Jed vs Carlos

 

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THE OUTRAGEOUS RINGSIDE WRESTLING BOUT

JED vs CARLOS

By

Wrestler4U

I stand in the dressing room, and the strong masculine scent of sweat and adrenaline is heavy in the air. The buzz of the crowd and the sound of the early wrestling bouts going on outside seep through the walls, a constant reminder of what's to come. Iain, one of my best friends in this wrestling promotion, is standing in front of me. His eyes were blazing with excitement. He’s on the bill tonight as well and is already wearing his usual 1” at the sides, bulge-enhancing crimson red wrestling trunks, and matching red boots. His bout, a tag bout with his tag partner and another close friend Ken, who is yet to arrive, is coming up after mine. We are a triangle of supportive lovers, lovers of men, gay sex, and ruthlessly aggressive pro wrestling. We always protect each other’s backs.

He excites me and arouses me, kissing my lips and neck aggressively and passionately, slapping my face, and firmly pushing his forehead against mine. He is getting me energised and aroused with violent (and horny) wrestling-talk for the bout. We both know this fight is going to be violent and brutal. "You like that?" I ask, my voice hungry as I grip my bulge, giving it a slight squeeze. "You like seeing me like this, all pumped up and ready to fuck someone up?"

Iain's eyes widen at my words, his breath hitching in his throat as he nods his head eagerly. I can see the outline of his own cock, thick and hard, straining against the fabric of his trunks.

"Yeah, I do," he says, his voice hoarse. "I love it, Jed. I fucking love it."

The guy I’m wrestling tonight is from outside the promotion, and I carry the responsibility of making sure that no outsider tops us. I take that seriously, and I’m ready for extreme wrestling inside our sacred wrestling ring. Our promotion is already well known for its strong-style and hard-core wrestling ethos. So that is what every one of my wrestling brothers expects to see demonstrated from me—a good demonstration of strong, stiff wrestling with lots of heat and authentic grunts and groans to keep the audience hot.

We are both solidly erect in our trunks, turned on massively by each other, and turned on more just by being professional wrestlers. Wrestlers who are soon to have bouts they have anticipated mulled and masturbated over for weeks. Our thickly hung cocks and balls, loaded up with nearly a week’s worth of spunk, are strapped with tight leather cock rings. I’ve been walking about all day, almost permanently boned and gagging for this fight.

On the way over here, I had to go for a piss in a public toilet. The musty masculine atmosphere in there was stimulating. Toilets are among my favourite cruising places. I stood at the urinal beside other guys, all standing with cocks of various sizes. I looked down and across and saw the sight of all that man meat hanging out, some unloading hot yellow piss and some not. The sounds and scents erected me instantly. I wanted to blow-job them all. No fap is torture for high-sex drive guys like me. A whole fucking week of no wanking—well, I could wank but not cum. I wanted to be totally up and fully energised for the wrestling ring tonight and my fans. I love my fans, and they love me. Fuck! If they could have seen me here now with a huge boner rocketing out of my tight denims! I found it impossible to pee normally other than by squirting out sharp jets of piss onto the walls. It was like I was squirting out cum shots of yellow pee. Especially golden on account of the amount of B vitamins I take. I had to do this a few times to empty my bladder.

A guy standing beside me was watching my big predicament. “Fuck! That is some pissing! I’ve never seen a guy pissing liquid gold through his hard-on. You are a fucking donkey, man!”

“Thanks!” I replied, “You like the look of my cock? You like big, thick cocks?”

“Fucking right! I want to cum all over it!” He gasped and was about to go down on his knees.

“No! Don’t suck me. Let me see you cumming over the wall!” I ask, “I like watching guys spunking their loads.”

He starts hand cranking his cock, and it gets hard quick. I’m thrusting my hips out, letting him see the entire length of my rigidly boned cock—right down to the cock ring. I reach in and pull my balls out to hang over my denims, and he gasps and grunts more. I talk dirty to him as I flex my balls, and they rise and fall. I want to make this guy cum just by fucking looking at me. He is wanking harder and louder, breathing heavier. Guys along the urinal are watching, with some wanking in unison. I bide my time and wait for the moment, then, as he is just about to shoot, I quickly bend down and connect my open mouth to his throbbing bell-end just as he shoots his load. He grabs at my firm, meaty arse with one hand and keeps wanking with the other. It all slams into the back of my throat as I swallow quickly, drinking down every surging drop and sucking as much cream out of his pulsing meat as I could before he pushed me away.

“Thanks man!” I say this while wiping my lips. “I fucking needed that! Your spunk tasted good.”

“I thought you wanted it over the wall. Let me suck yours; I’ll make your cock explode!” He breathlessly urges.

“Yeah, it was so hot watching you wank your meat. I just had to taste your cum. I can’t cum right now, mate; I need all my energy for the ring tonight.”

“The ring? What are you, a fucking wrestler?” He asks with surprised excitement in his voice.

I nod as I put my cockmeat, now softer, back down the inside leg of my denims. “Yeah,” I say. “If you want to see more of my cock and arse, then come along. You’ll not be disappointed. I look randy as fuck almost nude in my wrestling kit.”

“You look randy as fuck in those denims! That package is huge! How do you fit it all into your wrestling trunks?” He gasps out.

I smile and laugh, “With some difficulty! But the punters and especially the women love big dicks on their hunky ring wrestlers.” as I zip up and head out to get to the show as I cannot be late. On the way out, a guy appears at the entrance, just coming in. He seemed surprised as though he recognised me, but, fuck, he looks impressive! He has a tasty build in a bomber jacket, but what catches my eye is his package. He’s wearing 501’s like me but has a seriously hung cock snaking down his inside leg. We pause, taking in the dimensions of the cocks we are now spontaneously exhibiting to each other, and my meat starts to thicken and elongate. I want to drain this guy as well, thinking his cum must be very rich, powerful, and energising. I can’t hang around, though, so I tap the watch on my wrist, shrug my shoulders, and head down to the hall. My bout is during the early half of the show.

Suddenly I’m back in the dressing room. "You ready, Jed?" Iain asks me, clapping a hand on my shoulder. His grip is firm and reassuring. I can see the anticipation etched on his face, mirroring my own. “You seemed to be elsewhere there?”

"Sorry, brother, I was just getting into the zone! I’m as ready as I'll ever be," I reply, flashing him a grin. I take a hold of my cock and balls and adjust them inside the minimal but supportive trunks I'm wearing. The Lycra fabric barely covers my endowment and enhances my gym-trained physique. The outfit is part of the wrestling spectacle. It’s also an illustration of my wrestling ring persona and, of course, a testament to my exhibitionist tendencies. The crowd and the fans know my style and look and eagerly anticipate my fights. The fan mail I get is fucking pornographic at times, but I make a decent sum sending them my used and sweaty wrestling trunks and spunky underwear.

Iain smiles, shaking his head and squeezing his bulge and mine. "You look good. You’ll drive them crazy out there. Just looking at you, you turn me on, you randy fucker."

I shoot him a wink. "I like your look too! All part of the gay wrestling charm, ain't it?"

He rolls his eyes, but he's grinning too. "Just remember, this isn’t one of our private sex shows. It's a serious wrestling match, and the management will be watching. The guy you are to fight; he's a brutal cunt who'll be out to hurt you. Make sure you hurt him first. I have your corner and your back, though. As soon as Ken gets here, we'll both be out there."

"Oh, I remember," I say, flexing my pec and arm muscles for emphasis. "But who says we can't make it a bit of both?" I squeeze the rigid erection in his red trunks as we lean into each other. I hug him hard. I whisper into his ear, “I need this. I want this life. I want to fight in the ring. The need; it’s desperate in me.”

“I know,” he whispers back. “You know I’m the same. Look at our cocks. Jed, the need to wrestle in the ring is carnal for masculine poofs like us. All my life, I wanted to get into the ring. And here we both... the three of us are!” He reaches back to squeeze my bum cheek and tug at the material of my trunks. “You are the real fucking deal. I want to be with you guys every minute of the day, especially on hot show nights. Now get out there and show them what you’ve got. Beat the fucking pulp out of that guy and leave his body a bleeding mess. Do it for the promotion, and do it for us.”

He kisses me a deep and hungry kiss. Our hot tongues work around each other in a wrestling match of their own as we start bumping and grinding each other’s bulging wrestling trunks. Fuck! We push each other apart and laugh as we are both ready to explode our spunk all over each other and the dressing room. Like me, he has been doing no masturbation, and we are both going mental and desperate to cum.

We bump foreheads in friendship, and I turn towards the door, getting ready to make my entrance. Just as I’m about to leave, he takes my arm and says, "Jed, don’t let your joy of masochism put you in danger! I know you love to suffer pain more than most, but nobody in this promotion thinks of you as a jobber. You need to be a brute out there tonight. A fucking brute. Yeah?”

I nod. “It’s OK. I have a plan—a very fiendish plan!” Iain smiles at my reference, “I need to suffer a bit out there to make it work, though. I want to draw him in then crush him. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’ll be bloody but you know I suffer well!”

“I fucking love you, Jed, both of you. Your back will be safe. They are bringing their teams out with them. We’ll see to your protection.” He replies.

“Where IS Ken?” I ask.

“He has a punter.” Iain says matter-of-factedly.

“What? Before a show like this?” I ask.

“Well, yes, I know,” Iain replies “But it was a short notice thing and close by. You know how randy we all get before a fight. We both have another guy tonight. He’s in the audience watching the show and we are doing a duo for him.”

I had to concede that point, just looking at both of us! We are all of us constantly randy and love to put it about for cash when we can. The crowd's roar grows louder, their energy pulsating through me. I take a deep breath, savouring the moment. The action is about to begin. This is what I live for—the thrill of the fight, the adrenaline rush of this intensely masculine performance.

I hear the ring announcer calling out my name, and I push open the door, stepping out into the bright lights of the arena. The crowd's cheers wash over me, a tidal wave of sound that sends a shiver down my spine. I raise my arms, basking in the spotlight, out of self-adoration. This is my stage, my battleground.

I glance back at Iain, his figure silhouetted in the doorway. He shifts his right hand to grab hold of his still erected and unspent crotch. Everybody is watching me, so he pulls his big boner out of the top of his trunks, waves his entire length of man meat at me, and gives me a nod, a silent signal of our shared gay wrestler understanding.

It's time! Time to put on a show, time to wrestle, and time to unleash the wrestling sadist and masochist within. I stride towards the ring, the crowd's cheers ringing in my ears. I'm Jed Mulvaney, a professional wrestler and gay sex worker on the side. And tonight, I'm ready to give them a performance they'll never forget.

I strut around the outside of the ring, the spotlight casting my muscular frame in sharp relief. The pale blue trunks I'm wearing leave little to the imagination, hugging my thick bulge and my partially wedged arse cheeks, which flex tightly as I walk. The crowd's eyes are glued to me; their cheers are a symphony of lust and admiration. I revel in it—the power, the control. It's a heady feeling, one I can't get enough of.

My pale blue jacket top, fully unzipped, flutters behind me as I move. It's a deliberate choice, a way to show off the firm pecs and pointed nipples of my muscular torso. I'm not just a wrestler; I'm a spectacle, a wrestling fantasy brought to life. And the fans eat it up.

