made me squeeze him even harder than I had done in any of our previous matches. I pulled him in tight and he rested his arms on my shoulders, hanging limp as he closed his eyes and winced and tried to gasp for air.

"Oh, I hate your fucking bearhug! I always hate it!" he blurted out, throwing his head back and letting out a moan. I ground our cocks together and held him close to me, the beads of sweat on our bodies joining into one as they trickled down our chests and bellies and rained on our trapped dicks.

He loved to "suffer" in a bearhug – it was one of his favorite things – and he did it very well. He danced back and forth on his feet, a pained look on his face as he desperately tried to break free. But I wasn't letting him go. He looked around the room, hoping to find some way out of this but there was none.

I grinned and said "nothing better between two friends than hugging with a good squeeze?" and on "squeeze" I would bring my arms in tight and crush his body into mine. He grabbed my shoulder blades and looked at me, his face a portrait of desperation and hurt. This went on until he opened his eyes wide, wrapped his arms around mine and managed to break them free of him. He quickly wrapped them around my middle so now my arms had nowhere to go but to hang helplessly on his shoulders.

Everything I had done to him he did to me – and every moan and cry for mercy was repeated by me. He moved me against the wall, pressing me against it to allow more leverage to tighten his hug around me.

"No!" I screamed. "Not fair! No using the walls! Rules!"

He glared at me, obviously no longer interested in any of the few "rules" we had ever established. He had a point – we were both naked and we intended to excite the other man so really any "traditional" rules we had created were useless now. I felt him rubbing his cock against mine – grinding it against me in our tight embrace. He had learned quickly and now his big cockhead was gliding up and down the underside of my shaft and I gradually went from moans of pain to moans of pleasure ... and as I did he loosened his hold a bit so he could rub his cockhead up and down my suffering cock even harder.

But this was a mistake on his part and I planned to take advantage of it – after I allowed him to rub his cock against mine a little longer since it felt so fucking good! Once I was ready and he was no longer focused I reached my hands up and clamped my thumbs and forefingers around both of his nipples – stretching them out and squeezing them. He stood up on the balls of his feet and his mouth dropped open in a beautiful and silent cry of pain. With his "undivided attention" now I forced him towards the bed and pushed him back onto it and moved on top of him. I straddled his chest, managing to pin his arms between my legs and leaned back, reaching behind me to find his cock waiting patiently for me.

I grabbed it and gave it a pull and Russ went

wide-eyed, his mouth gaped open. I smirked and asked if he wanted me to "stop?" but he closed his eyes and shook his head. I then reached back a bit more so I could wrap my fingers around his cock and begin to stroke it slowly. Russ turned his head to the side, his teeth clenched and his eyes shut tightly. My cock was slapping his chest between his pecs and if I thought for a moment that he would lean up and take it in his mouth I might have been worried, but I was sure that he was not going to take this so far his first time into a sexual wrestling ring.