We had a home meet on a Friday night. Penn State was making a trip to our campus. It was always a tough time for us whenever we faced those bastards. They were so fucking good, and what's worse, they knew it. I never had a problem taking a loss from a better wrestler but the smug ass attitude they grew over there in the Nitwit Valley or whatever it's called was something we could all do without.
I honestly don't know which I hated more, wrestling at their place and getting taunted and insulted and disrespected by a massive throng of their brainless shithead screaming fans, or wrestling at our place in an arena that felt like a goddamn funeral home because we were getting our asses kicked so bad our crowd had nothing to cheer about.
But it was our turn to play host so we had to live with it for better or worse. And it was a meet, another chance to get out there on the mat and wrestle our hardest, and even if we didn't have a prayer of winning we were always pumped to suit up and show the world what we were made of. If only one or two of us managed to come out on top of our opponents it'd feel like a major victory for us all.
So, the adrenalin was running pretty high when our whole team strutted out on the floor in our warm-ups for the pre-match ceremonies. Even the redshirts were so amped they were practically bouncing off the walls just from the excitement of what was about to happen, the anticipation of seeing their teammates and brothers go up against the best wrestlers in the NCAA. The announcer made the introductions, we all stood still with hands on racing hearts listening to the song, and then both squads broke formation and headed for our respective sides. Brady and Willis could hardly contain themselves. They looked like they were about to bubble over, playfully shoving each other and exchanging quick hugs on their way to the sidelines. If we didn't get them into their seats soon I was afraid they might start wrestling or dry-humping each other right in front of the whole crowd.
And then somebody said it. Just as the two squads were filing past each other on our way off the floor. Under his breath, but loud enough for everybody on both sides to hear, and directed right at our two boys:
"Fuckin' fags."
Brady and Willis froze, and gave us a miserable, deflated look like somebody just took a shit on their birthday cake. Carter and I bristled. We glared at those sons of bitches and they all just looked the other way as if nothing happened. I could have launched into them right then and there but no sense in getting my ass ejected before the meet had even begun. We herded our boys off to the sidelines and sat them down with the rest of the team, trying our best to get their minds off it and put smiles back on their faces.
I knew who made the crack too. It was that Lansky fucker, Derek Lansky. An NCAA champ at his weight class last year, as arrogant as they come. He was one of those guys that always point up at the ceiling after every win, like he thinks Jesus is creeping around in the rafters spying on him, a real God boy. And he always threw in some religious shit whenever he was on camera, right in the middle of all his crowing over how fucking great he was. The fuckwad wrestled 165, same as me. So this would all get settled on the mat.
I gotta say, there's an awful lot of those boys in wrestling. At the NCAAs last year, six out of the ten champs thanked God or Jesus in their post-match interviews. I've never in my life seen a track athlete or a swimmer do that. I guess Jesus won't help you win a race, but he'll help you beat up on a guy.
Jase says the ones who do it have issues with their own sexuality, and they're trying to "pray the gay away." They go around playing the religious card and calling other guys "fags" to prove how straight they are. Seems to me if they were all that stressed out about people thinking they're gay, they could have picked some sport that didn't happen to be the most homoerotic human activity on the planet.
Anyway, there was a meet on, and I wasn't about to let myself get wrapped around the axle over anything that went on off the mat. My job until they called my name was to stay loose, stay ready, stay fired up, and stay relaxed -- four things that were impossible to do all at once. I tried to settle down and watch the early matches but had to jump up every once in a while to stretch or hit the cycle or just shed nervous energy by sheer will. As expected, our guys were getting mowed down one after the next. Poor Travis was up second on our side and got his ass slaughtered by yet another one of their blue chip pieces of shit.
Carter's match at 157 was the last before the halftime break so I had the chance to see at least a little of it, in between preparing for mine. He was up against a newbie, one of those highly recruited freshmen who stepped right into the lineup like they thought he'd be an instant star. My brother was on him like a panther. He mauled the kid relentlessly, showing him from the first tick of the clock what it was like to go up against a seasoned and ferocious Division I wrestler who was holding a righteous grudge. I couldn't sit through the whole match; it was hard enough to keep myself from boiling over just watching him. I retreated into the bowels of the locker room and ran through my familiar warm-up ritual, making sure my body and my head were in shape to deal with whatever came along. But I sure could hear enough noise from the crowd to tell me my brother was wiping up the mat with his young victim.