I see and feel hands reaching out, mostly female, trying to get a feel of my body. I don’t avoid them. I want to give them what they want. They graze my bulging crotch, shifting its barely hidden mass from side to side as I move and my arse cheeks muscular and flexing as I walk towards the huge, imposing steel wrestling ring. The very sight of a wrestling ring excites me, and spontaneously I start flexing my meat and fuck hole. Their fingers left trails of heat on my skin. It's a dangerous game, but it excites us, and it's part of the thrill that makes for a fan-filled professional wrestling show.

I'm an equally exhibitionist male escort when I'm not a pro-ring wrestler. Sometimes I'm both in the private out-of-sight of the promotion wrestling sex shows I often do with Iain or Ken. So we fucking know how to satisfy the demands of our adoring fans as well as the rest of the baying mob. They’ll be enthralled into a frenzy with our half-naked display of violent fighting masculinity, and they'll want to fuck their own partners mercilessly when they get home.

"Jed! Jed!" They chant my name; their voices are a siren's song. I flash them a grin, a promise of what's to come. I'm here to wrestle, to dominate with pain, and maybe, if my opponent is good enough, to submit in pain. I'm here to satisfy their darkest violent and carnal desires, to push the boundaries of wrestling-based pain and pleasure. I grab the ropes and climb up slowly and deliberately onto the hard wood ring side, my muscles flexing with the effort. I display myself to the screaming women and men with muscular posing.

I stand there for a moment to let them take in the view of my muscular, lean body. The ropes vibrate beneath my touch, a silent testament to the brutal and bloody battles that have been fought inside and outside them. Here, in this place, between barely-clad wrestlers. I take a moment to respectfully inhale and soak it all in—to absorb the energy, the powerful karma of the ring, the lights, the noise, and in my own mind, the carnal anticipation. Which I will feed in large measure back to the audience. The wrestling ring is my world and my kingdom. Like all the wrestlers who have come before me, I'm physically and mentally naked before the wild crowds, but I'm ready and determined to fight anybody that the promoters choose to put into the ring with me.

I'm now in my corner of the ring, and I spot Iain with Ken standing beside him in their matching red kit. Only a short distance away, their eyes locked onto mine, and Ken, licking his lips, squeezed his massive crotch in my direction. Stripped down to their crimson-red trunks, their bodies gleaming with sweat, they look ready and eager for their bout. I can see the almost carnal hunger in their eyes—the raw, violent need. It mirrors my own, a reflection of our shared desires. Sex between the three of us is violent and often like male rape, but it is how we are, and it's why we are wrestlers.

I wave back at them, a silent promise. Tonight, we're going to put on shows they'll never forget. Tonight, we're going to wrestle, fight, and fuck the brains out of our opponents. Tonight, we're going to unleash and revel in the brutal sadism and masochism within us.

I remove my ring jacket and give it to the ring attendant, a young, handsome guy who is just starting out in professional wrestling and new to the business. He never looks away from my crotch and appears agitated. I give him a hungry-looking smile, which makes him feel even more awkward and agitated. There are times when these shows get really, really intense, like tonight, when I have a singles match scheduled and Ken and Iain are competing as THE TUBESTEAKS, a tag team in a four-man cage wrestling contest. That would be hardcore enough on its own, but tonight they are up against other Puerto Rican wrestlers from the visiting promotion. Their matchup promises to be a bloodbath since they have a reputation to defend and are among the most popular tag teams in the UK wrestling scene, with YouTube hits in the thousands and a record of tearing through dozens of other UK and European wrestlers and tag teams.

The promoter has made it clear that he wants a clean board of wins for us tonight. He is even offering good bonuses to the winning wrestlers on our side. Most wrestling promoters are stingy bastards, but ours is pretty good, totally fanatical about hard core wrestling. Too many aspiring wrestlers in the UK must work for peanuts, if even that. That is a lot of pressure, and the young trainees are feeling it, and all of them are probably desperate and horny to get into the ring themselves and show the punters what they have.

The crowd roars as the ring announcer and our promoter announce my opponent tonight, Carlos Rodriguez, struts onto the ring, his black trunks clinging to his lean muscular frame like a second skin. He sports a serious set of beefy thighs. The crowd roars, a cacophony of cheers and jeers that fill the air with electric energy. He's a force to be reckoned with, this Puerto Rican wrestler, known for his brutality and viciousness in the ring. I've heard stories about his dressing room antics in his own promotion and how he tries to bully and even sexually assault other wrestlers. Homosexuality is very common in pro-wrestling, and every promotion has its share of gay and bi wrestlers. All that physical and intimately lingering and sustained body contact is not something that readily attracts straight guys.

I watch him from my corner, my heart pounding in my chest. He climbs onto the ringside, his muscles flexing with the effort. In the first bout of this evening's matches, one of our guys beat up one of theirs, so there's anger in his eyes, a desperation to even the score early on in the tournament that sends an excited kundalini-like shiver down my spine and straight into my groin. He's here to fight, to dominate, and to inflict the maximum amount of pain. So am I, assigned as I am now to be the one to block his ambition and as I flex my cock against my cock ring under my trunks, I'm more than ready to oblige and reciprocate times ten.

He ducks under the ropes to enter the ring, his eyes locked aggressively on mine. There's a challenge in his eyes, a promise of violence and pain. I can see the hunger in him—the raw, carnal need all we wrestlers feel. It's a reflection of my own desires, a mirror of our shared lust and excitement for wrestling sadism and masochism. As he turns around in his corner, I can see he has a slight wedgie going. His black trunks outline a powerful set of glutes. I reach behind and discreetly push my trunks up a bit more to expose more of my arse to the female and male gay audience. I want to be the centre of their vision.

The ring announcer's voice booms through the speakers, introducing us to the frenzied crowd. I raise my arms to the audience, revealing my lean, muscular build while flexing my cock bulge to the audience and just out of sight of the promoter. The women in the audience scream and holler, their eyes glued to my nearly naked form. My cock throbs and shifts in my trunks, my balls are loaded to bursting with spunk, and the thin, light blue fabric leaves little to the imagination. I flex and pose, revelling in the attention. This is what I live for—the thrill of the performance, the rush of adrenaline, and the raw, primal desire to be admired—by men and women.

Carlos does the same, his body glistening with sweat already under the bright lights. He’s an impressive sight, true enough, but I’ve fought plenty of impressive sights in wrestling rings all over the UK and Europe. Impressive is how you fight, not how you look. Except in my case, where I dominate in both aspects! His smooth muscles flex as he poses for the crowd. The women are practically salivating, their eyes glued to his crotch bulge and beefy arse. He catches my eye and smirks, his gaze flicking down to my own bulge. I can see the cock-to-cock challenge in his eyes—the promise of a brutal and bloody bout of professional wrestling. I’m desperate to start the fight.

The referee steps between us, his face stern, as he brings us to the centre of the ring. "I want a clean fight," he says, his voice low and firm. "No eye-gouging, no biting, and no low blows. Understood?"

Carlos grins, his teeth flashing in the light. "No promises, pretty boy," he growls, his eyes locked on mine.

I flash him a grin, my heart pounding in my chest. "I wouldn't have it any other way," I reply, my voice laced with aggression. "It's probably best if you just stay out of the way, Ref!"

I adjust my trunks to draw his attention to my noticeable bulge, which is both visible to him and everyone else in the audience. I'm not just a wrestler; I'm a spectacle, a sexual fantasy brought to life. And Carlos is just another opponent, another wrestler eager to hurt me and eager to see what I can do to hurt him back. We are both soon to enter a world of hurt.

The referee steps back, his eyes flicking between us, then looks down at the swollen bulges in our wrestling trunks. "Remember, this is a wrestling match, not a cock-measuring contest!" he says, his voice dry and sardonic.

I can't help but laugh at something like that said in a wrestling ring. "Speak for yourself, ref," I say, my eyes locked on Carlos. "I'm more than happy to compare." I squeeze my bulge, now elongating and flexing in his direction. The cock ring around my cock and balls enhances and pushes out my meat temptingly.

Carlos snarls, his fists clenched at his sides. "You'll regret those words, Puto," he growls, his eyes flashing with anger.

The ref is exasperated already at the both of us, and before we can even go back to our respective corners, he waves to the timekeeper and calls for the match to begin. I hope he takes my advice to stay out of the way because I want to kill this guy. I want to obliterate him from the promotion in the full view of everybody, especially his own and my promoter.

The bell rings, a sharp sound that cuts through the noise. It's time. Time to wrestle, time to perform, and time to satisfy. I turn to face my opponent, my heart pounding in my chest. This is it. This is what I live for.

I take a deep breath, my muscles coiling like a spring. I'm ready. Ready to fight, ready to win, and determined to make him submit.

The bell rings, and we circle each other, our eyes locked in a stare-down. The crowd's cheers fade into the background. Replaced by the sound of our heavy breathing. This is it—the moment we've been waiting for. The moment where we unleash our inner beasts and revel in the violence and pain.

We lock up with a standard collar and elbow. We push and pull against each other, testing each other's strength and determination.

"Ready to dance, pretty boy?" Carlos growls, his voice low and menacing. He licks his lips, his eyes flicking down to my crotch. I can see the lust for blood in his eyes—the desire to dominate and conquer.

Carlos breaks the position by throwing my arm up in the air, locking the other, and lunging at me, his forearm flying towards my face. I dodged at the last second, his elbow grazing my cheek. I retaliate by using my locked arm, pulling him back into me, and then driving a swift knee into his stomach, sending him stumbling back. He grunts in pain and drops to his knees. Our hands are still locked together, but there's a spark of excitement in his eyes. He likes this—the pain, the violence. Like me, it fuels him and drives him to the ring fight.

I turn into him, take a sideways position, and secure his extended arm while lifting my leg over his shoulders. A quick push of my wrestling boot to hook him between his legs, and I’m falling back onto the white canvas mat, using strength and momentum to lift and throw him over. He crashes onto his back so hard that his package bounces. I take the opportunity to immediately cover him with a crossbody to try and catch a quick pin. I decide to adjust my position to show my sexual and wrestling dominance by bringing my body too far up against his so that I push his face to one side while pressing my full crotch directly onto his face.

“Sniff that puto!" I growl at him, “Maybe I should piss over you now!?”

If this had been a water sports wrestling bout, that would have been a thing to do. In this context, though, it would be seen as a sign of fear, and I have absolutely none of that. The referee comes in for a three-count, but Carlos throws me off easily, as I knew he would. I just wanted him off-balance from the start. He is bigger and probably stronger than me, but I’m faster, more agile, and a lot more motivated to win fighting inside my home wrestling ring. I know every inch of this noisy old ring, and I’ll cheat to win if I must. To win is to succeed. I know all the dirty moves, including his.

I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins—the rush of endorphins that comes with the pain. I'm alive, my body thrumming with energy and violent carnal desire. This is what I live for—the thrill of the fight, the wrestlers near-naked dance of pain and pleasure.

I quickly get to my feet. Carlos lunges at me with an aggressive collar and elbow, his eyes wild with fury. I brace myself for the impact, but he still sends us careening into the ring ropes. I manage to keep my footing, but he's staying on me, pulling me forcefully into the nearest corner post. He slams my forehead onto the turnbuckle hard enough to jar my head, but it is mostly padding, so the impact is not as severe as it might have looked to the audience. I sell it, though, to stir up the heat in the audience and let him think he has hurt me more than he has.

