WRESTLING AND EVERYTHING ELSE

By Ript Jock

Published on May 13, 2024

Gay

Spanking butts.

It's part of the culture in a lot of men's sports for a coach to acknowledge a good performance by giving a guy a smack on the ass. You see it a lot in football and baseball, not so much in swimming. Spanking a guy in a wet Speedo would set off way too many alarms to be a sustainable practice. You'd think people would shy away from it in our sport too, given the skin-tight Spandex we wear and the unmistakable sound of one hand clapping on a sweaty cheek. But it seems to some coaches, the attraction of spanking wrestler butts is way too strong to resist.

On our team, they don't go in for it. A good match will earn you a big hug from Jase and even Coach Wilson if you do something extra special; they aren't so repressed about showing a little genuine affection. But at some of the other schools -- Iowa comes to mind -- those coaches target asses like heat-seeking missiles. It's like they think as long as they're smacking instead of grabbing, nobody will notice where their hands always manage to end up. The better the performance, the harder the smack... and the more honored the guy getting smacked is supposed to feel.

Considering what we go through every day on the mat, I guess it isn't too surprising a lot of wrestlers take pain as some sort of reward. And it turns out that spanking butts is only the tip of the iceberg.

It was Monday afternoon, the first practice after our road trip to Nebraska. We'd scored a couple great upsets but lost the meet by a single point and the coaches drilled us like madmen. I was on my way to the showers when I heard a big commotion from the back end of the locker room, and the familiar sound of flesh pounding flesh. The redshirts were all crowded into the corner, watching as Tanner held Ric's arms behind him and another guy savagely pummeled his bare torso.

I barreled into that mob shoving people aside, bulldozing my way to the front. The redshirts fell back with those wide-eyed teenage "Oh shit, it's the team captain!" looks on their faces. I reached the guy who was beating on Ric, yanked him nearly off his feet and threw him back against the wall.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I yelled. "You wanna fight somebody, fight me! And you--" pointing an angry finger at Tanner, "Why are you letting this happen? Why the fuck are you part of it? He's your goddamn brother, for Christ's sake!"

"Ryan, calm down." Ric stepped up and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Relax. It's okay. We're just gut punching."

"Sorry, what?"

"Gut punching," Tanner said with a shrug. "Showin' off, testin' our strength. It's just for fun, kind of a blast."

As my rage slowly cleared I noticed for the first time that Tanner, Ric, and the puncher were stiff as ramrods... and half the redshirts in the crowd were showing sizable bulges as well.

"You never did it before?" Ric asked.

"Well no, not really, not that intense anyway. I guess I've heard of it..."

"You should try it," Tanner said, waving a beefy fist.

"Uhh, maybe some other time..."

Ric laughed. "If you wanna see what it's like, we have a group that gets together. We'll be in my room tomorrow night, stop by."

I mumbled something noncommittal and staggered off to the showers. About halfway there I realized my own cock was suddenly feeling pretty hefty too.

After dinner I headed to Travis and Justin's room; I figured they should hear about what their boys were getting up to. I told them what I'd seen and what Ric and Tanner had said. They only snickered and traded sly looks with each other.

Trav shrugged. "They're kids. They're just burning off testosterone. Remember what it was like when we were redshirts, and didn't even get to wrestle at meets?"

"Boys will be boys," Justin grinned.

"They told me they do it regularly. Ric asked if I wanted to come over tomorrow night and join in."

"Yeah, we've sat in on a couple sessions," Trav said. "You oughtta go check it out. I can take you over, if you want."

I looked from one to the other. "Mmmmmaybe..."

Back in my own room, I tried to study but couldn't manage to get it off my mind. Images kept flashing through my head of the Midlands when I fucked Ric in our hotel room, and today seeing these punches landing on his rock hard abs. Remembering how he'd blown his load when I was deep inside him, and how boned he was when Tanner was holding his arms back and that redshirt was working him over. I guess I was fidgeting pretty blatantly; Carter looked over from his desk a few times but let it go. Eventually I gave up, stripped and crawled into my bunk.

