It was just one of those stupid things.
It was Senior Night, the last meet of the regular season. We were up against Wisconsin and having a damn hard time. Greg won a close one at 141, his very last match in front of the home crowd. Ben took care of his man at 149 too. Carter was up against a top-ranked opponent; he couldn't quite get the job done but he hung in there and wrestled like a champ to the end and I was as proud of him as I could be. And then it was my turn. I was most definitely the underdog.
All I could hear was Jase's voice bellowing at me over the crowd, guiding me through every move, pumping me up and urging me on. I can't even describe how special it is to have your very own mentor coaching you like that in a do-or-die situation. All the work we'd done together the past year and a half, whether he was drilling me on the mat or drilling his meat deep into my guts, had bonded us in a way I never would have believed. My body responded to him instantly. He yelled and I obeyed, without a thought, without hesitation, by hard-wired reflex. I trusted him without question.
And holy fuck did it ever make my cock ache, acting on his commands like that. I was as stiff as a goddamn Louisville Slugger. As I tangled up with my man, snared his arms and legs and mashed my chest and hard cock against his sweaty body I felt like I was in perfect control. I owned the match; I owned my opponent. With the clock ticking down and me on top I was two points up with riding time. My win was certain. I didn't even need to ride him out; I could have cut him loose, let him have the escape point and still come out ahead. But that wasn't about to happen. I am a wrestler after all.
With seconds left he made one last-ditch attempt to break free. I tried to snag his wrist, lost concentration for a moment and instantly my hand lit up in white hot pain. The match was mine... but my thumb was in agony, badly sprained. I winced as the ref raised my hand in victory, not so much from the physical pain as for what it would mean going forward. The Big Ten Championships were barely a week away.
I grabbed a trainer and trotted off to the locker room, had a quick hosedown in the shower and then let him check out my thumb, already swollen. He taped a big ice pack on it and I pulled on my warm-ups and headed back out to join the rest of the guys in time to see Justin's match. He won, but it wasn't enough to carry the meet. They'd taken six out of ten and scored some bonus points too, for major victories and a tech fall. Our team looked respectable but not quite like real contenders.
And then all the focus shifted to me. The guys crowded around me gaping at the wrap on my hand, asking how bad I was hurt, trying to make me feel better. Jase and the trainer took me down to the clinic for an X-ray; luckily nothing was broken. It'd hurt for a while but it would heal and I'd be fine. Until then I had to rest it. I couldn't train, I couldn't even lift.
I hated being injured. It wasn't the first time; it was all part of the game for me just like it is for every wrestler but it was the part I was no good at. It killed me to sit on the sidelines, to not be able to do all the things I'd built my whole life around. Everything that made my world special had been suddenly yanked away. The feeling of not being whole, of being somehow broken, rankled and churned in my gut.
Back home, Carter crawled into my bunk and slipped beneath the covers with me. He didn't have to say a word; I knew he understood. He just put his arm around my shoulders, held me close and kissed me, his free hand gripping my cock and stroking as our naked bodies rubbed together and we made out nice and slow.
His cock was hard and grinding against me and I wanted so bad to stroke him too but I wasn't in position; I couldn't use my bandaged hand and the other was out of reach. I tried to apologize but that made me feel even more pathetic, and anyway he didn't want to hear it. He just kissed me and snuggled with me and stroked me until I was hard and for a few minutes everything was good again, I was in bed with my brother like always, filled with love and lust for him as our bodies meshed with one another.
Carter rolled over and straddled me, greased my cock and pressed it to his hole and rocked back on it slowly until my fat head spread his sphincter, pushed inside, and my shaft sank into him inch by inch. It was just as incredible as it had been the very first time we were together. The feeling of my cock sliding into that gorgeous muscled stud, that amazing wrestler, satisfied me like nothing else on earth. Gazing into his eyes, looking over that perfect body, his chiseled pecs, beautiful pop-out nipples... sixpack abs flexing and constricting as he rode my meat...
Now I could grab hold of that big stiff cock and stroke it. And I fucking loved doing it. Feeling my brother's thick shank in my hand, seeing his face light up when I worked it just the right way, gave me every bit as much pleasure as pounding his tight muscled ass. I still could hardly believe the stud was all mine, sworn to be my brother forever. Those massive quads alone, straddling my torso so close to my face I could almost lean in and lick them, were the kind I'd have dreamt about if I didn't already have them right in my own room, in my bed, every night. God, I was a lucky son of a bitch.