He turns me to face him and grabs the middle ropes with both hands, then shoulder-rams my guts again and again, the force of each blow sending my increasingly wedgied backside up onto the middle turnbuckle. The feel of the leather against my bare arse is a thrill that ripples arousal across my body. I can feel the heavy package in my flimsy wrestling trunks shifting with each blow, the head of my cock straining against the fabric.

He grabs a hold of my short hair with one hand, yanking my head back as he slams a brutal headbutt into my face. I see stars, my vision swimming as I fall back hard against the turnbuckle. I can already taste blood in my mouth; the metallic tang of it is a reminder of the orgiastic violence of this sport.

I bounce forward off the corner post and almost drop to the ground when he uses my forward momentum to grab me bodily between my legs and lift me. He straight away throws me over almost dismissively onto the other side of the ring, and I crash into the opposite turnbuckle. ‘Fuck!’ I say to myself that felt horny and package bouncing, and I love a bit of rough handling. He comes straight over to me and pulls me up, his muscles straining as he grabs my waist, hoists me up, and swings my body over his shoulder. I’m thudding down onto his shoulder, and my package is almost crushed against his back. I think my cock has protruded out of my trunks, but I’m not sure. I can feel the power in his body—the strength that makes him a formidable wrestling opponent. He does a running body-slam, slamming me hard with my back onto the corner post. The force of the impact sends a jolt of pain through my body and the ring itself shakes.

I crumple down onto the mat. However, I’m backwards and upside down, perched off the corner post with my legs splayed wide open. Both my shoulders are on the mat, but the ropes contact means no referee counting to three for a pin. My arse crack is totally exposed, with the thin, light blue line of my trunks barely covering my shaved fuck hole. My cockhead has shifted out of the side of my trunks, but I quickly push the swollen purple glans back under again. All the same, I hear the murmurs of excitement from some of the front-row audience members. My package hangs very heavily, with my legs gaping open like this. If I were to stick my tongue out, it would taste my sweaty, jism tasting cock bulge, so I do so to get more gasps from the front row and annoy Carlos. I like to excite the audience members in the front row, as some of my fans have those seats tonight. Had I been sex wrestling and naked, then I would have started to suck my own cock in front of everyone.

Carlos is grunting, and he is taking in the hot penetrating view, a great position to get fucked in, but he tries to crush me instead by ramming his boot into the crotch of my trunks. It was too obvious a target. I moan in authentic distress very loudly as I grab my junk and crumple onto the mat. I slide onto my front, and still close to the ropes with both my hands over and trying to cover my crotch. My wedgied arse cheeks are thrust upward slightly. He grabs both of my legs and tries to pull me up into a leg hold of some kind, but I disrupt that manoeuvre by grabbing the bottom ropes at either side of the corner post. He instead just hoists me high up by the legs and casually drops me hard onto my front. My unprotected package slams into the mats with tremendous force. Suddenly I’m moaning, grunting, and writhing in pain all at once. “Oh, fuck man! Ref! He’s fucking crushed my balls and dick!” as I’m rolling from side to side. I roll straight out of the ring, as I must recover from this before fighting back. I’m on my knees outside the ring, bent over, with both my hands holding my stung package. Jeers and catcalls are hurled in my direction.

“It’s only a little thing! Get back into the ring and wrestle!” Someone shouts to nervous laughter from others in the audience. I feel like standing straight up and pulling my meat out to show them just how little it is, but I decide I’d be suspended and timed out from the promotion for that. My exhibitionism sails close to the wind, but not that close.

I’m still badly winded now. A cock ‘n ball-bash will take the wind out of any wrestlers sails fast! Even mine as I truly worship and love my own cock. My hands are on my hips. I hear the referee counting, but I decide to walk around the outside of the ring a bit to get refocused. I go up one of the aisles for a moment, and that's when I see him—a guy in skintight denims, his rod clearly visible. ‘Fuck me! You should be in the front row?’ I think to myself. A stud so well hung like that in the audience watching me wrestle is a total inspiration to me. He likely has a full erection under his 501's, as he is massively hung. I just hope his boner is for me and not that other fucker.

Then I recognised him. Third row up. It's the guy from outside the toilets. He's a wrestling fan and was only stopping there before coming to the show. He's looking over at me, my sweat-soaked body and very minimal trunks on full display. I nod to him before turning around to get back into the ring, letting him see the muscular back and arse I have.

I climb onto the ring and slide under the bottom rope just as the referee is reaching nine in his count. I'm quickly up on my feet, and the referee tells me to pull my trunks down at the rear. I ignore him and pretend I didn't hear him. I know what my fans like to see, and I fucking want the 501’s guy to see what I have. Seeing him is making my injured meat feel better, and it starts to swell again.

The fans are cheering again, and I'm pleased I’m back in the ring. The match continues, and I'm in my element. The violence and sexual overtones of the bout only fuel my desire to dominate my opponent. I can feel the energy of the crowd, their cheers and jeers spurring me on – throbbingly.

Carlos comes towards me, always on the attack with this guy, but my plan is flowing well, I think to myself; apart from the crotch attack, he is not really hurting me that much. Well, he is hurting me, but I can take it easily as it excites and stimulates me as much as it hurts me. Encouraging my big cock’s constant swelling and softening inside my trunks.

I take a defensive position, then see an opening in his approach, which allows me to strike at his legs with a kick, causing him to almost buckle. I immediately follow up with a roundhouse kick from the other direction, straight to his head. A shower of spit escapes his mouth, and he drops at once to the deck, crashing face first.

I follow through with a leg drop to the back of his head, pummelling him harder into the canvas. The audience is screaming and shouting, and I glance over in the direction of the 501 guy and see that he is standing up and cheering for me. A great body on him—he could be a wrestler himself—but it’s the package I’m staring at. He notices, squeezes, and pulls at himself in an overt cruising gesture. I lick my lips and smile as I get up and turn Carlos onto his back. I go straight into a cross-body pin, but it fails as he grabs my throat and my crotch and throws me overhead and off him. I catch myself as I fall back, then promptly get up onto my feet and perform a driving knee drop over his upper chest. He recoils and grunts loudly. As I knee drop onto him, I’m excited to be causing him to hurt, and my cock is swelling. My package bounces against his face. I hold him in that position for a moment to let him feel my sexual prowess over his face. I make groin-thrusting gestures of contempt into his face as the women and my fans in the front rows start screaming for more of wrestler Jed’s cock-action.

I decide his legs are the best avenue of attack, as his upper body strength is much greater than mine. In the meantime, I climb over his face and try a face-seated pin. I sit on his face, squeeze my bulging trunks, and position my anus onto his lips. I make masturbatory gestures towards his team. I want to piss them off and humiliate him in front of his Puerto Rican friends hanging around his corner. The audience is screaming and laughing at the scene. I see Carlos’s team shaking their heads and muttering, but if they try anything, then I have my friends hanging around my corner. I do a double biceps pose and press my bum cheeks harder on his face.

Once again, my showing off is my undoing as he reaches down with both hands and positions them under my boots, and in one fell move, he lifts me and throws me in the direction of his corner. I careen into the turnbuckle with my right shoulder impacting it. I manage to stay inside the ring though and pull myself up via the ropes. I don’t want to be at the mercy of his gang outside the ring.

I decide to climb onto the corner post. I intend to lunge at Carlos when he tries to get up. I squat on the top ropes, and my trunks automatically slide deep into my arse crack. It’s one of the reasons that I love Lycra wrestling trunks. I turn around slightly and spank my own bottom in the face of his mates when one of them jumps onto the corner side of the ring and pushes at my arsecheeks and knocks me off the corner post. I careen and crash onto the ring canvas in front of Carlos. Suddenly I’m wrestling him on the mats and trying to keep him on the ground in a side-headlock as I manoeuvre frantically for a better attack position.

From the corner of my eye, I see Ken flying towards and lunging at the guy who knocked me off the post, with Iain following closely behind. Ken drives into the guy with a flying kick, and the heavy goes winging into the front row of the audience on that side as they all scatter. Ken is straight-away on top of the guy amid the scattered seats, laying punches into his face and head. Iain was behind Ken, holding up a chair and swinging it in all directions, guarding him from the other guys. Ken was totally dominating the situation, though, and did not seem to need defending. He was in a rage and with both already in their tasteful red wrestling kit. It looked so fucking hot as one full side of Ken’s trunks was wedgied high over his meaty bum cheek. The audience was screaming and shouting as the security people piled in and separated everyone then pushed and pulled my friends, my team, back to my own corner. Ken was swinging punches and thumps as he was pushed back.

I have decent control over Carlos as he tries to push against my side-headlock hold and we are beginning to stand up. I hip-toss him straight onto his back again and lever the hold hard against his cheekbones as he crashes his lower back onto the mat. I’m driving my knuckles in and its bone grinding against bone as he starts grunting and trying to kick out.  I look up to the audience and 501’s guy is directly in front of me and standing up. He knows I want what he has got. That dick! Fuck! I adjust my holding posture and open my legs wide and give him an eyeful of my crack. The light blue trunks make a thin alluring line from the bulging balls down and diving into my arse cheeks. I’m getting horny again and flexing my fuck hole. Fuck! I’m hurting this fucking wrestler and getting angry at him and being turned-on by the stud in front of me. My cock cannot help but react. It looks as though I’m cumming to some of the woman salivating and staring straight between my thighs watching my prostate and anus flexing hard.

In my distraction I start to get forced backwards with Carlos pushing at the side of my face. I’m losing the hold as he begins to turn into me, and my hips are forced upwards. Fans are screaming at me ready to wet themselves for the side-on-view of the mountainous mound of cock and balls sticking up from my crotch. I’m thinking that a few of them might like to climb onto me.

Carlos attempts to dislodge me by jabbing an elbow into my thigh. I feel the sharp sting on the big quad muscle of my right thigh. I’m too vulnerable here so I need to readjust my wrestling position. I swing around up and over him and stabilise into a low four-point position. I secure my knees and with my muscular and bare wedgied arse sticking out towards the admiring audience, I calmy take his forearm. Out of view of the audience I twist his arm and take a wrist-lock position. I come to my feet, but the wrist lock is the weaker version and I promptly readjust to the strong wrist lock that has him shooting up onto his knees in pain.

He pushes against me, but I push inward towards him and then my full crotch is almost in his face as he is now on his knees. I know what I would do if I was in his position, so I move away and break the hold but not before I slam his arm onto the canvas. At the same time, I jump back and bounce myself off the ropes behind me and come at him with a full-on drop kick that slams into his chest and knocks him violently onto his back as he impacts near his own corner.

I at once mount him and am on his chest grabbing his head and slamming my fist and forearm into his face. I want to unload my piss all over him in this position. That would piss him off as I’m trying to get him angry enough to make mistakes fighting me. He grabs both of my wrists and pulls me forwards at the same time as he thrusts up his hips and I go crashing projected headfirst into the turnbuckle of his corner. I’m slumped over the middle ropes orientating myself. When one of Carlos Team punches the side of my forehead with his fist and I’m hurt and disorientated. I yell out in pain and feel the pain.

My team had already approached Carlos’s corner considering how close I was to his team, and Iain at once retaliated by stomping a sharp strike at the side of the guy’s knee and he collapsed immediately with his mates surrounding him. Iain steps back with his hands in the air giving a ‘It wasn’t Me Guv’ look to everybody but he and Ken are ready to start scrapping with the opposition again outside the ring They both take their ring jackets off as Ken jumps onto the side of the ring to cover me and Iain comes along the side and around. They both grab hold of me and pull me out of the ring. Iain grabs the side of my trunks, and they slide sensually exposing my left bum cheek. My own Team manhandling and pulling me by my trunks is always joy. They are right beside me now guarding me from further attack. We are three semi-naked wrestlers standing as a group on the outside of the ring and the adjacent fans on the first few rows are almost salivating at the smell of sweat and Testosterone emanating from us.

