At the end of our practice session just after the first meet of the season, Jase told me Coach Wilson wanted to talk to me. I was a little nervous. I'd never been called into his office before. Of course I looked up to him, and he always gave me encouragement, win or lose. But Jase was the one who'd been overseeing my training from the time I entered the lineup, and the one who always coached me through my matches. I could only figure I must've done something wrong.
I followed Jase into Coach's office, still sweaty and stinking in my workout gear. Jase shut the door behind us. Coach Wilson looked me over coolly from behind his desk.
"Ryan, I'm naming you a team captain."
I was thunderstruck. I didn't know what to say. It took me a second to get my head together.
"Thanks, sir... it's an honor... but are you sure? I mean, I've only been a starter for a year. There are guys who are seniors..."
"I'm sure," he said.
"Everybody likes you and respects you," Jase chimed in. "You're a natural choice. You'll make a great captain."
I looked from one to the other, hardly able to believe what I heard.
"I will. I promise."
Ever since then, I'd trying to do what captains are supposed to, making an effort to get to know all the guys on the team, and letting them know I was there to help out in any way I could. There were thirty wrestlers on the squad all told; only six of us were family, and only four of those were starters. So far I'd been focusing on our own little group, but suddenly my world was getting a whole lot bigger.
And just as soon as they knew I was available, all kinds of guys would pull me aside and want to talk. They'd let their guards down and tell me stuff you could never say to a coach, for fear it would change how people looked at them and maybe affect their places in the lineup. Their doubts and insecurities, problems with other guys on the squad, worries about schoolwork, worries about the next meet, they brought it all - but mostly they just spilled their guts about whatever, glad as fuck to have someone to open up to.
You always think of wrestlers as being these rock hard studs who show no mercy and feel no pain, because that's what we have to be on the mat, whether it's at a meet or in practice. But really inside we're just like anybody else, and having to hold it all in so much of the time, we can get pretty damn sloppy when those true feelings finally come rushing out. I gotta say, in only a couple weeks' time I think I made a whole lot of lifelong friends, just because I spent a few minutes listening to them and giving them someone to lean on.
And I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised, but a lot of them wanted more than anything else to talk about one thing in particular.
"So, you and Carter..." That was Marcus, a senior at 174. He roomed with Shafer, who wrestled the same weight class and took over as starter after Jase graduated. Marcus was Shafer's backup but sometimes got called to sub in at 184, the next weight up, if somebody was too sick or too injured to suit up for a meet. The two of them were training partners and the best of friends. Of course Marcus wanted that starting slot but there was never any bitterness between them.
I nodded my head and waited for him to finish.
"You guys are so fuckin' good together," he said. "I'd give anything for somethin' like that."
"Yeah?"
"I mean Shafe, he's the best buddy I've ever had my entire life. I love hangin' out with him, and just bein' around him. But I need more, y'know? I wanna be his bro, for real. Like you and Carter are. The whole nine yards. Y'know?"
I smiled. "Yeah, I get it. And you're right, it's the best thing ever. Better than you can imagine." His breath caught in his throat for a moment at that one. "But Shafer's gotta want it too. Has he ever given you any kind of clue?"
"I dunno. Sometimes I think yeah, he wants it just like I do. I mean we're so close, like brothers. Closer than brothers. But I'm afraid to talk to him about it because I think it might ruin the whole thing, and he won't even wanna be my friend anymore. And then I think if I don't, maybe I'll miss my chance, and... well fuck, how did you guys get together?"
I thought it over for a moment. He was in bad need of some guidance, but I couldn't go telling family secrets.
"It just sorta happened. Dumb luck, I guess."
Marcus looked a little crestfallen. "I wanna be his bro so fuckin' bad. Honestly, I'd do anything for him, I'd give him anything... I just wanna be his goddamn bro."
"Well, somehow you're gonna have to find a way to let him know."
"Can you help me?"
I hesitated. "What did you have in mind?"
"Well, I thought... this is just an idea, but I thought maybe you could come over some night and if he walked in and found us together... maybe that would get him thinking, and maybe get him a little jealous..."
"Wait. No. I'm with Carter. I'm not gonna - "
"No, no, not like that. I don't mean we'd be gettin' down to it or anything. I just thought maybe you could come over and, I dunno, maybe he could catch me... givin' you a massage or somethin'."
"A massage?"
"Yeah. Would that be cool? I mean, nothin' too wild, just a regular massage. Would that work?"
Now here's the thing about wrestlers: we love massages, getting or giving. Even the straightest wrestler in the world loves having his hands on another guy, and loves having another guy's hands on him. It goes with the territory. It's what we're trained for. There isn't one of us who feels satisfied, who even feels the least bit normal, unless he's got a good solid grip on another guy's muscle and some beefed up stud has a good solid grip on his. When another wrestler offers you a massage, it's just not the sort of thing you can turn down.
