If you watch any of the wrestling broadcasts on Big Ten or ESPN, you'll notice they waste an awful lot of time on the athletes' parents. At the end of most every big match, when they oughtta be showing the wrestlers displaying respect for each other or lack thereof, or at least show them peeling their singlets down to their waists as they trot off to the showers, instead the camera swings up to the stands for a look at mom and dad. They seem to do it in our sport a lot more than most others, although to be honest I never tune in to watch swimming or basketball or track.
I never could understand it; this isn't Little League. An NCAA wrestler may be a lot of things but he sure isn't a child. Why anybody'd take some of his spotlight away to focus on a couple fat middle-agers who no one in the viewing audience could possibly give a shit about is beyond me.
For me it wasn't an issue; my parents hardly ever showed up to the meets. They aren't the kind anybody would envy me for. I got into wrestling to escape from them, to work off my frustrations and find a sense of belonging I never got at home. Long before I came to campus and Jase made me his boy, I'd already accepted the fact that my real family was the wrestling team.
Carter's parents were great. They supported him without question but also let him have his space. They understood that what he did as a wrestler was all about him and not them; they'd sit in the stands and cheer with the crowd but never draw attention to themselves. They made sure he knew they were proud of him and let it go at that. As for the rest of it, his life off the mat, they simply took it as a given that Carter and I were brothers and would be together forever.
Brady's were a different story. Living only ten miles from campus, they showed up at every one of our home meets and all the away ones that were within a couple hours' drive. Mrs. Martin was a sweetheart, the kind who'd bake cookies for the entire team, if she could get any of us to eat one while we were in training. Mr. Martin though... he had some issues. He was the classic sports dad who lived vicariously through his son, to the point where he even started hitting the weights and muscling up again once Brady was in high school. You'd swear he thought he was part of the team too. And he seemed to like hanging around young wrestlers just a little too much.
As long as his wife was around he was more or less under control, but with a couple weeks left in the season Brady's mom had gone off to Rochester to be with her nine-months-pregnant sister. His dad had shown up solo to the Michigan meet and was so blatantly dogging after the guys with a half-hard dick I thought we'd have to strap him down. If we hadn't been busing back to campus that night from Ann Arbor, who the fuck knows what the guy might've done?
Everybody on the team loved Brady. He was a great wrestler and such a sweet guy, and he treated them all like his brothers, whether they were family members or not. It was sad to hear them joking about his dad behind his back. At least nobody said anything to his face, but he could see how dad was acting and it embarrassed him all to hell.
This weekend we'd be hosting Wisconsin for Senior Night, our last home meet of the season. And Brady's mom was still away in Rochester. We had a pretty good idea things would come to a head, unless we found a way to head him off.
Willis came to our room in the evening to talk things over with Carter. He'd already had to fend off an endless number of shoulder squeezes and neck rubs and creepy hugs from the guy, and he was afraid that with the season almost over, Mr. Martin would go into overdrive. But this just wasn't something he felt he could talk to Brady about. Nobody wants to go to his true brother and say, "Hey man, can you get your dad to stop hitting on me?"
"I dunno what has to happen, but something does," he told Carter. "I'm just afraid if it comes from me, it'll end up hurting more than it helps."
Carter thought for a minute, trying to play the Solomon act. When no light bulb magically appeared he decided to go for a different perspective. He shed his T-shirt and workout shorts and climbed up into his bunk.
"Come on," he said. "Hop up in here with me."
Willis cracked a smile and stripped down, hoisted himself up and flopped down beside Carter on the mattress. Every boy trusts his mentor to come up with the answers to his problems and getting naked together always sounds like a good way to start. If it turned out to be something that couldn't be solved on the spot, well, at least he'd go back to his room with a smile on his face.
I watched discreetly from my desk chair as my brother wrapped his arms around his boy. Willis closed his eyes and rested his head on Carter's chest. He seemed to instantly relax, as if snuggling with his mentor made everything all right. Gotta say, I knew how he felt; I've never been so content as when Jase has his beefy arms around me.
My brother gently stroked his boy's back. "So, what do you think's going on? What's his problem?"
"I dunno, I guess he's tryin' to make up for whatever he thinks he missed out on when he was young."
"He wrestled in college too?"
"Yeah... some MAC team. Ball State I think, back when they had one. They weren't very good, and he wasn't their star wrestler."
"Uh huh. He's looking for a do-over on his college career." Carter gave him a minute before pushing for more. "But it's not just the wrestling, right?"
Willis let out a deep sigh. "Well, sure. Mostly it's not. I mean at least he got to wrestle. But he sees how it is with Brady and me, and that's what I think he really missed out on. He probably wanted to fuck his teammates back in school. So now he wants to fuck me. Or somebody. Anybody, from what I can tell."
