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.