The idea of making Shafer jealous sounded a little half-assed to me but Marcus was desperate, almost in tears. And really, how bad could it be? The worst that could happen is I'd get a rubdown from a teammate, and if Shafer didn't take the bait, Marcus would be no worse off than when he started. If he had anything sketchy in mind, he sure wasn't about to pull it on a team captain. He might as well pack his bags, turn in his singlet and head home.
So I told him we'd give it a shot. Two nights later, Shafer had an evening class, and according to Marcus he'd be home around eight fifteen. I showed up at eight, peeled my gear off and stretched out face down on the bottom bunk. Naturally I was bare ass for this. No point in getting a massage with my clothes on. Marcus stripped down to his compression shorts and grabbed a bottle of lotion and got to work.
He took it seriously; it wasn't just for show. Shafer wasn't due for fifteen minutes but Marcus pitched in and gave me the best massage he knew how - and since we'd all had our share from the trainers, every one of us knew what to do. God, it felt great. There's nothing in the world like a pair of beefy hands working on tired muscles -- starting with my lower back and gradually moving up, rubbing out all the day's little stresses and strains with big smooth circles. I grunted and sighed my appreciation as he massaged his way up to my shoulder blades pressing and rolling with the heels of his hands, working his thumbs into all the little knots and tight spots, gripping and squeezing my traps.
I could feel the heat of his body bent over me, and his hot breath huffing on my skin. Needless to say, my cock was as stiff as could be. Carter and I traded massages all the time, but a fresh set of hands was something special.
And then the door swung open and Shafer strode in. He stopped in the middle of the room and stared at us for a second.
"What's goin' on?"
Marcus just kept on rubbing me down like it was any other day. "Ryan was kinda knotted up after practice so I told im I'd give im a hand."
Shafer kicked his shoes off, pulled up a desk chair and plopped down, watching us intently.
"What about Carter?"
"He's busy tonight." That part was true; he was tied up with a class project.
Shafer nodded like the whole thing was perfectly natural. He sat and watched as Marcus went over my whole back again, and then my shoulders and upper arms. The man was paying close attention. Every once in a while, just as I let out a satisfied grunt, I'd hear a little huff of breath from his direction and a restless shift in his chair.
"Hey Shafe, can you come here a minute?" Marcus paused and looked back over his shoulder. "His glutes and hammies are way tight. Can you lemme know what you think?"
Shafer hissed out a breath like he was annoyed, but he didn't waste any time either. In a second I heard the chair scoot back, and heard him moving toward the bunk. Marcus had a grip on my right ass cheek and was squeezing and kneading it heartily.
"Whatta ya want me to do?" Shafer asked.
"Just feel right here. It's like there's a knot or something. Can you feel it?"
And next thing I knew I had four hands working my ass, rubbing down both cheeks with a vengeance. I sure had no complaints. And it seemed like Shafer didn't either; he pitched in and took right to it, working alongside his buddy almost like it was some kind of game.
"Feels okay to me, I dunno what you're talkin' about."
"Well, check out his hammies then."
Shafer peeled off his T-shirt and tossed it aside, and then started feeling around my upper thighs just below the ass cheeks, dangerously close to my balls. They got playful, squeezing my ass and giving it a slap now and then, joking around with each other, and every once in a while letting a finger slip teasingly into my crack. The two of them were shoulder to shoulder, competing for handholds and giggling and nudging each other. It's a safe bet they were both sporting wood. My own cock was rigid as a flagpole, squashed against that shitty school mattress. And it twitched good and hard when one of them -- I think it was Marcus -- dragged a finger right across my hole.
And then one by one the hands pulled back off me, the giggling and joking stopped, and the air got thick with the smell of sweat and musk. I peeked over and there they were pawing each other, grappling and mashing their lips together, making out like wild apes just inches away from me.
Their hands were all over each other, grabbing and fondling and feeling. They yanked each other's shorts down and two nice big boners popped out, and they quickly latched onto one another and got busy jacking and stroking, still making out hungrily the whole time. Marcus was excited beyond belief; he was attacking Shafer's neck and ears with lips and teeth and tongue like he wanted to devour the guy. His buddy responded eagerly, jacking Marcus's cock even harder as he grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his bro's head back, jammed their lips together and shoved his tongue in as far it would go, both of them heaving out frantic grunts and growls and every so often erupting in furious shudders.