I ask Iain what he did to the guy as he is still on his back holding his knee and screaming in pain – which was fucking fighting music to my ears, and they are all going ape shit at the ring officials. “I stomped the side of his leg and probably shattered his cruciate ligaments!”

“Fuck! What!?” I exclaim in surprise as that is the sort of thing I’d want to do to Carlos. Ken, who is seated and holding onto me inside his open legs says “Fuck him! Nobody fucks with you when we have your corner. They are taking the piss.”

“You homos are making my cock hard!” I mention in passing and they both look down at my crotch which is elongating fast. “Fuck! So, it is!” says Ken. These fantastic mates I have! That Iain deliberately injured a guy on my behalf turns me on so fucking hard right now – for the loyalty but also for the brutal sadism on his part - and my leaning on Ken’s own substantive and casually throbbing package adds to the excitement. I lean my head into his and lick and kiss his neck discretely.

The promoters are arguing furiously and pointing at me, but the ring officials seem to sort things out the pause in the fighting comes to an end. The Referee is keeping Carlos in my corner while I am at his outside the ring being well guarded. Some other of our wrestlers have come out to take a position around me. I’ve been on European wrestling tours, and it is common in some venues for virtual gangs and gangsters to be in an opponent’s corner and waiting to get you should you fall into them during a hectic bout. Iain doing that guy’s leg is letting them know that the wrestlers in our promotion don’t fuck about.

I climb back into the ring but not before we hug and head bump together and I adjust myself by unpicking my deep wedgie and tidying up at the crotch reaching in and stretching my length inside the trunks. The women adjacent to me are sighing and shouting for more. As we wait for the referee to restart the bout; he calls us both to the centre of the ring and gives the ‘Resume Fighting’ sign.

We tie up in the centre of the ring, but he takes me in a reverse headlock and, from a low squatting position, lifts and throws me in a hard snap suplex throw straight over his head. I crash onto the mat behind him hard on my lower back but manage to lift my hips up enough on the crash downward, the movement a trained reflex response to lessen the back pain born and endured over years of wrestling experience.

 

I can feel the eyes of the audience on me; their shouts and yells create a cacophony of sound and riotous action. They are getting what they want only minutes into the bout—a hot and brutal wrestling show. With the exciting addition of our guys fighting outside the ring, I know what Iain and Ken are like; they will be gagging after that ringside altercation, with their cocks dripping, for their fight to start. What I intend to do in my fight will leave the audience breathless and satisfied.

I’m still struggling with Carlos for control as he still has a grip on me. He tries to turn around on me I have adopted a wrestler’s bridge position with the intention of blocking his turn. I can hear the screams of the women in the crowd, their voices high-pitched and eager. I know they're looking at my bulging junk—the bouncy Lycra fabric of my trunks—leaving next to nothing to their imagination. I can feel the exposed arsecrack and the incendiary air of the arena between my muscled thighs adding to the rising heat of my body.

I lower my hips but decide in that moment that I want to make the women cum into their moist knickers just by watching me. I’m turned-on by all this rough wrestling action and I want my fans to get turned-on too. I know that's what they love—what they don't get at home. I'm an exhibitionist, a sex worker on the side who loves to put on a sexy wrestling show. And I'm going to give them a show they'll soak their knickers over.

I break the hold that I have on my opponent, as he is too strong on the upper body. I turn around and slide myself away from him. I push myself up onto my elbows, my body still trembling from the impact of the suplex throw. I can see the hostility in Carlos's eyes—the way he's looking at me with a hunger that's more than just a desire to win. I know he wants to take me, wants to dominate, and wants to control me. He is fighting for his promotion too, and only one of us will win. It can never be a draw, as we’d demand extra time to continue to brutalise one another. However, I think he is getting frustrated with his lack of progress and is irritated by my evident focus on the audience.

He is back on his feet, and I give him a cocky grin, my eyes gleaming with mischief. "Is that all you've got?" I taunted him, “Give it to me, you fuck! I fucking want the pain! It makes my huge fucking cock hard!”

Offended, he responds with a high leg drop onto the back of my head, and my face crashes into the rough canvas mat. I come up again quickly and am on all fours when he kicks at the side of my head, and I spit a mouthful across the ring from the impact. I’m too dazed to respond other than to drop onto the mat, stunned. The referee holds him back and starts his count on me. I come up onto my knees and try to crawl away out of range. He just got me the way I got him earlier! The fuck! The stinging pain was horny though as I reach under and squeeze myself.

He snarls at the screaming audience as one of my loyal female fans rushes over to ringside from the front row and screams expletives at him, her boyfriend, or one of the security guys—I wasn’t sure—pulls her back to her seat. Carlos ignores her and comes over to me. I’m still on all fours but getting up to my knees when he grabs my hair with one hand and the back of my trunks with the other. His fingers tighten on my trunks as he yanks me to my feet again and my trunks are pulled hard into a deep wedgie.

My muscular glutes, now fully exposed, flex towards everybody watching, but at the same time, my cock is protruding again from the side of my trunks as the high trunks pull, dislodging my thick cock length off to the open side of my trunks. I manage to tuck my length back in quickly as the crowd in front of me is roaring with a mixture of catcalls and cock-admiring delight. He pulls me up, then, with one hand around my shoulders and the other between my legs, he has me hanging there and facing him as he suddenly hits me with a sharp body drop onto his upward-facing knee. I feel the sharp jolt on my ribs and guts when he picks me up again and throws me bodily with total contempt straight into the ropes behind us. He was trying to show his total dominance over the ring space, but I caught myself, and I’m half in the ring and half out, gasping for air, and at once grabbing for the ropes to stay on my feet.

I climb back into the ring but am leaning back on the top rope when he suddenly comes at me with a drop kick that lands squarely on my chest and knocks me over the top rope and clean out of the ring. I'm thrown and pulled over the top rope by the force of his powerful drop kick. I succeed in catching myself on the way down and landing on my feet. I even got a small round of applause for that skilled landing. The referee starts his count, and I make to enter the ring again, but Carlos comes at me and is waiting to take me again as I try to come through the ropes. I decide not to fall for that, and I take a moment to catch my breath, walking up one of the aisles.

I checked out the guy in the 501's, and he still looks pretty stacked, but with a noticeable damp patch where the bell-end of his huge dick would be. Fuck! I want to taste this guy’s sexual energy and spunk. I look down at my crotch and let him see how I look. I flex my meat a few times and give him an inviting smile. Hopefully for later. He gives me an enthusiastic thumbs-up, and he is clearly enjoying the fight. As I am. I’m hurting, aching, and bleeding, but that is all part of being a wrestler and a part that I love passionately.

We go into a collar and elbow, but he shifts aside at the last moment and picks me up bodily again. He holds me over his head, doing a shoulder press, then casually but maliciously drops me onto my corner post. I crash straight onto it, hurting my side where he had knee-dropped me earlier. I grimace in pain but suddenly lose balance and slide off. I land on the outside of the ring but then jump off onto the floor before he can attack me again. Iain and Ken are standing nearby watching intently.

Carlos decides to follow me to the outside of the ring and is standing still on the ring but outside the ropes when I decide to climb back in. Pain—ecstatic orgasmic pain—is still running through my body when I come around to the side of the ring in time to feel his boot slamming into my face. Totally stunned, I fall straight onto my back, my entire body length slamming onto the floor as I drop.

I lie there, breathing heavily, with the taste of blood—my blood—and dryness in my mouth. The crowd is going wild, their cheers and jeers echoing in my ears. I can see Carlos looming over me, a triumphant sneer on his face. I look up and see Ken indicating at me discreetly to look at something. There is a horny woman quietly fingering herself—the one who screamed at Carlos earlier. Fuck! One of my female fans is masturbating over me at one of my bouts! She is looking intently at my crotch as is her boyfriend or partner. I’m thinking that I hope my meat is not too exposed, but she is licking her lips, and I think she would love to give me a blowjob. I smile inwardly, thinking that I could give her boyfriend a better blow job than she does.

I reach down to adjust my cock and balls. It has softened a bit but stayed mostly covered. I’ll have it semi’ing again in no time. Especially for this fan. I try to bring myself up to my feet and grab her arm as I do so. I come up to my knees in front of her. She is surprised. I smile very leeringly at her. “Hot!” I say, “Keep watching!” I stand up in front of her and adjust my trunks directly in front of her face. I flex and stretch a bit to get the kinks out of my tight muscles while thrusting forward and displaying myself to her. She and her partner are looking straight into my crotch, which I flex, and her tongue massages her lips as my heavy bulge moves and shifts in front of her. He reaches to squeeze his own bulge. I think then that a man is truly blessed by Priapus when he is given a huge and very thick cock—and the sex drive to match his genital prowess!

I turn back towards the ring and look up at my opponent. I am allowing my exhibitionist tendencies to distract me, and I need to get my head together for the fight. That could have been a knockout. I’m fucking about too much and allowing my masochistic and pain-loving urges to take too many risks. He is starting to make me angry with these vicious face attacks. I’m bloodied facially while he is unmarked—for the moment. I decide I need to stick to my plan, though. To let him think I’m a pushover until he gets overconfident enough for me to take him totally and brutally down.

The referee is counting. “Five-ahhh! Six-ahhh! Seven-ahhh!” My opponent breaks the count by jumping out of the ring and grabbing me, he reverse-headlocks me while he grabs one side of my trunks. He lifts me up swiftly, then turns around to side-suplex me straight onto the hard, unpadded boards of the ring, but outside the ropes. I yell out and grunt as my upper back recoils and arches from the grinding impact. I’m about to roll off onto the floor when he grabs my head again and pulls me bodily around. My body is now under the ropes, with my head over the side of the ring. He brings his elbow up and smashes it down onto my upper chest. I saw it coming and flexed my pecs to absorb the blow, but I felt it all the same.

I’m still dizzy and disoriented, but he starts pounding my upper body with his forearms. My muscularity and thick pecs continue to easily absorb the pounding, while my nipples begin to erect. But I can’t get back into the ring, and I can’t properly get out as he is blocking me. He suddenly pulls me back out of the ring, and I’m about to fall onto the ring floor when he locks my head between his thighs. He reaches back, pulls my face right into his arse, and starts squeezing his glutes and thighs. I’m staring straight into his arse, covered by his sweat-soaked black trunks and starting to feel the pressure of the squeeze.

“You like that, Puto! You want some more Latino arse?!” He says it mockingly. “I hear you like to kiss a real man’s arse!”

I can hardly hear him as my hearing is mostly cut off, but I’m now more aware of the sound vibrations running through the arena. I reach up behind him, try to pull him away, and grab at his trunks. I pull them straight up into a deep wedgie. His slightly hairy arse is bare and in my face. I can smell the sweat from his crack and fuckhole. I look back at the woman, and this time it is her boyfriend who is fingering her. She looks to be in a frenzy of excitement; her thigh is exposed with a shifting hand under her dress, working her hard.