And then, before I knew it, it was my turn. I wish I could have gone out there and thrashed the son of a bitch like Carter did with his man but that was never going to happen. Lansky was too good and I knew it. Even if I managed to come out on top by some miracle it'd surely be by the skin of my teeth, and not the kind of schooling he deserved. I'd have to find some other way to put him in his place.
We squared off at the center of the mat and the ref called for the handshake, and instead of the usual token slap I latched on, looked him right in the eye, gave his hand a little squeeze and licked my lips. The shithead's eyes bugged out; he glanced down at my hard cock and yanked his hand away from me like something bit him. Then came the whistle, and instantly he fired off a lightning-fast shot, a high crotch single-leg that put his hands dangerously close to my package. He got the takedown, but not before I made damn sure he got a nice healthy feel of good solid meat.
Down on the mat, he had the advantage but only in the ref's eyes. Every chance I got I was grinding on him, rubbing my ass on his crotch or forcing his hand against my cock. There are a million little things you can do in the course of a match that only the two of you are aware of; the crowd, the ref, even the coaches are so accustomed to seeing bodies tangling around together it doesn't even register that what it looks like to anyone who's unfamiliar with the sport might be what's really going on. It's a very fine line between a wrestling match and a sexual assault. All it takes is a flex of the hips, a handhold, a thumb or a finger drifting over an extra inch to graze against his shaft or put a little pressure on his hole... I knew all the tricks, and I was using every one.
He broke me down flat and I flexed so his dick was planted right in the crack of my ass; gave it a good solid squeeze between my cheeks and the dumbfuck got so flustered I wriggled out and scored a reversal. Now it was his turn to play bottom. I started with a leg ride to wear him down, switched to a cross-body looking for a tilt, and in each new position and every step of the way I pressed my hard cock against whatever part of him it could reach, and never missed a chance to brush my hand across his package... which oddly seemed to be getting meatier and meatier.
I started the second period in the up position growling into his ear, jammed my rod against his crack as soon as the whistle sounded, reached in and full-on grabbed his cock before he blasted free. At the start of the third he was up, and I rocked back and gave that cock one more taste of my crack before rolling out and leaving him soaked to the skin in sweat and unsettling feelings.
It hadn't even really occurred to me that I might just win the match, but halfway through the third we were wrestling even; the score was tied. The sudden realization gave me a burst of energy and I pitched in and wrestled harder than ever, looking to score any way I could -- but I didn't give up on my game plan either. If rubbing his dick and grabbing his ass was what got me this far, I sure wasn't about to quit now. I shot in on a double and jammed my fingers into his crack; we hit the mat and scrambled for control, and my hands and my meat were all over him. Lansky was practically melting down. Each time my hands came near his crotch he let out a desperate little whimper, like he was afraid he might just lose it. His cock was fully stiff now, his face was beet red and his singlet was drenched... and not quite all of it was sweat.
I swear his eyes were leaking actual goddamn tears. The frustration and the sexual tension were welling up huge inside him.
Lansky snagged my ankle in a desperate move. He managed to gain the advantage and score the two but I got one back on the escape, and then another point on a stalling call when I tried for a last-ditch high crotch and he panicked and backed out of the circle. We were still tied when the whistle blew, but he had riding time on me and there was nothing left on the clock. He won the match by a point.
He reached out for the final handshake and I latched on again, pulled his hand down and brushed it against my package. Lansky blew up and shoved me away, hard; the ref ordered him off the mat and took away a team point for unsportsmanlike conduct, and the nutbag ran for the showers like his ass was on fire. He'd won the match but the moral victory was all mine. The dumbfuck was so flustered he even forgot to point at the ceiling... or maybe he didn't want Jesus to see him with a rock hard cock and a singlet stained with precum.
