Date: Fri, 16 Jul 2004 03:51:15 +0000
From: Collage Maker <collagemaker@hotmail.com>
Subject: Wrestler's Tail - Part 1

Wrestler's Tail
By Collage Maker

Part 1

The Department of Sport Facilities and Campus Recreation ran several premier
sport facilities for both intercollegiate athletics and campus recreation.
Buildings included Robert C Clark Hall on the east side of the campus, a
single-storey facility that housed men's and women's locker rooms, two
basketball courts, a complete weight room/fitness center, and a fully
matted, 45' by 80' wrestling room used for wrestling practice as well as
aerobics and martial arts. The men's locker room was off the wrestling room.
Clean and bright, it had a steam room at one end of a long corridor lined
with showers.

It was 8 o'clock on a Tuesday night. Two juniors were undressing and
wrapping large white towels around their waists in the men's locker room.
They were naturally thick and sinewy from lifting weights regularly and also
wrestling and playing football for their college team. They had been taking
it in turns the past hour in the wrestling room practising different holds,
throws, arm locks and the like, sweating up a storm. Their youthful, virile
bodies glistened from the lights' reflection on their damp skin, making
their definition even more prominent.

Aside from having similar surnames, Jarrod Miller and Brant Millar had
similar bodies (brawny and naturally smooth), faces (cleft chin, dimples,
defined jaw) and heights (6'2"). Broad thighs and beautifully shaped calves,
their development matched by the obviously rock-hard bulges of muscle in
shoulders and upper arms, supported solid frames and bowling-ball glutes.
Both had the unmistakable sign of the true wrestler: a thick, strong neck
formed by hours of bridging and gritty resistance to attempted pins and
submission holds. Wide shoulders, defined pecs, narrow waist and hips formed
a great body for a wrestler. Jarrod kept his dark honey blond hair short in
a crew cut, to keep guys from pulling on it for leverage while they
wrestled. He had darker, angular eyebrows over dark blue eyes. His
teammate's pecan brown hair was also a crew cut. Brant's bright hazel eyes
looked out from under arched eyebrows.

One advantage to arriving later was that the gym was relatively deserted,
but now there seemed not another soul around. Walking to the steam room in
nothing but their towels, the two youths' voices echoed loudly in the
corridor. They stiffened when they heard a familiar voice yell, "Miller!" It
came from the direction of the wrestling room.

They stepped out onto the matted floor, just in time to see Coach Duren's
back disappearing through an opposite door into the front hall. They hurried
after him. Brant shouted, "Coach, wait!"

Duren reappeared in the doorway. "Hey, Brant, Kelly was asking me where you
were. Hi, Jarrod, lucky I saw your car outside when I came back. I nearly
locked you in. What are the two of you doing here so late?"

Jarrod looked at Brant, flushing. Brant said to Duren: "It's not late!"

"Not late? Didn't you see the sign out front? This place closed early today,
from 7.30, for employee meetings. Everyone else in the gym has already
left."

"Gee, Coach, we're really sorry", Brant replied. "Ten minutes. I promise
we'll be quick."

"I can't wait. I'll be late for the start of the meeting. I'll be back soon
after 10, so just make sure you close the door all the way when you leave.
It'll lock itself." And with a cheerful wave Duren was gone. Seconds later
they heard the sound of a door being slammed down the hall.

Veins stood out on Jarrod's forehead and he clenched his hands into fists as
he turned to confront Brant. "What the hell, Brant? What are you doing with
my girlfriend?", Jarrod asked angrily.

Brant said, "Kelly's not your girlfriend. How about all the other girls
you've been screwing every week? I'm sure you must enjoy screwing Lana too.
Last I recall, she'd been with me."

"You're screwing Kelly behind my back? You've been screwing around so much
that you don't remember not to fuck with your friends."

Brant shrugged, started back towards the locker room. "Can I help it if
Kelly thinks I'm more of a man than you are?"

Jarrod ran after Brant and tackled him. "You son of a bitch!" Jarrod was
yelling. Brant shoved Jarrod off of him and got back to his feet. Jarrod
stood up and the two studs went at it, naked, towels ripped from their
waists and lying on the floor.

