Wrestler Wrestles Whores, Ch. 01

Wrestler Wrestles Whores, Ch. 01

Professional wrestler Apollo strips naked at a bachelorette party and has wild sex with thirty women.

Naively believing that women hired him as their celebrity guest for their bachelorette parties to pose and flex without his shirt, they didn’t. Apollo was a virgin compared to these drunken whores. They were more interested in him as a stripper than they were as a celebrity wrestler.

With him ignorant of their sexual intentions, women hired him to strip naked at their bachelorette parties. After they promised to double his hourly fee, he reluctantly relented by stripping himself naked. Apollo not only showed his erect, naked prick but also, he showed women his sexy moves by play wrestling with them, too.

Only, that wasn’t enough. That wasn’t nearly enough. The drunken women at the party not only wanted to see his naked cock but also, they wanted to hold his big dick in their horny hands. They wanted to wrap their manicured fingers around his cock and stroke him to a bigger and harder erection.

Then, while exposing their naked breasts to him, they wanted him to feel their tits, fondle their tits, finger their nipples, and suck their nipples. Not done there, they all wanted to take his throbbing prick in their mouths. They wanted to suck his cock as if they were all his girlfriends, his wives, or his lovers.

Author’s Note:

This story is dedicated to Apollo for allowing me to write his story about him having wild sex with thirty, drunken and horny women at a bachelorette party.

Every man’s dream, imagine women you don’ know and have never met allowing you to kiss them, French kiss them, make out with them while feeling their naked breasts and fingering and sucking their erect nipples. Imagined thirty drunken women seeing your naked prick, stroking your erect cock, and sucking your big dick. Imagined thirty women wanting to have sex with you.

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Wrestler Wrestles Whores, Ch. 01

My name is Apollo and I’m 26-years-old. I’m a professional wrestler. Able to bench press 350 pounds, squat 450 pounds, and deadlift 575 pounds, I started as a powerlifter turned bodybuilder long before I took up wrestling.

With me big, strong, muscular, and athletic, wrestling was an easy transition to make. Yet, sadly, I’m nothing compared to some of those huge giants that fight for WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment or that compete in the strongmen competitions. Enormous men that dwarf me, they’re monsters compared to me.

Baron Corbin weighs 285 pounds, Sanga weighs 300 pounds, Luke Gallows weighs 290 pounds, Josh Briggs weighs 268 pounds, Lance Archer weighs 273 pounds, and Bruan Strowman weighs 385 pounds. All of the above wrestlers are 6’ 8” tall. Then there’s Commander Azeez standing 6’ 9” tall weighing 350 pounds. Shanky is 7’ 1” tall and weighs 310 pounds. Omos is 7’ 3” tall and weighs 280 pounds. Lastly, Paul Wright is 7’ 3” tall and weighs 383 pounds. How do I compete against such monstrous men?

Brian Shaw, the world’s strongest man is 6’ 8” tall and weighs more than 400 pounds. He bench pressed an astounding 640 pounds. He squatted 900 pounds, and he deadlifted 1,100 pounds.

Moreover, and more importantly, with them more experienced in the wrestling ring, they’ve been wrestling years longer than me. Adding to my disadvantage as a budding professional wrestler, most of them take steroids and/or HGH (human growth hormone), illegal for other sports but not in wrestling. Never injecting myself with that shit, I’m all natural. Disappointingly, unless I follow suit and take that stuff, I’ll never earn the big bucks wrestling.

Even though there are lots of wrestlers much bigger, much stronger, and more talented than me. Practicing for hours every day, I’m still learning the ropes of professional wrestling. The hardest part is learning how to fall without being injured.

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In the way that Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone did, I fear that I may not make the huge paydays unless I relent and take steroids and/or human growth hormones. I need to be as big and as strong as the men that I wrestle. Adding to my dilemma, in the way that men want to see big breasted women, even women with huge breast implants, women want to see men with muscles. They want to see men with big dicks.

Yet, with me being a man’s man, a manly man, and a macho man, not such a bad life, my goal is not to be a monster but, rather, to be healthy. I love working out and exercising. I reap the rewards every day from admiring women giving me notoriety, celebrity, popularity, and fame by staying true to myself, and for being a professional wrestler.

