It was a Junior in college, at Indiana University, and I'd enjoyed the wonders of living in my fraternity these past two years: about 50 guys, 18 to 23 years of age, at the prime of their sexual allure, most horny as hell all their waking hours. As most young men do, they usually dressed in minimal clothing, the better to admire their physiques whenever they passed a mirror. And horny guys in same-sex housing frequently turned to the most easily available body-to-body contact available. Most often, the impromptu wrestling match was used to alleviate our pent-up frustrations.
One brother arrived back from classes, ached to relieve the cerebral stress by rushing to his room, stripping down to a T-shirt and shorts. His roommate was lying casually in his jockeys on his bed reading a chemistry textbook. He jump on top of his roommie where he lay, and for the next five to ten minutes the two going at each other until one or the other said, "Okay, I give! You win!!" This scene would be played out time and time again, and it never failed to turn me on whenever I happened upon one of these encounters.
I wanted to leap into the fray and roll around with them as they fought. But I'd feared to do so, because the mere observation of these combats produced such sexual arousal that I'd get a raging hard-on and would have to quickly leave the room to go beat-off. How could I engage in one of these hot, grappling sessions? I'd certainly expose my secret desires the moment I got on top of my opponent and he felt the stiff prick in my groin.
Hell, once I'd watched two of the better built brothers going at each other, and as their legs entwined one another, just knowing their cocks were pressed into each other had led me to shoot my wad before I could get out of the room. If just watching could produce such a dramatic reaction, how would I react if I were to experience the real thing? Just thinking about it gave he a hard-on. But after two years in such a sexually stimulating environment I was beginning to weigh the risk versus my own mounting sexual frustration.
It was that at the end of the Fall semester "pledge rush" that I finally threw caution out the window. Among the fifteen freshmen pledges we'd taken was one named Robby and as handsome as any male I'd ever seen. He stood about 5' l0" and weighed about l65 lbs. His pale olive skin complexion was flawless. His thick dark hair completed the most beautiful head I'd seen since artsy pictures by the old masters. I could not pass Robby in the hall, nor anywhere with out becoming aroused. As luck or good fortune would have it, he was assigned to room with me; an older brother to show him the ropes in the frat house. We had bunkbeds. I slept on the lower bunk, and Robby, the top. Every night I'd see him climb into bed. His jockey filled basket was only a short distance away from my eyes. I was always tempted to get closer to his package, but feared that he might feel my breath on his jockeys. Many a morning, I was witness to the tent from his morning hardon in his jockeys. Our room was near the floor's communal shower. About six weeks into the semester, I got out of bed to take a leak. When I entered the john, I recognized Robby's voice humming to himself in the shower. I had learned the two things which put a smile on my face: Robby liked to shower very late, just before turning in for bed; and he liked to take very long showers. I often joined him in these showers, which gave us time for extended, idle conversation on topics of mutual interest, and I had carefully avoided too-soon introducing the topic of wrestling before we had a chance to get to know one another. As gorgeous as Robby was, especially naked under the hot, steamy flow of water, I'd always managed to keep my cool. But I was feeling particularly horny this night and so threw caution to the wind. I invented a story about how much a friend and I in our high-school days had enjoyed wrestling matches in a grassy field near where we lived. Interestingly, he said he'd never had an experience like I described, but seemed intrigued by the idea.
He asked a number of questions about the matches I'd had with my friend, and I thought I detected a growing curiosity on his part. Robby said what most appealed to him was the idea of testing one's limits. The only wrestling he said he'd ever done was in gym class. But he added that the coaches only seemed to care about teaching rules and regulations more than encouraging fun in the activity. He also suggested it had seemed silly to stop wrestling simply because a guy's shoulders were on the mat. He most liked the notion of a contest in which there would be no time limits, no pinning to achieve victory. In his theoretical match, the contest would end by the loser submitting to the winner. Once he'd worked out all the pertinent details in his head, he said "I'd like to wrestle a no-holds-barred , anything goes match to submission. Fair or dirty tactics, the match would continue until one combatant achieved total victory over the other."
