Date: Tue, 6 Jan 2009 07:17:48 -0800 (PST)
From: Mark Wild <markwild082@yahoo.com>
Subject: Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 7a

AUTHORITARIAN/ HIGHSCHOOL


Disclaimer: If you are not yet 18 years of age or if it is illegal to read
materials of this kind where you live, then please stop now.  This story
contains descriptions of sexual activity between adolescent boys and is for
adult eyes only.  The acts are consensual, and are a result of their love
or lust for one another.  This story is completely fiction, and all names
and descriptions (except for the occasional place-name) are also made up.
Any similarities are completely coincidental.

I would love to hear from you, so negative as well as positive feedback is
always welcome.  Please write: markwild082@yahoo.com.


For J.D. Salinger, my favorite writer, although I doubt he'd like it!



Red Devil Wrestler, pt. 7



"...fuckin' LIKE that baby, doncha?"  Dudes, I was lickin' Craig's dick
like a lollipop, flickin' my tongue like a whore on the glans and then
kissin' that fucker from bottom to top.  The tip was all wet and was
drivin' me crazy: dudes, there ain't nothin' like findin' your niche.  Mine
I was learnin' entailed takin' orders and suckin' Craig's cock like a
cum-hungry bitch.  "Aw yeah, fuck-wad.  USE your lips, girl!  ---LOOK at
me, bitch."  I did.  "You fag..."  A thrill ran through my muscled torso.
Craig saw me shiver and started to brag.  "Damn, I got a whopper, don't
I?---" "Yeah..."  "---I got like, SUPERsized!"  He laughed and two bright
flecks of moonlight swiveled in his deep brown eyes.  "Ya want me to lick
on your nuts some more, Craigger?"  I wanted to bad ---but I needed
permission.  "Fuck, if I give you my dick all damn night, bitch, we're
gonna miss all o' that good early fishin'!"  "Fuck the fish..."  "I
 PLAN to, Dick-wipe!  JUST as soon as we get home!  ...Better than tearin'
that Mustang apart again, huh girl? an' polishin' all o' that chrome?"

   I moaned.  I pictured Craig's broad shoulders bulgin' while he banged on
the struts, pictured the streaks of old oil and grime on his biceps,
watched as he scratched at his nuts.  He'd grin at me over the
engine-block, call me his bitch while I handed him all of his tools.
Slater and Jake would be knockin' a ball around, talkin' their trash,
actin' worldly and cool.  I would be boastin' how May would suck dick, and
be watchin' the ripples in Craig's solid pecs.  They would all oink and
then call me a perv and of course cross-examine me on the sex.  "Does she
bite?"  "Does she swallow?"  "How tight is her pussy? ---let's say on a
scale of from zero to ten?"  Craig stood so close I could breathe in and
smell him, and fought the temptation to do it again.

    "Yeah Coop...I figure I'll drop you off, go shower, then give some
bitch a call.  Sink my fat joystick real deep in some REAL fuckin'
pussy... ---Yeaah, girl, LICK those balls!"  Craig reached under his turgid
rod and brought his big nut-sac right up to my lips.  My tongue went to
work and my hands tried to crawl up his chest they were crazy to pull on
his nips.  He slapped them away.  "Now you fuckin' beHAVE, girl!  Yeah... I
know... you're hot for my pecs..."  He knew that he had my attention
completely, grinned and then banged on his chest and flexed.  "Look at me,
Coop!  I'm the total package!  Faggots go CRAZY for what I got!...  That's
right, jock-boy.  CLEAN those sperm-tanks!  NOW who's the big friggin'
hot-shot?  Look at ya, bitch! ---Mr Homecomin' KING! ---fuckin' down on
your knees like the school's biggest fag...."  He patted my head and I
slobbered all over his scrotum.  "Fuckin' douche-bag..."  He grabbed my
left ear-lobe, and pulled me up hard, and then hocked three big gobs of
warm spit in my face.  "Faggot wants more faggot better ask Craig reeal
nice.  You fuckin' WITH me, Ace?"

