Date: Sun, 26 Mar 2006 08:36:52 +0000
From: "hippocrene2003 @hotmail.com" <hippocrene2003@hotmail.com>
Subject: Wrestling for Relief, 14

(Correction:  At the end of Part 13, we had a  lapse and called Randy
"Chuck," which is his actual name. We'll stay with that. Sorry, Chuck.)

	Dave did not have to confront Chuck unaided. He was joined by the two
swimmers, one of whom had caught Dave's eye the minute he arrived. His thick
dark hair reached proudly to his shoulders. It framed a photogenic,
androgynous face which could have been described as either beautiful or
handsome. Dave noted that both men had nicely-developed swimmers' shoulders
and chests. Their brawling skills were at that moment undiscernable. Dave,
being the biggest and most muscular of the three challengers, took the lead
and went for Chuck's legs. As he dove, Chuck quickly bent forward and
circled Dave's waist with his arms and proceeded to lift Dave straight up,
feet dangling in the air and head pointing downward. Chuck's face slammed
into Dave's butt, which he proceeded to jab with his chin.
The other two attacked Chuck's now vulnerable legs, and all four went down
in a flailing pile of limbs. Dave managed to squirm free and wrapped an arm
around Chuck's thick neck, jamming his armpit against the big guy's nose.
	"Phew!" grunted Chuck. "Chemical warfare."
	"Smother the fucker!" said Chris, the swimmer with the long hair. He had
captured one of Chuck's ankles and was trying to bend his heel back toward
his ass. One kick of Chuck's flaring calves sent Chris bouncing off the
mattress pile. Chuck bridged and pivoted, and suddenly he was on top of
Dave. The swimmers dove onto Chuck's back and tried to pry him off while
Dave shoved upward against his chin. Eventually they managed to roll the big
guy off. While captured beneath his adversary, Dave took a glance around at
the mayhem. Nearly everyone was bare-footed and stripped to the waist. Some
wore gym shorts, others sweatpants -- most of them cut off below the knee --
and a few had on worn jeans. The room was filled with the smell of sweat and
the sounds of swearing, shouting and slamming. Some had already been
eliminated and were watching, and a couple were taking action shots with
digital flash. Dripping, flexing muscle was all around. God, this was fun,
thought Dave, and  sculpted Chuck was as big a turn-on as his best buddy
Danny. What was Danny doing just now? Winning, he hoped. Too early to be
fucking Carla -- or Leo.
	Chuck got lucky. While he had his arms tightly around the necks,
respectively, of Chris and Dave, he managed to scissor the other swimmer
with his boa legs and flexed...flexed again...tighter. His victim groaned,
struggling for breath.
	"You give? Huh? Better give it up before you pass out, bud."
	"Give! OK!"  Chuck released him and he crawled slowly over to one of the
sofas.
Now there were two.
	Chris, unable to pry Chuck's arm from around his head, was jabbing him in
the ribs with one hand and trying to goose him with the other. This was
annoying. Chuck rolled onto his stomach, pulling Chris across to the other
side and momentarily trapping Dave under him again. Chuck then grabbed
Chris's waistband with his freed hand and with one mighty tug the scrappy
dude's shorts were yanked below his knees. Beneath the shorts he had worn a
jock, the length and girth of whose bulge was a credit to Chris's relatively
slender stature. When he reached down to recover his shorts, his arm was
grabbed and twisted into a painful and irresistible hammerlock. After
yelping his submission he was released to join his buddy on the losers'
sofa.
	"Me and you, bud," muttered Chuck as he hooked his legs around Dave's in an
attempted spread eagle. Dave kicked out, twisted and struggled onto his
knees with Chuck still firmly riding on his back. Chris's jock-encased tool
had been no more impressive than the boner which now pressed against Dave's
backsides. As Chuck attacked Dave's forearms in an effort to flatten him
back down onto the mattress, he dug his chin into Dave's neck and was
unmistakably humping him. With his left hand Dave reached across to capture
Chuck's right forearm and rolled him off to the side. He got his right arm
around his adversary's neck and tried with all his might to straighten
Chuck's arm out against his knee so that he could hook it beneath his ankle.
This was going to be that "arm wrestle" which Chuck had proposed out in the
front yard when they were introduced. Chuck did not reach around with his
free arm for reinforcement. One arm only against one arm. Their breathing
was rapid and deep as they strained for dominance. Slowly Chuck's pulsing
bicep contracted and the arm bar was lost.
