Alone with the Wrestler

Jim Carmody was on his way to a slaughter. His own. As he walked down the street to meet his master, he knew what was waiting for him when he entered the house at the end of Merritt Road, and for most people, even imagining what was going to happen would have sent them running in the opposite direction.

Jim Carmody was not most people, and as he made his way up the empty driveway his heart was already beating fast. There was no car in the driveway, because the couple that shared the house with their only son were not home, and they would not return until late that night, or early the next morning. Their son was old enough to take care of himself.

That fact would be proven shortly, and Jimmy Carmody knew that better than anyone. He would be walking back down this same driveway a few hours later, and would be moving with a lot less bounce in his step.

Jimmy's body would be aching from head to toe, bruised and abused in every way after being dominated by a man whose physical attributes made the end result obviously from the start, but both the abused and the abuser would be completely satisfied with the result by evening's end.

Perhaps both Jim Carmody and his friend and wrestling teammate, Kevin Tracey were destined to find each other, and once they realized that, they were using each other at every opportunity, and loving every minute of it.

We can only guess at what Kevin Tracey's innermost feelings were regarding these meetings with Jimmy, although there was little question about how much he enjoyed them, but Jimmy was open about what he got out of it. Here is his story.

****

Chapter One: What's wrong with you?

That's the question that many people would ask, if they knew about my real relationship with Kevin Tracey, that is. To the world we seem to be quite normal, or at least as far as high school seniors go in 2010.

We're both 18, high school seniors and teammates on our school's wrestling team. That's what got us together at the beginning, and frankly that's all we have in common, because we're as opposite as two guys can be.

Kevin is handsome, and is one of the most popular guys in our school, having been Student Council President every year we've been at Wells High School, and I suspect that he'll be the King at our Prom in June as well.

Me? I'm more of a nerd. Definitely NOT handsome, and while I'm no longer the 98 pound weakling that got me picked on constantly in my early years, the girls don't line up to bat their eyelashes at me to try and get my attention like they do to Kevin. My somewhat over-sized ears, buck teeth and faint acne scars don't help either.

That's alright with me, though, because while I'll probably end up going to the prom with one of the more desperate females at school, my attendance will only be the result of my Mom's nagging, along with a desire to maintain my cover.

Who would I want to go to the Prom with? That's simple. Kevin. In a perfect world I would be holding his hand and dancing every dance with him, but this world isn't perfect, and something like that just isn't done in this sleepy hamlet nestled in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York.

Kevin wouldn't do anything like that anyway, or at least that's what he would say. He likes women - loves women - and has the notches on his bedpost to prove it. If he wants a girl, he gets her, and he wants a lot of them, but I know how he is with me. It's our little secret.

So I let Kevin pretend that he's strictly a macho man, and that he only spends time with me out of habit, or when he doesn't have a date. Sometimes he says it's because that he feels sorry for me. It's all part of the game. Seems I must like the emotional abuse too.

How did we happen? I guess it goes way back to junior high, when I happened past the gym after school and saw the guys at wrestling practice. I think I must have just gotten tormented, or beaten up AGAIN by one of the knuckle-draggers at school, and I was trying to figure out a way to avoid spending the rest of my life as a human punching bag.

Long story short - the gym teacher/wrestling coach gets me to try out for the team, and I end up making the squad. That says a lot about the shape of our school team more than my skill level at the time. I think I only made it because I could make the 103 pound weight limit back in eighth grade.

Now a senior, I'm up to 119 pounds but still only around 5'5". My wrestling record isn't spectacular, but I win more than I lose, and getting to wear a jacket with a big W on it does help my self-esteem somewhat, even if my body looks kind of lost in the school jacket, which was the smallest they make.

Kevin's wrestling career is something else. Undefeated in our conference throughout high school, he almost won his 189 pound weight class last year, and after adding even more strength while maintaining his weight, he's going to be almost impossible to beat this year.

His body was what attracted me to Kevin from the start. It certainly wasn't his mind, because while he's not stupid, he isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. That's probably why I end up helping him with his homework, and have even done it for him on more than one occasion. The gulf in our academic prowess is the exact opposite of our athletic skills.

