The NCAAs were held in Baltimore this year. It didn't make a difference to us except that's where they were; it was another big generic arena same as always, with the same crowd in the stands, same patchwork of eight mats on the floor, same TV cameras, same goddamn scene.
Strolling into the locker room on Thursday morning was a little bit like coming home. There they all were, the studs of the nation packed in like beefed-up and leaned-out sardines, peeling off clothes, weighing in, pulling on their singlets. Everyone acting stoic as fuck, aiming to intimidate each other with raw muscle and dangling cocks and carefully constructed displays of unconcern. I couldn't wait to join the mix. As soon as we'd scored our lockers I stripped down to my compression shorts and took a long lap through the room with a half-hard dick bulging in my Spandex, sizing up the competition and showing off. Trading glances with familiar faces and bodies, sharing smiles with a couple friends, throwing blank looks at a handful of bitter rivals.
This was my third year competing at nationals. The first time I'd come out of nowhere and finished third in my weight class; I was a hero for a minute or two, and they interviewed me on ESPN. Last year didn't go so well. You could say my losses were "quality" losses, I got a bad draw, I represented myself well. But the only thing that mattered was I didn't finish in the top eight, didn't make it to the podium. Didn't repeat as an All American. If the TV announcers had mentioned me at all, it was only as a footnote. The guy who showed such promise a year before and didn't come through.
If my name came up this time, I'd be labeled inconsistent. They'd be wondering with smug ass tones, "Which Ryan Cole is gonna show up?"
But what the holy fuck do they know anyway? Yeah they might've been wrestlers and coaches once themselves, but you can't really understand what goes on in a wrestling match unless you're in it. They know it as well as I do. Every single match is different. You can't possibly know the feeling of muscle grinding on muscle and hot breath on each other's necks, the smell of each other's sweat, the panting and grunting. Calling a wrestling match from up in the stands is like watching internet porn. You might remember being with a guy who looked about the same, you might recognize all his moves, but you don't ever really know what it's like to fuck him.
Carter was on his third trip to the NCAAs just like me, and so was Travis, and so was Justin. Brady was seeing it all for the first time, his eyes as big as dinner plates, but he was good at tagging along and following our lead. We five were the only ones from our school who qualified. Maybe Willis would make it next year. For now though, it was just us, and we stuck together like glue.
Our lives had been focused on this and nothing else for eleven days, ever since we made it through the Big Tens. I'd gone back on my special training schedule but we'd taken it to a higher level. It wasn't only Jase and me. Duncan had joined in too.
The two of them had worked me relentlessly, tag teaming me through each session. As soon as I wore out one of them, the other was ready to jump in. We wrestled naked. Duncan insisted on it. He said going fully bare would heighten my self-awareness, make me really feel every inch of my body as well as my opponent's. And with those two bare ass bull studs sharing the mat with me, I sure had no complaints.
"Train as you compete" is the well-known athlete's mantra. I wouldn't be oiled up in Louisville, so we didn't use it in training; we only had sweat to slicken our skins. As for the singlets, well, that was different. It could only help to approach my opponents as if we were wrestling naked. That's what Duncan told me, and it sure had worked out for him.
It also made things a lot more convenient when it came to the end of the session. The tag teaming didn't end with the wrestling drills. Those two would grease up their cocks and take turns plowing me every night; one would rail me and then the other, back and forth until each had filled me with seed. I didn't dare shoot my load until they both were done. I drew strength from it. I took their cum like it was giving me their power, their energy, their skills on the mat. As if I was being transformed.
It's bullshit superstition, I know, but it makes a good story. Wrestling's as much a head game as a test of strength and skill. If I convinced myself to believe it, how could it hurt?
In Louisville, my brothers and I were being pulled our separate ways. Coach Wilson and his staff were putting us each through our warm-up rituals, all according to schedule. Travis's match would be up first, then Brady, me, Carter, Justin, spread out through the morning. Lightest to heaviest, just like always. But with thirty-three wrestlers in each weight class and a fuckload of overtime matches, we sure couldn't time our prep work the same as at a regular meet. They were making sure we stayed loose, stayed active, stayed focused, and didn't get lethargic or burn ourselves out by the time we were called to the mat.