Carlos grabs a bottle and starts pouring the water over my chest, but then I feel a warm heat as well. It feels as though he is pissing on me. He is pissing through his black trunks and over me. “This is what you deserve! You like that, don’t you?! A fucking sexual pervert taking a fucking drink of a man’s piss!” In another context, it might have been horny, but here, in the sacred pro-wrestling ring, he has just thrown a massive insult in my face.

He steps away from me and maliciously pulls me off the ringside, and I crash onto the floor. He reaches down to grab the sides of my head and pulls me up to my feet I get back up again my back to the ring. He tries another head-butt, but I anticipated it and dodged it. He continued his attack by shoulder ramming my guts and my lower back slams into the side of the ring. The boards are hard and abrasive, and I feel the jarring and cutting impacts on my lower spine. He grabs the plastic bottle again and slams it into the side of my piss-tasting face as I fall forward and drop to my knees. He jumps up onto the side of the ring, then jumps down onto me and stomps my upper back. I yell out a grunt as I crash forward. People in the audience, including the excited lady and her boyfriend, are yelling, and screaming at me to get up and fight back. My fans inspire me, and now I’m going to work him over.

The referee calls for us to get into the ring and starts a final count. The fans love it when the action rolls outside the ring, but only if it is on their side. Referees will allow the action to continue as it generates heat in the audience, but not for those that cannot see anything, and security doesn’t like sudden movements of people shifting to get a better view of the fight.

Carlos jumps straight back into the ring, and I get up, and I’m on all fours. I look up at the woman being fingered; her legs are starting to quiver, and I think she must be close. I smile a leery smile at her boyfriend, who smiles back at me. His meaty cock is hard under his trousers. I figure he must be bi, but they both obviously love this kind of eroticized semi-naked professional wrestling. I’m a muscular wrestler, hung-like-fuck in very skimpy cock and bum-enhancing wrestling trunks, and soaked in sweat with blood from an opened eyebrow running down my face. This is sexually very thrilling for some of the wrestling fans to see live. As much as it is sexually stimulating and boner-making for me to be doing.

I sit back on my knees, look around and casually give my crotch a good squeeze and pull, and shake it in front of them like I’m just adjusting myself. Had I been wrestling in a sex bout, then I’d be offering them my cock to taste. I stand up again, and the woman erupts as she stares at the hefty side view of my bulging crotch. She moans very loudly, but the sound of the crowd muffles her. I want to pull my meat out and let her taste my bell-end. Her boyfriend would be okay with that, I think. I pull my trunks slightly and let her see the head of my cock underneath, and she moans a good bit more. She is now definitely cumming, and his hands must be soaked now. I look at her and give her a thumbs up, as the referee is at eight. I quickly shoot under the ropes and am back in the ring and quickly on my feet again at my corner.

He straightaway does a powerful flying dropkick from the other side of the ring and forces me right out of the ring. I crash to the outside onto the concrete floor in front of the randy couple. I arch my back in pain, throwing my bulging, open-legged crotch up into the air to the immediate visual delight of my male and female fans in the front two rows.

"Fuck!" I hissed, my back spasming, as I hit the concrete floor. The impact sends a jolt of pain up my spine, and I can feel the heat of Carlos's attack radiating through my body. I then roll onto my side, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The crowd's cheers are a distant roar in my ears, drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I can see Carlos looming over me, his eyes wild with excitement. He has followed me out of the ring again, determined to pursue his attack. I can hear the ref counting us both and ordering us back into the ring. He's obviously enjoying this—the pain, the violence, the dominance. The referee has the best position in the ring. Carlos squeezes his heavy wet piss crotch and reaches down to me. His hand curls around the front of my trunks. He pulls me to my feet, and in doing so, he pulls my trunks again into a deep wedgie. I must come up, as he would tear my trunks off if I didn’t. My fans in the audience would love seeing that, and I’d be turned on big time by it’s happening. I certainly would not have stopped wrestling. I’m thinking that I should just have worn a thong for this bout, as I was being constantly wedgied by him. He seemed to like trunks pulling and bum cheeks wedgies. My wrestling mate Iain loves wedgies. I think he might be horny for me.

"You like that, Puto?" He growls, his face inches from mine. I can smell the sweat on his skin and the raw, animalistic scent of him. I can see the lust in his eyes—the desire to hurt me, to make me give. He can hurt me as much as he likes but there is no way I’ll give to this prick.

I spit in his face, my saliva landing on his cheek with a wet smack. "Is that the best you've got? I think you like my arse too much. You should get down and lick me out and eat it!" I taunted; my voice laced with contempt. I can feel my cock throbbing in my flimsy trunks, pulled tight by the wedgie. My balls are heavy with spunk. The pain, the violence—it's fucking turning me on intensely and fuelling my desire to fight back. However, too much masochism in a wrestler makes him a jobber.

He grabs my head with both his hands and closes the distance between us. We are in intimate physical contact down the entire length of our muscular bodies. Our sweat lubricates our skin, sliding against each other. His thighs are pressed against mine, but our crotches are touching, and pressing heavily against each other. I feel his meat throbbing against mine as I throb my meat against his. We were privately cockfighting now, our heavy endowments separated only by the thin, sweat-soaked material of our too small wrestling trunks. He is looking at me like he wants me for something more, his cock is flexing harder against mine, and I look down at his lips and his tongue licking between them.

He suddenly headbutts me, but so hard and unexpectedly that I go flying across the side of the ring. I almost fall to the floor again but grab the bottom rope to catch and support myself. I'm hanging there, momentarily stunned, blood flowing badly again from my split eyebrow, when he attacks me again. He grabs my head and pulls it into a side headlock, holding me tight with one arm while slamming his fist repeatedly into my forehead and bleeding eyebrow. He throws himself forward and slams my face hard into the concrete floor.

I recoil and am lying there, arms by my side dazed, my vision swimming deeply in blood as I struggle to get up. The taste of blood fills my mouth, and I can feel it running down from my badly split eyebrow and onto the concrete. My blood will forever be buried deep into the cracks of this hard concrete floor. The crowd's cheers and roars are a distant, muffled sound in my ears, drowned out by the pounding of my heart and my heavy breathing.

Carlos is on me in an instant, his hands curling around my front waistband as he yanks me away from the ringside and slamming me back first into the heavy steel ring post. My cock and balls fall completely out of my trunks, but he straight away rams me back into the corner post. The impact again sent a jolt of pain up my spine. I drop to my knees, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fight to clear my head. I flex my unexpectedly exposed cock as I am turned on massively by his brutality and I feel a shot of jism spurting onto the concrete floor. The audience near me are wide-eyed and can’t believe what they are seeing. One guy makes a gesture of two fingers separated by a wide distance to everybody around him amid nervous laughter. I quickly tuck my meat and two veg back into the front of my high riding trunks. More jism oozes out of my cock and into the front of the light blue trunks. The sticky damp patch is evident as the hot blood flowing down my face makes my body shake. I feel the adrenaline pumping into my body and the spunk surging into my balls. I feel that I am close and that I need to cum.

"You're nothing, Puto," Carlos snarls, looming over me. He's got this wild, feral look in his eyes, and I can tell he's loving torturing me like this—the pain, the violence, the dominance. He squeezes his crotch, the thick bulge of his cock straining against the thin fabric of his brief black trunks. "You're just a pretty little male whore that thinks he can wrestle, aren't you?"

I smile at his dirty talk but turned-on at the same to hear him talk to me like that. If only he knew. I spit a mouthful of blood at him, the crimson liquid splattering against his swollen crotch. "Fuck you," I growl, my voice laced with contempt. I can feel my own cock elongating sideways in my trunks; the pain and violence of the match so far have fuelled my bloody wrestling carnality.

Carlos grabs me by the hair, forcing my head back as he leans in close. "I'm going to make you beg, Puto," he whispers, his crotch brushing against my face. "I'm going to make you scream as my cock fucks you in front of my friends. You are the loser of this fight!"

He is making a crude attempt at crotch domination. To me of all people! I have the biggest dick in our wrestling promotion! I look up at him, “Me? The way I fucking look! People have cum into their pants watching me wrestle, you dick!” I shout back at him. I’d had enough of him, and now it was my turn to brutalize him. I’ll bet he won’t enjoy me the way I was masochistically enjoying him. It’s the turn of the sadistic heel in me.

I'm a wrestler and a fighter, and I'll be damned if I let this arrogant prick beat me. I'll take the pain and the violence, and I'll turn it against him. I'll make him regret ever stepping foot in this ring to wrestle against me.

The referee instructs that we both come back into the ring and he climbs up and goes through the ropes. I slide in under the ropes but then I get up and attack him.

I lunge at him, but he picks me up catching my momentum and drops me in a sharp body slam back onto the mats. He pulls me up again and then body slams one more time. My package is bouncing as the ring shakes with the two impacts. He goes behind me and lifts me up again with his incredible strength and then throws me casually straight over the ropes and onto the outside floor. The concrete slams into me as I yell “Oh fuck! I’m hurt! Oh man! Oh fuck!” I’m at the feet of the people in front of the front row and rolling and writhing in pain. My female fan reaches down and tries to help me as Carlos climbs out of the ring to try and finish me off.

I come up to my knees, but I impacted the front of my head on the concrete as I was thrown out of the ring. I try to stand but collapse to the floor, my vision fading in and out as I struggle to stay conscious. I can hear the referee's voice, faint and distant, as he begins to count us both out. I need to get back in the ring to put up a fight, but my body is betraying me like the limp and floppy dick of a horny client with ED, refusing to obey my commands. I can only stay on the ground with a wide kneed stance.

Carlos grabs me by the back of my trunks, pulling me to my feet as he squeezes my arse. That triggers me as my arse cheeks are sensitive to touch and arouse readily. The wedgie is so deep that I feel like my trunks are going to either fuck me or split in two. "You like that, Puto?" he growls, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You like it when I hurt you?" He pushes me against the ringside and shoulder rams me into the ring decking. I feel the sting on my lower back. He leans in towards me and slap punches my chest as I bounce back into the lower ropes.

I summon what little strength I have left taking advantage of the momentum bouncing me off the ropes, driving my knee into his stomach with as much force as I can muster. He doubles over, grunting in pain, and I take the opportunity to shove him away from me. I stumble towards the ring, my legs threatening to buckle beneath me with each step.

I manage to clamber back into the ring just as the referee reaches the count of nine. I'm on my hands and knees with my arse cheeks totally exposed form his deep wedgie. I’m gasping for breath and hurting badly as Carlos slides back in after me. It looks as though he's got this crazed, maniacal look in his eyes, and I know he's not done with me yet. Not by a long shot.

Carlos snarls, his fingers tightening on my trunks and pulls me back. They are pulled off at the back exposing my naked bumcheeks to him and the audience. He yanks me closer, and then reaches over to grab my hair and pull my head back. Any second I’m expecting him to fuck me. Instead, his head slams into the back of mine and I jerk forward crashing onto the canvas bare arsed. He climbs on top of me and comes up my body. I feel his crotch pressing hard into my bared bum cheeks and his cock flexing hard against my skin. He keeps moving upward and turns 90 degrees on me and turns me onto my back with a quarter nelson turn and dropping down onto me and attempts to take a pinning position. His mouth, though, comes crashing down on mine in a brutal kiss as he rubs his forehead hard into mine. I can taste the blood on his lips; the metallic tang of it fills my mouth. I reach back to grab the lower rope and break the referee’s pin count then bite down hard on his lower lip drawing blood. He yelps in pain, releasing me and recoiling back on his knees directly to the side of me.

