Hot Wrestling Entertainment

Braced up on stiff arms, I fucked her with long powerful strokes as our loud cries of pleasure filled the room. After a moment of hard fucking, she twisted her hips, trying to dislodge me as she howled in pleasure. Using the twist of her hips, I rose to my knees, straddled her lower leg, and then clasped her upper leg tightly to my chest. Having prevented her escape, I began pounding my cock into her again. She screamed, her hips thrusting furiously in time with my strokes, driving my cock deep into her pussy as she clawed at the floor. She stretched as she screamed, and as her hand closed over the weapon I'd tossed away earlier, I realized the reason for her sudden desire to run, and now her twist. The gun was empty—as well as fake—but it would make an effective cudgel. Dropping her leg, I lunged for her hands, my cock still inside her, grabbing the weapon before she could strike.

Sneering at her in unbridled hate, I began fucking her again as her legs curled around my back. "Fucking bitch! That's twice you've tried to cheat me!" I snarled. "You want my show? Your pussy is going to have to out fuck my cock to get it!"

I glared at her, but I could see the humor in her eyes, the same humor that I was certain was in mine. My original line was supposed to be something like, 'you're going to have to beat me to get it' or 'you're going to have to out fuck me to get it,' but the cock versus pussy fight idea had been running through the bout, so I decided to keep it going.

Fucking her furiously, I forced her hands over her head, slamming them hard in the floor as I stretched her tight. I slammed her hands again, and then a third time, before the gun fell from her grip. Never releasing her wrists, I slapped the gun out of reach before sliding my hands across hers to interlace our fingers.

"You're going to make me come again!" she wailed as I continued to pound into her. I redoubled my efforts as I sneered into her face. "No! I can't let you make me come again!" she shrieked.

"You're beaten! My cock has beaten your pussy!"

She wailed long and loud. "I'm coming! Your big cock is making my pussy come! Fuck! No! Fuck, I'm coming!"

I continued to fuck her, giving her no respite. "Surrender!"

She shrieked as she twisted violently, her back arching and rolling us over. I shoved her away before rising to my knees to glare down at her, wiping away the sweat dripping down my face. "You're finished. Now get the fuck out of here."

She shook her head weakly. "No. Not until you sign—"

"You must need more fucking," I growled, cutting her off. I rolled her to her stomach and threw myself over her back, stretching her arms over her head and then reaching under her arms to pin them there before rolling over onto my own back.

She tried to escape but her arms were bound by my own as I locked my right hand over her throat while steering my cock into her pussy with my left. With a wail of pleasure, the moment my cock slid into her she began thrusting her hips.

"Fuck! Your cock is so big! My pussy can't handle it anymore!" she wailed, but her pounding hips spoke of another story.

I began moving with her as I pinned her hands over our heads. My hand still around her throat, the other now behind her neck, she arched her back, driving the palms of her hands hard into the arena floor as she fucked me hard and fast.

"Then give up!" I shouted as I squeezed my eyes shut and looked away as if I was battling overwhelming pleasure. In reality, I didn't want to yell so close to her ear.

"No! My pussy can still beat your cock!"

"No pussy can beat my cock!"

"Mine can! It'll fight your cock until it wins!"

I grunted, my orgasm lurking. That whole cock versus pussy battle thing she started was hot as shit and was definitely going to become part of the routine. "Then let them fight!"

She was doing most of the work, but I increased my efforts. We continued fucking for another long moment, snarling and screaming in pleasure as cock and pussy engaged in battle, warring against each other until one was defeated.

"I'm going to come!" she wailed, her thrusting become more frantic. "Fuck! I'm making me come! I'm making my pussy come!"

"Come on, bitch! Come!"

"I'm making me come! Fucking your cock is making me come!"

"Fuck!" I snarled. "Keep fucking that big cock until that pussy comes!"

"Fuck!" she screamed. "I'm coming! I'm coming all fucking over that big fucking cock!"

I bellowed in return. "Your pussy coming is making my cock come!"

She wailed again. "My pussy is too full of come! I can't take any more!"

"It has too!" I screamed as she continued fucking me hard and fast. "Fuck! Your pussy is making my cock come so fucking hard in that tight pussy!"

"Fuck! My pussy is so full of cock and come!"

I roared in erotic torment. "My cock keeps coming!"