Carter shut his textbook and turned to me. "What's on your mind? You've been semi-hard ever since practice. What're you thinking about?"

"Gut punching."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, have you ever done it?"

He laughed. "Yeah, it was kind of a big thing on my high school team. We were all into it. I didn't really know yet why I liked it so much. It was kind of a first step for guys who wanted to get physical with other guys, but weren't quite ready to pull the trigger."

"So it's definitely a sexual thing?"

"Of course." He got up from his desk chair, casually peeled his clothes off and slid into the bunk next to me. "When you can't quite admit to yourself you wanna fuck a guy, violence is the next best thing. You know, the words punch, poke, and fuck all come from the same Old English root. Deep in your brain, subconsciously, your language processor makes the connection."

My eyes narrowed. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, it's college. You learn shit." He poked me in the ribs. "So... you want me to punch you?"

"No..."

He ran his fingers over my abs in lazy circles. "What then?"

"I want you to fuck me."

Carter smiled, took me in his arms and kissed me so fucking sweetly. He gently maneuvered me into position as his little spoon while he reached for the Vaseline. I could feel his arm flexing as he greased his cock, kissing my neck all the while, and soon I felt his slick fingers plumbing my hole. I lifted my leg eagerly to let him in, and he hooked my knee with his elbow and mashed his hips up against my cheeks. Ever since he'd muscled up to 174 there was nothing I loved more than the feeling of his big ripped body wrapped around me from behind.

His cock head pressed to my hole and I pushed back and spread around him. He slid in nice and slow, resting his head on my shoulder, and I made little grunting sounds to let him know how good it felt. He fisted my shaft, stroking me with a slippery hand as he plunged his cock into me, giving me the feeling of fucking and getting fucked all at once. I strained to fuck his fist, strained to take his meat in as deep inside me as I could. I wanted it all, everything he could possibly give me.

Carter leaned over my shoulder and made out with me as he fucked me, driving in harder and faster as he got more and more excited. I matched his energy and did my best to fire him up even more, to push him into that zone where he was fucking on instinct, like a wild animal, humping and banging me with no restraint.

He tried to stay in control and give it to me in his own sweet time but should've known by now it wasn't what I wanted, and wasn't gonna happen. I kept on prodding him, teasing him, making out and cinching down on his meat, grunting and moaning in a way I knew would get his balls churning. He began to whimper and twitch, and ram into me like nothing on earth mattered more.

Suddenly he began jacking my cock wildly, and I knew he was about to shoot. I let him pull me right over the edge, blew out my load like a geyser onto the sheets, clenched down hard on his rigid shaft. He tensed all over and then erupted inside me, spurted his cream so fucking deep I could almost taste it. I was tingling all over from head to toe; it was fucking heaven. He spurted again and again, bucking and jolting until he'd poured out every last drop.

He left it inside me until he was limp, then pulled out and wrapped his arms loosely around me. I wriggled and rolled over to face him. Made a fist and playfully tagged his gut.

He only sighed and pulled me in tighter.

The next night I was determined to go over to Ric's place and find out what gut punching was all about. I asked Carter if he wanted to come but he said he didn't feel like going back to high school. Justin only rolled his eyes when I brought it up. But Travis was willing and eager to go along and play tour guide. We headed for the freshman quad around nine.

"Something you should know," he warned me, when we'd reached the lobby of Ric's dorm. "Most of the guys haven't really come to grips with it yet. They like the whole bonding part of it, but... they're not ready to handle all of it."

"So, in denial. Okay, gotcha. I'll be careful."

I followed him up the stairs and down the hall almost to the end. Tanner had moved in with Ric at the beginning of the semester, so whatever went on in their room was just between the two of them... and whoever else they invited in. Trav knocked on the door, and a chorus of voices grunted at us to come in.