I’m a huge celebrity at the gym where I exercise. Both men and women, tall with broad shoulders, people stare when I enter the gym. People stop their workouts to watch me lift. Women always stare at me and give me the eye.

Money isn’t everything. Living the best, healthy life that I can without injecting myself with poisons is my goal. If I had to quit wrestling to do that, so be it. I’d rather be true to myself than to be a phony. Just my opinion, of course, but to me, using steroids and/or human growth hormones are cheating.

Along the way, something that I didn’t know nor even suspected, I learned some things. I discovered that women are sexually crazy over the muscular bodies of athletes, especially bodybuilders and wrestlers. Women love men with muscles, the bigger and the more muscular they are, the better. As tall and weighing the same as Dwayne Johnson, the Rock, and with me taller, bigger, and more muscular than Terry Crews on America Got Talent, women all comment on my six pack abs.

I don’t work out to attract women. I exercise for myself. I want to be the best that I can be for as long as I can. Helping me in the long run, weight training will save my life as I grow older. With men losing most of their muscle mass as they age, when I’m an elderly man, I want to have enough balance and coordination to get up from the ground should I fall.

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Whenever I wrestle, I’m always surprised by how many women attend my wrestling matches. As if I’m Tom Jones thirty-years ago, they wave their panties in the air over their heads and throw their panties in the ring at my wrestling matches. Beautiful, sexy, and shapely women wearing low-cut tops and short skirts, no doubt, without panties, after throwing their panties in the ring, stand, wave their arms, and yell to cheer me to win my wrestling matches. Something that surprised me, with me competing in a man’s sport, women love me more than men.

“Apollo! Apollo! Apollo,” cheer my legion of female fans! “Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!”

In the way that Taylor Swift encouraged more women to watch football by rooting for her love interest, Travis Kelce of the Kansas City Chiefs, I’ve somehow persuaded more women to watch professional wrestling. I suspect that women are watching more of me than they’re watching wrestling. I’m surprised by the fan mail and emails that I receive, mostly by women asking for an autographed picture of me in my wrestling briefs.

I’ve sent out so many pictures that I started charging $10 each to cover my time and the cost of the color photos, the postage, and the 9 by 12 envelopes. Already having a huge collection of used panties in every size, style, and color that female fans have thrown in the ring, surprisingly, women are my biggest fans. Not having a ring name nor a fictitious identity, local women know me by my real name, Apollo, as much as they know the name of any male, movie star or celebrity.

Even when I don’t answer them, receiving too many emails every day to answer them all, they continue to email me. I receive dozens of emails every day. They want to chat with me online. They confess their love for me. They want to date me. They want to have sex with me. They want to have my baby. They want to marry me. Too busy working out and practicing my wrestling moves, I don’t have the time nor the inclination to answer every email and/or to chat online. Soon, I’ll need a secretary.

As surprising as it’s sexually exciting, they send me links of them in their sexy, sheer, and low-cut nightgowns, in their bras and panties, topless, and even naked. I have a huge fan club of women in their nightgowns, lingerie, topless, and/or naked. I can’t believe all the beautiful women who expose their nearly naked and naked bodies to me while hoping that I’ll call them, date, have sex with them, and even marry them.

They all want me to return the favor of their X-rated photos with my X-rated photos by showing them my naked, erect cock. I’m shocked by how many women ask to see my big dick. I’m shocked by how many women of all ages and races send me scantily clad, topless, and naked photos of themselves. If only their boyfriends knew, what would they say? If only their husbands knew, what would they do?

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Fortunately for me, I inherited my looks from my father, Magnus. At 6’ 3” tall and weighing 260 pounds, he competed in the Strongmen Games. He always finished in the top five but he never won. Just to compete in the Strongmen Games is quite the feat. Even if he didn’t win, he was still considered one of the strongest men in the world. Different now than when my dad competed, men competing in the strongmen competitions are not only much bigger but also much stronger.

It helped in my wrestling career and added to my celebrity that I have his long, blonde hair, and his big, blue eyes. It helped that I’m a good-looking man as I’ve been told many times by admiring women. It helped that I’m 6’ 5” tall and weigh 250 pounds. It helped that I have a big, noticeable bulge in my tight pants. Not having to pad my pants with a sock, I’m proud that I have an 8 ½” prick when fully erected.

