Leslie's Fight

A Fight with Leslie

By Dean The Destroyer

MY GYM, MY RULES:

As you know by now, I own a gym, with very extensive cardio, free weight, and machine based workout areas, but it is the two converted racquetball courts that have drawn the attention as of late.  Court one has been converted into a professional size wrestling / boxing ring and court two is wrestling mat padded.  This court’s floor and up ten feet on the walls are covered with collegiate wrestling mats   This is the anything goes court.  I have the only key and I ok the combatants. Of course, I enjoy the action from the observation deck above the court.  This match is tough and hard-fought, but the combatants match up well. 


“Who allowed a girl to register as a combatant let alone on court two?” I questioned Sunny, my membership director.  I roamed the gym often checking on equipment and sales so that I could always know my business and members. 

“Leslie?” questioned Sunny.

The register clearly listed “Buster” as a new combatant and while I looked at “Busters” gym application it plainly listed Leslie Ward as the legal name on the application. 

As I stood in the doorway to Sunny’s office a deep voice interrupted the conversation.  “Sunny, is there any other information you need before I write a check for my membership?”

I turned around and ran my nose into a solid chest.  I looked up into the face of a 6 foot 3, 278-pound stud.  As I looked him up and down, I noticed even with his baggy shorts this guy sported a serious bulge, solid arms, broad shoulders and a friendly but rugged face topped with a military buzz cut. “Buster this is Dean, he owns the gym” Sunny commented. 

As I shook his hand I said “Leslie it is good to have you as a full member of my gym, what ever you need or want all you have to do is come talk to me and I can get it done.” 

Buster tightened his grip on my hand to an almost an unbearable level, “I go by Buster, nobody calls me Leslie” I could tell this was a bone of contention with the big guy so I stored it away as information.

About a week later Busters’ in my office and looking rather pissed off, “Some big armed punk keeps pissing me off in the free weight room, taking my bench, moving my weights boasting about the “girls” he’s had, and walking away in the middle of a spot to chat up some bitch he wants to lay.”  

“Easy big guy, you are sounding like a childish schoolgirl whining to her mommy!  Does the guy sport ripped up plaid shorts, a Mr. Assteeshirt and wears a baseball cap down so nobody can see his eyes?” I questioned.  

“Yea, that’s the punk, I want to kick his ass bad, can I get him in the ring?   Is he man enough to register to be a combatant?” Buster stated.  Well this punk that Buster spoke of was Jimmy– 6 foot 2, 257 pounds of solid beef.  The biggest arms in the gym, tightest ass and a get out of my face attitude that he could back up in either court. Mr. Ass was right, he was solid top to bottom and prided himself on his butt; his solid legs were hairy but the rest of Jimmy was clean-shaven, good looks that made girls swoon and many men too. Schooled in pro and NHB wrestling Jimmy could hold his own, Buster’s ability was yet to be known.

I knew I could set this match easily so I informed both Buster and Jimmy that the match would be scheduled for tomorrow night in the ring court. Jimmy showed up as usual in ripped up plaid shorts over tight black bike shorts, an armless tee shirt and ankle high black work boots.   Buster came straight off the workout floor, where he was wearing Nike tear away workout pants over black square off shorts, a sleeveless tee-shirt and Otomix calf high laceup wrestling / workout boots.

Losing their shirts and pants, they stood there wearing bike shorts on Jimmy and square cut spandex shorts on Buster.  Both guys looked good -- big strong, hung, and ready to fight.  Everybody knows there are no foreign objects allowed in either court but if a sweaty jock gets used as a mouth gag then so be it.  Neither of these guys were trash talkers. They were more into actions than words, so the match started with little commentary from either guy, but lots of stares.

Buster, being taller, raised his hand high and challenged Jimmy to a test of strength.  They inter-locked fingers and SMACK their chests hit together solidly.  They each jockeyed for control, and Buster slowly backed Jimmy up against the ring ropes.  He moved his hands to under Jimmy’s chin, and landed a big forearm across his chest.  Buster then whipped Jimmy into the opposing ring ropes catching him and flipping him over into a full power slam.  Raising himself up and bringing Jimmy up by the hair with him, Buster then wrapped his big arm around Jimmy’s head and squeezed him in a massive side headlock and then cranking on the side headlock tighter and tighter.   I was starting to get impressed with Buster’s abilities.  But I know never to count Jimmy out.