I'd told myself beforehand if anything got started I'd just quietly sneak away and let them work it out on their own. But I didn't quite expect things to go so far, so quick. I was caught flatfooted with no clear escape route, and to be honest, more than a little bit interested in watching the scene play out in front of me. And then before I knew it, Shafer was spinning his bro around and bending him over, and Marcus was planting his hands on the mattress for support, arching his big muscled body right over me, penning me in. His stiff cock was suspended over me like a gun turret, his low-hanging balls nearly brushing against my skin.
Shafer double-underhooked his buddy tight from behind and rammed his meat into that ass for all he was worth, unleashing years of pent-up lust and desire, with nothing but that massage lotion for lube. Marcus's eyes bugged out wide and he grunted loud and hard, and then breathlessly begged his bro for more. Shafer began pumping his ass with good solid strokes, their muscled bodies crashing together like battle tanks, all of it happening so close by me I was breathing it in like a hot, humid fog. I just lay there flat, head buried in my arms for my own protection, and soaked up all the sights and sounds and smells and feelings of unbridled, first-time man sex busting out all around me.
There's nothing like your first real fuck. I don't care how many girlfriends you've had before, the very first time with a guy puts everything on a whole new level. And even more so if you're a wrestler, and your whole goddamn life up to now has been focused on grinding your body up against a ripped, muscled, rampaging blue chip stud. Top or bottom, makes no difference; you're gonna come out of that experience with a brand new view of the world, and a new perspective on what it's all about. I fucking envied those guys for the sudden jolt of clarity that'd be flooding over them in just another couple minutes' time.
I'm pretty sure Shafer was the first one to blow. His grunts were getting louder and more visceral, from way down deep in the gut. All of a sudden he reared back and slammed into Marcus as hard as he could, and held it in with all his might. He let out a furious bellow, veins and tendons popping out all over his neck and shoulders and arms as he unloaded into his buddy. When Marcus realized what was happening, he lost it too, howling like a madman as he let himself go, laying thick white stripes of hot cream across my back.
And I don't know which of them was more amazed and astounded, Marcus when he felt for the first time what it was like to blow a load with a nice hard cock in his ass, or Shafer when he felt his buddy's tight hole spasming like wild on his shaft.
Shafer sent every last drop of his cream deep into his bro's eager hole, and Marcus spurted and spurted until his balls were empty and aching. They drained themselves dry, turned and faced each other and grappled in a great big bear hug, mashing their lips together and kissing long and deep. And then they just held each other with their eyes shut tight for what seemed like minutes on end, neither of them wanting to let the other one go. Eventually their muscles slackened, and they relaxed and took a look around. Marcus hurriedly grabbed a towel and started dabbing his cum off my back.
"Sorry man, I'm really sorry, I guess I got carried away." The poor guy was embarrassed as hell; he didn't know how good it felt to be splattered with hot cum, and how much I loved it, every single time.
"Don't worry about it," I laughed. "It's just one of those guy things, right?"
I pulled my clothes on and left those two still hanging onto each other like they'd keel over dead if anybody pulled them apart. What a pair of dumbasses. They'd been rooming together three years, and now they were finally getting around to figuring each other out.
Back at my own room, Carter was home and lounging on his bed, casually leafing through a textbook. I was so fucking horned I could've busted right out of my skin. I threw my clothes off and scrambled into the top bunk with him.
He smiled at me. "So, how'd things go with Shafe and Marcus?"
"Arrigh - " I got about half the word out but I had no damn patience for chitchat. I just yanked his shorts down and dove on his cock, sucking it into my mouth soft and giving him the best lip and tongue massage I possibly could. My brother responded like a champ; in no time at all he was plumping up nicely, and stretching out good and straight.
"Ahh, I get it," he laughed, stroking my head in appreciation. "They managed to get something started, and it got you all riled up too, huh?"
"Mmmphh," I mumbled, tugging on his balls with my throat full of prime cut cock.
"Well, what are ya gonna do about it, stud?" The fucking tease.
I slipped his stiff rod out of my mouth and looked him in the eye. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't walk straight for days."
"Now you're talkin'," he said, and pulled me up on top of him.
I made out with that fucker like my life depended on it, grinding my whole body on him urgently as he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against him. After all this time I still couldn't believe how goddamn good he felt. We were so evenly matched, two sides of the same coin. With our lips locked just right, I felt his hard nipples poking against mine, our abs meshed together, cocks rubbing each other perfectly in line, our beefy quads merging and melding. I swear to God it was like we were jacking our whole bodies all at once, like his muscles and mine were truly made for each other.
Carter reached behind his head and grabbed his jar of Vaseline from the shelf, then got to work slowly and carefully greasing my shaft and his hole while I gnawed on his neck and ears and collarbone. He was already starting to sweat a little; I fucking loved that sharp salty taste. I couldn't have been any harder if I hadn't been laid in a month.