Even now, having spent all these years in close proximity with him, it takes a lot of willpower to avoid gawking at Kevin when we shower at school. Kevin Tracey has a physique that makes jaws drop, and that's not just me either. I enjoy watching guys from other schools who haven't seen him in person when we're in the locker room at tournaments.

Oh sure, they've seen his picture in the paper and in some magazines, but seeing this man in person is a whole different ballgame, either when you're looking across the mat at him or seeing him in the shower.

Kevin's just shy of 190 pounds, and there's not an inch of fat on his six foot frame, which looks like the inspiration for some of those Greek statues I've seen. His shoulders are wide, his arms and legs are massive and has a 19" neck. As for the other parts?

I still remember like it was yesterday, that first time I saw Kevin nude. I was filled with all of the insecurities many that guys my age have, and seeing Kevin standing under the spray of the shower that day did absolutely nothing to put those fears to rest.

He was a man among boys back then, and even today that description rings true. Those muscular calves of Kevin's are coated with thick black hair that feels so coarse to the touch, contrasting with the mat of hair that covers his chest, which has more of a softer feel to it. He's even getting hair on his back now as well, and while I don't think he cares for that, I love it.

What catches one's eye most of all is Kevin's cock, and I've seen men of all ages do double takes when they first set eyes on it. I can only imagine what their reaction would be if they ever saw it like I have, fully engorged and waving ominously in front of him like a sword.

Even flaccid, Kevin's penis has to be over six inches long, and it gets even longer and thicker when aroused. The pulsating vein that winds down from the base of his enormous cock halfway up the thick shaft adds to the intimidation factor, and the fat cone-shaped head of it has to make people wonder how he manages to fit that thing in anywhere.

It does fit, however. It fits everywhere Kevin wants it to fit, and there are at least a dozen girls in Wells that are testimony to that fact, along with me.

....

Chapter Two: The evolution of us.

Kevin took a liking to me from the start. He says it was out of pity, because I was so puny and pathetic so he took me under his wing and tried to help me improve my wrestling technique, and in the beginning he was a lot of help.

Kevin actually did make me the wrestler I am today, and any success I've enjoyed is mostly due to him. He's worked with me on my escape moves, as well as getting to improve my offensive arsenal. In the beginning, he even let me pretend I could actually do some of the things he let me use on him. It was good for my confidence back then, but we don't work out against each other in public any more. We save that for private times, in the basement of his house.

There's a big mat that covers much of the concrete floor of the cellar, and that's where our workouts take place. My body has been slammed on almost every inch of that mat, and my blood, sweat and tears have rained on that very same surface during each of our workouts.

Our matches down in the cellar aren't anything like high school wrestling affairs, where there's a referee and the guys wear headgear. That kind of wrestling has rules, rules designed to insure the safety of the combatants and with the spirit sportsmanship and fair play in mind.

Our matches? To put it mildly, our battles are the exact opposite of that. There are no rules, at least none that I know of. It's more like a Vince McMahon extravaganza without the bad acting, with bodies getting slammed into the mat and limbs being stretched and twisted to the breaking point.

How does that work out for me? Well, consider that I'm a half foot shorter than Kevin, he outweighs me by about 70 pounds, and has biceps that are the size of my thighs, and then take a guess. It's a complete mismatch from beginning to end, with Kevin showing little mercy at any point.

Why would somebody not only allow such a thing to happen to them, but actually walk almost a mile to the guy's house to let them do it? I guess the answer is obvious. I like it. More accurately, I love it.

I enjoy giving everything I've got while attempting to somehow beat Kevin, and I can't remember ever leaving that basement when I didn't ache from head to toe as a result of my efforts. If I ever found myself thinking that I had absolutely no chance emerge victorious, I'm not sure that I could keep coming back for more. I think that that there's a possibility, as remote as that may be, so I keep returning.