Lunging at each other, cocks swinging, they locked up, arms like sinewy tree
branches grabbing wildly for each other's neck, head, chest. Brant took his
fist and landed a sharp blow against Jarrod's muscular side, making him
flinch, jabbed him again. Jarrod returned the blow to Brant and they both
let out a gasp for air. They grappled wildly around the room. Brant managed
to get Jarrod in a headlock briefly, ferociously forcing Jarrod's
smooth-skinned face into his pit till Jarrod slipped the hold. They split
apart, Jarrod threw himself at Brant, shoulder first, slamming him into the
matted wall of the sroom. Though jarred from the slam, Brant threw all of
his weight at the man holding him against the wall. Jarrod gave a grunt of
surprise as he was knocked back a few paces. Brant threw himself at Jarrod,
and grabbed Jarrod's arms, using his weight and center of gravity to twist
Jarrod to the floor, Jarrod holding on tight, the two of them crashing down
together, Brant on top.

Maddened, Jarrod tried simultaneously to kidney punch and head butt Brant.
So Brant jammed their heads together and slammed his arms tight around
Jarrod. The two hard-muscled, furious, fighting boys rolled crazily around
the floor in a muscular tangle of flailing arms and kicking legs, grunting
and panting, their thick pecs tensed and scraping hard. Back, leg, butt and
arm muscles flexed and rippled frantically as they struggled together in a
driven hot sweaty combat for supremacy, rolling over and over as each of
them tried to establish dominance by holding the other down and applying
some gruesomely painful hold. Each of them was trying everything he knew to
get that crucial advantage that would lead to submission and the loser's
acknowledgement of defeat, but they were too evenly matched.

They had wrestled together frequently, but it was the first time in their
lives either man had felt raw cock on cock. They could feel the warm panting
of breath on neck, sweat slicked bodies rubbing against each other, cocks
jammed and rammed together, grinding violently. Incomparable feelings
gripped them tightly in their naked combat. Deeply aroused in every way,
including sexually, by their close physical combat, both of them were
getting boned fast.

The young muscle-hunks could feel their sex drives increase, manweapons
swelling ever larger as they become engorged with the blood and lust of
combat. Their erections wrestled between them, and the intensity of the
sensation soon drove them wild. Images of himself pushing his long shaft
into Brant's firm, tight ass forced themselves into Jarrod's mind.
Meanwhile, what Brant really wanted was to plunge aggressively inside
Jarrod's body, to open his teammate up for his shaft, to fuck Jarrod hard
and fast until he came, deep inside the other man. They were the football
heroes, the muscled jocks, the big men every girl wanted, and they had no
idea where these feelings of lust towards each other had come from. But
their minds, drowning in a raging ocean of violent eroticism and sexually
fired rage, were becoming wiped out except for the need for sex.

Brant managed to get on top and use his weight to hold Jarrod down, his
powerful muscular legs against Jarrod's own strongly built legs, naked
superhard bone on bone. Thrusting his hips back up, he rumbled softly in
Jarrod's ear, "Gonna fuck you, buddy. Winner take all." His husky growl
combined with one sharp, perfectly angled thrust as he slammed his rock hard
meat into Jarrod's thick, swollen, prejizz-dripping dick.

A rough sound, then "FUCK YOU," Jarrod growled back, arched his back, thrust
and slid to the side. Throwing Brant off, he got one big leg over Brant.
Clinging with his leg, Jarrod pushed against Brant's shoulder to force his
upper body away, sliding Brant over on his face. With a monumental effort he
shoved harder, mounting Brant's back, sliding his warm genitals against
beautiful firm buttocks just perfect to take his manhood. He put his big
square hands on Brant's shoulders forcing him down into the mat, Jarrod's
bare feet right against the bottom of Brant's massive calves and slid his
toes against Brant's ankles. He started forcing Brant's face harder into the
mat, rubbing back and forth on his buddy's slick smooth flesh, his hot cock
burying into that hot cleft, completely consumed with maintaining his top
man position.

Brant, feeling Jarrod's dick, struggled, couldn't get his shoulders off the
mat. "Winner take all? You cock-sucking, mother-fucker!" Jarrod screamed,
"I'm going to fuck your ass!" "NO WAY," Brant roared back, and pushed up
hard with his toes and knees, forcing his ass higher. Jarrod slipped on
Brant's sweaty shoulders, but he barred a forearm across Brant's throat,
cutting off Brant's air supply. "Your ass is mine, buddy," Jarrod growled
into Brant's ear, ignoring Brant's nails biting into his flesh as Brant
tried to wrench it away. "Never," Brant gasped, seeing black spots begin to
cloud his vision. He shoved desperately at the broad chest above him,
alarmed to feel how weak he was.

"Tap out, motherfucker!" Jarrod yelled.