Inside were Ric and Tanner and six more, all of them shirtless, paired off and bearhugging each other. Some were going for a rear hug, hands locked across the other guy's gut crushing the life out of him from behind. The more daring were faced off chest to chest, mashed up tight, straining diligently to crack each other's spines. The whole room was thick with grunts and growls, and teenage testosterone and musk.

"Oh, good," Trav said, "They're just getting started. This is their warmup routine. C'mon, let's get in on it." He tossed his backpack into the corner and waded into the mix.

We peeled off our shirts; I gave him first crack since he knew what he was doing. Trav stepped up chest to chest with me and coiled his arms around my rib cage, locked his hands behind my back and squeezed. He held me so tight I couldn't take a full breath, and then he bore down even harder, muscles straining and face reddening, squashing his own chest against me just as severely as he was constricting mine. We were locked up like that for an unbearably long time, until it seemed like our lungs or our brains would surely burst. Finally his strength gave out and his arms fell slack at his sides. Fresh blood and oxygen rushed to our heads. It felt... energizing.

The redshirts had all been sneaking glances at us. They were hungry for fresh lean meat, and I guess we'd stoked up a few appetites. As soon as we broke they were all over us begging to take the next turn. We reshuffled and hugged and reshuffled again, until I'd matched up against all the guys in the room, both giving and taking. When we'd gone full round robin the whole gang bunched up into a genial mob, joking and laughing, prodding and nudging each other.

And then at Tanner's signal, the main event began. Pairs formed up again. The punchers squared off with clenched fists while the victims tightened their abs and stood firm, arms raised and hands clasped behind their necks. A couple of them asked for a volunteer to hold his arms behind his back while he took his beating, adding a little extra thrill for puncher and punchee alike.

Trav snagged me and pulled me off to the side; he wanted to be the one to break me in. He assumed the position, his tight, pale 133 pound torso looking like it was carved out of ivory.

"Hit me," he said. I took a shot, uncertain of how much force I should put behind it.

"Harder," he hissed. I punched again. He felt solid as fuck.

"HARDER!"

I let him have it. He let out a grunt, then broke into a smile. "Good man. Now, your turn. Give me a nod when you're ready."

For a moment I wondered what Carter would think if he saw this... or Jase. But I wasn't about to back out now; I'd bought a ticket for the whole show. I steeled myself, made my abs as rigid as I could, and nodded.

Trav threw his first punch; it was powerful as hell, but... felt kinda good in an odd way. A second one, harder, rocked my body but built my confidence even higher. The third time he hit me with all the force he could put behind it, and I took the pain, made it mine, shrugged it off and stood my ground.

I gotta say, there was something about the whole thing I found appealing. Watching Trav take my punches without so much as a quiver and then showing him I could do the same was somehow very satisfying, even life affirming. And yeah, it was indeed a legit bonding experience to prove we could hurt each other, without... hurting each other.

As soon as we'd finished, the rest of them were all but lining up to take their shots at us. It was special for them to gut punch with us, to bond with us and be accepted as our peers. We were teammates even if they were still redshirts; we knew it but none of them really believed it, not until our fists had crashed into their guts and they'd given it back to us just as good.

I smiled to myself watching those little eighteen-year-olds pound away at each other as hard as they could, desperately longing to be seen as grown men in each other's eyes if no one else's, and every single one of them showing a more than obvious bulge in his shorts. They seemed like such children, but really weren't much younger than Trav and me. We were redshirts ourselves just three years ago. I probably would've been as clueless as any of them if Jase hadn't picked me out of the crowd, given me a good hard fuck and showed me what's what.

As I paired off with one after the next to take our shots, I could see at a glance the few who'd already figured it out and were trading their pain for genuine pleasure a bit lower down than their abs, as clear as if it was tattoed on their foreheads.