"Well, do you think you'd like to wrestle me some time like that?" I timidly asked "How about right now!" he replied. I started to quiver from the excited anticipation, and tried to hide the fact by vigorously toweling off. When we came into our room, I locked the door behind us. But seeing our mutual nakedness and not wanting to push this first encounter too far, I went into my bureau and pulled out two pairs of shorts. I handed Robby a pair, but he asked "What are these for?" "For our wrestling match?" "Didn't the Greeks wrestle naked in olden days?" he asked. "Yes, but that was the because things we different back then," I answered. "Well, I say we should revive the ancient ways, you and me, right here!" "If that's what you want, but are you sure, Robby?" "I wouldn't have it any other way. Let's do it." "And the rules, anything goes, to submission?" "Everything goes!" After a moment rearranging the furniture, I was facing him and he me. The air was electric with our energy. We both knelt down about two feet from each other. He reached out for a headlock at the same moment so did I. We had our faces pressed firmly next to one another and were grinding and straining to each pull the other over. Since we were pretty evenly matched in strength and weight, neither of us went down right away. I wanted to test his willingness to use illegal tactics, but I didn't want to be the one to initiate the first dirty move. But our deadlocked headlocks persisted until I could hold off no longer. I grabbed his hair with my right hand and yanked him over in one quick move. Robby was now on his back, I on my was beside him, on my back, as well. With one arm still squeezing my head, Robby used his other arm to push hard against my chin in an effort to break the headlock I held. I grabbed his arm, wrenched it behind his neck and pulled it tightly to me. Now I could rest, holding him pinned down and tightening the headlock. Or so I thought.
He wrenched his arm free, grabbed my hair and yanked me off balance, just enough that I lost control and he flipped over atop me, grabbing my neck with one arm, my right arm with his right arm, his whole body stretched prone on top of mine. Which meant, of course, his prick was lying right on top of my ass. As I squirmed and struggled he tightened his legs about mine and I was sure I detected a stiffing of his cock from the friction our bodies
were creating. I knew for sure that my cock was hardening against the rug beneath me. After two minutes of this struggle, Robby asked if I was ready to give. "Fuck no!" I said. For although the hold was discomforting I was too much enjoying our positions, and in fact I then began to earnestly thrust my ass up and down to excite his prick. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Trying to break the hold by any means I can" I replied. "So you think if you can get me to cum, it'll weaken me enough for you to break the hold. That really is a dirty tactic!" "You agreed to anything goes": "Well, what you don't know is I can stay hard for a long period of time without cuming." "How long?" "Let's find out." With that he started to hump me while keeping his grip as tight as possible. I began to thrust up, faster and faster rhythm. After a couple of exquisite minutes I noticed he was lessening his grip on me, but I hadn't felt him climax. I seized the opportunity, flung him off, and quickly came around and jumped atop him. We were now facing one another, chest to chest, cock to cock. I stopped all motion and stared down at him. "You didn't cum, did you?" "No, but I almost did, which is why I started to let go. I don't want this match to end so quickly, I knew if I stayed on you like that another minute I'd shoot my wad and the fun would be over." "Not necessarily, Robby. Can't you imagine cuming once, then building back up again toward a second shooting, and a third?" "Well, maybe." "Let's find out something right now. How far are you willing to test your limits?" "Pretty far, I think" "And it's turning you on, right?" "You got that right!"
"Okay, let's keep this position we're in right now for as long as we can, our cocks together, our legs intertwined. We each have two hands for administering pleasure. While our groins grind into one another, let's see how much creative pleasure our two hands can inflict on each other. Nothing held back" Soon, as one hand each was pulling on the other's hair we were now jerking each other's cocks to climax. After cumming, we were driven to greater heights of ecstasy. This phase of the competition was proving a tie. At one point I stopped jerking him off, let go of his hair, and looked down to see his face. He stopped, too, and we stared into each other's eyes. "Having a good time?" I panted. "My god, this is great. I don't think I've ever felt like this before, and I don't want it to stop." "Since neither has given, how about a breather for a minute before we continue?" "Okay, but don't get off me," he quickly added. We smiled at one another. That evening we wrestled for about two hours. He and I both came twice. And neither one of us ever "submitted". This was to be the first of dozens of such encounters
together over the next two years. There was nothing much we wouldn't try on the other.
Over time our tactics reached new heights of both finesse. Sometimes a match would be us just standing facing each other in a mutual bear hug, squeezing as hard and as long as we could. The winner was determined by whomever shot his wad first. And the winner got to tie up the loser in any hold he chose for the next fall. On other occasions, we'd start in T-shirts and shorts just so that we could rip them off each other in the progress of the match.
Beyond any particular hold, what Robby and I most got off on, was securing simultaneous holds mutually and then executing them for as long as we could. Since we both wanted the most erotic matches we could create, our combats would invariably begin playfully, gradually build to a serious contest, and once we'd both become fully aroused, wind up in intense and dirty combat until we both ejaculated together.
The years that have passed between then and now have done little to lessen my memory of Robby and the joy of those frequent and sexually satifying frat-house combats.