All of which meant when my first match came up, I hadn't been with the rest of the guys for quite a while. We'd all been off in our own worlds going through our separate routines and wrapped up in our own heads, even when we were only an arm's reach apart. That was good. More than anything else, the way to get through a tournament like this is to think of nobody but yourself.
I was seeded eighth in my bracket. In the opening round I was up against number twenty-five, a young guy from Pitt on his first trip to nationals. When the ref blew that whistle, I pounced. I took him by surprise and launched straight into an aggressive attack without even taking a moment to feel him out. He never recovered; I kept him on the run the entire match and put him away with a tech fall. A harsh introduction to the tournament for him, but the kid had to learn sometime. Welcome to the NCAAs.
In the second round I got lucky. A guy from Purdue, the twenty-fourth seed, had scored a major upset against number nine. He'd shown up ready to make a statement but I'd wrestled him twice before, I knew his moves and his weaknesses. I'd beaten him only six weeks ago. He was riding high on his first round win but you can't count on upsets all day. I played it conservative, let him wear himself out trying shit I could have anticipated in my sleep. Saved my strength until he was gassed and then took him to the mat and kept him there.
That was my Thursday, Day One of three. I hit the showers and regrouped with my brothers. Carter and Justin had won out too; Travis and Brady had each won their first match but went down in the second round.
I wasn't worried about Trav; he had Justin to keep his head on straight. He'd do fine tomorrow in the consolation rounds. But my boy was on his own. He was sharing a bed with Jase, which doesn't sound bad at all... except for the trainer and the assistant coach in the other bed two feet away. They'd be sleeping together but nothing more. There wouldn't be much chance for taking care of his needs.
"Why don't you come over to our room?" I offered. "For a while, anyway."
His eyes lit up. "Okay... as long as Carter doesn't mind."
I shot a glance to my brother. "He insists."
The three of us had shared a bed many times before, going all the way back to when Brady was still in high school. Carter loved having him around, maybe not as much as I did but every bit as sincerely. We'd taken his cock and given him ours, and we were all happy either way. Tonight though, there was a tradition to uphold.
"You know how it works," I told him. "We won both our rounds today. You lost your second one. Winner takes cock."
"Oh... right, but you guys are wrestling again in the morning. You still have a chance at making the finals. I don't wanna do anything that might fuck that up..."
"Relax, boy. You ain't that big."
We shed our gear and dove into bed. My brother and I put Brady in between us, laid him out flat on his back and went down on him. I took one of his balls into my mouth and Carter took the other, licking and sucking, our noses together rubbing the base of his shaft. Brady moaned and squirmed, loving every minute... and even more when our two tongues went after his cock. We licked him up and down, trading glances and silent giggles as Brady writhed and whimpered.
Carter and I traded off, one sucking his head and the other mouthing his shaft with thick wet lips. When we had him rock hard and dripping we migrated upward, nibbling his abs side by side and then each attacking a nipple, sucking and gnawing and chewing while Brady grunted and squirmed fitfully. There's nothing like teamwork.
My brother was first to snag the Vaseline. He greased Brady's shaft and greased his own hole, then handed it over to me so I could take care of mine. I held my boy down on the mattress with an arm across his chest while Carter straddled him, sat on his cock and slid it all the way in. He rocked back and forth on it, working it in and out as I locked lips with that sweet young stud, our tongues grappling and romping, one against the other.
Brady let out a pitiful moan. I knew he wanted so badly to shoot his load but held it back; he knew what was coming. When he looked to be reaching the critical stage, my brother and I traded places. Carter took care of him from the waist up while I plunged that meat straight up my pipe. Fuck, it felt good. Clean and fresh and young, just like my boy. It only made it hotter to me that he'd just been inside my brother.
