Wrestling season is also flu season. Every year it's a struggle to keep everybody healthy. We take our shots but they don't always work as well as they're supposed to. With all the rolling around we do on the mat, mashed up together skin against skin with five or six different guys a day, shit gets traded back and forth pretty easily. A virus can take out half the squad by the time you even know it's going around. Even when we're super careful it seems like a season never goes by that somebody doesn't come down with it.
This year was Carter's turn.
We both knew what was up the minute he started getting the chills and the aches in his joints. I felt bad about leaving him hanging but what could I do? One of us being out of commission was bad enough; the last thing either of us wanted was for me to catch it too. I pulled the mattress off my bunk and dragged it down the hall to Travis and Justin's room to camp out for a few days.
Of course the guys welcomed me in. It's what friends are for. I just tried to keep out of their way and respect their privacy -- well, as much as possible, anyway. Gotta say, as much as we'd hung out together and played around together, it was a whole new world sitting in on their domestic life. I wasn't really prepared for how much time those two spent lounging around the room casually naked, Travis with his tight body and creamy smooth skin and perfect nipples, and the big guy with his huge cock dangling what seemed like half a yard, swinging like a goddamn pendulum every time he made a move. I mean okay, being naked around each other was nothing new - between our sessions at Duncan's and the occasional fun times, and showering after practice together every damn day, we'd been bare ass together an awful lot. But it was different when it wasn't a group thing. They were just doing their everyday routine and there I was trying to act like I didn't even notice, because they had each other and I... well... God damn it, I missed my brother.
Justin understood. He caught on before it had even sunk in on my end. But "help" from Justin wasn't the same as any sort of help you'd get in the regular world. All it meant was he'd go out of his way to harass me - strutting that bare muscular butt in front of me, reaching over and giving my nipple an unexpected pinch, grabbing my ass cheeks at every opportunity. At least once a night I'd be off in a corner with my nose stuck into a textbook when all of a sudden out of nowhere a big meaty cock would come swinging over my shoulder slapping the side of my face, and I'd look up and there'd be that goofball looming over me busting out in giggles.
He was only trying to take my mind off Carter, keeping my spirits up, that kind of shit. I'd like to say it helped but I'm not so sure. This was the first time my brother and I had ever been apart since the day Jase and Kyle put us together -- I mean sure, over summer break we'd split up for a couple weeks to put in our time with the parents, but never during the season. Never in a wrestling situation. Going to practice without him, I honestly felt like I was missing an arm. Texting him a few dozen times a day kept me from going insane but only made me want to be with him all the more. Yeah I know, I sound like a pussy -- but just try going through what we do, the training, the focus, cutting weight, competing, and then suddenly have your training partner and true brother taken away. I know I've mentioned before how fragile wrestlers can be, how high our emotions can run with all that stuff going on.
Things got even worse as we rolled into the weekend. Iowa was coming into town for a Friday night meet, and I'd have to get out on the mat and grapple with some top-ranked mauler, and my brother wouldn't even be in the building. Coach Wilson and Jase and the other assistants did their best to get the whole team fired up but they knew what we were up against the same as we did -- it was Iowa, after all. Everybody knew the score. We'd go at it as hard as we could but most of us would feel lucky if we made it off the mat without bleeding.
Of course it was a massacre. The only one of our teammates who won his match was our man at 141, and that was because their starter was sitting out with an injury, and the guy who subbed in for him was wrestling a weight class above normal. Aside from that, it was less about winning and more about damage control. The poor guy who had to fill in for Carter got his ass demolished. The one I wrestled was a three-time all-American who was strong as a goddamn ox and fired off single-leg shots at me like a hyperactive rattlesnake. It was all I could do to keep him from getting the eight-point advantage for a major. Not that it was any real help to the team, but I guess it was a learning experience.
It was a long match for all of us but at least it ended. We were a little beat up but not completely dismantled. After the handshakes and the locker room wrap-up we all just slunk on back to the dorms, feeling every bit like our asses had been handed to us.
Justin and Travis lost no time peeling their shirts off and cuddling up together once we'd made it back to the room. I just sorta curled up on my mattress and tried not to think... about anything.
"Hey!" the big guy called out to me. "Whatcha actin' so glum about? Give your brother a call or somethin', he needs cheerin' up more than you do."
"I texted him already, before we left the arena," I told him, without even turning around. "He's tired. Said he's gonna crash."