I strutted off to the sidelines like a champ. The whole team was congratulating me on wrestling a great match, especially Brady and Willis. But I think none of them except for my brother, and maybe Jase, were clued into what had really been going on.
When the meet was finally done, Carter and Justin were the only ones who'd come out on top for our side. The big guy put in a stellar performance against a tough heavyweight opponent. They'd battled it out to the finish, capping off the meet and ending it on a high note for our team. Now it was time for me to step in and play team captain again, boosting the spirits of all the guys whose matches didn't go so well. One of them in particular.
"Travis," I said, "c'mon over to our place?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. After a meet, Justin and I usually - "
"I talked to him already. He's got other plans."
Travis glanced over at his brother. The big guy nodded. "Yeah, I'm headin' to Duncan's for a while. After a match like that one, I need to get fucked good and hard."
"Oh. Okay." Travis looked at me and smiled. "Yeah, sure."
"Cool." Carter and I shared a grin. "You won't regret it."
As soon as we got him through the door and into our room we closed in on either side and wrapped our arms around him -- not mauling him or anything; in fact, pretty much the opposite. We were laying the romance on good and thick, kissing his neck and his cheek and nibbling on his ear, running his hands all over him nice and slow. I stroked his package tenderly while Carter fondled his ass, and he kissed us back and snuggled in our arms. We steered him to the bunk, all of us still fully clothed; stretched out together and took turns making out with him, very loving and gentle, until the three of us were good and boned.
And then came a knock at the door.
"Trav, go and get that, will ya?"
"Uh, okay..."
He looked at us kinda funny but slid off the bed and padded across the room. Opened the door, and Andy Currock stepped in.
Trav just stood there gaping for a moment unsure of what to do or say, but Andy didn't need any coaching. He looked our buddy deep in the eyes with those emerald green headlights of his, reached out for Trav's shoulders with both hands and stroked lightly with just his fingertips from the delts down over his triceps and all the way to the elbows. Travis let out a long soft sigh; his whole body seemed to quiver. Then Andy peeled his T-shirt off and helped Travis out of his and without so much as a word the two of them locked up in a hug, bare torsos mashed together, arms gripping each other for dear life.
Carter and I just sat and watched a minute, his arm draped over my shoulders and my hand resting comfortably between his thighs. Pretty soon I felt his hand slipping in beneath my collar and easing my shirt off; I raised my arms to make it easy for him and then got to work on his. We pulled each other close, each with an arm around the other's lats, my free hand massaging Carter's chest and his caressing my abs. After all the time we'd been together, the feeling of his bare smooth skin on mine was still the greatest thing in my entire world. All that lean muscle pressed against me was like a fucking wet dream come to life, every single day.
We watched as Currock loosened Travis's belt, pulled it off and tossed it aside and started unbuttoning his jeans. That sweet kid kneeled down before our buddy, slipped Trav's shoes and socks off, then peeled his jeans down slowly, revealing a huge stiff bulge in his briefs. Carter and I kicked off our shoes and mimicked the action, sliding our pants off and stroking each other's already hard cocks. Andy craned in to mouth Trav's shaft through his underwear in a way that made me drool; I could almost taste the soft sweaty cotton... and quick enough I was tasting my brother's, taking stock of that rigid bone from end to end with my lips and tongue, and licking the little moist spot on the fabric that formed at the tip.
Andy peeled down Travis's underwear next and got to work stripping his own pants off as he gazed at that big beautiful cock, licked it from base to tip, lapped at the head a couple times and then sank it into his mouth. Every move that kid made was so smooth and practiced, a true expert who knew just what he wanted and made damn sure he was better at it than anyone. I remembered the night we were together, how every time he touched me was like pure fucking magic. Soon enough I felt Carter pulling my boxer briefs down and releasing my meat and then taking it in his lips, and I stroked his head as he sucked me and watched the two on the mat, and couldn't imagine anything better than being naked with my true brother and seeing our two friends enjoy each other.