My mother said that I look exactly like my father before he died of a heart attack years ago. With my father from Iceland, my long, blonde hair, and blonde beard, women have told me that I look like a Viking. Admittedly, I do look like a Viking. All that I need is a helmet, a shield, and a sword to look even more like a Viking.

‘Skol Vikings,’ I thought while looking at myself in the mirror!

Female wrestling fans have told me that I look like Ric Flair in his younger days. With him being a good-looking man when he wrestled, I take that as a compliment. I don’t mind being the modern-day Viking version of Ric Flair.

Women have told me that I look like a big, bad biker dude. No doubt, if I had a biker vest with club colors on the back and wore that over a wife beater T-shirt, I’d look like a biker. Only, I don’t have any tattoos. Just as I’d never put chemicals in my body to make myself bigger and stronger, I’d never deface my body with ink. A big turnoff for me, unless it’s just a small butterfly on their ankle, I’m not sexually attracted to women who have tattoos.

I don’t understand why women decorate their entire arm, leg, and even their chest with tattoos. I don’t understand why they tattoo their backs, when they can’t even see them. The worst are those tattoos that appear over their asses, tramp stamps that show everyone that they’re whores.

Interestingly enough, older women have told me that I look like some guy named Fabio, a man who appeared on the cover of romance novels. I don’t know who he is but I imagine that he must have been a good-looking man for his image to have appeared on the cover of romance novels. Seemingly and surprisingly, the older women liked me as much as the younger women did.

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As flattering as it’s sexually exciting, it’s always the same sexy and sexual thing with women. While trying to make eye contact with me, they stare up at me. Coming up to me and flocking around me as if I’m a celebrity, they grab at me. They take my hand. They grab my arm. They do anything to get my attention.

They want to feel my muscles. They want me to pose. They want me to flex. They want to touch and feel me everywhere that women I don’t know and have never met wouldn’t normally want to touch me or feel me.

Some women, usually drunken women, literally sexually assault me by groping me. Brazenly, they’ve even squeezed my ass, and grabbed and cupped my package through my jeans. Some women have even kissed me and parted my lips with their tongues and French kissed me. As long as they’re good looking, especially if they’re sexy and shapely, I always return their deep wet kiss with my French kiss.

A common theme, they all wanted me to remove my shirt and flex. They all wanted to see my big muscles while feeling my chest, my arms, my shoulders, my legs, and fondling my stomach. A welcome way for me to earn extra money when I’m not wrestling, women hire me for bachelorette parties and other gatherings of women having drunken fun.

Why not? With me the only man there and the focus of all of their sexual attention, a living room full of horny and drunken women is always a fun time. Being the star at a bachelorette party is better than being beaten up and injured in a wrestling ring. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I enjoyed and was flattered by all of the female attention. Who knows, maybe I’ll find my next girlfriend or even my wife at one of these events?

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Surprising me, something that I didn’t expect to do, and something that I never expected a group of women to ask, when hired for their bachelorette parties or other parties, they all wanted me to undress. Actually, now that I think of it, thinking that they hired me to make a celebrity appearance as a local, popular wrestler, instead, they hired me to be a stripper at their bachelorette party. They all wanted me to give them a slow and sexy striptease show as if I was a stripper on stage instead of wrestler in the ring, and a minor celebrity at a bachelorette party.

I figured that they’d just want me to remove my shirt and do some poses while flexing. Shocking me as much as they sexually excited me, in the way that they were willing to show me their naked breasts, their naked asses, and their naked pussies, they all wanted to see my naked cock. They all wanted to see me naked. Then, disappointed that I only stripped down to my wrestling briefs, they not only expected me to strip naked but also, they implored me to strip naked.

“Take it off! Take it off! Show us your cock. We all want to see your big, naked prick,” they all said in unison.

Ashly, the soon-to-be bride smiled up at me. As if I was her soon-to-be husband, she gave me a sexy look and a naughty smile. Clearly, this engaged woman was as much of a drunken whore as were all the other women. She surprised me with what she said next.