   Yeah, I was with him.  I looked at his big swollen prick and I knew that
I'd do it: I'd beg.  I woofed.  He laughed.  I got romantic.  "Please let
me kiss your big cock again Craig?"  "Girl..." He leaned over and looked at
me closely.  "I got a whole damn aGENda planned..  One that includes
SEVERAL sessions of cocksuckin', BITCH..."  I moaned.  "Yeah... ain't life
grand?  Now wipe that damn spit off your face.  You're a mess.  And go wash
your damn dick: I can smell it from here."  He shook his head.  "Some
football jock..."  He spat, ---"scum-suckin' queer..."  He stood up and
pushed me away from him.  Just like a puppy I whined 'cause my treat was
denied.  "Now scram.  An' don't come back till that puss is CLEAN..."  My
puss...  I could'a just died.

   I scrambled back crab-like and lost my balance.  I sprawled on my elbows
and ass in the sand.  My cock was still twitchin' around on my gut like a
puppet, jerkin' at Craig's commands.  He took a step forward and pressed
his dirty foot against my heaving chest.  "You got fuckin' lucky, girl.
You're gettin' rode by the rodeo's best..."  Another retaining wall
crumbled inside me.  My body was racked with demeaning desires.  I was
transfixed like a moth by a pin to a board and my skin spouted brushfires.
He looked at me coldly and smirked like a cop gettin' off when some punk
started learnin' his place, an' he hocked up more spit but I squirmed and
his aim went off and he totally missed my face.  Fuck, it was just like at
school when he lost one: he'd barely shake hands before startin' to curse.
He'd prowl around pacin' the edge of the mats till ya thought the damn
veins in his neck would burst.  Me an' Jake an' Bren would yap and joke we
were glad we were up in the stands!  Now I was seein' those mean friggin'
veins up close, in his legs and his powerful hands.  It made me feel weak,
like a baby or somethin', like one o' those jocks he had friggin'
demolished... standin' there, makin' me crawl to his bulge like a dog, all
good sportsmanship wholly abolished....

  I know that I should'a been mortified, dudes, but the fact is that I was
already Craig's slave.  I knew I was tough and could take a few beatin's if
that's what it took for my ass to behave.  What were a couple o' purplish
bruises if that's how Craig wanted to make his point?  It couldn't hurt
worse than the time I got slammed and my whole fuckin' shoulder got knocked
out o' joint.  But he friggin' surprised me.  Grindin' his heel on my chest
he said, "Thought that I told ya ta scram..."  And I scrambled from under
his foot like a pig half-afraid if I stayed I'd be sliced into ham.  I
pulled myself up on my feet, started brushin' the sand off my elbows and
tight muscled butt.  My cock was still throbbin' up hard.  Craig could see
it.  "Girl, you are SOME kinda nasty slut..."  "Aw yeah," I said, without
even thinkin': his tool was still wet from my spit in the moonlight.  How
could I go and clean up like he'd told me and let that fat meat of his out
o' my sight?  "Please let me kiss it again Craig?"  "Ya wanna, huh?  Sounds
like some BITCH is in love with my cock!  ---Well ya can't.  So ya might as
well stop yer damn whinin'.  You ain't in CHARGE around here, Mister JOCK.
You ain't the fuckin' Decider," he laughed, "bro.  Yer just another damn
cocksuckin' fag.  I could drive down to the showers and find me another
queer dick-wipe and make HIM gag...."

  If I had any pride left I swallowed it, panickin'.  "Nooo, Craig!  I'm
sorry!  Whatever you want!"  "That's RIGHT.  Girl, when I say crawl you ask
how FAR.  Comprendo THAT, you cunt..."  He jerked his head out toward the
lake and I finally listened and started to shuffle away..  The water was
splashin' my feet when I heard him behind me.  "Don't fuckin' take all
day..."  I turned and watched him start to amble up the dirt incline and
back to the tent.  I felt like a addict who needed a fix when his last
couple dollars had just been spent.  I felt so friggin' aimless, dudes, it
was like I had like some post-partum depression.  When had my veiled
admiration for Craig metamorphosized into this helpless obsession?  A
shiver ran over me, makin' my balls pull up and my stomach and asshole
twitch.  Craig wasn't lyin'.  My cock was too hard to deny it: I WANTED to
be his bitch.  There was just something so friggin' erotic about bein' made
to take orders and beg, big fuckin' jock all queered out for his cock like
a fag with a boner between his legs...