I take advantage of his momentary distraction, driving my fist into his bulging groin. He doubles over, a strangled cry escaping his lips. I grab the back of his head, pulling him down and crashing his head onto the canvas. He crumples to the ground, his body limp hugging his balls with both hands.

I climb up and stand over him, my chest heaving as I catch my balance and my breath. The crowd is going wild; their cheers are a deafening roar in my ears. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins—the rush of endorphins that comes with the pain and the violence. This is what I live for—the thrill of the fight, the mutual dance of pain and pleasure.

The referee is counting as I go over to my corner and rest my head on the post trying to get myself together. My muscular back and lower back are scratched and bruise by all the postings and shoulder ramming’s into the hard ring corner posts and boards. Iain and Ken are looking up concerned but I wave OK to them both.

He barely gives me time to recover when he moves in on me again. If I was him and knowing myself, I’d not want to give me time to recover either. He puts a muscular arm between my legs. He brushes against my crotch and pulls my trunks down slightly at the front before fixing on my left side crotch and rolling me back easily in a body roll over his body and onto my upper back. He side-mounts and attempts to pin me with my legs splayed outwards and I’m looking inside my thighs and at my own crotch looming over my face. The ref immediately starts his three count as I feel Carlos groping my crotch, he discreetly squeezes and pulls at my meat like he was checking me out to see if it was real. I don’t have the time to enjoy it so I kick-out of the pin and drop to one side then onto my belly.

I’m flat on the canvas when he comes up over me and grabs my hair and pulls me up onto my splayed knees. He once again drops closed fist punches to my forehead and a heavy forearm to my face. I stay on my knees but swing wildly to one side from the forearm blow. He runs back to one side of the ring before bouncing back and hitting me with a double legged and footed drop-kick slamming straight onto my chest. I see it coming at the last minute and bring my arms forward and flex my pec muscles. I absorb the pain, but the impact sends me anyway into the ropes on the other side of the wrestling ring where I’m prostrate and dangling on the ropes.

Carlos gets onto to his feet while I’m still reorientating myself and slides outside the ring onto my side. He grabs both of my legs and just hauls me bodily out of the ring, and I drop back-first onto the concrete outside. I slam onto the surface as he steps over me and stomps my guts. I instantly fold over gasping a loud exhale to protect myself. He comes around me again and pushes my uppermost shoulder with his right boot so that I roll over onto my back. He then stands astride and drops his arsecrack onto my face. His actual anus is over my mouth as he squats there casually. I buck and kick because his arse cheeks over my face makes it hard to breathe. I smell the damp urine in his trunks and the musky masculine smell of his groin. I feel my cock elongating inside my trunks and the boner is coming on thick and fast. I flex and pulse my cock meat involuntarily as I grab at him and try to dislodge him off of me. This is an awkward situation as I’m not on my fans side of the ring and I’m not sure if my meat is going to rocket out of my trunks in front of everybody in the front rows. I feel my lungs gasping for air as the ref is instructing us to get back into the ring. Ignored by Carlos he then begins his demonstrative count. I want to start rimming this fucker but if I do that, I’ll shoot my load.

Suddenly he stands up and I take in gulps of air and roll to my side to cover myself. My cock was well out of my trunks pointing straight upwards lying over my belly and past my naval. People in the front row are looking at my erection and murmuring, I hear a lady saying to her husband “He’s a very good-looking boy, dear! It’s probably just his enthusiasm for wrestling showing!” No truer word could have been said about the situation. I reach down and adjust myself quickly. My special lady fan would have exploded into her soaked knickers if she had seen me lying like that in front of her. Hopefully, her boyfriend too as I’d get off big time on seeing his spunky damp patch in his trousers.

Carlos stands over me again and astride my chest I am looking up his crotch silhouetted in the bright ring lights. He grabs the sides of my head and pulls me straight up in one slow powerful move. He literally lifts me right up over his head and shoulders showing his strength and muscular power to the crowd. He adjusts so that his hand is now fully compressing my balls and crotch. The big swollen head of my cock pokes out of the side of my trunks. He drops me straight into the ring canvas upper body first. My head and face slam onto the ring boards which are not padded outside the ropes. I crash down hard and fall-back recoiling from the ring onto the first row of the audience. People scatter as I crash back onto the vacated chairs, and they stand around me yelling support and encouragement.

 

While I’m prostrate and disoriented among the furniture, he jumps back into the ring to cancel the refs counting before he rolls his body out again and is once again looming over me. He drops down over my body and grabs my head again pulling me towards him then starts slamming a fist and forearm into my forehead and face. I’m on my back amidst the seating with more people scattering on the concrete floor half-naked and taking a fucking beating. I can feel blood trickling down my face, and it probably looks to the fans that I’m taking a beating. Well, I wasn’t worried about that just so long as Carlos thought I was a wrestler taking a beating.

 

I’m looking up at him and straight into his black trunks and heavy bouncing crotch. I can feel and see his power and I’m aroused by the brutal chaotic masochism of my situation. This looks rough to the audience but for me, Jed Mulvaney, it is only rough foreplay as the worst and bloodiest is yet to come.

 

I guard my head from further strikes. He is already leaning forward over me, so I grab his head with my right hand and pull it down and pass it to my left arm where I hook over his head and have a controlling rear headlock. I’m a bit obstructed by the crowd around us then the security arrives and start moving people back from us. I feel a hand touching my groin and pushing something under the front of my trunks.

 

With more ground space I have moved beyond just having some control of Carlos to full control so I shift his centre of gravity forward and sidewards enough that I can push my hips up and tip him. I slid out from under Carlos but not before standing up quickly and delivering an elbow drop onto his face. I want to make this cunt bleed too. My wet purple cock head was sticking out the side of my trunks and I was wedgied deeply at the rear. My naked arsecheeks were exposed totally. I reached into the front of my trunks and adjusted my package then reached back and pulled the trunks out of my muscled arsecrack. I pulled out a piece of paper wet with my sweat and my jism on which was hurriedly written a phone number. No name just a number.

 

Carlos was starting to get up. I quickly pushed the paper deep into the top of my wrestling boots. I stepped back towards the ring with the view of launching an attack on Carlos, but I decide against it as people are starting to grab their seats again. I could injure them if I dived into Carlos at this point. Carlos does not think that though as he rushes me and crashes my back slamming into the ring side. I recoiled back into the ring side just as he rammed his shoulders into my gut and slammed my lower back hard against the ring boards. He reached behind me and grabbed the back of my trunks to lift and drop me arse first onto the boards. My glutes, now wedged again, are solid muscle so I never felt that though my back was aching from these one after the other shoulder ramming attacks.

 

He head-butted me again though and I recoiled back into the ropes. As I tried to stabilise myself, dazed by the blow, I noticed more blood trickling down my face My eyebrow had been split open and blood was now dripping onto the bulging crotch of my light blue wrestling trunks.

 

I was now seated at the side of the wrestling ring with my back leaning against the horny ring ropes. Carlos climbed up to the ringside right up in front of me and his own bulging crotch was in right in front of my face. He held onto the top ring rope from the outside and initiated a front-facing head scissors hold. He had my head between his muscular thighs with his legs inside the ring pushing me hard against the ropes and starting to crush my head. I could feel his big balls pushing against my face as he squeezed, and I grunted and struggled. I could sniff the damp musky sweat and piss and saw his thick rod elongating inside his trunks. He was getting hard as he was applying this hold! I reached up with my hands and pushed his trunks into a wedgie. I positioned one of my hands to the side of his rod and started squeezing his meat. He relaxed the scissors hold that he had on my head. I was doing this teasing deliberately and he was responding - much to his impending demise.

 

Carlos was now making the same mistakes I did in this bout. He was getting distracted. I could feel his crotch flexing into my face as he throbbed and flexed his cock under his trunks. I brought both my legs up onto the ringside and pushing against his body for support came up into a deep squatting position. My legs were parted and the horse cock bulge in my trunks must have been obvious to the crowd in the front rows as my meat was pushed forwards and downwards inside my flimsy sweat-soaked trunks. The last time I was squatting this deep it was while I was riding wrestling mate Ken’s big thick cock. Here though I imagine the woman’s boyfriend sucking me off now and feel my cock meat swelling.

 

I try to dislodge Carlos and my plan is to break him from holding the top rope and drop slam him onto his back against the concrete floor from the height of the ring. He does not yield his grip, so I distract him a bit more by licking around his fuckhole and he gasps as he feels my wet tongue probing at his hole. Had he not been wearing those black trunks I could have got my wet tongue into his manhole. I’m an expert fuckhole licker and have made guys cum just by rimming them.

 

My hands are now holding onto his thighs as I lick. It’s a manoeuvre that nobody can see me doing but Carlos feels it as he becomes more distracted. I move my hands onto his bumcheeks and pull them into a deeper wedgie. He keeps squeezing my head yelling at me to submit but that is never going to happen. It looks like a race between me submitting and him cumming. I sustain the lessened pain and instead slide my thumb between his meaty arse crack and start fingering and pressing at his tight anus under his trunks. He is probably a sexual top and doing this, fingering his tight hole, will make him feel violated. My thumb penetrates his hole with all that sweat down there acting as slippery lube. My bulge is flexing frantically now with the audience shouting and cheering us on.

 

He suddenly separates one hand from the rope to reach behind and pull my hand away from his wedged bum crack. This is my chance to complete my counterattack as I have had enough of this fucking around so I quickly cover the hand clinging to the ropes with mine and apply the painful thumb-break counter. He at once releases his only hold on the ropes – there is nothing else he can do as he is already badly distracted by my thumb-rape of his anus and starts to fall back.

 

I accelerate the move downwards and slam his upper back and head straight onto the concrete floor. The crowd erupts when they see and hear the gut-wrenching sound of his scream in pain. I fall on top of him but on impact with the floor he immediately releases the head-scissors. He lies there stunned and jerking in pain and moaning grabbing the back of his head.

 

I don’t follow through but immediately get back into the ring. I quickly try to orientate myself and check my head to see if it is still there. The referee reaches to the back of me and pulls my wedged trunks out of my bum crack. I’m too dizzy still to notice as I squat down and breathe deeply to get the oxygen into my brain.

 

I see Carlos on his knees outside the ring looking shaken by the sudden brutality of that fall onto the outside floor. The referee is counting but I dive outside the ring and slam my boots straight into Carlos’s face as he is kneeling and exposed. He flies back into the audience as they all scatter.

I’m standing over him yelling at him to get up. He must be getting more pissed, and my distractions had already worked once on him. He looks at me enraged and there is a little pool of blood on the floor where he landed. My cock shifts inside my trunks on seeing that. We go into a collar and elbow just outside the ring and he uses his angry strength to push my back against the ring boards but goes further and tears my lower back along the length of the boards and slams me into the corner post. I release the locking hold we have and am yelling in pain and dropping to my knees. The boards have torn the skin on my lower back and I’m bleeding there.

He was pushing up against me trying to trap me there with my back to the corner post. I looked at the throbbing bulge in his black trunks smelling of his musky intense sweat and piss. I held my own cock bulge in one hand and squeezed myself and in that moment I headbutted his crotch. I hit his bulging groin so hard and with such anger and rage that it sent a huge wave of sharp and burning pain coursing through his body. He is stunned and gasping for air, hanging one hand on the bottom rope and the other around his hammered crotch.

