Wrestling Tim

Saturday, fight day, I woke erect, my room wreaking of cum, my jocks saturated with it. Tim filled my dreams all night. He was on me, sweaty and strong, controlling me. I couldn't tell if he was wrestling or fucking me but it was hot.

So much for abstention. I had read athletes shouldn't wank around competition time. The advice was to stay on edge, and angry, and use that to win. I resisted the intense urge to jerk off before sleep but Tim dominated my dreams. It was my fault though, I kept his dirty gym socks, the ones he placed in my gym bag. I used one as my cum rag and the other was by my pillow.

I needed to piss but I was still rock hard. My black jocks were bulging like never before. Was that me in the mirror? The gym was paying off, my 6ft 2 physique was well-muscled now, and my six-pack was coming on as well. More than anything else my cock was huge. Had excitement over Tim stretched it an inch or two?

Call it vanity, but I pulled my cock out over my trunks and stood there flexing my biceps and bouncing my pecs. At that moment I felt omnipotent, I could take Tim, have him, own him.

How could I take him though? I figured my height was an advantage, if I got behind him with a rear-naked choke, he would struggle below me. I could force him down, take his back, body scissors him too, and choke him into submission.

Tim would be stunned, he couldn't handle defeat, he would have to submit or it would be nap time for him. Once he submitted I would give him a taste of his own medicine, and subject him to a lengthy ordeal of physical and sexual submission.

I pictured him under me, on the ground after I had choked and body scissors him. My legs spreading his apart, his face still choked into my bicep. Would I make him jerk off or would I fuck his ass or both?

One thing was clear to me, I was feeling cocky, and this was going to be rough for Tim. Like any athlete waiting to compete, I felt nervous and excited. Preparation involved push-ups, squats, and a dumbell session. Followed by a protein-packed breakfast.

Tim messaged to say he was on his way over. It was time to set the room up. Fortunately, I rented the basement, it had a large sitting room and it led to a back garden. My flatmate went home at weekends, so it would be just the two of us!

I had two navy Adidas gym mats, soft enough to grapple on, I pulled the furniture away, clearing a perfect fight space. Plenty of water, food, gym gear, and condoms. Maybe I would fuck him bare though, and make him take the real thing!

Somehow I had managed to get my cock down, everything was ready, I went upstairs to watch out the window. Outside was beautiful, no one had disturbed the night's snow blanket. It was really quiet until I heard him stepping on the snow. No mistaking that physique from any vantage point. Tim was in his navy hoodie, big, wide, and hulk-like wearing his white rugby shorts, his thighs bulging with each step. He knew that display of leg power would freak me out. It did, I was hard again, my heart racing, a sense of fear too.

The bell sounded. I had to cover up with my grey track bottoms. I opened the door and he swallowed me with his stare. A look that was beautiful, youthful, rough, and masterful. He grinned: 'hope you're ready for me? I want a bit of a challenge?'

Words left me, I mumbled and welcomed him in. He sat opposite me and spread his legs wide. No matter how many times I had studied his legs, I never failed to be impressed. Perfection: thick, incredibly muscular, aesthetically beautiful, and covered with enough hair to state his manliness. No matter how hard you train it's impossible to match a lad with good leg genetics. Everything flows from strong legs even the production of testosterone. Tim had super perfect genetics and even before he ever trained, his quads, hamstrings, adductors, and calves were statuesque.

We made some friendly small talk but there was a nervous energy between us, part pre-fight nerves but mostly sexual excitement. I'm not sure if he noticed but he had his hands in his shorts and he was adjusting his package constantly. He reminded me of a jock version of some trackie lad with his hands down his joggers to state his manhood.

Tim wanted to see the mats. He was quick to tell me that's where he would throw me, dominate me, and own me. I suggested we needed safety rules. He grinned 'I figured you would, I don't need them because I'm not going to be at your mercy but I'm not some bully who's here to smash up my mate. So I agree on no striking, no choking out, no pounding or kicking or low blows. Remember one thing though this will be long and rough for you so last chance to back out now.

His words sent me into a kind of sexual high. I felt ecstatic at the idea of a long rough session with Tim. I was almost giddy with excitement and thrilled he had described me as his mate.

The truth was I liked Tim, he was funny, intelligent, good at woodwork and art, generous, and loved sports, Xbox, and the gym. We had a lot in common. But I loved his darker side too, his lust for physical mastery.

He was quick to strip off. The hoodie first, it hit me just how sturdy he was, how wide and thick his shoulders and back looked. His chest was solid and deep, his abs knotted with definition, his belly flat and firm, his arms bulging with vascularity. Every breath seemed to expand and glorify his physique. His white trainers were off next, somehow his Adidas white socks emphasized the strength of his feet.

I stood there staring at him trying to wrestle his shorts off his beefy thighs until they were by his feet. His trainers were back on, I looked up and caught sight of his tight grey grappling jocks. I would kill for a bulge like Tim's, not just his meaty cock and balls but the way his ass and upper thighs stretched his jocks to breaking point.

My tongue was hanging out, I couldn't help it, he noticed too and scanned me head to toe. 'Are you changing or wrestling like that?' He watched me strip off just as I had watched him. Something in his eyes told me he liked what he saw. Maybe it was my height over him or my lean hard muscle but he focused mostly on my black grappling jocks, on my manhood.