  The water licked up at my jocknuts like some little lake-faggot hungry as
I was for sex.  The shock cooled me down, though; I waded out further until
the dark ripples splashed over my chest.  All I could hear were the
crickets and night-birds.  I burped and I tasted Craig's cum in my throat.
I swallowed again and submerged and then twisted around and half-surfaced
and started to float.  Above me the moon had washed most of the sky out,
except for a bright star that might've been Venus.  A patch of pale clouds
drifted off to the left like a Rorschach impression of Craig's erect
penis...  I groaned out loud: I was outta control!  I was in thrall to my
raging libido... sendin' me off to the mall like a slut with a hard-on to
buy him a new pair of Speedos...  Makin' me wait with a horny impatience
while us an' the crew shot hoops all afternoon, slappin' my ass with a
hearty insouciance, callin' me "Big Man!" and "Master o' Poooon!"  Knowin'
full well I was itchin' like fuck for those jack-offs to put on their
shirts and go home, cravin' to get on my knees like a bitch and learn just
how Craig liked me to worship his bone.

  Dudes, I looked up at that twinkling star and my thoughts ran away like a
thief in the night.  Craig loomed above me godlike, half-translucent in the
crystal moonlight.  Grinnin' like Apollo with his solid legs and abs and
pecs, his massive meat-rod promising long weeks of hot perverted sex.  He'd
tell all the guys he found out I was queer, and was gonna enjoy this last
month before college, satisfyin' his curiosity, polishin' up on his sexual
knowledge.  "You got a fag, use 'im," he'd brag to the gang, and they'd
smirk and say, "Coop!  Dude, you really like COCK?"  And Craig would smirk
big and say, "Watch this, you dickheads!" and make me get down and inhale
his ripe jock.  Their eyes would pop out of their heads.  They'd'a never
believed it.  They'd spit and go, "Ewww," "Fuck..." and "Damn!" and wink at
me lewdly and knowingly scratch at their crotches until Craigger told 'em
to scram.

  And then he'd start in with the real degradation, the crawlin' an'
beggin', the barkin' and pit-lickin', makin' me chew the thick shaft of his
rod while he laughed.  "That's right, girl... Just like chicken!"  I would
leak just like a retard and grab his thick legs and pull more of his cock
in my throat and he'd knock at my balls with his foot and kick back an'
flex both of his huge fuckin' biceps an' gloat.  He'd slap at my face with
his huge friggin' dong an' smear big gobs of precum all over my lips; I'd
lick it all off with my tongue while he'd nod his approval and tease me by
pinchin' his nips.  And then he would ---JEEsus, what could I NOT imagine
that muscle-stud makin' me do?  "Chew on my nasty old jockstrap, you
faggot!  Yeah, eat all my toejam!  Aww, gobble the goo!"  He'd strut around
just like he owned the damn world, knowin' all of his sexual whims would be
gratified.  Chicks could debouch if they wouldn't put out, 'cause his real
bitch would know how to keep his dick satisfied.  Dudes, he would... drive
himself out to the mall to a pet store and find me a collar to wear, and
fasten it snug on my neck while I whimpered between his big legs and he
ruffled my hair....

  We'd lounge around watchin' TV at his house till the car started up and
his parents were gone, and then he would order me up to his room and I'd
watch as he pulled some old wrestling gear on.  Craig was a legend at
school for the way he could flirt and drive all of the chicks to
distraction; now he would laugh and say, "LOOK at these guns, bro!" an'
kiss on 'em, smirkin' at my reaction.  I would be swallowin' hard and my
cock would be drippin' like some kinda leaky-ass faucet.  I would be naked,
of course, and my chest might as well have had "Craig's little fag"
scrawled across it.  My eyes would be glued to the bulge in his singlet, my
nostrils would twitch for the scent of his sweat.  I would be blubberin'
how he had made me his faggot.  "Shiiit... I ain't DONE yet!  Girl, you are
gonna be such a big queer that my asshole BROther won't even know ya!
'Damn, bro, yer shittin' me!  This is that Coop dude?'  'Sure as fuck is,
bro.  ---Ya want 'im to blow ya?' "  Casey would look at me real fuckin'
skeptical, prob'ly debatin' if I was worthy.  "She's all broke in, bro..
HUNgry for lovin'!  I promise ya, bro, she gets real dirty..."