And now that I had a good vantage point, I noticed Travis and Justin weren't lying there watching us anymore. The big guy was on all fours, and Trav was railing him from behind. Gotta love those little guys with the oversized cocks. He was giving his big brother a good pounding, and Justin was loving it. But I wasn't about to be outdone...
I rode my boy like a champ, gazing at that gorgeous muscled body and perfect smooth skin, loving the overexcited, desperate look in his eyes. I drove his meat into me as deep as I could, lighting me up from the inside out. It wasn't long before his whole body began to quake. His face turned beet red. He was on the brink.
Brady jolted and blew his juice into me, emptied himself completely. Carter held him down as he bucked and thrashed; I just bore down hard and let him gush into me, spurting again and again. When he'd finally finished, my brother and I jacked ourselves, spouted our cum all over his torso, and then got to work licking him clean. A team effort from start to finish.
We sandwiched Brady between us, cuddled with him a good long time and watched the show in the other bed. When the room had settled down and we were all ready to crash he slipped out from between us and into his clothes.
"You ready to win tomorrow?" I asked.
"Fuck yeah I am."
"Good. Tell Jase we took good care of you."
"Tell im if he's lonely I'll stop by an' give im one!" Justin cracked.
Brady threw a smirk back at us and bailed out the door.
Friday morning we woke up recharged and ready to go. Everybody was crackling with energy on the way to the arena, our legs pistoning like sewing machines. This was the day we'd either earn a trip to the podium or finish the season as nobody special.
My luck ran out early. In my first match of the morning I was up against the number one seed, a gorilla from Missouri who seemed unstoppable... I sure couldn't stop him anyway. To my credit I guess, it was one of those "quality losses" like I had last year; I was never completely out of the match and threatened a comeback all the way to the end. But it's never any fun to lose. I didn't want to end up as that hard luck guy again.
I'd need one more win today to become an All American, and another this evening to lift me above "just barely." I could sure use some focused attention from Jase, but with four other guys to see through their matches, I knew he wouldn't have time for anything too involved. Duncan was up in the stands, I could maybe call him down... but nah, this tournament was the high point of his year, and I didn't want to seem too needy. I sat on a bench in the locker room mulling over how to get myself back on track.
"Hey, Ryan!"
The voice was familiar but I couldn't quite place it. I turned, and there was Jack Stewart, the hot blond stud from South Dakota State who I'd wrestled and fucked the year before. He was flashing that bright white smile at me and had the Hollywood sparkle in his eyes just like always. I'd seen his name in the brackets but on the opposite end from mine. It made me feel instantly good to run into him, off the mat.
"Jack, great to see you. How's it going?"
He shrugged. "Just lost my quarterfinal. I'm fine though, I'll bounce back. You look like you could use a little pick-me-up, how about it?"
"Wha'd you have in mind?" That could mean a lot of things.
He laughed, stepped in close and grabbed my crotch. "What did you think?"
Jack led me to a toilet stall, one hand on my bulge the whole time. Peeled my singlet and shorts down, pushed me onto the seat and kneeled in front of me. He had my cock in his mouth before I knew it, licking and sucking and slurping. I buried my fingers in that beautiful blond hair and rubbed his head, massaged his traps and delts.
I don't know how I'd ever survive outside the wrestling community. We were all brothers, at one level or another. We understood one another. We knew what each other needed.
Jack was all business, shoving my cock down his throat like a starving man. He wanted to finish this quickly and I had no problem with that. I let him work me, gulping down my meat, squeezing my quads, torturing my head with his tongue. He looked up and gazed into my eyes with his lips snug around my shaft, skewering me with those deep blues, and I lost it right there.
I blurted out a quick warning and unleashed, poured a good hot load into his mouth. Jack swallowed it down, and kept on swallowing as I gave him one spurt after another. I gripped his shoulders and hung on as my body jerked and twitched. I felt utter relief, not just from blowing my load but from all the worries of the day.
When he'd sucked out the last of my seed and backed off, I pulled up my singlet and yanked his down. "Your turn," I said, wheeled him around and planted him on the toilet seat. Damn, I'd forgotten what a nice cock he had. I licked it end to end, slid it into my mouth and as far down my gullet as it would go.