“We’ll pay you extra, we’ll double your fee, if you remove your briefs, Apollo,” said Ashley. “I want to see your big dick,” she said with a dirty laugh. “We all want to see your cock. We all want to see your penis. We all want to see your, touch, feel, stroke, and suck your erect, naked prick,” she said.

While staring up at me and giving me another sexy smile and a naughty look, she reached out and groped my bulging prick through my briefs.

“Show us you big dick, Apollo,” she said while fondling my erect cock through my briefs.

Then, she added more motivation for me to show her my naked prick.

“If you show us your naked cock, tits for dick, we’ll show you our naked breasts,” she said while looking over at the group of smiling and laughing women nodding their heads.

Not waiting for me to agree to strip naked, as if they couldn’t wait to expose their tits to me, some of the women already removed their breasts from their blouses and their bras. I was surrounded by naked breasts of all shapes and sizes. I’ve never seen as many naked breasts. I could feel my prick erecting bigger and harder in my briefs while staring at their tits and their erect nipples.

I wondered what their mothers would say if they knew that their drunken daughters were sexually crazed over a wrestler. I wondered what their grandmothers would say if they knew that their granddaughters had asked to see me naked. Then, when I looked around the room, their mothers and their grandmothers were in the audience at the bachelorette party, too. Astonishingly, it wasn’t only the young women who wanted to see my big, naked prick but also it was the older women, the mothers and grandmothers who wanted to see my naked cock, too.

“Take it off. Take it off. Take it off,” they all chanted. “Show us your cock. Show us your cock. Show us your cock. We want to see your erect, naked prick. Apollo! Apollo! Apollo!”

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Something that I learned and that I never would have suspected, the women who wanted me to strip naked were mostly older women. They were women my mother’s age, and some of the women were even my grandmother’s age. Women in their forties, fifties, and sixties suddenly turned into some of the biggest of whores at the bachelorette party. Seemingly, they wanted to see my naked, erect cock more than their younger counterparts.

They not only expected me to strip naked but also, as shocking as it was sexually exciting, they expected me to have sex with them, too. If I knew that they wanted me to strip naked and have sex with them, I would have charged much more than my $200 hourly fee. Yet, Ashley already agreed that she’d double my fee to $400 an hour if I showed them my naked prick and allowed them to have their wicked, sexual way with my big dick. Glad that I had trimmed my pubic hair, how could I refuse that offer?

As soon as I obliged them and slowly and sexily removed my briefs, when I walked to each group of women, surprising me as much as they sexually excited me, they reached out their horny hands and grabbed my naked prick. Unembarrassed and unashamed, they held my big dick in their soft, warm, and horny hands. While staring up at me and sliding slow tongues across their red, full lips, they sexily slid slow fingers over the head of my erect prick while staring down at it. Then, they wrapped their manicured fingers tighter around my cock and slowly stroked me.

Continuing to stare up at me, they not only expected me to kiss them but also, they wanted me to kiss them. Not shy about it, they wanted me to part their lips with my tongue and French kissed them. They wanted me to make out with them. They expected me to touch, feel, and fondle their naked breasts while pinching, pulling, turning, and twisting their erect nipples as they continued making out with me.

Never have I been surrounded by as many horny and topless women. Some women pulled me forward by my erect cock and willingly took my stiff prick in their mouths. They wanted to blow me. They wanted to suck my cock. They not only wanted me to cum in their mouths but also, they wanted me to cum all over their faces, in their hair, and across their naked breasts. They wanted me to give them cum baths.

“Cum, Apollo. Cum in my mouth. Cum all over my face. I want you to cum in me and on me,” said one after the other.

They stroked me faster and they stroked me harder while expecting me to cum in their mouths. I never imagined that I’d be sexually wanted by so many women. Literally, I could sexually have any woman that I wanted. Any woman that I wantonly desired would freely give herself to me, even the bride, the bride’s sister, the bride’s mother, the bride’s grandmother, the sister of the groom, the mother of the groom, and the grandmother of the groom.

‘This is crazy,’ I thought. ‘Forget about exercising and wrestling, attending this bachelorette party is the best day of my life.’

They all wanted to stroke my cock. They all wanted to suck my cock. They all wanted to have sex with me. They all wanted to fuck me. They all wanted me to have sex with them. They all wanted me to fuck them. Never have I been in such a swinging, sexual situation, I was stunned.