Date: Sun, 21 Dec 2003 19:28:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Bruce Nathan <jo247cum@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brock Birthday Bash WWE

DISCLAIMER: This is intended for reading by adults who are 18+. I do not
own these characters, nor am I affiliated with any of the below mentioned
in this story. This is just a work of fiction and fantasy, the characters
involve belong to the WWE and all related copyrighted entities. This is not
to imply the sexual preference of any of the characters in the story. Hope
you enjoy.

Brock's Birthday Bash

The last thing Brock expected in his Championship defense match against
Chris Benoit was in having to deal with a cum-covered Chris.

It was a bad birthday to start with. Brock's morning boner was not taken
care of and he was too lazy to do it himself. Hogan had an engagement last
night and there was no way to bunk over at Hogan's. Sadly, Brock knew Hogan
is with Scott Hall. While it was an open relationship, it does not make it
any easier when Hogan hangs out with the other guys. Brock knows Scott
well, and he knows Scott's 12-inch Latin anaconda too. The snake spits
thick man venom with a vengeance and recharges quickly. In fact, Scott's
sexual prowess is well-known: he is not beneath a dozen fucks a
night. Sometimes more, depending on the outcome of his matches. Often, wins
make him more virile. Scott had won his match against Kurt last night.

Hogan was not any different. Brock homed right into Hogan's yellow trunks
while he was a little kid. Watching Hogan match up with the other
gladiators was Brock's favorite past time. He never fails to jerk off at
Hogan's boots and bulge (a little small, he used to say, till he saw it raw
-- pun not intended.) It was a venous pulsating snake of 11 inches and it
spits to kill. Hogan's recharge rate is not any slower than Scott's and
Brock knew Hogan and Scott must have had a huge romp last night.

Pangs of anger and jealousy welled up in Brock's guts this morning when he
called Hogan on his cell.

"Errrrm. Oh. What's up, Brock?" Hogan warbled, clearly just getting the
cobwebs in his head to clear.

"It's 11 in the morning. Where are you?" Brock did not bother to cover his
irritation.

"Er, I--I'm ... Oh, working out."

"Of course, like I believe. Burping the Latin snake, I'm sure."

Brock winced as he heard Scott's voice in the background. Muffled, but
clearly his voice.

"Right, Mr Hogan, you do what you need and I'll see you at 4 pm. I need a
rub-down." Brock hung up the phone even before Hogan could utter a reply.

No one knew the alternative lifestyle that Brock is living while
traveling. Though married with a daughter, Brock never forgot his roots --
fucking cowboy style. Hogan did it well. In fact, Hogan is so good Brock
could not do without Hogan. There was one night when Brock beat up Hogan
real good in a match. Though Hogan was top and master, Brock smeared
Hogan's blood across the latter's chest as a sign of victory in the
ring. That night, Hogan gave it to Brock real good. Brock liked to be
abused, especially by Hogan. Brock never forgot the lashes from the leather
whip and the umpteen volleys that Hogan pumped into his hungry ass. He
relished with glee his master's fragrance as he got bear-hugged and
pummeled for the night. Here is a frustrated man with an angry 12-inch
cobra waiting to strike.

Brock chilled in the cold shower, hoping to soothe the angry
snake. Nothing, absolutely nothing, seems to work. Brock walked out of the
shower harder than ever.

He tried to sleep but he couldn't. So he took out the tapes showing his
match with Hogan and reviewed it. He also reviewed some tapes of Chris's
fights with the others. He knew he had to win tonight. It was an important
title defense. Surely, he was NOT going to go through the qualifiers for
the upcoming Wrestlemania. That would be suicidal.

4 pm. Brock left his stuff in his dressing room and went out to get
something to eat. When he came back some time later, Hogan sat in the room
dressed in trainer suits waiting with some deep heat balm waiting to rub
Brock down. No a single word was said between the two of them. Brock was
still angry and Hogan had this sheepishly idiotic smile on his
face. Nonetheless, Hogan did a good job and by 6 pm, Brock was ready for
his match. Hogan picked up his stuff, pecked Brock on the forehead and went
off to his own dresser.