Brant slammed his open hand across the mat several times, submitting to his
opponent. He was relieved to feel the arm ease up instantly and he panted,
getting his wind back. Jarrod laid on his back and whispered in his ear,
"I'm gonna FUCK you hard, man...I am gonna FUCK you till you beg me to stop.
You agreed to play this game so you have to suffer the consequences."

"You...son of a bitch," Brant croaked raggedly.

Jarrod spat on his hands and tried to use it to lube up his rod. But he was
panting from the wrestle, and found little spit available on his tongue. He
hawked, tried again. His breath was ragged and coming quickly. "Well, buddy,
it's time for me to claim my prize."

Overwhelming pleasure took control over Jarrod as he pressed his bare cock
against Brant's firm but soft skin. Brant felt Jarrod's strong hands push
his buttocks apart roughly, almost frantically, driven by Jarrod's
incredible passion. He felt Jarrod's erect penis brush past his anus and
slide forbiddingly across his perineum, only to bump and dig into the tight
skin of his balls. There was a momentary positioning, an awkward fumbling,
before the fiercely bloated mushroom head of Jarrod's thick meat pushed
against the rose of Brant's ass, pressing insistently. And then Jarrod felt
Brant's ring of muscle surrender, giving up its resistance.

On his face, ass in the air, legs spread, practically gripping Jarrod's iron
thighs with his own, Brant could feel the weight of Jarrod's body against
his back. He groaned with the invasion as the powerful tool started to fill
him, tearing through to stretch the sensitive flesh. Jarrod ached with
desire and hungry lust as he felt that sphincter grip tightly at his
throbbing, rock hard cock, as he felt that tight moist hole open up for him.
He pulled back a few centimetres, and then pushed in, a long steady stroke
which forced his manhood deep into the beaten muscleboy's innards, until all
of the long, steely shaft was buried to the hilt.

Brant's wild, almost whimpering, wail filled the wrestling room and fed
Jarrod's lust. Jarrod bit back his own scream as he felt Brant tighten
around him, the heat enveloping him almost unbearable. When he couldn't
stand to hold still any longer, Jarrod drew slowly, almost all the way out
of Brant's exquisite heat, shivers prickling his skin, raising goose bumps,
before pushing just as slowly back in, massaging Brant's prostate and
nudging the very depths of the other wrestler's stomach.

Shudders rippled through Brant, massaging Jarrod, buried deep inside. Jarrod
groaned, then flicked his tongue out to rim Brant's ear. "You're so hot,"
Jarrod whispered, leaning over Brant's body to lick at the droplets of sweat
ringing one ear. "So hot, so tight. So good." He reached one hand around
Brant's trim waist, stroked once down the ridges of the abs, finding his way
to Brant's cock.

Suddenly, Jarrod felt something he didn't expect to feel. Brant's cock
wasn't limp at all. Clearly Brant found being dominated sexually at least a
little appealing. At once Jarrod let go of Brant's cock and his own sexual
inhibitions.

"How does it feel to be sexually dominated by a better man?" Jarrod asked,
belittling his friend. "Yeah, I bet you thought you'd never have a guy stick
his meat up your ass." He pulled out until just the head was engulfed inside
Brant. Then he gave a feral shout as he rammed his fuckstick into Brant, his
balls crashing against upturned cheeks.

Brant's breath was knocked out of him by that movement, and he was too
shocked to even make a sound of protest. Jarrod pushed Brant's shoulders
down with his hands, pushed the legs further apart with his knees and
thighs, and moved his body up onto his toes so he could drive as deeply as
possible into Brant's perfect muscle ass. Again and again Jarrod impaled his
teammate's hard bubble-butt with his dagger of flesh, sinking it deeper and
deeper, feeling the heat around it, loving the feel of their meaty balls
colliding. Despite the way it was happening and how he was trying to ignore
it, Brant felt a tugging that started in his gut and ran all the way to the
base of his cock. Jarrod was hitting his sweet spot with every murderous
stroke, and though he tried to keep himself from it, Brant felt himself
responding to the brutal thrusts Jarrod was directing into him. He whimpered
softly, little hitched noises escaping his throat on each thrust.