  Fuck, dudes, I grabbed for my cock at the thought but the movement
splashed water up into my nose.  All my lascivious daydreams unraveled as
surely as autumn unpetals the rose.  Here I was driftin' off all queer and
crazy when Craigger had told me I shouldn't waste time.  Fuck! ---just for
ONCE could my brain pay attention and not churn out all these wack rhythms
and rhymes an' go driftin' off into some cloud-cuckoo-land till the crew
would all poke me?  They'd chortle and scoff.  "Coop!  Are ya friggin'
LISTenin', dude?"  They'd laugh.  "No more weed for the King!  He's cut
off!..."

  I started to wash out my pits with my hands, splashing water up into
those matted blond curls: I'd come a long way from the wise-crackin' jock
who hung tight with his buds and chased after the girls.  I stood there.
My stomach was quivering.  Slowly I reached up behind me to finger my ass.
A little queer whimper leaked over my slutty wet lips, and I froze till the
trembling passed.  At home in my bedroom I'd played with my hole a few
times when I pulled up those studs on the net, but truthfully, technically
speaking the fact was my ass hadn't really been broken in yet.  I mean,
dudes, it's one thing, to see some hot athlete and dream that my face was
all up in his jock; another, to know that my ass would need serious
trainin' to handle Craig Mott's big cock.  ("Practice!" Coach Brown always
drilled us.  That was his prescription: Practice!  I'd work two fingers up
into my butt with some soap till I moaned like a Southern Baptist.  Or like
when Jake brought that magazine by, and we checked out the pics of those
chicks in bikinis....  Later I waited till mom had gone out and then
damaged a couple of baby zucchinis.)

  Slate had never pushed it, he would just grab my thick head and I'd suck
while he grunted; Craig saw the look in my eyes when I looked at his
prick... and we both knew what he wanted.  Craig was gonna get his junk
rock-hard and make me ride his pole, showin' his fagged-out football jock
how it was when a stud took complete control.  Jesus H. Christ, he would
totally use me, and I would be leakin' and beggin' for more, lickin' his
big stinky feet and his big hairy thighs while he called me his queer
little cock-whore.  Yeah, and if Casey was kickin' back watchin', that'd be
the last piece of no fuckin' resistance.  Dudes, did I say I'd discovered
my niche?  I'd found the raison de my horned up existence.

  Uh oh, nnnghh yeah ---that was the ticket.  My ass sorta opened and
swallowed my knuckle.  My fingertip tickled the knob of my prostate.  I
gasped and my muscled legs started to buckle.  I felt the sweet trembling
delicious sensation that made my toes start to curl up in the mud.  It was
like hordes of implacable Vikings were running amok in my riotous blood.
All the hot red flush of youth spread out across my face and chest.  See
what happens when football jocks turn queer and get all sex-obsessed?  They
end up half-submerged in lakes with fingers probin' up their butts.  They
lose all their interest in Playboy and Penthouse and start throwin' boners
to homo smut.  They lose their macho attitudes and start to crave the smell
of sweat.  Their horned libidos start to overflow.  They need an outlet.
They need a stud whose sheer brute strength will keep their stinkin' ass in
line.  That thought alone made breathless shivers run all up and down my
spine.  My prick was hard as steel, my heart was racin' like a whore's on
speed.  I NEEDED Craig's big cock again: I'd crawl, I'd fetch, I'd beg, I'd
plead.  I'd sell my friggin' coin collection just so he could have the
money.  I'd be oozin' pre like horny honeybees secretin' honey.

  Yeah dudes, my ass was all slack and receptive.  I probed with my fingers
and swiveled my hips.  My other hand grabbed the hard base of my wanger.  I
worked my new ...pussy and tightened my grip.  Yeah queers, I knew what the
fuck I was doin', too.  I was all hornily losin' control.  So what if my
fingers dug up in my shit-chute were no friggin' match for the girth of
Craig's pole?  So what if his rammer was gonna destroy me?  I'd hobble
around like his substitute cunt.  Rival jocks would laugh to see me broken
down by need and want.  Even half-under the water my dick was all primed
like a gun that was cocked to go off.  Even as much as I'd already cum that
day, I hadn't had enough.  I squeezed, I stroked, I worked my ass and my
hand slid down the full length of my meat.  Yeah and I know it's a sad
sorry pun but that sweet fuckin' feelin' could not be beat