Carter leaned in for a kiss and I hooked my lame hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in. I jacked him furiously, well knowing by now it meant he was ready to shoot his load and wanted to make out with me while he blew. Our tongues knotted up together and he gushed out a huge spurt of white hot cream that splattered my chest and abs. Another spurt, and then two more, and the last of his cum ran oozing out of his throbbing cock, his thick load dribbling down my torso onto the sheets. He kissed with me with even more passion, his tongue bludgeoning mine, as his whole body jerked and twitched and finally quieted down. Fuck, I loved it when he did that.
But I couldn't finish. Even when I felt his hole clenching on my meat and massaging me I just couldn't manage to blow my load. I still felt broken. I saw the way he looked at me -- the same way he always did, but now I thought I saw a hint of pity, or maybe he was hiding it. I didn't want to be someone he felt sorry for but now I couldn't help it. I knew I wasn't the same, and that meant he couldn't be either, and as much as I loved the guy I couldn't shoot my load. Not like this.
My brother wasn't about to let me off so easy though. He wiped the grease off my cock and took it in his lips, slid it into his mouth and right down his throat. Before I could even gasp he poked a finger into my hole, and then two, warm and wet with his own cum that he'd scooped off my chest. His fingers assailed my prostate with that creamy natural lube as his lips and tongue glided over my meat, back and forth from base to tip. As bad as I was feeling I wasn't made of stone -- although that's just about how hard my cock felt. In no time at all that stud had me unloading into his mouth in a big surging flood, like my body was releasing all my bad feelings and doubts at once.
We slept in my bunk that night in a funky mess of sweat and cum. I was as content as could be. Carter spooned me from behind, his strong arms around me making me feel like nothing on earth could ever be wrong. His musky scent blanketed me, filled my lungs and soothed me. My thumb was still a disaster but the pain meds took the edge off and let me drift peacefully to sleep.
At training on Monday morning Jase got the job of giving me the bad news.
"You're gonna have to sit out the Big Tens. Sorry, bud."
"But Jase, this is my first year. It's my first chance to get out there and make a statement."
He shook his head. "You'll have other chances. Plenty of `em. It's not worth going out and trying to wrestle hurt."
"But I'll be fine by the weekend, I know I will."
"And if you're not? What if you go out and injure it even worse? The NCAA tournament is two weeks after -- and believe me, it's a much bigger deal. Only a handful of guys on our squad will even qualify. You really wanna risk that?"
I sulked for a moment. "I guess you're right."
"Of course I'm right. More important, I'm the boss. You're gonna have to sit out this one. It's the best thing for everybody."
He reached over and gave my traps a squeeze, then rubbed my neck and the back of my head. I looked into his eyes -- bright and green and full of concern. Yeah he was the boss, my big brother, my coach, and my mentor.
"Okay," I said. "You know best."
It was tough as fuck to sit in the bleachers and watch the rest of the guys training for the conference championships. At least I could still do cardio. I ran laps around the gym with the guys and used the treadmill and stationary cycle but anything that involved upper body was strictly off limits. So I sat and watched while they scrimmaged and ran through their drills. All those leaned-out young studs rolling around on the mat, muscled bodies grinding together, their training gear soaked in sweat. God damn how I longed to be down there with them, man against man, legs tangled, a sour stench filling my nose as my face mashed into somebody's armpit.
On Wednesday night Brady had a home meet and I drove out to his school to watch. His parents spotted me as I entered the gym, waved me over and invited me to sit with them. I couldn't say no. I knew he hadn't told them about us -- not the good stuff anyway -- but still I was a little uncomfortable facing his mom and dad.
I looked his dad over and he eyed me back. He was probably a wrestler too back in his day; he had that look. That meant he understood... I didn't know how much. He was probably smart enough to know his son had a crush on me but would he let Brady keep coming over to train if he knew we were wrestling naked? If he knew his boy was taking my cock? It was a touchy situation... which only made my cock grow thicker in my shorts.
Thankfully the meet began before either of us had said much to each other. We homed in on the action and let the conversation slide.
The little guys were up first. They looked so tiny on the mat compared to even the smallest college guys. They reminded me of when I was that age, a lowly high school freshman, all energy and attitude. The guys got gradually bigger as they ran through the weight classes, one pair of lean sweaty bodies after the next grinding it out on the mat.
By the time the wrestlers were hefty enough to be sporting thick strong quads, well muscled arms and meaty pecs my cock was most definitely enjoying the show. Good thing I was wearing my loose sweats; even so I felt more than a little self-conscious. I couldn't help glancing over to see if Brady's dad noticed, and god damn if the guy's pants weren't tented every bit as much as mine! Of course that only made me bone up even more but at least I wasn't near so worried about getting caught.
Meanwhile Brady's mom in between us was blabbing on just like all wrestling moms do, chattering nonstop about stats and records and rankings without the first clue about what it felt like to mash up against a hot muscled wrestler's body and roll around for a six or seven minute match.