"Give Brady a call," Travis chipped in. "He always wants your dick."
"Nahhh... Willis is looking kinda red around the eyes, and I'm pretty sure I heard him sniffling the other day. Could be just a cold, or could be what Carter's got. I'm not gonna chance it."
Silence for a moment. I knew they were both mulling over what to do about me. Then I heard the bedframe creak as Justin rolled out of the bunk and plodded across the floor, with Travis padding softly behind. A beefy arm wrapped around my chest, pulled me upright and tightened into a claw hold pinning me to a massive hairy torso as a scruffy chin bristled against my neck.
"No mopin' allowed," Justin growled into my ear. "And none of this antisocial bullshit either. You know how this works by now. First you wrestle, then you fuck."
He flexed his hips against me. An enormous stiff shank pressed to my ass crack. "Oh no," I protested. "You don't think I'm gonna let you put that horsecock in me?!"
He didn't bother to reply but just started nibbling on my ear and kissing my neck. Travis stepped around in front of us; his hands slipped under my T-shirt, massaged my chest, teased my nipples, drifted down into my warm-ups and stroked the package.
"It's okay, I promise," my buddy said. "Justin knows what he's doing. He's really, really good. And you really fucking need it."
I tried to argue but nothing came out except for some weak, desperate whimpers as those two found all my buttons and pushed them, over and over again. I guess that's the danger of knowing your friends too well. With hardly even a struggle they got my shirt off and then my pants. Travis yanked at my underwear with his teeth as his brother's big hands kneaded and clasped my muscles, making the blood surge through my flesh and getting me primed for action. All three of us were bare ass naked, crowded together on top of that ratty old dorm mattress on the floor.
Travis broke loose, scurried over to the bureau and grabbed the pump bottle of lube while the big guy bent me over on all fours and jammed his face into my crack. I knew already those two had a preference for coconut oil; their room always smelled like a goddamn monkey farm. My buddy squirted some onto his palm and began stroking my cock long and slow from underneath while Justin sent shivers up my spine, his warm wet tongue lapping at my hole and his scruffy beard prickling the soft flesh all around it, making me so fucking hungry for cock.
But there was cock and then there was Justin's; the man was just plain huge. I'd never taken it before, and never even wanted to try. The closest I'd come to anything that size was with Kyle last summer at the lake house, but that was with lots of beer and a whole weekend of working up to it, and still I felt like it was going to bust me in two. I sure couldn't complain so far; Justin was giving me about the best rimming I'd ever had in my life. He was working my ass like a true master, and I was getting close to the point where I'd gladly take anything he wanted to shove inside me and beg and whimper for more. But I still wasn't sure how that monster was ever going to fit.
And then came the moment of truth. His face pulled away from my ass and two beefy hands gripped my pelvis, and I felt his ungodly thick meat pressed to my hole, begging to get in. That licking he gave me had me so fucking ready I didn't care how much it hurt. I just wanted him inside me, balls deep, stretching my hole and reaming my ass like never before. If he didn't push that rod in and start plowing me soon I swear I'd find a way to latch onto the fucker and tug it right in.
I felt my ass open up for him, wider than I could've imagined. He was so slow and so gentle and careful that it slid in easily, inch by inch, so smoothly I wouldn't have believed it. My hole and my guts were wrapped around that shaft tighter than they'd ever been; he was pushing in deeper than anyone had gone before, but it felt normal, and perfectly natural, and... good. I was gasping for breath just from the realization of what was happening, just from the feeling of that huge meat filling my insides completely, like my ass was trying to swallow a python that had swallowed a goddamn boa constrictor. Now I knew what taking big cock was all about.
And my little buddy Travis wasn't out of the picture either. He slid in underneath me, took my cock in his mouth and started sucking while the big stud began slowly grinding and pumping me from behind. Holy fuck, it felt like my whole body was skewered on that pole, and with Travis working my meat with his soft lips and warm wet tongue it was the very best feeling on earth. I rested my head on his ass cheeks, slipped my hand in beneath and grabbed his cock and stroked it while he sucked me, and he yelped excitedly, rolled over onto his back with my meat still in his mouth, and kept on going. And well, I sure couldn't ignore his own big hard cock pointing right at me. I leaned in and took it in my lips and plunged it in as deep as I knew how.