	"Shit," muttered Dave. Chuck slowly unwrapped Dave's arm from around his
head and forced it around Dave's own head. Then he did the same with Dave's
other arm, so that both arms were wrapped around his head. Tighter went the
noose.
	From behind, Chuck put his lips to Dave's ear. "I think we have a winner,
don't you?"
	"Man, you're pulling my...arms...right out of...their sockets....Yeah, Champ,
we...have a winner."
	Chuck released Dave's wrists and they lie there catching their breath while
other bodies rolled and crashed around them. Chuck helped his defeated
opponent to his feet and they embraced ."That was great, buddy. You're a
real handful."
	"You're stronger than any guy I've ever wrestled, Chuck. This is a great
party."
	"It's only getting started, bud. Wait til after dinner."
	Dave walked over to where Ty and Jimmy were nursing their muscles and their
egos. Gary had managed to eliminate his four attackers, one of them before
they even got him off his feet. Ty, who had lasted the longest, now had his
arm around his baby brother and was complimenting him on how well he had
done against a state champion.
Jimmy grinned up at Dave and asked how soon he could expect a
no-holds-barred
rematch after their encounter back at the fraternity. Woody was still
contending with the last of his challengers, a swarthy guy with hairy chest
and legs putting up a manly resistance. Onlookers were encouraging him,
"Fight him, Josef. Hang in there!"
	Just then Mike Simmons joined them and asked whether they were having a
good time. He and Ty strolled over to the bar, grabbed a couple of beers and
disappeared arm in arm into the back of the house. Dave joined Jimmy on the
sofa and they compared notes on how the adventure was progressing.
	"Did you get a look at that dude with the Tarzan haircut?" asked Jimmy.
	"You mean Chris the swimmer? That guy over there?"
	"Yeah, that's the one. What a face. He's better looking than most bitches,
man."
	"Don't be fooled by the flowing hair and the blue eyes. He's a scrappy
fighter. He and his buddy and I took on the blond stud, and he held his
own."
	"I think maybe he digs black guys. When we were coming in from out front he
told me what a cool soccer player I was and how buff I looked. We're gonna
wrestle after dinner."
	"You better take it easy on him. You're a real aggressive fighter, you
know, and heavier."
	"Shit, I don't want to hurt him. The opposite. I'd like to make him feel
real good."
	"Get your mind off sex, you horn toad."
	"Man, all this looking and talking and rassling has got me so hot, I think
I'm gonna have to sneak off somewhere and jerk off."
	"Don't waste it, Jimmy. There's plenty of action ahead. Go offer Johnny
with the Long Brown Hair another beer. He's been looking over at you while
we've been talking."
	"No shit?"
	"No shit. So has his partner. You may have to fight them both off."
	Just then Woody banged on a cooking pot and explained the setup for the
evening meal. Gary replenished the fire in the big fireplace, everybody who
knew it sang the State fight song, and they fell into the chow line. There
was one long trestle table, plus stools to pull up to the bar. Soon a
roomful of hungry athletes was gorging itself and laughing while U2 blared
in the background. Ty and Mike strolled back into the room looking relaxed
and sat across from Jimmy and Dave. Ty looked at Dave and winked, whereupon
Jimmy sneaked a hand under the table and pulled a hair on Dave's leg. They
both smirked, suppressed a giggle, and went on eating.
	The food was all consumed, but the beer was still plentiful. A  few old
drinking songs were sung. A couple of guys told jokes, and then in response
to popular demand
Chris and the other swimmer  (Dave never did catch his name) climbed up on
the table and did a lively pantomime of two hookers, first soliciting
passersby and then taking a bath. When Chris placed an imaginary towel
between his legs and began getting aroused while drying "herself," the crowd
broke into cheers and applause. They broke up after that, and some headed
for the shower building while others enjoyed the fire (there being no TV) or
went for a lakeside stroll. It was cold outside, but no snow or ice, and the
sky was clear.
	An announcement had been made at dinner that after nine o'clock everyone
was invited to gather for challenge matches, followed by a free-for-all as
the evening's capper.
	Gary and Woody took turns as referees. A pile of ratty old singlets was
brought in from Gary's pickup, and challengers were to wear one and wrestle
barefoot. Mike started things off by challenging Josef the hairy hunk. They
both stripped naked -- to admiring catcalls -- and donned  a couple of
singlets that had seen better seasons. Each match was to last just one
period, ten minutes max, without a break. If neither man got a pin, the ref
would declare a winner.
	These were all friends or friends' friends, but that didn't make the
matches any tamer, just less cautious.