Now I'm knocking on the door, and in a few seconds Kevin will appear to let me in. We'll talk for a while before heading down to the cellar with a couple of large bottles of water, and then we will take off our clothes before starting to wrestle.

What do we wear for these matches? Nothing. We used to wear shorts and tank-tops, but after a time we started to skip the shirts. From there, it was decided to just wear athletic supporters, but Kevin finds them too restrictive so now we don't bother wearing anything at all.

We almost got caught by Kevin's parents one night, when they returned home unexpectedly, but we managed to get shorts on in the nick of time before his Mom came down the stairs. His folks are pretty cool but I imagine that seeing us rolling around the mat naked might have freaked them out.

Kevin is wearing a tank-top that is so tight that it looks like it was painted on him, and after looking at him for a few seconds I can feel my dick getting hard already, so I try to think about something else - anything besides the Adonis I'm talking to.

Kevin is anxious tonight, and wasts no time in getting me downstairs. I carry the water bottles while he carries the other essential item, a large tube of Astroglide which I will place next to the water bottles after I'm done with it.

"You don't even have to use that on me if you ever win. If I ever lose to you I would deserve the pain," Kevin told me long ago. "Although with your needle dick I probably wouldn't even feel it."

Kevin likes to make fun of my genitalia, often referring to my cock and balls as my "twig and berries," because he knows that pisses me off. In reality, my dick is just about six inches long when erect, and on my small frame that actually looks pretty big. I shave the hair around the base of my dick to make it look bigger as well, but if you're naked with Kevin Tracey, any attempt at comparison would be ludicrous.

...

Chapter Three: We meet

Now we are downstairs, and while Kevin spends a moment loosening up to prepare for our match, stretching and bending his torso, I try not to look. If I stare too much at Kevin, I'll get an erection, and that really seems to irritate him. The sight of me with my dick pointing at him before we even touched one time had me getting body-slammed hard onto the mat so fast it wasn't funny.

Erections during the matches are different, at least in Kevin's mind, because of the clashing and grinding of bodies. Good thing that they are permitted, because I get them every time. Kevin does too, usually.

So while Kevin limbers up, I do a little preparation myself, sliding a couple of oiled fingers into my ass and making sure that I'm well lubricated beforehand. I suppose that would indicate a lack of confidence on my part, but sometimes after winning, Kevin is so aroused that doesn't get as thorough as he should there so I do a little prep work before we start. Besides, I like the way it feels

It's warm down in the basement tonight, and that gives me a bit of an advantage because when we sweat my smooth body gets a little harder to hang onto. Kevin, being as hairy as a bear, doesn't get any more slippery, so if I can actually get a hold on him, it will only be his brute strength to credit when he breaks free.

After Kevin nods to me that he's ready, we move toward each other. Kevin is in a crouched position, glaring at me and trash-talking as he watches me dance around him in a clockwise manner. I'm on my toes, trying to use my quickness to keep him off-guard.

We used to start off in the traditional position we have to use in school, but it made the matches even more lopsided than they are now, because once we get down on the mat, I'm at his mercy and he overpowers me. It didn't matter whether we started with him in the defensive position and me on top, the result was the same.

Now as I pace around Kevin, I can sense him starting to get a bit annoyed. He wants to get his hands on me and break me, and with me dancing around I'm hoping he gets too eager and leaves himself open for me to try something. It's a move I saw on the MMA show on TV, and while even trying it in school would get me thrown out for life, this isn't school wrestling. It's Kevin's basement and there are really no rules, except for the privates.

Only having tried this move by myself, I didn't have the greatest amount of confidence in what I was attempting to do, so I was in a state of shock when my spinning kick landed squarely around Kevin's collarbone, and ended up watching Kevin's stunned reaction to me sending him a couple of steps backwards for a second.

Finally realizing what I had done, I slid alongside of Kevin and leg whipped him. Like a tree going down in slow motion, I watched him lose his balance and fall forward, with me on the mat behind him with my leg wrapped around his.

I yelled out something as Kevin cried out in shock, even more surprised than I was by what had just taken place. I was on top of Kevin a second after he hit the mat, trying to wrap my legs around his thighs while my arm went around his neck in a choke hold.