I ate Jack's cock just as eagerly as he'd sucked mine. There was something truly gratifying about returning a favor. The world doesn't give you so many chances to do something for a guy that's at once so easy and so damn appreciated. I fucking loved sucking Jack; I loved knowing how good it made him feel. And when he sent a flood of thick hot cum swirling down my throat, I sucked and lapped and swallowed until I was sure I had it all.
He stood up and pulled up his singlet and we clinched for a moment, holding each other and exchanging a long soulful kiss. I knew my day would be a good one from here on out, win or lose.
"See you out there," he said with a smile, and trotted off.
I couldn't have been more ready for my next match. I was completely calm, intensely focused, well hydrated and loose. I figured the little extra shot of protein wouldn't hurt either.
My opponent was from the Air Force Academy, a polite and clean-cut kid who'd already performed above his level. It was almost a shame to beat him. I wrestled him ultra clean, displayed textbook sportsmanship, putting my faith in everything Jase and Duncan had taught me -- perfect balance, perfect timing, perfect skills. Slowed the match down to save energy, because my day wasn't going to end here. I dominated all seven minutes, put up a defense he couldn't penetrate and an offense he couldn't withstand. When I heard the final whistle and the ref raised my hand, my confidence was fully restored.
And then it was Jack and me, squaring off in front of the crowd. He'd won his match too, and now we'd be wrestling each other; we were both assured spots on the podium, we just didn't know yet in what order. Now we could wrestle for real, without any pressure to meet some all-important arbitrary goal. Now we could wrestle as friends, and it would be fun.
But that sure didn't mean we took it easy on each other. If anything, you go even harder when you wrestle a buddy, because he'd be disappointed as fuck if you didn't. Taking it easy on a guy is an insult; it's a show of disrespect. It means you don't think he could handle it if you went full bore. Jack and I didn't know each other that well, but we did in all the ways that really counted. We wrestled each other damn even, last year and this year too. We'd fucked and we'd swallowed each other's cum. How could I let a guy suck my dick if I didn't respect him on the mat?
In the end I squeaked by him by a point. It was a good way to end the day. He'd be wrestling for seventh place tomorrow, and I'd have one more match to decide if I was heading to the losers' bracket final. We shook hands at center like gentlemen and gave each other a quick hug to please the crowd, congratulated each other's coaches and trotted to the locker room.
On my way to the showers, Jack came up from behind me and attacked.
"You beat me again you fucker!" He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, gave me a big squeeze and a laugh. "Two goddamn years in a row!"
I looked him over with a smirk. "You planning to even the score?"
"Aw man, I'd love to, but I got somebody. A teammate, wrestles 184. He didn't make it through the morning. I'll have my hands full doin' damage control. How `bout you?"
"Yeah, I got somebody too. A couple somebodies, to be honest. Don't know how they did today, I've been wrapped up in my own shit, so... guess I'll find out soon,"
"Good luck! Oh, and... I'll be up against this guy from Indiana tomorrow, Baumer? Know anything about him?"
"Noah? Yeah, he's a brother. One of us, through and through. Enjoy!"
Jack busted out a grin. "Sweet."
When I regrouped with my brothers, I got the play-by-play. Brady was out; he'd won his first match in the morning but lost his second. The rest of them were still alive. They'd all secured spots on the podium, with one or two matches tomorrow to land them somewhere between third and eighth place.
This made things a little bit tricky in terms of the bedtime arrangements. Carter and I had wrestled dead even; we'd each lost in the quarters but won the next two. We knew Brady would need some cheering up, but after two long days of wrestling, neither of us felt like taking any more cock. Luckily my boy had us covered. He'd gone behind our backs and found the perfect solution.
Justin had ended the day with a loss in the semifinals, and Travis with a loss that put him in the running for seventh or eighth. They each could use an ego boost, and Brady's tight ass was perfect for the occasion.