They punched and punched each other until they were all exhausted, and then Ric and Tanner closed the session by kicking off another round of hugs -- not bearhugs this time, but full-on tender, heartfelt cuddles. I mashed up with those sweaty, battered young bodies, and each one latched onto me and hung on like a drowning man grabs a life preserver. By the time we were through, every guy in the room was as boned as could be. And I'd bet every last dollar of my scholarship that most of them blocked it out and shrugged it off as "just guy stuff."

I could only imagine the redshirts in Iowa City would be spanking each other's butts about now.

One by one they drifted off to the showers down the hall to pick out a private stall and cap the night off by rubbing one out and blowing a good hard load... except for Tanner and Ric and at least one more pair, who drifted off two by two.

Trav caught my eye and grinned. "Ready for a shower?"

"I didn't bring a towel..."

He snagged his backpack from the corner. "Got ya covered, I brought an extra. And a big bar of soap. And coconut oil."

We headed for the bathroom all smiles, playfully poking and grabbing each other along the way. It'd been a long time since we'd fucked, too long. We'd been buddies almost since I first got together with Carter, and the three of us were still as tight as ever. But now that we all had our own boys and responsibilities and crap, we hardly had enough time for random unstructured fun anymore.

There were only six stalls in the bathroom and they were full. The water was blasting, the air was heavy with steam, and the redshirts were hidden behind their plastic curtains jerking their meat. We hung out by the sinks waiting for someone to finish. Trav gave me a look and sniffed; sure enough, there was a faint but unmistakable scent of cum in the air. We exchanged silent giggles and waited our turn.

Finally one of the curtains slid open and a redshirt stepped out and plodded toward us, a big guy named Kevin, towel wrapped around his waist. We gave him a nod and a quick "Hey" on our way past, and he looked back over his shoulder with a smirk as he saw us strip down and step into the shower together.

I thought for a second. "Do we need to be low key about this?"

Trav frowned and shook his head. "Nah, fuck it. We put up with their little show. Now they can deal with ours."

As soon as we pulled the curtain closed we were all over each other, groping and mauling. I reached back and turned on the water as we made out eagerly. Fuck, I loved playing around with Travis. We were as close as friends get, his tight little body was second to none, and he always had a smile for me... except when I mashed up against him this time, he winced. His abs were blazing red from the punishment he'd taken. Mine were too, and to be honest they felt beat all to shit.

"You doing okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, just a little tender. Nothing to worry about. You?"

I shrugged. "Abs are sore. I'll live."

Trav grabbed the soap and began lathering me up. He'd always been into body worship; it's one reason he and Justin were so perfect together. And I was more than happy to have his hands rubbing and stroking all over me, gliding over my muscles, slipping into my crotch and my crack, fondling my cock and balls. He did a good thorough job, and I took the soap and returned the favor, carefully scrubbing and massaging him from head to toe and everyplace in between.

We rinsed off together. Those jets of hot water felt so fucking good drilling into our clean skins. I pulled him in and we kissed long and deep, grinding on each other, our sore spots long forgotten. He squeezed my stiff cock and I slipped a hand around to cup his ass cheek and finger his hole. Trav grunted loudly with anticipation and pleasure. We were clearly on the same page, and if any boys were left in the stalls, they'd be hearing all about it in a minute.

I grabbed the bottle of coconut oil and turned him to face the wall. He spread his legs and braced himself with both hands on the tile, thrusting his ass out, making eager little yelps as I slipped two fingers in and lubed him. I greased my shaft with a good thick layer and moved in, pressed my head to his hole and let him relax and open wide, and then pushed in inch by inch until he'd taken it all.

Trav moaned dreamily as I pumped in and out, rocking his body to my rhythm. I watched the way his back muscles tightened and flexed as I fucked him, lats and traps and rhombs each so clearly defined. Jesus, he looked amazing. And damn, was he ever good at taking cock. After three solid years of being railed by big Justin's horsemeat he still fit me like a glove, his sphincters gripping me, working my shaft on every stroke. I'd thought I was in no particular hurry, but he had a way of making my dick need to get after him in the worst way, harder and faster and deeper.