"So... what should we do?"
"I dunno. Find him a wrestler to fuck."
My brother smiled. "Who'd want to make that sacrifice?"
"Andy," I blurted out. I didn't want to make it obvious I was listening in on them but I couldn't help myself. They both turned and stared at me, a little bit shocked.
"Currock?" Carter scowled. "You're not serious."
"Why not? He loves taking wrestler cock, and Brady's dad was a wrestler. He was hot for Coach Wilson, wasn't he? I bet he'd go for it."
"Andy's not on the starting squad. Brady's dad doesn't even know him. You can't just set `em up on a blind date. How would you make it happen?"
I grinned. "But he's wrestling Friday night. Norris has a sprained knee. So, Brady's dad sees Andy all sweated up in a singlet... and you know damn well he's a smokin' hot little stud... it'll be easy."
"If Andy goes for it," Carter said.
Willis still looked doubtful. "What if one fuck isn't enough? What if it only makes him worse?"
I leaned back in my chair. "Don't worry. I'll work it out with Andy. We'll make sure Brady's dad gets enough to last him a lifetime."
Carter seemed more than a little skeptical but Willis was satisfied. He ducked his head down and began happily licking my brother's cock, slid it into his mouth and sucked away. No sense being shy about anything now; I turned my chair fully around and settled in to watch the show. Soon enough Carter was gripping two handfuls of shaggy hair and firing a load down his boy's eager throat. Willis sucked and swallowed and drank him dry and the two of them cuddled up; my brother latched onto Willis's meat and jacked him until he gave up a nice hot serving of cream.
See how easy problems get solved when you've got a whole family behind you?
The next step was for me to get Andy on board. I stopped by his room after our strength training session the next morning. Willis wanted to come too and maybe I should have let him; they'd been buddies since the beginning of their redshirt year. But I thought this was something I should handle one on one. I told Andy we needed his help, and he said he'd lend a hand in any way he could.
"You've seen Brady's dad, right? Mr. Martin?"
"Oh sure. He's a hot daddy."
I smiled. This would be even easier than I thought.
"Yeah, he's in good shape. He wrestled back in the day too, not a top program or anything but Division I."
"He looks like it! I was thinking he probly was..." Andy's eyes were all lit up, replaying the visual in his head.
"The problem is, his wife's away and he's horned as fuck. He's been thirsting after nearly every guy on the team. He wants to fuck a hot wrestler ass."
"Seriously?"
I nodded. "Yeah. We need to find somebody who's willing to get boned. Doesn't have to be his weight class or anything, as long as he likes older guys..."
"Meee!" Andy bubbled. "Let me, I'll do it! I'll give him the fuck of his life!"
"Good man. That's just what I was hoping for. He'll be at our meet on Friday night so he`ll definitely get a good look at you. But you'll have to wrestle hard to catch his eye and get his juices flowing."
"I'll wrestle like a goddamn hurricane! I'll have his daddy cock doing flipflops!"
It was hard to keep from laughing. "I should warn you, I'm not sure he's ever fucked a guy before, he might be pretty incompetent."
"No problem. It won't be my first time giving lessons. If nothing else I'll just hold the fucker down and ride `im till he blows!"
"One thing though, Brady can't know anything about this. It's just between us, okay? I don't want him knowing his dad's out there banging his teammates."
"Gotcha. I'll keep it DL."
"And one other thing too... I don't want him having such a good time he keeps coming back for more of the same, with you or anybody else. So it's not gonna end quite the way he wants it to. Can you work with us on that?"
Andy grinned. "As long as I get his cock in me, I'm down."
Friday night was here before we knew it, and we couldn't have been any luckier. Andy was wrestling up a weight at 141. I'd been afraid he'd get his ass handed to him and look like a fool, but Wisconsin's starter at 141 was out of the lineup too. He might've been injured in training, or maybe sitting one out to give all the little stresses and strains of the season a chance to heal. This close to the end, nobody wants to risk missing Big Tens or NCAAs by getting racked up in a meaningless dual meet.
Their sub was a true freshman. He had a few pounds on Andy but not so much mat experience at the college level. And Andy was far more motivated. All the other kid had to worry about was his scholarship, a vague abstraction that wouldn't even matter to him for months, while our boy was wrestling for a good hard fuck that very night.
From the whistle, Andy was all over him. The poor kid never stood a chance. He was put on the mat so many times he'd be tasting Resilite for a week. Takedowns, mat returns, Andy worked him like a tackle dummy. Every attempt he made to escape ended in utter failure. Every time he tried to mount an offense, he found himself turned around backwards.