One thing I'll say for sure, with all the stress and frustration of training for that meet and taking a pounding, none of us were going to last very long. Our muscles were too twitchy to maintain any sort of control, and our heads were too eager for release. The feeling of Justin's meat inside me had my body tingling all over in no time; the thought of it alone had me ready to blow. Travis was usually good for a long hard ride but I knew how to turn his crank too; with my cock in his mouth and his in mine and two fingers probing his hole, I knew I could pull that trigger anytime I wanted. As for Justin, now that he'd moved up to heavyweight, he was the very last one on the mat. His foreplay had barely ended. No doubt he still felt his opponent's hands all over him and their bodies mashed together, still smelled his sweat and heard those deep guttural grunts. The big stud had to be more than ready to shoot.
I'm sure Justin was the one who got it started. All of a sudden he let out a bellow and clamped down on me like a vise, and unloaded about a gallon of hot cum into me. As soon as I knew what was going on I couldn't wait any longer; I gulped Travis's cock deep down my throat and jammed my fingers up his chute, and didn't let up until he lost it. The second I tasted his hot salty cream gushing into my mouth I let myself go and cut loose with a good long spurt of my own, and just relaxed and let it flow, muscles twitching all over, my ass clamping down on Justin's thick stump, pouring out my juice while Travis desperately fucked my mouth.
The three of us drained our balls dry and milked every drop from our slowly flagging shafts. Travis and I sucked and sucked until nothing was left for either of us, and Justin's big paw squeezed the last remains of his load into my tight hole. We lay there all wrapped up in each other until I fell asleep. The other two untangled themselves and crawled off to their bunks.
It would have been nice to have a little downtime after the slaughter but we were back in the wrestling room on Saturday, preparing for a Sunday meet at Indiana. It was less than three hours by bus so we wouldn't have to stay overnight, which meant we could bring the whole squad along, redshirts and all. That was good. If I had to wrestle at an away meet without Carter, at least having Brady there would keep me sane.
The whole thing with my brother being sick was still seriously messing with my head, way more than I knew it should. It's that focused athlete mentality; your body's like a Ferrari -- any little thing goes wrong and you're in the shop for a month. I couldn't be with Carter. Iowa kicked our asses. As much as I understood those things were not connected, I also knew bad things always come in threes, and I was dreading whatever came next.
All day Saturday I was in a daze, giving everybody the thousand-yard stare. I felt like I was living in an echo chamber. Sights and sounds, people around me, even my own damn footsteps seemed like they were hopelessly far away, cut off from me, on the far side of some invisible barrier. Being focused before a match was good, but there was a reasonable limit. I knew I'd wandered into unhealthy territory... but I just couldn't manage to break out.
And then Sunday, and breakfast, and the bus ride, and I didn't talk to anybody, didn't even look anybody in the face. The rest of them let me be, even Justin; there's an unspoken respect, almost a sacred reverence, for teammates who were deep in the zone. When somebody was running on autopilot, you didn't want to do anything that might jostle them back to reality. Even when they really, really needed it.
So we went through our warm-ups, the national anthem, the first few matches. I couldn't even have told you who wrestled, much less if our guys won or lost. I was so distracted my dick wasn't even hard. The halftime break came and went, and then it was my turn. They called me to the mat, and I stepped up to center... and there was Noah in front of me. My Indiana brother.
Our eyes met just as the ref was getting us set, and the mental block I'd been lugging around just shattered and blew right out of my head. All of a sudden I was back in the world again. I was on the mat with a good friend, a member of the family, and the two of us were gonna wrestle. Nothing else mattered, not the crowd, the team rivalry, the whole goddamn NCAA. It was just Noah and me -- he knew it too, I could tell -- and we were about to have some fun.
The whistle blew and we pawed at each other and locked up in a tie; I felt him gripping me, felt his muscles flexing and tensing in my hands. He made a level change, tried for an ankle pick but I countered and reshot and both of us went down to the mat in a wild scramble, each of us battling for control, each struggling for handholds and squirming out of the other's grasp, our bodies clashing, grinding, meshing. A good sweat from both of us gave a bit of lubrication and added some spice to the match. It's not really wrestling until you're steeped in each other's scent.
From there I didn't even care about scoring points, the clock, the ref. We just wrestled, showing off our best moves to each other, enjoying the fuck out of being together and competing and doing what we know best. We each made takedowns, reversals, escapes, rode each other, torqued each other, grappled for cradles and turns. It didn't even feel like a match, not an official one anyway. I'm sure Jase was yelling directives at me from the sidelines, and Pete was probably doing the same for Noah, but neither of us heard a word. Nobody was about to tell us how to handle things between us.