Brant's vision was going hazy, though every bit of it was
bitter-fucking-sweet. What the fuck was this!? He was a hot-blooded muscle
stud, virile and absolutely cunt centered! But...fuck, it felt so good.
Jarrod had Brant by the shoulders still and was now pulling on them,
cramming his cock deep into Brant's body, churning Brant's insides with his
powerful fucking thrusts. Every thrust and stroke drove Brant crazy with
lust. A ragged gasp was rent from Brant as he writhed in feral delight, arms
out to brace himself in the position Jarrod had put him in, meeting Jarrod's
powerful hips eagerly as Jarrod relentlessly stimulated the thick bundles of
nerve endings in his prostate. Their hips pumped in time together, perfectly
in sync, a rhythm they knew instinctively.

Time ceased, sped up, moved around them as a fluid thing, while heat
consumed them, wrapped them in a cocoon of sensuality, of sex. The only
sounds in the wrestling room were of their breathing - harsh, fast pants
mixed with softer sighs and moans - and of Jarrod's thighs and testicles
slapping noisily against the backs of Brant's legs and Brant's buttocks as
they fucked raw, doggy-style, like animals in heat. Hard and heavy they
rutted, the sweat-sheen gleaming on their bodies. They fitted together like
pieces of a puzzle, two strikingly similar bodies, tall, lithe and muscular.

The intensity of sensations that radiated through his lust-crazed body had
Jarrod grunting like an ox in heat. He had never felt so aroused in his
life. It was so wonderful to be fucking this strong, powerful, virile hunk,
to feel the smooth walls of Brant's inner chamber gripping him like iron and
burning all around him. He bucked into Brant harder, sealing himself to
Brant until their thick-muscled torsos were as close together as possible,
and began to fuck himself to orgasm. Feeling a sense of real strength, of
indomitable power, he humped Brant ferociously, pounding and slamming that
tight, hard butt with his engorged bulldude rod. Every surge of the hard
flesh inside Brant scraped over his prostate, and Brant clawed at the mat,
muscles bunched, shoulders huge, thighs quivering, sweat rolling down his
sides. Rivers of sweat were coursing down Jarrod's face and torso also.
Every muscle in his powerful frame was taut and acted with singular purpose.

All they could hear were their groans and grunts and the slapping of their
sweaty flesh. Then Jarrod's hands snaked around Brant's hip, fumbling for
the hot heavy cock beneath, impossibly erect and wet with need, and swollen
balls. His fingers met the heated column, sliding along its length, pumping
it in time to his thrusts into Brant's body. Brant gasped beneath Jarrod,
his hips moving away from the mat to meet Jarrod's thrusts. Suddenly their
sweat soaked, naked bodies stiffened, glued together in a mind bending
erotic frieze. Then Jarrod gave that glorious length one long, slow stroke
from tip to base and it was Brant's undoing.

Brant's balls roiled, his cock convulsed and then he roared, crying out as
he exploded, his seed hot and thick on Jarrod's fingers as it shot out in
spasmodic gushes, spilling over Jarrod's hand and staining the mat beneath
them. Their sweat-drenched bodies writhed and squirmed together. Driving
desperately into his teammate's body, Jarrod felt himself lose control,
overcome by the spasms of the tightly gripping passage contracting around
his pounding cock. His entire world condensed to the feeling of Brant's
muscles clenched tightly around him, and the warm wetness of Brant's semen
spilling over his hand. Jarrod slammed his rod in all the way, feeling the
muscular cheeks rest against his groin before sliding nearly all the way out
and then driving back into the hot tunnel. With a shout Jarrod levered
himself against Brant's body, forcing his manhood in as deep as he could go,
arching up into the other's heat. His cock erupted in an explosion of thick,
rich spunk wrenched from somewhere deep inside him - somewhere beyond his
cock, beyond his balls, beyond his ass and prostate. He held Brant in place
as he spent himself deep inside the straining body, spewing into his buddy
the essence of his maleness, his body rocked by the sheer intensity of the
orgasm.

Jarrod groaned quietly and fell forward, laying down on Brant, still buried
deep inside him, his head resting on Brant's, sleek hard bodies pressed
together as their chests heaved. He relaxed against Brant's muscular and
sweaty back, holding on to Brant's thick sinewy arms, his softening dick
still embedded in his teammate, the firm cheeks of Brant's ass still nestled
into his groin, still savoring the sensation of possession.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, plastered together back-to-chest,
feeling the stickiness of their coupling between them, Jarrod's big dick
slowly deflating inside Brant's slick ass. Finally Brant tightened his ass
muscles around Jarrod for a moment, then relaxed again, and they broke
apart, both rolling on their backs. They stayed that way for a long time
then, on the matted floor, just laying next to each other. There were no
words, and no answers. There were truths to face and feelings to sort out,
but all of that would come later.