My brother and I cuddled in our bed together while just a few feet away, Brady positioned himself on all fours and Trav and Justin greased their cocks. It was exciting to watch; seeing my boy with anybody aside from Willis and Carter and me was pretty rare and always special. I loved how eager the three of them were, two drooling over that gorgeous ass and the third breathlessly awaiting a pair of nice big cocks.
Travis was first in line. He pushed in slow and steady to make sure the boy was ready, and Brady let out a deep low hum to tell him to keep on coming. He wasn't halfway in before I felt Carter's fingers wrapping around my shaft, and I reached back and returned the favor. We stroked each other as we watched Trav slowly pumping that perfect ass, Brady's jaw hanging open and his eyes rolling back in his head, their muscles tensing and relaxing in rhythm as one served up cock and the other gladly took it.
I was mesmerized by the sight of Trav's meat all slick and shiny with coconut oil, disappearing into my boy's willing ass, gliding out and then driving in again. I'd have sworn his cock was a foot long if I hadn't taken it a few times myself; it always looked so big and thick on that tight little body. I instinctively stroked Carter's meat to his tempo; as I rubbed it up and down in my hand I pictured it gliding through Brady's hole, through the second ring, reaching deeper and deeper into his guts and drawing back out.
Meanwhile Justin was getting tired of waiting on the sidelines. He crowded in closer and closer looking to take his turn, finally nudging Trav aside. He aimed his horsecock at the target and eased it in slowly, careful not to overwhelm the boy but anxious to get inside him all the same. Brady stiffened, a little in shock at the sensation of that behemoth invading him, but Trav reached around and teased and tickled his balls and cock and the boy relaxed, opened himself wide and begged for more.
Soon enough he was moaning with pleasure. Justin railed him long and deep, and Brady sighed with relief on every stroke. I knew what he was feeling. Taking a cock that size wasn't easy. Justin knew how to be careful; he could stuff his monster-sized meat into you and make it seem like a perfect fit. Even so, taking that huge cock and liking it felt like quite an accomplishment, and Brady was rightfully proud of himself.
But Trav wasn't about to let Justin have all the fun. He gave his big brother a shove and they switched off again, back and forth every couple of minutes, both of them loving that sweet kid's ass. Brady only egged them on, begging them both to go deeper, harder, stronger, daring them to outdo each other.
Justin was the first to blow. I could tell it from six feet away, even with his big cock buried to the hilt inside my boy. He let out a bellow, twitched all over and went red in the face, sweat rolling off him in a torrent. His massive body jerked and quaked as he pitched out one slug of juice after another. Trav was ecstatic; he loved to watch his big brother shoot, and couldn't wait to take his turn. He plunged into Brady's hole, already filled with Justin's hot cum, and that alone was enough to push him over the edge. Trav erupted, emptied his balls completely and then kept squeezing and squeezing to wring them out dry.
And as soon as Trav began to shoot, Justin grabbed Brady's cock and started jacking. My boy had built up a pretty good load of his own through the course of the day and he blasted it out, hosing down the sheets, even splattering one of the pillows. Carter took the cue and jacked me hard, and I tightened my grip and gave him the same. Within the space of a few minutes, all five of us had flushed out our pipes and were ready for a good night's sleep.
Saturday was nothing extra special; we got back on the mat and finished out the tournament, and that was that. Justin finished third in his weight class, the goddamn showoff. Carter took sixth and I ended up fifth, not bad for an eighth-ranked seed. Travis landed in eighth, a respectable finish that twenty-five others in his weight class wished they could've had.
When they called my weight class to get our awards I looked around and grinned. There was Jack in seventh standing right next to me, and Noah in eighth at the opposite end. Nearly half the podium was taken by me and my long distance brothers.
Granted, it was the bottom half. But there was always next year.
Another season in the bag. What'll the guys ever do without wrestling practice, training sessions, and another meet to prepare for? Well, unless you're new here, you know they'll come up with something... and the off season is always a great time to try new things, stretch those horizons, and have a little unstructured fun. So stay tuned!
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