Finally Brady's weight class was called. Before stepping onto the mat he looked up to the stands and saw me with his parents, seemed a bit shocked at first but then broke into a huge grin. The kid bounded onto the mat like a wild bull. His opponent didn't stand a chance. Brady took him apart, had him pinned barely a minute into the second period, finished off with a big triumphant flex for the crowd and trotted off to the showers. Pretty sure at that point I was leaking precum.
It seemed like a good time for me to get out of there. I said a quick goodbye; Brady's mom told me how disappointed he'd be that he missed me and his dad just grunted distractedly as the 170 pounders swaggered onto the mat.
I hustled down the hallway with my cock as stiff as a flagpole. Halfway to the door I heard Brady yelling out to me.
"Coach! Wait up!" He trotted up to me still in his sweat-drenched singlet but stopped short when he spotted my bandaged hand. "What happened?"
"It's just a sprain, nothing serious. I'm sidelined for a little while."
"For the Big Tens?" He looked crestfallen for an instant but then quickly shifted gears. "Coach, I need to show you something. Come with me, okay?"
He dragged me back to the locker room. We were alone there; in the background we could hear the crowd in the gym roaring over the match going on. Brady led me into a toilet stall and locked the door.
"Okay, so what are we -- "
Before I could finish the sentence he had my sweats down and my cock in his mouth. He was on that post-win adrenalin high and still had a ton of energy to burn off. My boy dove down on me hungrily, jamming my meat as far into his throat as he could, drawing back and plunging it in again with a furious rhythm. I knew just how he felt. I stroked his head gratefully, held him firm and thrust my hips when the look in his eye told me he needed to be face fucked. The prickle of his buzzcut against my palm gave me goosebumps; he was such a gorgeous young stud it was hard to believe he'd come horndogging after me from the very first day we met.
He squeezed my ass cheeks hard as he licked and slobbered and sucked on my cock. Jesus, the kid was hot. All his energy fed right into me, right into my stiff throbbing meat, and before long I felt that familiar tingle come welling up from my toes and down from my forehead, creeping up my legs and down my torso, tightening my ball sack and engorging my already swollen cock head until it was ready to burst.
I cut loose with a huge fucking jolt that blasted a load of hot cream down my boy's throat. He lapped and swallowed eagerly, burying his nose in my pubes, humming and squealing like he couldn't have been happier. My body jerked and bucked as waves of pleasure washed over me. I surrendered myself completely to that stud's strong hands and willing mouth, poured my juice out until I was drained and wobbly in the legs. Brady stood up and gave me a big grin. I pulled him in and kissed him, sharing the taste of my cum on his tongue.
"Your turn," I said, manhandling his rigid cock through the skin tight singlet.
"Oh no, that's okay Coach. I always jack in the school showers after a win. It's sort of a tradition with me, marking my territory and all. But hey, rain check, okay?"
"Sure thing." I couldn't quit grinning as he trotted off to his locker.
On Friday we left for the Big Tens. They were holding them in Columbus this year. Coach Wilson brought me along for the trip even though I wasn't wrestling. It was a good gesture, an acknowledgment of all I'd done over the course of the season. And it was useful too; I could very well be meeting up with some of those guys on the mat at Nationals two weeks later. But I didn't know how I'd be able to sit back and play the spectator while my brothers were grinding it out.
Duncan was in the stands. I don't think he ever missed out on a major tournament -- and now that I knew he and Coach Wilson were brothers that made a whole lot of sense. He had a choice seat as always and an empty one beside him that he offered to me. I took it gladly. As much as I would have loved to be down there with the guys I didn't want to butt in; this was their day. But as starting time drew closer I found myself getting more and more restless.
"Just watch," Duncan growled quietly into my ear. "They'll take care of it. You do your job and let them do theirs."
I was still antsy when the meet began but Duncan put his arm around me and calmed me down. We settled in and watched as the action played out before us -- four matches going at once, all those muscled, fine-tuned bodies. Adrenalin-charged wrestlers lunging for each other, clashing and tangling and grappling, everyone gassed and panting and soaked in each other's sweat by the time the final buzzer sounded.
When one of our guys was up we yelled our lungs out for him, kept the referees honest barking out "TWO!" for every takedown and "STALLING!" when an opponent was even half a second slow to engage. In between I just watched everything, took it all in, analyzed the moves and strategies and stored whatever I could in my head for later use. Duncan got it; he'd lean in close and murmur soft and deep into my ear, telling me what to look for and explaining some of the fine points that only a wrestler with his experience could spot and truly appreciate. He was a great coach, a leader, a father figure really. I nudged myself in closer and he held me tighter, and I felt so at peace and content I almost forgot I was injured and missing out on the first big championship meet of my college career.