Travis began thrusting in and gliding out nice and easy, fucking Andy's mouth but in a gentle, sensual way, and the kid responded by humming "Mmmmmmm" and stroking Trav's ass cheeks and hams to show his appreciation. I traded roles with Carter and dove down on his crotch, sucking his balls and licking him up and down, peering over his hips and quads to keep an eye on the action. Travis suddenly pulled out and dropped down to his knees even with Andy, and they tangled up with each other instantly and kissed long and deep, and stretched out and rolled around together on the padded floor.
There wasn't any question where this was going, either on the floor or in my bunk. And we'd all be ready to get there damn soon. Carter reached back behind his head and snagged the jar of Vaseline. He gently pushed me off his cock, scooped a bit out of the jar, reached over and started greasing my rod. We were following our usual protocol; he'd won his match and I lost mine, so it was my turn to breed my brother. He tossed the jar to those two out on the floor, rolled onto his side and stroked his meat with his greasy hand while I came up behind him, spread his muscular cheeks and jammed my face in between.
I could eat my brother's ass for hours on end, but not while there was a good show on. His eager little grunts told me I'd hit all the right spots and had him primed, and the moans and whimpers from out on the floor said the main event was about to kick off there too. I came up for air just in time; our boy Travis was greased and ready and probing Currock's hole with two slick fingers, kneeling behind him as the kid reared back on all fours showing a perfect bull's eye, shaved just as smooth as the rest of him.
I scooted in comfortably behind Carter and spooned with him so both of us would have a good view. He raised his leg to let me in but I just cuddled him for a minute with my bone pressed to his ass crack and my arm wrapped around his chest, leaning in to kiss his neck and gnaw on his ear, making him giggle and sigh.
Travis was lining up for the kill, and I gotta say our buddy did have a world class dick. It looked enormous on his small, lean frame, but in truth it was just a good thick man-sized hunk of meat, long and straight, rippling with veins and glistening in the lamplight with that slick coating of lube. We watched as he edged up close and held it steady; Currock's cock stood out stiff as a flagpole waiting for the onslaught from behind. I gently lifted my brother's leg and he opened wide for me, just as eager as Andy was for that first intense sensation of raw cock plowing in and filling his pipe.
I pushed into Carter as Travis entered Andy, slid my meat in inch by inch while I watched my buddy's cock disappearing into that fine young ass. There was nothing on earth better than being inside my brother. It always felt so goddamn special to have such an incredible stud for my very own; having my meat buried deep inside him made me feel like I was truly home. But as I slid into him I also remembered how Andy's hole had gripped me, so smooth and soft and firm. I thought about what Travis was feeling, how he must be loving what that perfectly trained ring was doing to his shaft, and it excited me beyond belief and made my heart race. I held my brother tight in my arms and strained to push into him as deep as I possibly could.
Trav began pumping Andy nice and slow, savoring every bit of him, gliding in all the way and then dragging back out to feel that hole on every last inch of his cock from the head to the root. And the kid responded like a pro, arching his back and flexing his hips in time with Travis's thrusts to give them both the best ride they could imagine. It didn't look like they were banging so much as rolling on a wave together, in perfect rhythm with each other. I timed my own thrusts to theirs, matching Travis stroke for stroke. Even Carter picked up on Andy's motion and mimicked it as best he could; he'd never seen Currock in action before and seemed just as impressed as I was.
There's really nothing better than watching two of your buddies fuck, especially if you've been with each of them before. Seeing those familiar bodies, knowing how they feel and how they move, you can really put yourself in their places, live it right along with them. I was with my brother and I loved him with all my heart, but as I fucked him I could also feel Andy's muscled body in my hands, mashed against my torso, wrapped around my meat. And I knew Carter was feeling Travis's arms around him, Travis's smooth cheek pressed between his shoulder blades, Travis's cock grinding in and out of his hole.
Trav pulled out and rolled Andy onto his back so they could finish face to face. The kid grinned and spread his legs wide, knees up even with his chest, cock pressed stiff and straight against his abs. Our buddy grinned, positioned himself and plunged in, and Andy's legs automatically closed in on his ribs. Once again the action was nice and steady, Travis sinking his big cock all the way in and gliding out in a smooth, continuous motion like a fine-tuned engine. The way they gazed into each other's eyes was electric; I could feel their connection from six feet away, the way they worked together, sharing the experience, in sync with each other body and soul.