"Your come is making me come again! I can't fucking come anymore!"

"My cock is filling up that fucking pussy with come!" I snarled as we continued thrusting and writhing in sweet agony.

Brio screamed as her back arched, but still her hips lunged and twisted. "I can't handle any more come!"

I released her neck, grabbed her hips, and began repeatedly slamming her pussy down on cock. My orgasm was starting to swell again, but I could endure another few seconds of fucking before I came. "My cock is beating your pussy! Say it! Say my cock is winning the fight with your pussy!"

She screamed again. "Fuck! I'm coming again! I can't take it anymore! I'm coming too hard!"

"Say it!" I roared. "Say my cock is beating your pussy!"

"Fuck! Your cock is still coming in my pussy, still filling me with come! Your cock is beating my pussy! Your come is making me come again! Fuck!" she shrieked. "I can't stop coming!"

I threw her off me, my own, real, orgasm almost consuming me. Brio lay face down on the floor, grunting and twitching. I staggered to my feet, staring down at my defeated foe as she lay still. "Now, are you going to get the fuck out of here, or am I going to have to fuck you some more?"

Brio struggled to sit up, waving a hand limply at me. "I... I can't take... I can't come anymore."

I reached down, grabbed her arm, and hauled her to her feet. "Then take your fucking money and get the fuck out of here!" I snarled as I shoved her toward the ropes.

She staggered across the ring until she hit the ropes, tumbled through them, and landed on the hard concrete of the warehouse floor. As she slowly, painfully, regained her feet, I tossed the duffle of cash to her, knocking her down again.

"Next time one of you Grambrelli pussies want to fuck with me, bring more pussies," I sneered as she struggled to her feet again.

She glared at me. "I'll go, but this isn't over between us."

I grabbed my still hard cock. "Anytime you want a rematch..."

As Brio slouched away in defeat, the crowd booing and jeering her roundly, I picked up the mic from the floor. "Now that's over... as I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted... on behalf of myself, Ron Misson, and the entire Hot Wrestling Entertainment crew, thank you for allowing us to entertain you this evening. The souvenir stand will be open for the next hour, so feel free to stop and pick yourself up a DVD, t-shirt, or duffel. All items are twenty percent off from now until we close. Thank you, and goodnight."

I switched off the mic, Justin following me down the aisle as I made my way to the dressing room, Greg shooting crowd shots as the people roared and cheered.

I was snuggled comfortably in bed with Lis lying in the crook of my arm, when a sound pulled me from the darkness of slumber.

We'd started packing up the show as soon as the crowd began filing out, leaving the breakdown of the souvenir stand until last. It took about four hours to setup the show, but breakdown was much faster. We were on the road by two-thirty, and we'd pulled into a rest area on I-20, about ninety minutes outside of Birmingham, Alabama, to grab some shuteye. We'd sleep until ten or so, and then drive the remaining two hours to Jackson, Mississippi, later this morning, where we had a campsite waiting for us. Once camp was setup, the crew and performers normally grabbed a nap or made love, then we'd all enjoy the evening meal together. We had Monday off to rest, recuperate, and further enjoy ourselves, then Tuesday we'd break camp, setup and perform the show, and then leave for New Orleans directly after, as we'd done in Birmingham yesterday and this morning.

I was used to sleeping in stops beside the road, the drone of passenger cars and heavy trucks normally not waking me. Our little caravan of five coaches and a semi was parked in the truck parking section of the rest area, claiming the last three available spaces, with my coach, Dirk and Michelle in the semi, and David's smaller, private, coach that he shared with Beverly, parked on the shoulder of the onramp.

I lay still, waiting to see if the noise that woke me repeated. Lis and I hadn't made physical love this morning. We never did after our turn in the ring. It's why we split the duty with Dirk and Michelle. Unlike the wrestling action, we could only fake our fucking so much, and Michelle and Lis were always sore after their performances. That's not to say we hadn't expressed our love in other ways. After David parked our coach, and joined Bev in their own coach, Lis and I had spent almost an hour, kissing and touching, strengthening our bond after the violence in the ring, kissing and touching that ended in an exquisitely slow blow job for me to give me some relief and tide me over until she was ready to make love to me proper.

