From the very first day of team practice, Justin and Travis had been scoping out the new redshirts trying to get a handle on which ones they should choose to become their boys and join the family. It was a big decision, and they didn't take it lightly. There were no do-overs for guessing wrong. Whoever they chose had to be someone they'd stick by no matter what, someone they'd mentor and train to be genuine assets to both the family and the team. The two of them stewed over it every single day, almost to the point of obsession.
The toughest part was that they weren't just recruiting a guy to wrestle. They had to consider the other side too -- they'd be training their boys not only to become contenders on the mat, but to take dick like champs and give it as well, on command.
Carter and I could certainly weigh in on which ones were the most promising athletes, but as far as the rest of it went, we were as clueless as they were. Our own boys had come in through the back door, so to speak -- Brady had offered himself up to me when he was still in high school, and Willis had caught on to the whole thing and demanded to be let in before Carter'd even begun to sort through his options. I don't think we could have made better choices; they'd both worked out amazingly well. But if we had to start over cold and pick from a room full of prospects, I don't know what we would've done.
Now, for the first time since we were newbies ourselves, they not only had to figure out how to choose their boys, but how to maneuver them into a training session, gain their trust, and then slip them a good stiff cock. Brady and Willis were convinced it was easy -- all wrestlers want dick whether they know it or not, and a guy will do anything for a seasoned stud who offers to take you under his wing. But Justin and Travis weren't all that sure just how to pull it off.
In the end, it came down to statistics. With six family members already on the squad, there were only four slots left to fill: 125, 141, 184, and 197. It made sense that Travis would grab one from the lower weight classes, and Justin would snag a big boy. That narrowed the field considerably. They just had to key in on attitude and skills, and ignore all the noise from Willis and Brady about who they'd most like to fuck.
There was a kid named Ric Alvarez who wrestled 125 and hustled like a motherfucker. He'd shown up on campus and hit the ground running; there wasn't anyone in the room who worked harder, redshirt or fifth-year senior. And his skills were damn solid for a kid out of high school.
He was a tiny guy, about 5'4", but he was as built as they come at that size. Even after a long, hot summer he had the creamy pale skin of a guy who spent all his free time in the gym or in the wrestling room, with just a hint of coffee color to keep him from looking translucent. Naturally hairless all over his body, except for small patches under the arms and a tangle of black pubes. Perfect brown nipples and a nice, meaty uncut cock that was nearly as dark.
Damn right, we'd been checking him out in the locker room -- and we weren't the only ones looking. Aside from the muscled body and that stunningly smooth skin, the kid was as handsome as fuck. Andy Currock had been circling around like a buzzard from day one; I had to warn him to back off, at least until we'd had a chance to make up our minds about him.
Ric had grown up in a suburb of Chicago, and attended one of those Catholic prep schools on a wrestling scholarship. That might be a little problematic; Catholics weren't really known for being open-minded. But he was definitely the kind of guy we needed in our family, head and shoulders above anyone else. We'd just have to trust our instinct that there was never a wrestler born who didn't love mashing up with the boys, and from there, the rest of it was only a small step away.
Once Travis decided he was the one, things moved pretty quickly. He made his move in the locker room the very next day, while Ric was getting dressed after practice.
"Hey man, you're looking good out there." Travis had timed it so both of them were shirtless, to put them on level ground and so he could keep an eye out for any stray glances.
"Thanks, I'm tryin' my best. Hopin' it's good enough."
Big smile, and a friendly squeeze of his traps. "It is. You can trust me on that. But if you want to bring your skills up in a hurry, I can help."
"Yes!" Ric blurted out quickly. "Whatever it takes. I'll work as hard as I have to. I wanna be the best."
Travis gave him another big smile. He laid out the thumbnail version, how he'd act as Ric's mentor, coach, big brother, all that stuff, and Ric would have to do whatever he said. The kid agreed wholeheartedly; he was feeling that redshirt insecurity of being at the bottom of the ladder again, in a room full of guys who could eat him for lunch without even making an effort. You might say it was like leading a lamb to the slaughter, except that what we had planned for him was nothing he'd ever regret. We'd all been through it ourselves, and were goddamn grateful for it every fucking day.
"Okay then, let's go for a workout. Tonight around 8:30?"