I used every bit of strength in an attempt to cut off his oxygen enough to make him submit. How I wanted to hear him cry out, "Enough!" or watch him slap my arm or the mat and concede. That was how these matches always ended, and I knew the routine, since I was always the one giving up.

This was different, as I really had a grip around his throat. Kevin was slapping at me, swinging his elbows while trying to spin out of trouble, but I hung on with all my might. Kevin began to try and get up, and I think that was a result of what was going on below.

My erect dick was wedged between Kevin's furry ass cheeks, and I think I might have even gotten the tip of my cock against his balloon knot, and that might have been what gave Kevin an extra boost of energy as the adrenaline rush kicked in.

I kept trying to shift my weight as Kevin struggled to get up to his knees, because I knew that if Kevin got up to his feet, I was doomed. He would simply fall backwards, crushing me between him and the mat, and I would probably get the wind knocked out of me and spend the rest of the match getting abused.

Kevin tried and failed to get up a couple of times, and I had tears trickling out of my eyes that last time from the excitement of being in control. I obviously didn't have a tight enough grip on Kevin's throat, or else he would have been out cold by now, but had managed to attach myself onto his back like a leech.

My cock remained stuck between his ass cheeks during all of this, and the feeling of domination along with Kevin's hairy body was keeping me on the brink of orgasm even though my cock wasn't inside of Kevin.

It was then that I got greedy. I reached my right hand down Kevin's stomach as he squirmed his lower torso up while trying to keep the choke hold on him. My hand found his cock just as I suspected, hard and throbbing, curved up a bit towards his stomach.

Kevin groaned after I seized his cock in my fist and began pumping it frantically, trying to make him cum, hoping that would sap his strength. He let out a roar, but it wasn't from an orgasm. Instead, Kevin managed to get to his knees and after letting out that bellow, lurched upward and fell backwards in an abbreviated version of the move I had feared.

It worked. As we fell backwards, Kevin sent an elbow to my ribcage and it was all over. Winded, I lost my grip on Kevin and went skidding over to the edge of the mat. When I looked up at Kevin, his face beet red and his body dripping wet, I hardly recognized him.

I took it as long as I could as for the next few minutes while Kevin treated my body as if I were a combination rag doll and punching bag. The sounds his palms made sounded worse than they were, but still stung my chest when they landed.

Kevin pulled me up just to hip-toss me back down to the mat, and then proceeded to get me in some kind of bow and arrow position where his knee was in the small of my back while he pulled my opposite arm and leg backward.

It hurt, but nothing like the leg lock he put on me, stretching my other leg while cackling with the confidence that I was his. A full nelson drove me down to the mat again after I had somehow squirmed to a sitting position, and my shoulders cried out in pain as my muscles were stretched to the limit with the weight of Kevin on top of me to boot, and when I felt his body cover me I knew what was coming next.

***

Chapter Four: The end is at hand.

I had nothing left. Those minutes when I actually had Kevin in trouble were becoming a distant memory, and I was in my familiar position of eating the mat while emotionally preparing myself for the inevitable when Kevin suddenly let go of the full nelson and brought his arm around my neck while dragging me to my feet.

For a brief second I thought Kevin was going to put me to sleep, choking off my carotid artery, and that was something that we never really played around with. Kevin wasn't doing that, however, but had me in a secure chin-lock as he led me off to the full length mirror at the far end of the mat.

I was a sight, my body had gone from pale white to beet red in the course of my efforts, and I was dripping with sweat. From behind, towering over me, Kevin's hairy arm was wrapped around my neck, and I was surprised to see that he looked a little the worse for wear as well.

Both of our eyes went lower, to where my dick was pointing straight at the mirror, fully engorged like it had been for most of our match. This wasn't unusual, but what happened next was.

Kevin's left arm stayed around my neck, under my chin and applying enough pressure to keep me under control, but his right arm slid down my slippery body. Kevin grabbed my dick and squeezed it hard, grinding his furry body against my back as his fingers moved.