Our love making sessions were always long, slow, marathons of bliss, both of us trying to pleasure the other above ourselves. Any need for hard and fast fucking was taken care of by our actions in the ring. Lis was my world, and despite how I acted toward her in the ring, I'd protect her—

I heard the noise again. A firm rap at the front of the coach. It was still dark out, the only light coming from the distant security lights of the rest area, the only other sound the drone of passing traffic and the soft hum of the diesel generator powering the air conditioning. I slapped around until I found my phone. It was almost five and Lis and I had been asleep less than thirty minutes.

"What?" she mumbled, her voice thick and slow, as I carefully slid from under her.

"Nothing. I need to check on something. Go back to sleep," I whispered, kissing her gently on her head.

I quickly pulled on the workout shorts I kept by the bed and quietly removed my Heckler & Koch VP9 from the nightstand. Keeping the weapon pointed at the floor beside my leg, I made my way to the door at the front of the coach where I flicked on the entry lights. The two small LED's mounted in the coach beside the door illuminated Colt standing outside dressed much like I was. My lips tightening, I placed my pistol in the passenger seat and then quietly opened the door. He started to step into the coach, but I put my hand in his chest and pushed him back as I stepped out and softly closed the door behind me. It was a typical muggy southern night and the night air clung into my naked chest like a damp blanket.

"Lis is sleeping," I murmured as I closed the door, the concrete still warm from the days heat under my bare feet. "What do you want? Do you realize what time it is?"

"We need to talk," he growled, his voice slightly slurred, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You're drunk. You need to go back to bed and sleep it off," I snapped.

Colt had studiously avoided me after talking to me in the ring as we setup the show. After the show, rather than help me break down the ring as he normally did, he spent his time slamming the folding chairs into their big metal carrying stands, their crash and bang leaving no doubt he was in a pissy mood. Everyone ignored him and Antony had helped me disassemble the ring.

"I'm not drunk, and I'm going back to bed until we get this settled once and for all!"

"Keep your voice down!" I hissed. "Is this still about you wanting to move up?"

"Yes, it about me fucking wanting to move the fuck up! I'm ready, but you're holding me back! I'm sick of it!"

"I said keep your fucking voice down! I'm not doing this right now! Now go back to your fucking coach and get some sleep!" I snarled, jabbing a finger to where my second coach was parked.

"What's your problem with me?" he demanded, leaning in close. "Are you afraid I'm better than you, than the great Ron Misson?" he sneered while waving his hands by his ears as he mocked me. "I can out fight and out fuck you any day, but you won't give me the chance... because you're afraid everyone will see that I'm better than you, see you as the fraud you are!"

"I said I'm not doing this now! This discussion is finished!" I turned to open the door and go back to bed, but he grabbed my shoulder. As he spun me to face him, I slapped his hand away. "You're about to fuck up, Colt," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "If you don't get out of my face right now, you're fired, understand?"

Colt sneered. "Big fucking deal! Fired from the kiddie table." He shoved me, hard, and I bounced off the coach.

"That's it! You're done! When we get to Jackson, pack your shit and get out, you hear me?" I snarled.

He pushed me again, my back slamming into the coach's door a second time. "Come on big man! Let's settle this right here, right now! I'll kick your ass and then I'll fuck that bitch of yours so she'll—"

He didn't have a chance to finish the sentence before my fist connected solidly with his chin. He went down hard as I grimaced, shaking my hand once as my knuckles shrieking in pain. This wasn't our wrestling show, and I hadn't pulled that punch. I flexed my hand. I didn't feel bones grinding together, but that didn't mean that punch hadn't hurt! Colt lay on the ground a moment, staring up at me, the shock on his face clear before his expression hardened. I could see the fight coming in his eyes as he rose to his feet. He spat blood into the grass as I moved away from the coach to give myself some room to maneuver.

"That was a fucking cheap shot!" he snarled.

"You better back the fuck up, Colt," I warned as I pointed a finger at his face, my voice low and hard.

"You're washed up, Ron," he growled, his voice deadly before he spat blood again. "I'm going to kick your fucking ass, and then I'm going into that coach and prove to that bitch of yours that not only can I kick your ass, but that I can fuck her better than you can, too," he snarled while jabbing a finger at the coach's door. "Then everybody will know I'm the fucking best!"

"Over my dead body," I growled.

"That's the idea!" he bellowed as he charged.