Andy won by major decision, one of only two majors our team would score that night. He ended the match all charged up and drenched with sweat, oozing enough testosterone and pheromones to fill the arena. And fuck yeah, he was showing a nice stiff bulge in his singlet too. The ref raised his arm and he pumped the air with his fist, peeled that soaked-through singlet halfway down and busted out a double-biceps pose for the crowd, grinning hugely.
I glanced up into the stands to check on Mr. Martin. His eyes were glazed over. His suburban, middle-aged daddy ass was mesmerized.
There were seven more matches to get through before the real show began, but I was betting Andy made an impression that wouldn't be forgotten. The match ended, a close one but we squeaked out an underdog win. We lined up for team handshakes and then hung around for the Senior Night stuff while the Badgers slinked away.
If this was Iowa or Penn State things could've been a lot trickier. The up side of having not so many fans is that we were much more accessible to the audience afterward. Our wrestling arena was pretty small; all we ever got in the bleachers was a handful of friends and family, and a few guys from campus who'd wrestled in high school and were hooked on watching muscled up guys in Spandex roll with each other. We hung at the sidelines and they all came down from their seats. Naturally Brady's dad was wasting no time.
Andy homed in on him like radar. Mr. Martin stopped to congratulate his son first -- he'd won his match too -- but Andy was hanging close, just out of reach, glancing over with purposeful eyes and nudging smiles that couldn't be ignored. Andy was a flat out gorgeous guy, handsome as a fucking movie star and with a body that'd make a dead man drool. Brady's dad's eyes kept straying and straying, drinking him in, stirring up feelings that rocketed straight to his crotch.
As soon as he'd finished with Brady, the man couldn't help but take a step toward Andy, who moved in quickly to seal the deal. There were the standard compliments on his match and awkward small talk about the team, with our boy locked in on the man's eyes the whole time and never letting go. He stood close enough to give daddy a whiff of his musk, rising up again long after he'd showered. Close enough that it wouldn't be obvious to anyone who wasn't looking for it when his hand slyly drifted over and brushed against Mr. Martin's half-hard cock bulging in his pants.
There were a few words spoken, none of which were explicitly sexual but leaving no doubt where they were headed. There were unmistakable looks exchanged, and more barely-concealed rubbing of that now-fully-grown bulge. Andy's warmup was zipped halfway down his breastbone; he was showing off the cleavage of his smooth, creamy pecs in a way Mr. Martin couldn't possibly resist. I was a little afraid the guy would break down and attack him right then and there.
"We hafta go to the locker room for Coach Wilson's wrap-up talk," Andy said. "It'll only be a few minutes. Why don't you wait for me outside, over by the parking lot?"
Daddy nodded, his eyes all over that little stud's body. He'd be there all right.
The tricky part was getting Brady out of the way so he wouldn't key into what was going on. When Coach let us go, we surrounded him -- Carter and me, Willis, Travis and Justin and their boys -- and marched him back to the dorm in a big group, all of us poking and prodding him, joking around, putting on a show of high spirits for winning the meet but really distracting him from noticing anything else that might be going on.
Luckily Andy's dorm room was on the floor below ours so there was no danger of meeting in the hallway. He brought daddy in through the back entrance and sneaked him up the stairs. His roomie had already cleared out for the night; he'd been alerted that something was up. Andy closed the door behind them and started shedding his clothes. In moments he was standing bare ass naked, presenting a picture-perfect sculpted body and a raging stiff cock.
Daddy's eyes gaped wide. He tore off his clothes as quick as he could, got hung up a couple times stepping out of shoes and pant legs and underwear but managed to get everything off. Andy wasn't waiting. He rushed in and mashed their naked bodies together, grinding cock against cock, grabbing ass cheeks, planting lips on lips and sparring tongue against tongue. Daddy responded powerfully, almost overwhelmed by the young stud's energy but loving the feeling of all that lean muscle, gripping him tightly, displaying his own strength and his hunger.
Andy steered him to the bunk and tackled him onto the mattress. They made out with each other aggressively, arms and legs tangling and entwining, bodies clashing, hands gripping and squeezing and fondling. Our boy attacked dad's nipples, first licking and nibbling and then biting and gnawing; daddy reeled from the unexpected onslaught of sensations, pain and pleasure intermingling, Andy's grunts and growls heightening his arousal and lust. If his cock had ever been harder, it'd been too long ago to remember.
Next came a direct assault on his cock, the fat head glistening with precum swabbed by Andy's tongue, his thick shaft gliding into Andy's lips inch by inch, disappearing into his mouth and sliding all the way down his gullet. The poor goofball never had a real blow job in his life, not from a man, only from women who didn't like doing it and had no clue what it felt like. He twitched and jerked uncontrollably as Andy worked his meat in ways he'd never imagined, tickling and fondling his balls all the while, and teasing his sensitive, timid hole.