"Great!"
Travis picked him up at the freshman dorm that night and took him over to Duncan's. The man himself was at home, working out with the weights when the two of them strolled into the basement. Trav made the introductions and our founding father gave Ric a warm welcome. The kid was a little starry-eyed, meeting a guy who was still quite a legend on our campus, but Duncan finished up quickly and left the two of them alone. He knew very well the first workout had to be one-on-one, mentor and boy.
Travis ordered Ric to lose the shirt and shoes, and ran him through a few moves just to get a sense of how he responded. He showed Ric some escape techniques and then drilled him until he'd mastered them; the kid was a quick learner, very coachable, and very eager. They worked hard for an hour or more, and all the way through, Trav would drop little tidbits about the family -- how Duncan had started it years ago, how it was based on ancient Greek wrestling culture, and most important of all, how no family member had ever failed to make the starting lineup.
Ric ate it all up, like it was his new Gospel. He clearly wanted to be a part of it, and seemed more than ready to take the next step. Trav went to the cabinet and pulled out the bottle of olive oil.
"You're doing great," he told the kid. "So, let's loosen up and have some fun. It's time you learned to wrestle like the Greeks did. Strip out of those shorts."
Travis peeled down his own shorts nice and slow, to give Ric time to think it over and to make sure he got a good look. The kid hesitated a second, grabbed his waistband, then yanked off his workout shorts and underwear all at once. A nice semi-hard cock flopped out, bobbing in the cool air and growing even bigger as Ric turned all shades of red.
"Umm... sorry... it just does that sometimes..."
"Don't ever feel bad about it," Trav told him. "It's healthy; it means you're firing on all cylinders. And it makes you a better wrestler. If you don't at least have a semi when you wrestle, you're not really in the match."
Ric gave him back a huge grin of relief, like he'd waited all his life to find someone who "gets it." They took turns oiling themselves down, and rubbing it onto each other's backs.
Trav set the bottle aside and the free-for-all began. Ric was struggling hard to gain an advantage but hadn't ever dealt with wrestling an oil-slickened body before. As soon as he'd latch on, Trav would make a quick turn and slip free. In no time their cocks were both fully hard, their muscles grinding and sliding against each other, their stiff meat mashed up against legs and glutes and abs, poking and prodding one another.
The kid seemed to be having the time of his life. He was laughing and yelping, grabbing onto anything he could. Whatever inhibitions he might've once had were left with his shorts at the edge of the mat.
As Ric burned through his surplus energy, Trav began to establish control and maneuver him into position. He worked carefully, exerting pressure in just the right way so the kid would move just where he wanted him. As he feigned an attempt to turn him or break him down flat, Ric instinctively responded in a way that any wrestler would call establishing a stable base... but the rest of the world recognizes as assuming the bottom position for doggie style.
With the boy on all fours, Trav wedged his knees in between Ric's and forced them apart. He slid his cock along Ric's crack, pressed the head to Ric's hole and pushed... and damned if the boy didn't push right back, open wide and take him in.
Trav shoved into him quick and clean, and Ric let out a loud cry... but it didn't sound like he was in pain so much as overwhelmed and excited. He arched his back, lining himself up just right to take a good fucking, and as Trav began pumping him he grunted breathlessly from deep in his gut, as if he was yearning for more.
Those sounds got Trav stoked up and started his juices flowing, and he gave it to his new boy even harder and stronger. Ric's hole was snug and tight, his chute soft and warm, and Travis was loving every inch of it, pulling back all the way out just so he could drive in fresh again, and feel how that supple hole spread over his swollen head and sucked it in.
Ric's moans were loud and urgent, his yelps and quick short breaths coming closer and closer together. His whole body shuddered and quivered, and then he lurched forward and erupted onto the mat, heaving and spurting his cream like he was pouring out his body and soul. His muscles clenched and twitched uncontrollably, and he whimpered and moaned and wailed his desperate pleasure and utter satisfaction with all his remaining strength.
They couldn't have been at it more than two or three minutes. It seemed Ric had quite a need to fulfill.