When the final buzzer sounded I was up by two, on a takedown and a rideout late in the third. I cut him loose and helped him to his feet. We peeled off our ankle bands and tossed them, the ref raised my hand, and we tangled up in a big hug -- the home crowd cheered, they always love that shit. Both our cocks were stiff and aching.
I trotted back to our corner, collected the usual congrats and slaps on the ass from the coaches and the team. Ducked into the tunnel and hustled toward the showers, but Noah was there to head me off.
"This way," he said.
"But our locker room - "
"Yeah. We're not going there. Ours is better."
I hesitated. "Is that gonna be okay?"
"Trust me."
Noah led me down the corridor to Indiana's locker room. His boy Aiden was waiting for us just outside; he grinned and waved when he saw me. Aiden had beaten our guy at 125 in the lead-off match of the meet. Now he'd been drafted for guard duty, to make sure nobody disturbed us. The three of us filed into the locker room and headed straight for the showers. Aiden posted himself at the entrance while Noah and I peeled off our singlets.
"Thanks..." Noah said to me as we pulled off our compression shorts, "...for last time. I was a mess. You really helped me get straightened out."
I shrugged. "I didn't do anything."
"You listened. That was all I needed. I just had to talk it out with somebody who wasn't too close to it... but still understood. It didn't leave me a lot of choices. You were perfect, you listened and understood and made me see things a whole lot clearer. And you cared, that was the most important thing. You made me feel like it mattered to you."
"Well, yeah. You're part of my family. I'll always be on your side. Even when I'm beating your ass on the mat. Hell, even when you're beating me."
Our eyes met and locked in, and instinctively we wrapped our arms around each other and held on tight, our naked bodies pressed together head to toe. Our cocks were still rigid and rubbing on each other but at that moment it was the furthest thing from our minds... our conscious minds, anyway. We just stood there and held each other, his cheek pressed to mine, his strong arms squeezing me, hips flush together, legs comfortably mingled.
Finally we broke our grip. Noah backed off half a step and grinned. "Man, you need to clean up. You stink!"
"Well that's what I'm here for, ya shithead!" I gave him a playful shove and a smack on the ass and we lumbered into the shower room.
Noah turned on one of the heads and we both stepped into the stream. The hot water felt great. We doused ourselves and lathered up, our hands spreading the suds over each other's bodies, fondling every muscle and contour, gliding over each other's smooth skin and slipping into every crevice. His touch was incredible; he handled my flesh with such care, such genuine affection, and I tried my best to give him the same. It was the way every wrestling match should end. A real wrestler is truly in love with the sport, and truly loves his opponents. After three rounds of clashing together on the mat, nothing could be more appropriate than to show our respect for each other by worshipping the body we'd just beaten, or the body that'd just beaten us. It's what we always did when we trained with our brothers at Duncan's. It's just as good with extended family, and with strangers too. Anybody who doesn't get that won't ever be a real wrestler.
When we'd scrubbed each other all over and were both feeling rosy and clean, Noah smiled and stepped in closer. His fingers ran from my delt all the way down my arm, tickling me softly, teasing my palm and then interlacing with mine. I leaned in and we kissed, very romantically at first, then heated and hungry. His tongue met mine and they wrestled together as we pulled each other in and clamped our arms around each other hard. The match within the match, as the TV announcers say. An arm hooked around my neck locking me in tight while my hand drifted down and clutched an ass cheek. The jets of hot water stung us like needles as we made out. It was the best goddamn feeling on earth.
Noah broke off the kiss, nibbled at my ear and hissed, "Fuck me. Rail my ass."
I balked for a second. "Umm, we have a tradition. Winner takes cock. Right?"
He wrapped his fingers around my hard shaft and squeezed. "Hell with tradition. I need this inside me. Now. Do you want to fuck me, or not?"
"Fuck yeah."
In a heartbeat he was facing the wall, hands pressed to the tile, and I was moving in close behind. He spread his legs eagerly while I soaped my cock and then slid my fingers along his crack and dipped them into his hole. God, he was a stud. Those hamstrings were sculpted out of steel, his glutes as solid as marble, and the sight of that hot stream spilling over them was swelling my cock bigger and stiffer than ever. I couldn't wait to get in between.