"Be my bro," I whispered to him deep and gruff. "I want you to be my fucking bro."
He laughed, and snapped back, "When have I ever not been?" But he understood too. He knew where that came from, and why I suddenly needed it more than ever. "You'll always be my bro," he said. "I want you so fucking bad. I'm all yours. Give it to me."
God, I couldn't wait to get at him. In a heartbeat I was lifting and spreading his knees, pressing my greasy cock head to his hole and plunging in. He grunted just right, letting me know my meat was straining his pipe to the limit, and he loved it. I sank it in all the way, sliding in smoothly until my hips were flush against his ass. Our eyes met and we traded big smiles, and then the plowing began.
If Carter wasn't into taking cock I could still be perfectly satisfied just rubbing up against all that smooth ripped muscle. His body was unbelievable. But lucky for me, the boy loved cock and then some; he'd never once turned me down, and would even pretend to be disappointed whenever I needed him to fuck me raw instead of giving it to him. Tonight there were no complaints. I hauled off and started railing him, and my brother took it all like he couldn't have been happier.
His ass was so fucking sweet, those muscled cheeks just begging to have my dick in between, and a nice tight hole that he used with expert skill to work my meat until I was frantic for release -- shaved good and smooth, for my pleasure and his. Holy fuck, all the nights I'd jammed my face in between his gorgeous cheeks and eaten that ass... but this was not the time to be delicate. This was a night for a pounding.
Carter wrapped his legs around me as I banged away at him, digging his heels into my cheeks to spur me on. He grabbed my delts and pulled me down to make out with him while I fucked him; attacked my tongue with his, signaling to me he was just as fired up and ready for a good aggressive fuck as I was. He heaved out breaths from deep in his gut, grunting and growling into my ear in a way that made me tingle as I slammed into him again and again. I'd never wanted him more, never needed him more, and that amazing stud just gave it all right back to me. How fucking lucky could I be?
I looked down at his incredible body, his muscles tensing and rippling as we fucked each other. I saw that goddamn handsome face, and that look in his eyes that said he wanted me more than anything on earth, and I wanted to drench him head to toe with my cum right then and there. Jesus, I could never imagine any better place to be than inside him. I pressed my chest to his and just cut loose and plowed him wildly, no more holding back, not even caring whether I lived or died as long as I could blow the biggest, hardest load of my life, and make my brother blow one even harder. He kissed my neck and chomped on my trap and I practically melted down. The bunk bed was rocking so damn hard I thought any minute it would break apart.
And then I felt it welling up from my balls and spreading over my whole body all at once. I was dripping sweat, and surely leaking precum like a madman. My forehead was on fire.
"I'm gonna blow - " I warned him, and I barely got the words out before Carter's whole body jerked and I felt his hot cream splashing onto my abs. Fuuuccckkk! I let go and blasted my load into him, bucking and thrashing, every inch of my body in ecstasy. My brother spurted and spurted, his thick cum splattering us both, while I poured myself into him clenching my ass cheeks to squeeze out every last drop. I felt so goddamn satisfied, with his hot juice dripping all over us and mine planted deep inside him.
I collapsed on the fucker, completely spent and exhausted, and buried my face in his chest, gently sucking and gnawing on his nipple. He stroked my head tenderly.
"So, Shafe and Marcus are gonna be okay then?" he asked me.
I glanced up at him with a grin. "Ya know, I think there's more going on with this squad than any of us realize."
He laughed, wrapped his arms around me and held me close, our skins still wet and sticky with his smeared cum. I closed my eyes, put my ear to his chest and just lay there, listening to his heartbeat. For a good twenty minutes, neither of us wanted to move a muscle.
"Maybe we should think about getting cleaned up," he finally offered. "We're liable to end up glued together."
"Fuck it. I can't think of anything I'd like better. We'll go to practice like this tomorrow."
"Hmm, that'd sure raise some eyebrows."
I smiled. "Eyebrows? Fuck man, it'd raise a whole lot more than that."
Well it was a little overdue, but the guys are beginning to key into what goes on outside their little family group. So far they've only scratched the surface, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if there were more revelations to follow. Meanwhile, there'll be plenty going on between their brothers, with Brady and Willis training hard, Travis looking to make a name for himself, and Justin getting ready for another big season - all under the not-so-gentle guidance of Jase, Kyle, and Duncan. So, stay tuned!
And guys, as usual, I'll remind you that this website offers a lot of good times and doesn't ask for much in return. So please, after you blow a nice hot load consider making a donation, so my family of wrestlers and all the other smoking hot stories will always have a home!