Trav didn't want to torture the boy -- at least not on his first night. He thought he'd better work himself up to a climax and finish, instead of going on pounding him over and over... and luckily, having a smoking hot boy blow his load with your meat stuffed deep inside him, feeling the way his body quakes, and hearing his primal moans made doing all that pretty damn easy. He wrapped his arms around Ric's tight body and held the little guy close as he worked his cock in and out, feeling the tremors roll through him with every thrust.
Soon enough Trav was gripping his boy's shoulders, holding him in place as he gave him a few good hard pumps and then exploded. His hot cream blasted into Ric's guts, a flood of thick goo coating his insides and marking him as Trav's personal property. The whole idea of being Ric's mentor, of owning the boy and training him and helping him mature was so fucking intense it ached right down to his crotch, and he kept on lurching and jerking and spewing out juice until his balls were squeezed bone dry.
When they'd both stopped twitching, Trav cradled Ric in his arms and for a minute or two they just gazed into each others eyes, their muscles loose and relaxed, cocks limp and soft but still dribbling cum.
"I'm sorry I shot so quick," Ric said. "I should do better than that."
"Don't worry about it. It was hot as fuck. Besides, you'll get plenty more chances."
"Yeah but... it made me feel like such a rookie."
"This wasn't your first time... was it?"
"Nah. My first year of high school, there were these three seniors. They used to fuck me in the locker room, every day before class. When they graduated, I missed it so much... I was afraid I'd never find anything like that again."
Trav grinned and stroked his head gently. "Well, I found you. You're my boy now. I'll always be here for you, and you've got a whole family that you'll always be a part of, forever."
Ric buried his face in Trav's chest. "I'll be a good boy," he murmured.
"Yeah you will. Come on, get up. I'll show you where to get the mop."
Travis finished the story and kicked back in his deck chair, smiling at us. For a moment we were awestruck, Justin stretched out on his bunk above us, Carter and Brady and Willis and me tangled up together on Trav's bunk below. We were all in our standard dorm attire -- nothing but our workout shorts, nicely tented -- and were more than comfortable lounging there against each other's muscled bodies.
But Willis and Brady got fidgety after a minute, climbed off the mattress, mumbled a quick thanks and a goodnight and scampered off to scratch each other's itches. Carter and I had the same idea but weren't quite so impulsive; we managed to at least be polite to our buddies before plodding to our room down the hall. And from the looks Justin and Travis were throwing back and forth it seemed like they were eager to satisfy their own appetites too.
Inside our room, Carter and I dropped our shorts and pulled each other close. We stood in the middle of the floor holding each other, making out, our cocks good and stiff and pressed together, the soles of our bare feet sunk into the spongy makeshift mat. I was thinking about Trav and Ric fucking like dogs in Duncan's basement and then capping it off with a tender moment -- but I was also feeling my brother's body, that sixteen pounds of fresh new muscle wrapping around me, and all the strength and power that came with it.
"I need your cock in me so bad," I breathed soft and low into his ear.
"No, I need you to bang me," he said.
"Don't be fucking difficult..."
But next thing I knew he dipped his shoulder and made a little move, almost like a slide-by in a match. He spun around with his lips still glued to mine and suddenly his back was turned to me, his shoulder blades mashed up against my pecs, ass cheeks sheathing my rigid meat. I snaked my arms around him and felt the smooth ripples of his pecs and abs. He flexed his hips forward and back, grinding my cock along his crack.
And that was it, nothing more to discuss. I wanted to bust a load inside that stud more than anything on earth.
We steered each other to my bunk and I shoved Carter down onto the mattress, both of us all grins. He rolled onto his back, raised his knees and spread them open wide for me. I smeared Vaseline over my meat, rubbed it a few strokes up and down, then smeared it over his hole, plumbing two fingers in and out. And seriously, if there's anything more cock-stiffening than the sight of a handsome-as-fuck, muscled-up stud wrestler on his back, greased and ready and willing to take a good banging, I sure haven't seen it yet.
I dove in on top of him and instantly he underhooked me, grabbed my traps and reeled me in. I made out with that hot son of a bitch while my rigid cock gently poked and prodded, searching for its way in. His tongue attacked mine, teasing and daring me for action. His hips shifted just a bit to line us up and I felt my cock head pressing on that eager sphincter, and I closed my eyes for a second, propped myself up with both hands clamped to his beefy pecs, and pushed in.