The crowd groans in collective pain as they heard and felt the brutal moment of my head impacting his cock and balls. I'm still on my knees, and with my own cock throbbing in pleasure against his throbbing in pain. I feel more jism oozing out of my cockhead. To be honest I’d have spunked myself, repeatedly, by now if I had been sex wrestling a vicious bout like after holding in a weeks’ worth of spunk.

I rub a finger into my covering foreskin and draw off my cock juice onto my fingers. I rub into my fist as I manoeuvre behind him to drive my tightly clenched and jism-wet fist up between his legs and punch his balls, cripplingly hard, from below. His arsecheeks clenched so hard it would have crushed a walnut pushed between those mounds of muscle. I want to fuck him! Physically and figuratively! I want to fuck him up good!

I jump onto the ringside as he collapses in a heap onto the floor, grabbing the rapidly collapsing bulge in his trunks as his own once proudly swollen cock shrinks in panic from the sudden and brutal assault. I'm about to climb into the ring and let the referee start his count against Carlos when I see Carlos rolling onto his back in exquisitely clear pain.

Knowing that he is in excruciating pain as a result of what I have just done to him, I’m excited to look at him as he lies writhing there. Well, I'm not done yet and especially after what he has done to me in this bout. I jump off the ringside and stomp my right wrestling boot against his crotch one more time. He screams and yells and rolls over onto his belly, covering his groin and bucking his arched cheeks high into the air. His trunks are wedged, and I am right now hung-like-fuck in mine, ready to rape him where he lies.

In another kind of bout, we would both have been fully naked, and I would have done exactly that. I would have thrust my entire length of thick erect cock hard into his ragged, exposed anus and spunked my entire load deep into his gaping guts as he screamed in agony.

I jump back into the ring as the referee yells at me to fight by the rules. "I told you both, no dirty moves!" as he pulls me back and tells me to get into my corner. He begins counting, "One-ahhh, two-ahhh, three-ahhh."

I'm in my corner and I'm fucking gagging to get at Carlos. My eyebrow is badly split and blood is flowing but the spunk is still surging into my cock and I'm almost ready to explode with excitement. I turn around and climb onto the middle rope and flex my muscles at the audience. I thrust my groin forward to hear screams of excitement from the women in the audience. Even the guys are standing up and cheering me on. "Who has the dick?!" I shout, "Who has the fucking dick?!" I'm totally erect, ragingly erect now in my small trunks. My thick, hard meat is bonering sideways and pushing outwards against the yielding lycra. The thin material, light blue in colour, disguises nothing and instead clings to my flexing shaft and enhances every throbbing vein. If any of the women had tried to pull my trunks off, I swear I would have let them and continued the fight naked. I am so fucking turned on right now. I'm now going to win this fucking fight.

I'm so excited to play to the audience that I turn around and am about to jump off the ropes with a view to letting the audience see how heavily my package bounces. I’m surprised by seeing Carlos standing behind me as I turn around. He is raging, but he still looks uncomfortable. I am pleased he is hurting because he is going to hurt more until I finally beat him senseless.

He reaches up with his left hand and wraps his hand around my throat, pulling me close. I can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. His other arm slides between my legs, brushing against my crotch. He feels my erection and tugs at the front of my trunks, pulling them down to expose the swollen purple head of my donkey cock and the turgid length of my thick shaft, all enhanced by the light blue leather cock ring wrapped behind my balls at the base of my meat.

The crowd erupts in cheers and catcalls, their eyes glued to the spectacle of our outrageous wrestling and excited by two nearly-naked and big-dicked wrestlers going at one another. I can hear the ref's protests at my sudden nakedness and his shouts at us both for more self-control. He has no idea of the animalistic and carnal passions that wrestler's live for. Nor the brutal experiences that excite them to near orgasm in the public ring. In any case, his loud protests are more than drowned out by the roar and screams of the approving audience.

Carlos lifts me up in one fell move, his muscles straining as he hoists me over his head and shoulders. He adjusts his grip, his hand now fully compressing my balls and crotch. The pain is sharp and intense, but it only fuels my desire to fight back. Now, mostly outside the top of my trunks, my thick cockmeat flexes and throbs. I feel jism oozing out of my cock and dribbling over Carlos's hand. Guys and women are up on their feet and banging against the ring boards in excitement.

He lifts me up high over him as I grasp at my throat, trying to breathe, and drops me straight down and across the top ring rope. I bounce off heavily and feel my entire body slamming and crashing uncontrollably onto the ring canvas. I felt the tight rope lacerating across my chest and exposed cock and balls. Impacting the mat surface sends jolts of pain over my body. My junk, fully erect outside of my wrestling trunks, flaps all over the place as I roll over and end up face-first on the mats and almost out the other side of the ring.

I’d expected him to body-slam me and then go for the pin. I should have realised, knowing the kind of cunt he was, that when he lifted me up way beyond the body slam position, I would be onto the fucking ring ropes. It could have been worse. He could have thrown me into the audience again and watched them scatter as my cock-exposed, semi-naked body crashed on top of them and into the chairs. I like to think that the hunky 501's guy would have stood up and caught me. Feeling my entire sweaty, semi-naked body lying over him would have been his horny reward. He'd probably have spunked spontaneously into his denims and then wanked himself silly when he got home to bed.

I reach under my body and push my exposed meat back into my trunks, wincing as the fabric rubs against my sensitive skin. I'm still mostly hard, my cock throbbing with desire as I get up onto my knees. I look down and see more jism oozing out the bell-end of my cock and dripping to the ring floor. Fuck! The physical pain I feel is exciting me beyond words. I reach back and pick my trunks out from both sides of my bum crack, feeling the hot, burning air of the ring against my exposed skin. The truth is that my S&M instincts are so strong that I could only ever want to be a professional wrestler, despite the injuries and the bruises. Since pain only excites my masochistic side, it drives me on even more to fight harder and return the pain, but more sadistically. It means I can take and absorb so much more punishment than the average wrestler and still come back fighting.

The referee is holding Carlos back as he counts against me. "One-ahhh, two-ahhh, three-ahhh," he chants, his voice stern and authoritative. I can see the anger in Carlos's eyes; after my triple crotch attack, his package looked subdued, but his desire to hurt me is still burning bright. He knows better than to attack me while the referee is counting.

I stagger back onto the ropes, my legs shaky and unsteady. I can feel the pain radiating through my body; the bruises and cuts are all over me. They are badges of courage. But I'm not done yet. I'm not going to let Carlos win this bout.

I take a deep breath and push myself off the ropes, launching myself at Carlos. He's caught off guard, and I manage to land a solid forearm smash on his jaw. He stumbles back, his eyes wide with surprise. But he quickly recovers, and before I know it, he's on me again. He grabs me by the waist and lifts me up into a bear hug. Both my arms are trapped at my sides as he swings me around. It is uncomfortable, but in no way painful, as I try to land another headbutt on his face. He evades me, but seeing the bear hug was going nowhere, he does a side drop, slamming me down hard onto the mat with a bone-crushing thud. As Carlos crashes on top of me, I cry out in pain because it feels like a truck has hit my body.

Carlos doesn't waste any time! He readjusts his position, staying on top of me, his arms wrapping around my throat and neck in a front choke attempt. I can feel his hot breath on my face as he squeezes tighter and tighter. Momentarily, our tongues touch. I'm struggling to breathe, and my vision is starting to blur.

But I refuse to give up. I manage to wriggle one arm free and land a solid punch outside the ref's view of Carlos's ribs. He grunts in pain as I land a second one and loosens his grip on my throat. I grind a single knuckle into his injured rib area, and he recoils and breaks his choke hold completely. I take advantage of his distraction as he releases the hold to come up onto his knees in the guard position. We are close to the edge of the ring, so I push at his body, shoot my hips upwards, and roll him over so that he falls off me and crashes into the ropes. I have a chance here! I manage to roll myself out of the ring and grab hold of his head. I quickly put on a reverse side headlock from outside the ring. But out of sight of the referee, I'm pushing his neck down while at the same time pulling the bottom ring rope up and compressing the rope onto his carotid artery, now bulging in his neck. I could knock him out with this hold if I could keep it going.

The crowd is going wild, their cheers and screams filling the air. The bout is reaching its climactic end, just as I planned it. He thought I was weak, and he played with me when he should have gone for the quick kill. I can feel the adrenaline coursing harder through my veins, and the thrill of the fight makes me feel alive. I'm not going to let Carlos win this. I'm going to make him give now, or he goes unconscious.

I look over and see both Iain and Ken—my closest friends in this promotion—cheering me on. They were standing near my corner wearing their crimson red ring jackets, red boots, and matching red trunks. Their trunks were exhibitionistically brief, like mine. They are wrestling together tonight as a tag team, 'The Tubesteaks vs. The Rough Diamonds', and they are both obviously excited to watch me wrestle. The three of us are always horny and big-dicked for wrestling and each other! I can feel my meat shifting in my tight trunks just looking over at them and knowing that I'll be sucking both their cocks in our hotel tonight. I need to concentrate on this fight to win it, though.

I lean down and whisper in Carlos's ear, "You like that, hard guy? You like it when I'm on top? You haven't hurt me seriously once, and you are going fucking down."

Carlos growls and tries to buck me off, but I'm too strong. I've got him pinned, and I'm not letting go. I can feel my cock throbbing as I press against the ring side, the thin fabric of the trunks between my hot meat and the cold steel of the ring.

"See my two friends over there? The two donkey-dicked studs in red trunks? How about we all fuck you in the showers? You wrestle like a lame and bottomless pit bull who could take all of our cocks at once."

He became more enraged and punched wildly at my stomach. I had to release and pull back as he struggled free of my reverse headlock and choke hold but stayed leaning over the rope, gathering his breath and coughing. His biggest mistake!

I saw another chance, so I rushed to my corner, where my friends were, and climbed onto the ring side, then up onto the corner post itself. Ken and Iain were looking straight up and into my arsecrack and fuck hole. Bare arsed and wedgied as I squatted at the top of the post. It excited me to know we'll all be fucking each other later in our hotel rooms.

Carlos had still not moved but was coughing loudly. I adjusted my position and stood up on the ropes at the corner post – to the screams of the female audience looking at me and I launched a brutal and vicious knee drop onto his upper back. Like a decapitator drop, I drove his fuckface straight into the wooden boards at the edge of the ring. His nose exploded, and blood was everywhere. The crowd was going fucking crazy, screaming, and yelling for more blood and gore from this, now fucked, Latino wrestler.

Ken and Iain gasped and almost shot their own loads into their trunks. I was now in a sexual frenzy of violence and blood lust. I grabbed hold of Carlos from outside the ring and turned him over onto his back, where I laid punch after punch straight on his face. I jumped up onto the ringside again and did a vicious knee-drop straight onto his face as more of his blood splatted sideways. It was my payback for his headbutts to mine.

Blood was exploding and pouring out of his nose, and I laid into his eyebrows to tear and bleed them the way he had bled mine. The crowd were screaming as they watched me go totally fucking animal and saw the end of the bout coming. My cock was totally rigid and tenting inside my trunks and bounced heavily with every blow I laid on him. In a frenzy, I grabbed hold of his hair and looked upward and screamed a roar that stunned the audience to silence. I Crashed my forehead down and smashed his nose then tried to bite chunks out of his eyebrows and viciously tear his skin. I wanted to fucking rip them off. I could taste his fresh blood, and suddenly with that taste in my mouth, the surging, unstoppable feeling came. I lay over Carlos, grunting and moaning in my violent passion. I called Ken and Iain still close by and guarding me from Carlos’s gang, "I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming!" They quickly came closer to me to cover and hide from the audience what was uncontrollably happening to me. Iain called the Referee forward.