Our guys did great; nobody won the title but Justin made it to the finals of his class and Carter took third place in his; even Travis made the podium with a sixth place finish. But I couldn't take my eyes off Greg. He'd made it as far as the quarters, then lost his consolation match. It was a good finish for him and a hard fought tournament -- but he didn't qualify for Nationals. This would be his last match for the team. He'd be graduating in May.
I couldn't even remember a time when I wasn't competing. I'd started at the Y when I was six. But someday it would all be over just like that, like it was for Greg now, and then what? If he stayed in the area he could still come and wrestle with us at Duncan's but that's not like being in competition; it's great but it's not the same. If he moved out of town he wouldn't even have that. He could come to the tournaments and sit in the stands and only be one more face in the crowd... like me, today.
Duncan and I joined up with the team outside the arena. They were all going out to dinner to celebrate and replenish some calories but I wasn't hungry. There was too much going on in my head. I crawled to the hotel and planned for a quiet night.
But not even twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door. Carter most likely, or Justin or Travis, whoever'd left something behind and didn't have a key. I sighed and plodded to the door, swung it open and stood there gawking.
Jase.
"You gonna let me in, or what?" he smirked.
"Sure, I -- "
He barged into the room and planted a hand on my chest, slammed the door shut behind him and shoved me back against the wall. Jase leaned in and mashed his lips to mine, attacked my tongue with his. Wrapped his arms around and squeezed me as hard as he could. Started grinding his hips against mine, his thick meat already hard as a rock and quickly stirring my own cock to life.
"I need a shower," he snarled at me. "So do you."
Before I could even reply he was pulling my clothes off, stripping his own off too and leaving them all in a heap on the floor. He dragged me into the shower -- I had no complaints until that blast of cold water hit me but Jase wasn't in the mood to argue. He wrapped me up and attacked me again, kissing my neck and gnawing on my ear, and by the time the water warmed up my engine was running hot too.
He grabbed my cock, kneaded and stroked it roughly as he snagged a fistful of my hair and devoured me again, crushing my lips with his, prodding my tonsils with a savage tongue. His meat was poking into my lower abs and he flexed his hips to rub it against me, strong and steady and slow like he was showing off his utter dominance. I gazed into that smoking hot stud's eyes and surrendered completely, letting out a low longing moan when he spun me around and pushed my chest flush to the wall.
Jase pressed his fingers hard against my hole and the soft flesh surrounding, chewed on my neck and traps as he readied me to open myself up for him. Then came that thick rigid meat, forcing its way into my hole soapy and slick. Now I moaned sharp and loud as he rammed it all the way in and began pumping away. I adjusted my breath to his rhythm as every pounding thrust squeezed a visceral grunt from my lungs, throaty and thick. He pinched and tugged on a nipple with one hand and jacked my cock with the other as he banged away, plowing into me over and over again, still growling as he sank his teeth into my delt and gnawed on my ear lobes. Oh God how I loved it.
There was no way I could last very long and he knew it. He slammed into me as hard as he could with long deep strokes that reached places I swear no one had ever been before. Then he clenched both arms around me and drove in one last time, and blasted his cum inside me. I lost control completely and gushed all over the wall, my poor battered hole twitching and spasming on his huge hard meat as I spurted and spewed out my cream. Slowly the bucking and thrashing subsided and our muscles slackened and melded together. He held me so fucking tenderly, kissed me sweetly and then hugged me again and we toweled each other off and collapsed on the bed naked together.
Jase flat out amazed me, every single day. I was so goddamn lucky, so grateful he chose me. There's nothing in the world like getting fucked good and hard by a rugged, muscular, big-dicked stud wrestler to clear your head and set your priorities straight. Somehow he always knew just what I needed... I couldn't even guess how. I just lay there looking over his gorgeous body with a dreamy smile and gazing into his eyes in wonder.
"Duncan told me," he said. "There's nothing about being a wrestler that guy doesn't understand."
"He sent you here? For this?"
"He told me to go look after my boy. I know what boys need. You're still my boy, aren't you?
"Always," I told him, and cuddled up close. "I'll always be your boy."
You thought being a wrestler was all about what happened on the mat? Nope, a whole lot of it goes on in your head -- and that's what all the boys are gonna have to learn. Some will have it easy and some will learn the hard way, but everybody's gonna have plenty of fun along the way. So, stay tuned! And please after you blow a nice hot load consider making a donation to the site, so my family of wrestlers and all the other smoking hot stories will always have a home!