Being a wrestler, I knew how to take a hit and a fall, but in this fight, the winner wasn't scripted and I didn't know what to expect next. We went hard to the dew-covered grass in a tangle. Unlike the ring with its padded, spring supported floor, there was no give, no bounce. I bellowed in pain as Colt drove me into the sun baked Alabama earth, my legs going around his waist and my arm around his neck, trying to keep him close as I struggled to recover from his tackle.

"You mother-fucker!" I snarled as I drove a fist into his ribs, but being on my back, with one arm around his neck, my blow was weak and ineffectual.

With a bellowing roar, Colt tried to slip my grasp, his legs driving before he twisted to the side. We rolled once, but then we were tumbling down the short, steep, embankment into the rest area's collection pond, crashing through and breaking off cattails before we came to a rest in the collected muck that stank of rotting vegetation and motor oil. It was the middle of summer, so the pond that collected and retained the rainwater from the massive slab of asphalt that formed the rest area was nearly empty.

The short but hard tumble had broken our tight clinch. I was still reeling from being driven into the ground, and now the hard tumble down the embankment where my balls had taken a solid shot from some unyielding part of Colt's body. I staggered to my feet as I frantically tried to locate my foe, my feet sinking into the muck until the sucking mud and water was at my claves.

In the dimness I didn't see the mud-covered Colt behind me until he was nearly on me. I tried to step back and pivot, but the mud slowed me. He attempted to take me in a Full Nelson, trying to lock my arms up with his hands behind my neck, the same move we used in our wrestling shows to display our bodies to the audience. Unlike during the show, a properly secured Full Nelson was almost impossible to break out of, but I was able to slip his grip on one side before he could lock me down. With only one arm immobilized, I had a chance. He flung me deeper into the pond as I screamed in pain, my captured shoulder feeling like it was being torn from its socket. I landed on my knees with my free arm being driven deep into the muck, the off-balance, three-point brace the only thing that kept my face out of the slop. Driving with his legs, Colt forced me sideways and shoved my face into the stinking mud.

The animal inside me, that part of all humans that bites, and claws, and fights to its last breath for survival kicked in. Realizing that if I didn't get my face out of the mud I was going to die, I heaved with all my strength, the muscles of my back, arm, abs, and legs nearly ripping with the effort as I tried to force my face up. Colt moved, unable to hold against my near superhuman burst of strength. My free arm failing, I clawed at him as I twisted in his grasp, but I was unable to get a grip on his slick, mud covered body.

I continued driving with my legs, and we moved some more. My face was nearly out of the mud, but in my desperate struggle to survive, my body was consuming my oxygen supply at a furious rate. I clawed at him again and my fingers closed over something, something solid. Gripping the fabric like my life depended on it, I pulled with all my strength.

Colt howled in pain as we struggled. I redoubled my effort, screaming like a wounded animal as my face came out of the mud. We flopped to our backs as I sucked in great, life giving, lungsful of air. Enraged beyond reason, I continued driving with my legs while hauling on Colt's shorts, wanting nothing less than to kill him.

Colt shrieked, his powerful arms suddenly releasing me. I rolled away and scrambled to my feet, but I didn't release my grip on his shorts. With a bellow of the purest rage I pulled harder, the fabric crushing his nuts as I hauled with all my strength.

He screamed again as he kicked at me in a desperate attempt to free his trapped balls. I took the impacts on my leg, staggering back from the powerful blows, and then fell. Colt scrambled, slithering out of his shorts still held firmly in my grasp. We both scrabbled to our feet and I threw aside his now useless shorts as we charged each other, straining against the clinging mud to slam together in a spray of muck and filth. Grunting and snarling, we battled, our muck covered bodies slick and difficult to hold. My muscles screaming from my exertions I twisted my hips and fell again into the mud while dragging Colt down with me, our mêlée churning the muck into a thick slurry.

We rolled and tumbled, bellowing and roaring in pain and effort, not the fake sounds of our show, but the stringent cries of men locked in a battle where there could be only one survivor. The clinging muck made Colt difficult to hold, and he slipped my grip time and again. I tried to back away as he whirled to attack, striving for room so I could get to my feet and attack with an advantage, but I was only partially successful, slowed because my fucking shorts had slid down and were binding my thighs. I was still stumbling to my feet when Colt launched himself at me, knocking me down again before I could get to my feet.