I could not help myself. I mounted the ring side and pushed my pulsing hard-on onto Carlos's shoulders. I reached back, pulled my trunks into a deep wedgie, and my cock out at the front, then thrust my crotch hard against Carlos's unconscious body and thrusting him shot my load—my entire fucking load—over my defeated opponent. The spunk surged out of my cock in thick ropes as I yelled out, creaming my entire front and soaking Carlos's shoulders and upper chest in my hot white jets of cum. My right hand was pressing against Carlos's crotch. Still very soft and covered fully, unlike mine, by his black trunks.

I spent myself entirely in that moment. The in-ring cum shot that sexualised wrestlers like me live and fight for. I was gasping and breathing heavily my whole body shaking on top of Carlos. Ken reached back and pulled my wedged trunks out of my crack while Iain called the referee, who was already seeing and trying to cover the entire incident with his body. He was google-eyed as Iain asked twice for a towel. He motioned for me to stay flat against Carlos's body. I lay there anyway, gasping for air. "I couldn't help it, guys," I said to them. "I just went crazy for a minute. I wanted to kill him. Beat him to a pulp but I had too much load in me! The fans are so fucking horny tonight. My fans and you guys are so half naked, with those packages you have, watching me wrestle all the way through the bout. It turns me on your watching me wrestling in bouts like this. It was all too much!"

We needed to hide this from the audience. Although our group wrestling style is very violent and often brutal, to the delight of the promoter, we also sexualize in a playful, exhibitionistic way, as the women love seeing it and the gay men fantasise what they would do to or for us. It would be awkward, though, to explain to our ("It's all about bums on seats, guys!") boss actual seven-day cum shots that cross the full width of the ring in full view of the wrestling viewing public.

Iain takes the towel and tells me to stand up. My cock is still obvious and very wet, lying on top of Carlos’s shoulders in a pool of sweat and cum. He quickly wipes across Carlos's shoulder and chest with the towel saying “Oh, fuck Jed, I wanted to lick all that cream straight off his body!” I take it off him to wipe my crotch down and adjust my enormous and spent cock back into my trunks.

The evidence of a spillage quickly removed the referee calls the first-aid guys over, and Carlos is eventually stretchered, still unconscious, back to the changing area. Both our faces are soaked and smeared with blood. It turned out Carlos was made unconscious when I hit him with the Decapitator Drop, and neither saw nor felt everything that happened after. I was determined to kill him here in this wrestling ring, and I nearly did. I feel a strong sense of sexual arousal about that and why should I not? I’m a professional wrestler fighting guys like him for a living. In truth pro-wrestling is my vocation.

"That was fucking awesome!" Ken said this to me and Jed. "I nearly creamed myself. If I had touched my own cock, I would have cum into my trunks!"

"Just like I did," I replied, "I'm soaked in spunk and blood!"

"A great combination. Have you unclipped your cock ring, Jed?" Iain asked. The three of us always wear the rings under our trunks. It's a huge turn-on for us personally, but it bulges our cocks and balls up nicely under the minimal trunks we always wear. I said no, but it would be ok as my spunk-spent cock was coming down quickly and I wanted to keep the heavily hung and bulging in my trunks look for my fans. They encouraged me loads during the bout. My friends both smile their leery smiles.

The audience is mostly silent throughout this, murmuring and wondering what just happened, so the referee asks if I am ready to come back into the ring to call the bout with him and the promoter. I nods and climb back into the ring; I unpick my wedgie and tidy up my crotch, still heavy and bulging from just cumming, as I stand in my corner. I quickly look down at the female and her boyfriend and at 501’s guy as I reach into the front of my soaked trunks and scoop out a huge dollop of my thick rope-like cum and lick it off my fingers. Very provocative but I love to give my special fans of professional wrestling what they want to see, and I already have a buyer lined-up for these spunk and bloodied wrestling trunks.

The referee calls me over. "Are you going to say anything?" I asked the referee. "No, it's OK. Jed, you were fucking terrific. You both looked fucking terrific! You are a core wrestler. If only all the bouts were fought and ended like that!"

I was relieved and replied, "Thanks, and I appreciate that. I just couldn't help it. I had too much load in me."

"I was a young wrestler in my twenties once. I know what it is like. What happens in the pro wrestling ring stays in the pro wrestling ring!"

The promoter climbs into the ring, and the referee explains the result, which he then announces to the audience. "Ladies and gentlemen! After what was an astonishing and aggressive bout of wrestling from these two young wrestlers, I am pleased to announce our winner from a technical knockout is Jed Mulvaney." The referee raises Jed's arm in victory as the promoter and the audience applaud and yell in whoops of delight. "I'm sure that young Jed here will have a great future in this promotion!"

He says this as he looks down, looking slightly puzzled at the very wet patch at the front of Jed's trunks and the evident length and thickness of his penis outlined in his wet trunks. The referee notices and says to the promoter. "It's bums on seats, boss! Bums on seats! The women are crazy about these young, stacked wrestlers of ours! Look the house is packed and the heat could set the place on fire!"

Jed climbs out of the ring and heads for the changing room, with Ken and Iain following a few paces behind. There was no further trouble from Carlos’s team. They knew their guy lost and had lost badly. It is fucking embarrassing for a wrestler to be stretchered out after a fight.

Jed has guys patting him on the shoulder and women grabbing quick feels of his bum and crotch. He loves this kind of overt fan adoration, and by the time he gets to the changing area, he pulls his soaked trunks off to fully expose an engorged, very erect, and still cock-ringed penis. Iain picks up Jed's trunks, sniffs and licks them, then wipes them over his body. "I want your spunk over my body, Jed, for our bout. Fuck! I so wanted to lick your cream off that other guy’s body."

“Yeah, you said.” Said Ken. “That fight was awesome. I think some of your cum went out the other side of the ring!”

“I hope it didn’t land in somebodies drink!” I said laughing.

“Oh look extra cream in my coffee!” Joked Iain as he takes two dollops of Jed's cum and rubs them into his dark, pointy nipples, then continues to rub more of Jed's cum cream into Ken's large, wide nipples. He then pulls his penis out of his own trunks, which, like Jed's, is well hung, and proceeds to wipe Jed’s-soaked trunks around the long length of his cock and around his balls. "There!" Iain announces, "My big wrestler's cock is all Jed flavoured. For good luck! You remember during our first bout together I came into my trunks?! That was hot too but not as hot as you were tonight.”

Ken shakes his head and smiles, saying, "You two are fucking perverts," while he slowly masturbates his own elongating penis and is deep kissing Jed. Iain leans in and they are in a tongue-wrestling three-way.

Suddenly, the promoter calls out the tag team cage wrestling match that Iain and Ken are wrestling together in as part of 'The Tubesteaks' tag team, so they must tidy themselves up quick and head out to the ring. They leave in a hurry, waving to go do their fight as they struggle to tuck their substantial cocks into their trunks. I hope their bout will be as bloody and climactic as mine was.

After seeing the doctors, I see Carlos enter the changing room. His face is still smeared with blood, and he looks a bit dazed. I'm a bit nervous about meeting him after the bout. However, we are both professional wrestlers and have had more than our fair share of hard-core matches, wrestling ring blood fests, and visits to A&E afterwards. He has two guys, heavies, with him though and I see them getting aggressive. I think I’m about to have a naked fight, after all. I wave them to come towards me as I’m ready for more blood as I look around for any weapons.

Carlos motions to them to back down and they do so, in return I ease back my nakedly aggressive posture. He motions me to come over to him. I’m genuinely surprised by his friendly gesture.

I walk over still bollock naked. I want to rub in my Celtic sexual superiority to all three of them. "Is it OK to sit with you?" I ask him.

"Yeah, it's fine.” He waves his guys away and then looking straight at my dangling cock, tells them to wait outside. They leave muttering to themselves as he looks back to make sure. “Congratulations on winning the bout” he says and offers to shake my hand and I take it. "So, how did it end? The bout?" he asks.

"Violently!" I say to him as I sit down beside him, "I got you in a decapitator knee drop off the ring post. It almost snapped your head off. You must have been stunned because you were bleeding very heavily and not responding. I didn’t know you were unconscious at the time, so I kept laying my attack on you."

"My broken nose! That's how it got busted." He quickly replies looking at my face and then feeling his. “Our eyebrows are torn so badly.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was broken." I said, "Your face slammed into the boards on the outside of the ring ropes." He nodded in understanding. “You have made a real mess of my face.” I said, pointing to my badly sliced, open eyelid. He nodded and we mutually smiled.

To tell the truth, I wasn't sorry. Hearing that I had broken his nose made me excited and turned on. Fuck! I could feel my cock elongating, but I was totally naked sitting with him while he still had his trunks on. I tried to hide it, but with the size of my cock, it was pointless.

Carlos was looking at my elongating meat, he looked back to see if there was anybody else in the shower and then I noticed him putting his hand on his own crotch and squeezing his swelling package. He asks, "You want to have a shower? I could really do with a clean. I'm covered with blood and that smell. Is that spunk?"

"What? Spunk? Where?" I ask, trying to look innocent. “All I can smell is a pissy smell on my face.”

“Your face?!” He replies, looking sideways.

“Yeah, like my head was dunked in a bucket of stuff.” I replied.

"Wow! How did that happen? Maybe we should just go into the shower? Together me and you?" I get up, and my long naked semi is  pointing forwards between my legs as he stands up to take off his own black trunks. I steady him as he pulls the trunks off, and we both untie our boots. I take his trunks off of him and sniff them. “Very masculine,” I say, “You are very high energy.” He has a good-looking cock, dark and heavily fore skinned and I'm intrigued by it as it's in a thick semi-state in front of me. I play with his black trunks, “I like the cut of these they looked good on you.” He looks at me and I say to him “There in the ring there. Our fight was fucking hot. Brutal. I got aroused wrestling you.” I sniff them again in front of him and enjoy the masculine sweaty aroma emanating from them. I look at Carlos again and he is fully erected.

Together, we head into the shower after leaving our kit, drenched in our sweat and blood, on the bench. He says, “You are a hard wrestler. You take a lot of punishment but don’t show it and if you like brutal, then you need to come wrestle in Puerto Rico! The women wrestling fans are wild. They would want you to rape them with your big Irish cock.”

The bell that signals the beginning of the tag team match that came after ours is ringing. They both hear the alluring sound of the chilly steel wrestling ring, where four wrestlers' now willingly expose their muscular but still vulnerable bodies to serious injury and pain.

Their half-naked bodies will be thrown into and collide with hard and unyielding corner posts. The often worn and frayed ring ropes that boundary their squared-off world of violent sport will tear and cut their skin. Their blood will drip over and stain the abrasive canvas. The hard ring boards upon which they desperately and enthusiastically fight will unyieldingly inflict their own special pain on the gladiators of the professional wrestling ring.

Both Jed and Carlos could hear that sound from under the warm showers. They looked at each other, bloodied faces very badly bruised and cut, unrepentant, knowing that these were the sounds they also heard in their dreams and longed to always be a part of in the real world.