I pressed my pecs to his shoulder blades, wrapped an arm around his chest and held him steady. He opened his legs wider as my meat eased between his cheeks and prodded his hole. I leaned my head over his shoulder and he turned to kiss me as I entered him, pushing in with one nice smooth stroke like a hand in a glove, until my meat was completely buried in him and my hips were mashed against his glutes.
Noah panted breathlessly as I began to pump him. I gave him my cock like a lover, thrusting gentle and easy but deep as I could go, making him feel every inch, grunting into his ear on each stroke because I knew how excited it made him. I held him firm and plowed him, showing him all my strength and tenderness, letting him know in that moment he was all mine to do with as I pleased. Guys like us who live our lives battling on the mat for control need to know every once in a while we can give it up too, and still have respect, and it's good.
Behind us I heard someone murmuring, and then bare feet tramping over wet tile. What the fuck, I thought, why isn't Aiden doing his job? But there was no point in stopping; it's not like we could pretend nothing was going on. I kept right on fucking him, kissing his neck, stroking him, teasing his nipples. Whoever had walked in on us was getting the whole damn show.
And then I felt somebody's breath on my shoulder, and a muscular body grinding on my back, and a pair of strong arms wrapping around us both.
"Hope you're saving me a piece of that," a deep voice growled.
Yeah, I should've known. It was Noah's brother Dave. He'd moved from 157 up to 174 this season, and his match was right after ours. Now that it was over, he was hitting the showers -- and obviously knew the plan in advance.
"Go find your own, this one's mine," I grunted back.
Dave snickered and pressed against me harder but I wasn't about to break my rhythm. He laid his hard cock right along my crack, and as I thrust in and out of his brother, my cheeks were stroking Dave's cock. To be honest, it was hot as fuck being sandwiched between them, feeling his meat on my ass. With sixteen extra pounds of muscle on his frame, it felt damn good to be Dave's little spoon.
Soon enough I was giving Noah the railing he'd begged for, a good strong solid fucking. He grunted and yelped while Dave growled in my ear to egg me on, and I sure didn't need any encouragement to keep on driving hard. I loved the way Noah took cock; it was just the way he wrestled -- daring me to bring everything I had, meeting every challenge with power and skill, taking a pounding and loving it.
With my cock sunk deep in Noah's ass and Dave teasing me more and more aggressively from behind, I wasn't about to last much longer. I grabbed Noah's cock and jacked him; he moaned long and low and begged for my load. Dave underhooked me and gnawed on my traps, and I felt a hot wave flashing across my forehead, and another surging up from my bare wet feet. They washed over my whole body, tightening and tensing my muscles until I felt like I was about to explode... and then released me with a jolt as a blast of cum gushed out of my cock and into Noah. I jacked him furiously and he stiffened, jerked, and his hole erupted in spasms on my shaft as he blew his hot cream onto the wall.
Dave just seemed to enjoy holding the two of us while we quaked and shuddered. I shot out spurt after spurt, enough cum to impregnate a field hockey team, coating the insides of Noah's guts while he blew his own load, that ran dribbling over the tile and washed down the drain.
When we'd both stopped twitching, Dave let us go with a snicker and moved over to the shower head beside us. He washed himself and stroked his cock while he watched us recover, fondle each other just a bit more, rinse off one last time and leave the showers.
I would've loved to stick around longer but we both needed to support our teammates. He gave me a towel to wrap around my waist so I wouldn't have to put my sweaty singlet back on or tromp down the corridor to my locker naked. All of us were back on the sidelines for the last two matches -- Dave's boy Troy at 197, and our man Justin at Heavyweight. We promised to keep in touch and get together again, any time either of us wanted to or needed to.
It was late by the time the bus got us home, after the meet, after a meal, and back to campus, all of us dead tired. I had no idea what time it was, except it was too damn late to sleep on a ratty old mattress on the floor without Carter. I went straight to my own room, climbed into the top bunk and wrapped my arms around my brother.
"Ryan?" he mumbled, barely awake. "It hasn't been seven days yet, I might still be contagious."
"It's been five. You're strong, you don't need all seven."
"It's five tomorrow."
"It's already tomorrow. Close enough. And I don't give a shit. I missed you, cocksucker. Shut up and go back to sleep."
The ties are strengthened between our boys and their brothers in Indiana, and Ryan has learned even without Carter he has some good friends to fall back on. But it's late in the season now; pretty soon it'll be tournament time, and that always means a fresh mix and a lot of situations and high emotions to deal with. 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!