Everything was set, we had sized each other up, Tim had one final request, his playlist on my speaker, he had a soundtrack to wrestle too. I remember hearing Nirvana start, 'Smells Like Teen Spirit', not too loud, he didn't want it to block out the sound of combat.

Tim ducked when I tried to grab him in a headlock. His speed astonished me, I felt him grip my ankles firmly, and almost as if in slow motion he sent me flying through the air with no way to stop his assault until I landed with a thud on the mat. He didn't even give me a second to breathe and as he had promised he was on me. I felt his knees and shins first, on my chest, neck, and shoulders. Tim was heavy and he was working hard to keep me down, under him.

Trying to wrestle off a muscle-packed jock isn't easy. It wasn't just his weight but his skill in knowing where to apply force to pin me down. It didn't take him long to straddle me and I recognized he had me in a schoolboy pin.

We've all been there, some jock sitting on you're stomach or chest, his knees over your arms and your head buried between his legs. Tim was almost there. He was sitting on my cock though and that felt good. He had his hands clutching mine, trying to bend them back and down so he could trap my arms under his knees. I put up a fierce fight, there were moments I felt I could outwrestle his hands and moments when he grimaced in pain. Our hands and arms shook violently under the strain of combat, and his sweat poured down over me, onto mine, drowning me in a shower of alpha spray. He was too strong for me and when I broke he took full advantage, my arms were under his knees and he knelt right into my biceps.

It was at that moment I first realized what rough meant. Tim wanted payback for my challenge to his assault. I felt his ass lift off from my balls as he sat up to kneel on my biceps. I let out a whine, the pressure was agonizing, he grinned and sat back down on my balls. I groaned and tried to catch my breath, he was back up again on my biceps, causing me agony, and he relished every second of it. I had to find some way out of this, I couldn't take much more of his pressure. I tried planting my foot into the mat to throw him off me sideways. He was off balance for a split second only and his revenge was another but longer assault on my biceps.

Tim's message to me was clear any resistance would meet with relentless payback. Those moments he sat on my cock brought not just comfort but sexual gratification too. It was intentional on his part, pain followed by gratification to wreak havoc with my senses.

Trying to throw him off me wasn't working. The best plan would be to head scissors Tim off me. Just wait for him to sit back on me, all sweaty and cocky, and then drive my legs up, around his neck, trap his head, and power a scissors lock on him.

I almost got him. He was so taken by his self-confidence he didn't see it coming. Just when I reached his neck, he revealed his real strength. His upper body turned rock hard, as his torso turned to steely armor. He reached back and grabbed my legs with his arms and locked them to the sides of his body.

As hard as I pushed he just held me there, easily overpowering my leverage and leg strength. It was a display of his physical superiority. His eyes said it all 'is that all you've got mate?' I was witnessing a jock in his prime, solid strong unyielding. He was happy to sit there on me, staring down into me asserting his dominance. He felt my cock trying to drill its way through our jocks and into his ass. His response was brutal, pushing my legs back down towards my head. I let out a pitiful roar. He laughed mimicking me 'aagh, please no Tim, no'...'Keep you're little cock down, right?, don't want to see you hard unless I tell you to get hard, you hear me!'

He pushed my legs down until my feet were by my ears. I was bent over. His balls covered my face. They were hanging heavy, beefy and sweaty in his grey jocks. So sweaty my face was smothered in his crotch juice. I could smell him, a pungent musty, and almost leathery smell and it tasted salty.

Tasting Tim triggered a rush of endorphins in my head. I felt no pain. He was holding me down at that stage, pretty much sitting on my face too but if he wanted he could at any moment push down on my stretched legs and deliver punishment.

He was happy, this was domination, smothering his opponent under his balls. He was humiliating and slowly draining me, which pleased him. It was obvious, I couldn't see much with his jocks on my face but the base of his cock was warm and rigid.

I was stuck there my cock practically tucked under my chin, far away from and denied pleasure. His was rooted in my face and getting ready to erupt.

There's no pleasure without pain, that's what Tim taught me. It didn't take him long to push down onto my hamstrings causing me to cry mercy. He demanded submission and I obeyed. That satisfied him, I felt a rumble in his balls, they seemed to roll over my face. His crotch sweat intensified, and the cotton where his balls met my face was liquid now, a brew of my breath spit and his crotch juice. It was a powerful alpha stench and it kept getting stronger, it was clear he was jerking above me. With each tug, his balls rolled deeper into my face, he was pounding away, his balls spilling out through the sides of his wetted jocks, tufts of his pubic hair spiking into my face.

If Tims's ball sweat and pubic lashing were all I could get, I'd settle for that but I got more. I could lick his balls now, at least part of them. I felt the strong ridges in his skin and tasted the edge of his cum factory.

Nothing ever tasted so orgasmic and I felt him sigh and bounce up and down on me until the room smelled of cum and it splattered everywhere I could see. Rich, thick creamy, with an intense odor of leather, and something glue-like and potent. It made me high and intensely aroused but I was trapped. In desperation I tried to find some of his cum, a lump settled on the mat, just out of my tongue's reach. I craved it, he saw me straining to reach it and pushed down on my legs again. 'Submit...Submit...I'm only getting started on you!'