Josef was the more aggressive and stocky, while Mike was buff and
"scientific." They tore into one another, with a dozen pair of eyes glued on
their
colliding torsos. Mike was quicker and got more takedowns, but once they
were off their feet and into a clinch it was Josef who would usually muscle
his opponent into a vulnerable position. It was a long match, and in the end
Josef nelsoned Mike onto his back and spread his thick legs wide to prevent
an escape. Mike bridged again and again, displaying another beautiful
full-mast-er for everyone to applaud, but his neck buckled under the weight,
his shoulders sank, and Gary slapped the mattress for the pin. What happened
next was an eye-popper for Dave, Ty, Jimmy and the two high school
wrestlers. Mike stood and hugged Josef, and then planted a wet kiss on the
winner's mouth. The hug became a clinch with thrusting pelvises and the
audience whistled and clapped. The victor slapped the butt of the loser, the
pair grinned and shook hands, then left the mats.
	"Wha?" whispered Jimmy.
	"You got me," said Dave. "This must be what they call a really, really
friendly fight."
	"What do you think the winner gets?" asked Ty.
	"He just got it, Dummy: a big, wet, manly smacker."
	By the time it was Jimmy's turn to go up against Chris, he kind of knew the
house traditions. Although he intended to heed his buddies' advice about not
being too rough on the shorter wrestler, he quickly discovered that Chris
did not require special handling.
After they faced off, Chris stood back and shook his head rapidly side to
side, making his hair swirl alluringly like a TV ad for shampoo. As Jimmy
stood there open-mouthed, Chris leapt into the air and shot a foot into
Jimmy's chest. The beautiful black boy crashed to the mattress and Chris
landed with a thud on his shoulders . Everyone -- except, perhaps, Ty --
exploded with laughter. The fighters locked hands and Chris
went chest on chest, while his knee came up abruptly into Jimmy's crotch.
Ooof!
	If it was Chris's intention to arouse his younger adversary, he was
successful.
Jimmy clenched his teeth, cocked his sleek biceps and literally threw Chris
off  and to the side. Jumping to his knees, he kept his grip on one of
Chris's wrists and thrust his other hand right into his face. Chris yanked
that hand away and tried to throw Jimmy with an upthrust foot in his
abdomen. They rolled savagely around the mattresses, and once in a while
Woody had to block what would otherwise have been a dangerous foul.
	Their faces flushed and eyes glinted. When Jimmy got behind Chris he
applied a full nelson and scissored him with his legs. Chris, however, did
an over-scissors, and
Jimmy let go with a cry of pain. Ty became so agitated that Dave threw his
arm around him and squeezed.
	"Jimmy can take care of himself."
	Dave was right. His legs rippling and gleaming with sweat, Jimmy at last
scissored Chris's head high in the crotch and captured his upturned arm with
both hands.
He cranked on an arm bar, pulling it diagonally across his chest and
thrusting up with his pelvis. Chris slapped the matt and shouted, "I give."
It was over.
	Enemies?  Not exactly. Once they were up and facing each other, Chris
jumped into the winner's arms, wrapping his own arms and legs around Jimmy's
neck and waist. Jimmy leaned back and grasped Chris's cheeks in both hands
to support them. The kiss was long and wild, as was the other wrestlers'
appreciative  response.
	Jimmy returned to his buddies, looking concurrently bewildered, triumphant
and moon-struck. Ty hugged and nuzzled him and Dave did too.
	"You did good, bro."  Jimmy sat and basked in Ty's embrace.
	There were a couple of other matches after that, but by then it was getting
late and the guys were growing restless.
	"We didn't get our match yet," said Ty to Dave.
	"We have all day tomorrow, don't we?"
	"I guess so. Just the same, I wouldn't sleep too soundly tonight if I was
you. You never know when you might get attacked."

	"Who's up for the free-for-all?" shouted Gary. Nobody was ready to call it
quits.
Those who had not yet stripped and pulled on singlets from the pile now did
so. Fourteen
testosterone-powered athletes knelt on the mattresses spread in the center
of the room, eyeing one another.
	"You all know the rules," said Gary as he pulled the straps of an old
yellow singlet onto his brawny shoulders. "Nobody gets mad, nobody gets
hurt, everybody
wrestles as long as he likes. Showers afterward are optional -- unless you
expect to eat breakfast with the rest of us."
	Woody rose and walked over to a wall panel. The lights went out and
the walls came alive with shadows cast by the crackling fire.