7 pm. Recording begins. Brock put on his ring tights. They were warm and
crisp. Hogan had put in a heat pack to keep those warm. Brock smiled
inwardly. At least that beast had some tenderness in him. Vince walked in
and patted Brock on the dick. "Looking good there, son!" Brock nodded and
Vince walked out. "Win it for the night!" Vince's parting shot as he walked
to other rooms.

7.05 pm. Brock had his white ring socks on. These were for luck. He also
wore his high school jockstrap for luck. He put both feet into his boots
before lacing them. Unlike others who lace the boots one by one, he likes
to have both of them on first.

The soles were cold and slimy. Brock removed the boots immediately and
pulled his legs close to him. The unmistakable bleachy smell invaded his
nose. Such familiarity, such pungency, such starchiness. Brock knew who did
it. "I'm giving him the No Entrance treatment tonight." Brock thought.

As Brock simply had no other boots, he wore the boots and went to fight
Chris.

"Happy Birthday, Brock" Chris extended his hand as he gave Brock a
handshake. It looked gentlemanly on screen but it could be a trap. Brock
gingerly shook the proffered hand but no, there was no surprise
attack. What Brock felt however was a sticky, gooey mess. Instinctively,
Brock brought his hand close to wipe his nose. The smell of Chris's cum
wafted to his nose.

"I'm fucked." Brock cursed silently as he felt his dick hardening.

The entire match was eroded from Brock's memory except that Chris's entire
ring attire including the outside of his boots were covered with cum. The
naked eye does not capture all these but when you touch, you know. Brock
had grabbed Chris for the final move but as his hand enveloped Chris's
dick, the felt a little bag explode and a whole blob of cum seeped out of
Chris's tights into Brock's hand. Looks like sweat but it is not.

Brock won. Chris hugged Brock at the end of the match and Brock could not
refuse. Their groins met as Brock felt his dick area start absorbing some
gooey stuff. Brock is now a walking cum monster. He was pissed.

Alone in his dressing room, Brock swung his door backwards. Suddenly, a
pair of hands grabbed him and he felt a cloth at his nose. The cloth was
wet and slimy and again, Brock smelled cum. However, this smelled
different.

Tired and bashed up from the match, Brock gave in to the invader. Brock's
tights were removed, he was pushed against his dresser and then a hot rod
was shoved right up his unprepared ass.

"Argh!" A groan escaped Brock's mouth as the invader started pumping in
Brock's ass.

Brock turned around to see Hogan fucking him. He also saw Scott standing by
rubbing his erect dick. Scott was moaning.

Brock felt his ass emptying as Hogan withdrew his dick. Suddenly, Scott
came on Brock's back and Hogan lifted Brock slightly. The cum covered
Brock's ass crack and Hogan's dick and the pummeling continued. Brock felt
his ass lubricated with Scott's jism. Cum, sweat and ass juice were mixed
to give a potent and pungent, yet erotic aroma. Brock's jaw dropped open
and Scott shoved the Latin anaconda right into the opening.

Hogan pounded hard and fast. Suddenly, in a groan, Hogan fired his
cum. Brock could feel his prostate being hit at least 6 times by Hogan's
cum. Brock was so hot that he came onto Hogan's booted feet. Scott came
almost instantly as Hogan lifted his cum-covered boot to touch his exposed
dangling balls. Brock was rewarded with a load of hot cum in his mouth. The
load was so big it nearly choked him but he did not mind. He swallowed all
that he could and wiped the rest off the hairy man's chest.

Brock was carried off to his bed while the two men gave him his
much-desired cum-spa. Brock never knew what hit him that night. It was an
all-night orgy and the birthday boy was covered with cum from head to toe.

It wasn't long before the likes of Goldberg, Kurt and the others came in
for the bash. The inner circle, as they were known. Brock was delirious. He
must have eaten almost 30 egg whites worth of protein that night. And he
had produced a lot too. Every one deposited at least one serving in his
boots and fed him one. However, he was very sure only Hogan had his
ass. Hogan, his master. Nearing midnight, Hogan ended the party and people
left the two alone. What other ministrations would be anyone's guess.

The next day, Brock woke up alone. "Had an appointment" That's all Hogan
wrote on the note on his dresser. Brock still did not know what had
happened last night. All he knew was he was covered in some white flaky
stuff and he could not get his snake to spit a single drop of cum for the
day.

But it had been an enjoyable birthday.