  That's when I started to queer out real bad again.  This time I knew,
though, I wouldn't be stoppin'.  I was gonna get my nut so hard there'd be
all kinds o' hellzapoppin'.  Wrestlin' jocks and football studs and every
other kind of athlete strutted through my dirty mind and smirked and
watched their bitch on heat.  Dudes I was gruntin' an' splashin' an'
pantin' an' beatin' my meat like the prick owed me money.  I could feel the
precum on my dickhead, warm and slick and runny.  I could ---Jesus... feel
that pressure start to swell my achin' nuts.  I could feel enflamed
sensations tying up my knotted guts.  "Nnxxh!" I cried, and felt my
meat-stick pass the point of no return.  I was gonna blow my jizz as far as
Mars ---or maybe Saturn!

  "Nnxxh!"  I felt the first contraction building up inside my rod, then
the second, then the next one, then the ---oh my fucking god--- All hell
broke loose.  My fingers squirmed like snakes inside my greedy hole and
thick warm jets of creamy cum exploded out my gaping piss-hole.  "NNNxxhh!"
I jerked so hard my probing fingers popped outside my ass.  My limbs were
twitchin' like my fuckin' body'd been exposed to nerve gas.  Milky gobs of
viscous cum splashed out across my muscled chest.  I creamed a fuckin'
nipple, which, for standin', was some kinda personal best..  I smelled that
pungent scent of bleach and almonds, smelled my curly pits.  I smelled the
exhalations from the summer lake and woods.  I spit.  I spanked my prick
against my abs and spewed my juice on my heaving six-pack.  Fuck dudes,
there must've been HOURS of cum gushin' out of my swollen up queered-out
nut-sac.  So much cum it drenched my gripping hand and dripped into my
pubes; so much cum that it leaked in the lake from the tip of my
detumescing fuck-tube.

  Holy shit!  I stood there panting, soaked in jizz and dripping sweat.  I
wasn't done.  That's right, you queers.  The faggot hadn't had enough yet.
Fuck yeah, now that I'd blown my nut my dirty mind was cravin' more.  That,
though, was all part of bein' a football jock, and not a little whore.  The
whorish part was lickin' the leftover cum off my wrist and my slimy
fingers.  I couldn't be squeamish no more... or some other hot jocks might
move in on my Red Devil wrestler.  Yeah, dudes, now that my climax had
faded I kinda could sorta think clearly again.  Jocks could be filterin'
into the woods right now, slick goalies and football linesmen.  Closeted
queers like me, givin' in to the need to kneel down at Craig's big feet,
crawlin' around on the mats if he told 'em to, gooned the fuck out on
Craig's big meat.

  I jumped.  The trees had a thousand eyes, now.  Each one was staring a
hole right through me.  They watched me splash all of the cum from my
stomach and whispered among themselves, murmuring lewdly.  Look at the
queer, they hissed.  He couldn't wait twenty damn minutes to blow his load.
Spiders crouched in webs, the crickets reeped, a pinecone fell and echoed.
Somehow I knew I had dawdled too long and my ego deflated as sure as my
dick had.  Now I knew why dumb-ass jocks needed discipline: left unattended
we fucked up too bad.  All I could do was head back to the tent and pray
Craig wasn't pissed that his bitch kept him waiting.  Gee bro, I washed up
as quick as I could, bro....  HELL no!  ME, bro?  Masturbating?

  Well.  There was nothin' to do but to square my broad shoulders and
trudge back to face the music.  It was already real clear that I couldn't
be trusted to even control my own dipstick.  Yeah it was clear that I
needed a stud like Craig to do my thinkin' for me, tellin' me straight what
his bitch was expected to do if he happened to drop by horny.  Gulp.  I
pricked with goosebumps, felt the clammy sand between my toes.  All my
flimsy buttresses had tumbled down like dominoes.  Yet there was something
too strangely exciting in knowing that Craig held my fate in his hands.  I
trembled like a stranger in a new erotic foreign land.  Or say, like a
hot-shot football jock who'd tasted strength and longed for more.  I picked
my way solemnly back to the tent like a husband approaching a brothel
door....


to be continued...