Suddenly I couldn't stand to be fucking my brother from behind; I had to match up even with him, nipple to nipple and eye to eye. I slid out of him and pulled him over, and the look on his face told me he was just as ready for it as I was. I pushed back into him gently, letting him feel it inch by inch, and he smiled at me so sweetly and looked so goddamn handsome I easily could have blow my load right there. But I needed to finish it the right way and I knew he wanted it too, so I held off and pumped him good and smooth, matching the two on the floor, not even needing to see them anymore but just focusing on my brother, gazing into his eyes, kissing him, both of us fucking each other so incredibly tenderly it took my breath clean away.
The other two were out of view, pushed nearly out of our minds. But we could still hear them in the background, panting, grunting, moaning. Their little noises were building, growing louder, becoming more urgent and stirring from deeper in the gut. Carter and I grinned as we heard them, plugged into one another in full-on telepathy mode, knowing those two would be spurting hot cum all over each other very soon. It excited us to no end, grinding together along with that primal soundtrack, working up to our own climax with huge loads churning in our balls and both our skins blazing and tingling with heat and energy.
At some point I mashed my lips to my brother's and we kissed and kissed like we'd never quit, our tongues curling and wrestling and playing and sharing all the feelings we couldn't communicate any other way. It's unbelievable how insanely arousing it is to make out with my brother while we fuck. I could never get enough of that tongue grappling with mine and my cock pitching into his hole, both at the same time. My whole body was quivering, barely hanging on. And then came that moment of awful hesitation, when everything pulls back and halts for a moment on the brink, just before the dam bursts open.
I have no idea exactly how it happened, who started, who finished, how long it lasted. I only remember it happened, as if we came all at once. My body jolted and I poured my fluids into my brother in a flood, thick and endless; I drained my balls as his hot juice splashed over me gushing spurt after spurt on my chest and abs. >From the floor, voices sharp and rhythmic, yelps squeezed out of bodies jerking and bucking and thrashing. All four of us were creaming, maybe together and maybe not, it didn't matter, it was all the same. We blew our loads in epic fashion pumping cum until we were spent, and collapsed on each other and hugged and kissed, cuddled, just fucking breathed and leaned on each other and loved each other and slowly, slowly cooled down and regained our senses.
For a long time nobody said a word. It was too goddamn perfect just lying there, being with my brother and sharing our space with those two other studs on the floor. I stroked Carter's body softly and he wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled me close. Andy was snuggling against Travis, licking his own cum off his fingers and sharing it with his new buddy. The whole room smelled like a den of wild, horny apes.
Andy glanced around at the pool of sweat and raw protein surrounding him on the floor. "Umm, I can clean up this mess, if you've got something - "
"There's a mop and bucket down the hall in the janitor's closet," Carter told him.
"I'll get it!" Travis chipped in, and hopped up to his feet, pulled on a pair of briefs and trotted off, all smiles. The beating he took on the mat tonight was already far behind him.
"Andy," I said, "thanks for doing this. Trav really needed it."
"You're thanking me? Are you kidding? Taking cock from a hot fuckin' stud like him is what I live for!"
Carter and I chuckled to each other. "Okay, in that case, we're happy to help," my brother told him.
Andy grinned. "So... maybe next time we're all in the showers together somebody'll share with me instead of leaving me there on my own?"
"Sure," I said. "Take your pick. We're all friendly."
"And one more thing..." He looked over the padding on our floor, tested it with his palm. "This mat is fuckin' great. Where'd you get it? I could use something like this for my room!"
It seems like Andy Currock has made a hit with the guys, and with some of you horndogs too. He'll definitely be showing up again from time to time. Meanwhile the guys will still have the usual challenges to face, on and off the mat. There's a lot of wrestling to come this season, and you know the kind of shit that happens when a bunch of serious young athletes are all crammed together: total mayhem, raw emotions, and a whole lot of fighting and fucking. 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!