Daddy may or may not have been ready but Andy sure was; he needed that cock inside him. He snagged his bottle of lube and greased dad's shaft, then slicked up his own fingers and plunged them up his chute. No time for nonsense, he pinned the man's shoulders to the mattress and straddled him, lowered his hole to the tip of that cock and shoved it in, jamming down on him in one quick motion. Daddy moaned desperately as Andy rocked back and forth and bounced on him like a cowboy; nobody rode cock better. The little stud's eyes rolled back as he pounded on his G-spot with dad's stiff meat. For dad it was the fantasy of a lifetime; for our boy, another day, another hot dick.
"Oh fuck yeah!" Andy cried out. "Fuck me, daddy! Gimme that hot cock!" He was doing all the work but playing his role like a pro. Dad was so wrecked in body and soul he barely had the strength to whimper.
Soon enough Andy was reading the signs that said dad wouldn't last much longer. He gripped his cock and jacked himself as he rode, his cock head swelling and his slit gaping open right before daddy's eyes. Suddenly the little stud jolted and unleashed, blasting a spurt of cum that smacked dad square in the face. His hole clamped down and daddy lost it, pouring his load into Andy's guts as spurt after spurt of young wrestler cum splattered onto his neck and chest and abs.
"Oh fuck, fuck! I'm blowing my load! I'm blowing my load!" Andy cried at the top of his lungs. And that was the signal.
The door burst open with a huge bang and two gorillas barreled into the room, Kyle and Justin, shirtless and bristling with testosterone and yelling holy hell.
"WHAT THE FUCK'S GOING ON HERE? WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT TEENAGE KID, YOU GODDAMN PERVERT???"
Andy rolled off the bunk stifling giggles while daddy went into shock, cowering and shaking and curling up into a ball.
"THAT'S MY FUCKING TEAMMATE! YOU DON'T MESS AROUND WITH MY TEAMMATE, YOU FUCK!!!"
The two thugs grabbed the bunk bed and shook it, threatening to turn the whole thing over. Each snagged one end of the mattress and they yanked it off the frame, dumping Brady's dad onto the floor. He stared up at them in abject terror as they roared and sputtered and raged.
"GET YOUR GODDAMN CLOTHES ON AND GET OUTTA HERE, YOU FUCKIN' PERV! IF I EVER CATCH YOU AROUND ONE OF MY TEAMMATES AGAIN -- IF I CATCH YOU EVEN LOOKIN' AT ONE -- I'LL RIP YOUR ASS OPEN SO WIDE YOU'LL BE SHITTIN' WATERMELONS!!!"
Daddy scrambled to gather up his clothes and pull them on. He'd barely got his pants buttoned when those big apes feinted a charge at him, and he snagged the rest and bolted out the door, still dripping with Andy's cum. He hauled ass down the hall as fast as his two bare feet would carry him, hit the stairwell and raced down one flight after another, out the door and across the quad to his car like the hounds of hell were chasing after him.
Carter and I, Travis, Tanner, Ric and Jase were all waiting just outside Andy's door; dad had sprinted right past us, so blind with fright he didn't even see. We flooded into the room to congratulate the players on a job well done, howling with laughter and trading jokes about Mr. Martin's big night on campus. The two big goons were grinning, arms around each other's shoulders like they'd just won a championship match. Andy lounged on his bunk, still bare ass naked.
It was a harsh thing to do to but it'd been necessary. The guy was only getting worse. He'd become a threat to the whole family's stability at a critical point in the season; he had to be shut down before somebody got hurt. We couldn't let anybody come between our brothers. Parents might've been a big deal once, but now we're here for each other.
The guys were slowly winding down. Jase and Kyle had already headed on home, and the rest were beginning to drift back to their own rooms. Andy slumped over in his bunk, looking a little bit sulky.
"Somethin' the matter?" Justin asked.
Andy shrugged. "I always like to cuddle a guy after a good fuck."
The big guy snorted. "Well fuck, I'll cuddle with ya! Move over!" He kicked off his flipflops, dropped his shorts and climbed in while the rest of us cleared out to let them finish the evening in peace.
Next morning at our strength training session, Brady pulled me aside.
"Thanks for last night," he said. "He needed it."
I never would find out who told him or how much he knew. It didn't matter. I nodded and let it go.
"I'm just trying to take care of my boys -- all of `em," I told him.
Well, another obstacle successfully cleared. The guys are closing in on the end of the season now, and soon they'll be getting ready for the championship tournaments. It's always a wild time with lots of runaway emotions, a few meltdowns, and plenty of supercharged hormones to keep them busy and stir up the usual amount of trouble. 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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