I leaned in until my pecs were flush against his shoulder blades and drove into him with sharp, powerful thrusts, and he yelped and moaned excitedly. Before I knew it my arms were around him, my hands locked across his gut. I squeezed as hard as I could, bearhugging him as I fucked him, holding him so tight he could only wheeze and gasp. I was on autopilot, focused only on fucking that perfect ass and clinging to that tight little mass of lean muscle with all my strength.

He tapped my arm, tapped harder, broke me out of my trance and I released him and pulled out and backed away, ashamed of myself. But Trav only caught his breath and snickered, turned to face me and punched my abs. He slipped his hands around the back of my neck and hoisted himself up to wrap his legs around my waist. The little stud wasn't tapping out, only repositioning.

I grabbed his hams and lifted, pitched my hips forward and lowered him onto my cock. He lined up with me effortlessly and I slid right in, as if he'd had lots of practice in that position -- no surprise -- and it was as natural for him as breathing.

Trav bounced up and down on my meat; it felt so fucking good I could barely hold my cum in. He rode me hard, with the stream of hot water sloshing over both of us. And as soon as we fell into a comfortable tempo, damned if that fucker didn't wrap his arms around my ribs, lock his hands behind me and squeeze as hard as he could, mashing us together chest to chest.

If bearhugging his tight lean body while I fucked him had felt good, being bearhugged while he rode me put us on a whole new level. Now both of us were grunting and moaning as he jammed down onto my meat, forcing me into him deeper and deeper, tightening his grip and squeezing me harder and harder on every downstroke. I clamped down on his hams and he yelped and whimpered excitedly and picked up the beat. We were humping too wildly to even think about making out; one of us surely would've lost some teeth. We just leaned in over each other's shoulders and pressed our hot cheeks together, yowling and wailing into one another's ears as our bodies thrashed and hammered away.

I felt the juices surging up in me, building to a huge and shattering finish. I let go of Trav's hams and underhooked him, held him firm and pinned his back to the wall, then pumped that ass for all I was worth. He gripped me as hard as he could, hands still locked against my spine, arms tight around my ribs like bands of rippled steel, his big hard cock squashed between our abs. I fucked him and fucked him mad as a bull, as if pounding that ass was the only thing in the world.

The pressure built up inside me until there was no holding back. I bucked and rammed into him and blew a gusher of cream deep into his guts, howling my lungs out with the immense feeling of pleasure and release that rushed clear down to my toes. I blasted a second shot into him, and another, and another, throbbing and squeezing until I'd wrung my balls dry. I was still moaning when I felt Trav's body seize up and jerk, he let out a desperate wail, and his hot cum spurted up between us. He gazed into my eyes and grinned as he poured out his load for me.

Trav gently relaxed his grip and I eased my softening cock out of him. His legs untwined and I helped him down, and we wrapped our arms around each other, both of us still panting and grunting. Slowly I rubbed the bar of soap over our abs, and reached around to wash his hole. Trav shut off the water and I slid open the shower curtain and reached for our towels.

Instantly we heard the bathroom door fling open and eight pairs of feet scampering out in a wild rush. Those little fuckers had all been hanging around the bathroom listening in. We started to laugh and quickly remembered our abs were sore as fuck, and then laughed even harder.

We hadn't forced them to confront it head on, but we'd given them plenty to think about. I had a feeling the gut punch sessions would be getting a lot more interesting from here on.


Looks like Ryan and our family of wrestlers are exploring whole new ways to get physical with each other, and they're not likely to run out of curiosity anytime soon. They'll surely keep on exploring but they're well into the season now, and it's time for them to bear down and get in shape for the championships. Naturally there'll be plenty of fun along the way. So stay tuned!

By the way, if anyone's interested in a little romance, I just posted a new story that I'm planning to make into a short series. The title is My Hustler, and you can find it in the Beginnings section.

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:

https://donate.nifty.org/

Next: Chapter 66


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