My meat slid into him so goddamn easy; by this time it certainly knew the way. He took me in effortlessly, without even a grunt, but still the feeling of my cock inside him had both of us panting and growling, our muscles tensing and quivering together with the incredible pleasure of being connected. I couldn't fucking imagine my life without him, without his hole wrapped tight around my shaft, and his beautiful meat blowing out a thick load of cum for his true brother.
I pumped him nice and slow, feeling every inch as I slid in and out of that slick warm fleshy tunnel. Our eyes locked on each other and we gazed and gazed right into each other's animal souls. For guys like us, sex was instinctive, an escape from the bullshit that went along with being human. No clothes, no words, no attitudes; just senses and feelings and deep fucking passions and humping, humping, humping until we bust. A lot like wrestling, in a fuck of a lot of ways.
I drove in deep and he smiled and flexed his hips so my shaft rubbed right on his prostate; he squeezed my pecs and twisted my nipples and I bucked and thrust in even deeper. He was goading me to pick up the pace, spurring me on by assaulting all the tender spots he knew would get a fierce and furious reaction. Of course I knew just what he was doing... and I loved it.
He grunted as I gave him a good hard stroke, and I grunted and gave him another, and it felt so goddamn good I cut loose and started pounding him. We growled together deep and low, our voices blending into one. I rammed into him again and again, loving the way the impact sent ripples through his smooth muscular body.
The sweat was beading on my brother's forehead and pecs and abs. It left him glistening all over. He looked amazing; I just wanted to fuck him harder and harder, to see those droplets appear and grow and go rolling down his perfect body onto the bedsheets, channeled by the cuts in his muscles. The scent of his musk surrounded us like a cloud of steam. I was overheated myself; I could feel the sweat trickling down my arms and my back, seeping down my face to my chin.
A big drop splashed onto Carter's chest and he twitched instinctively, his hole gripping my shaft. He looked at me and smiled, and I nearly lost it right then and there. God, it felt good to be inside him, to rail him with all my heart while he silently begged for more.
He wrapped his legs around me, dug his heels into my ass cheeks and prodded me with every thrust. Then came his arms clenched tight around my rib cage, pulling me close, locking me down. He had me all tied up and I just kept on fucking and fucking that hole, and kissing, licking, nibbling, gnawing his neck, traps, ears, delts, whatever I could reach. His hips flexed along with mine, his stiff cock grinding on my abs.
I could feel his precum leaking out, mixing with my sweat all slick and sticky as his meat slid back and forth against me. I wanted to shoot my load so bad, but wouldn't let myself until I felt his surging out and drenching us both. I caught his eye, our lips and our tongues drew together. I swear I was so goddamn horned I could have eaten him alive. Our tongues attacked each other, grappled, sparred. His breath came huffing from his nostrils shallow and quick in little whimpers and I knew he was done.
Carter's whole body jolted and his hot cum flooded between our bodies, his hole erupting in a flurry of spasms as he pumped out his juice. It felt so fucking good it made me grateful that I'd held on. Now I could blow to my heart's content, and there was nothing I wanted more than to cum while his hole was still twitching.
I relaxed and let him pull me right over the edge. My load surged up, and I rammed in hard to get as deep inside him as I possibly could. A second of desperate delay and then I blasted into him, unleashing myself, pouring out everything I had. It was so goddamn satisfying -- like it always was with him, but somehow felt more intense every single time. My muscles jerked and shuddered, and we bucked and thrashed together, each blowing out his seed for the other and loving it immensely.
Our strength finally gave out and we collapsed together panting and sweating, soaked in each other's musk and juice. We lay side by side, still holding each other, unwilling to let go. A wrestler's never happy unless his hands are gripping lean muscle. I glanced into his eyes, gave him a mischievous smirk.
"So... how do ya think Ric'll work out?"
Carter laughed. He found an extra burst of energy somewhere, rolled over on top of me, held my arms down and planted a brash kiss right where I needed it.
"He's already in bed with us, whether he knows it or not," he told me. "He's one of us. He'll do just fine."
So, another boy is added to the mix, and it looks like the guys are pretty fired up about having him join in. One more slot to fill, and Justin will be dealing with it soon. Meanwhile, the team's in training, season's coming up, and everybody will be sweating it out over who makes the starting lineup. 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! The link to lend your support is here:
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