And just then, Jimmy pushes Buster off into the ring ropes.  As he rebounds, Jimmy slips down and leg sweeps him and Buster drops to the canvas face first.  Jimmy springs up and drops an elbow into the back of Buster’s neck.  Taunting Buster to get up, Jimmy drops a second one just as Buster gets up on all fours.  Pulling Buster up, Jimmy scoops him and hangs him in the corner with Buster’s legs intertwined in the ropes and turnbuckle.  Pushing Buster’s legs apart, Jimmy drops an elbow into the unprotected crouch.  Alternating between flat boot kicks to the pecs and elbows to the crouch Jimmy was manhandling Buster.  Five or six of each and Jimmy was getting bored.  Untangling Buster and letting him drop to the mat face down, Jimmy is holding Buster’s big legs and bending them back towards his head.   Jimmy plants a swift kick into Buster’s balls. 

Knowing that the big guy was hurt badly, Jimmy decided to abuse the stud.  With him so close to the corner, Jimmy props Buster up and delivers a solid right into Buster’s midsection, just below the belly button and above the nuts.  A left and a right alternating between just above the navel to just below the navel was wiping Buster out, again five or six of each and Jimmy was getting bored.  Luckily Buster dropped to his knees and with a big grin Jimmy hit him with a right downward fist across his jaw. 

Before Buster took that shot, from where he knelt in the corner, he could see me in the observation deck, after he took that shot, he seemed energized.  Pissed was more like it.  Looking at his fist Jimmy could not believe the stud did not go down.  Buster bounded up grabbed Jimmy and shoved him back into the opposite corner.  A couple of shoulders to the midsection and Jimmy was losing his air.  Next, hooking Jimmy’s legs over the middle rope Buster took full advantage to kick Jimmy’s exposed balls.  With the ropes as leverage Buster started twisting Jimmy’s arms which were entwined in them, punches to the right bicep was breaking down the muscle fibres.  But why stop on the right bicep, Buster started to work on the left arm.  Now the biggest arms in the gym were virtually useless; Buster released Jimmy and let him crumple to the mat.  A reverse atomic knee drop (or nut cracker – sweet, as Buster calls it) and a flying elbow to Jimmy’s chest from between his legs just about crushed the big cat. 

Clamping on a kneeling reverse front chancellery, Buster was able to fondle Jimmy’s chest, gently squeeze his nipples, massage his big pecs, rub each of Jimmy’s ab muscles and work his hand down to the top of Jimmy’s tight bike shorts, he could pull on the few black hairs that appeared just above the elastic band.  Buster could even see he was getting a rise out of Jimmy.  Working his way into Jimmy’s shorts, Buster could stroke the big cock Jimmy sported, once it was quite hard and pushing against the fabric, Buster repositioned the shorts so the big cock could stick basically straight out.  Keeping the kneeling front chancellery on Jimmy, Buster could by supporting the small of Jimmy’s back with his other hand flip the big stud over and having him land forcibly onto his protruding cock.  Jimmy rolled around cupping his battered meat, ending up in a face down foetal position.  Bad choice cause Buster yanks down Jimmy’s bike shorts, pulls off his own square cut shorts and proceeds to rape Jimmy’s ass.  A 6 foot 3, 24 year old buck sports a good size cock and he ploughs the tight ass without mercy, “now you know how I got my nickname ‘Buster’, it is short for Stud-buster” he quips.

As I am coming down the back stairs from the observation deck Buster stops and thanks me for the match and the encouragement.

“Just helping out when need be” I respond.

“Lucky I was trapped in that particular corner or I could not have seen your banner” the grateful stud offers.

“Don’t take offence, but I just thought you needed to be reminded about the anger within and channel it into the fight” I suggested.

He wraps his big arm around my shoulder and thanks me again, then he is off the showers and I head towards my office.

Oh, by the way the banner that Buster spoke of just had one word on it “LESLIE! “