JiminQueens2's blog

It was just before midnight when Stevenson finally picked up the microphone and began the introductions for the final match of the night. Most of the others had been getting impatient for the match to begin, but I knew that Kevin needed the breather after his semifinal, and as I looked over the other Daddies, I spotted an Asian guy who looked as calm and patient as I felt. Maybe it was just his personality, but I had a feeling that Kevin would be wrestling his Boy in the final.

I was standing pretty close to Stevenson, so I got the disconcerting echo effect when you hear the original and then hear the distorted version over the sound system. “All right, gentlemen,” Stevenson crowed, “It’s time for the final fi—“

I cleared my throat and glared at him. We have had this conversation before, my eyes said.

“—er, final wrestling match of the evening! The Boys are rested and raring to get in the pit, and I know they’re going to put an epic show for us all!”

The other Daddies and Boys cheered and yelled, most of their enthusiasm fueled by the nonstop flow of booze the whole night. I glanced at the curtain separating the back rooms from the main. Kevin and the other Boy had to be standing close to each other behind it, and I wondered what was going through my Boy’s mind. Were he and the other Boy glaring at each other? Or was this no big deal for them? I know that my Boy has to stand on his own, but I still hate being separated from him in situations like this.

“Introducing first,” Stevenson droned, “standing six foot one inch tall, and weighing in at two hundred pounds even, all of it solid muscle, please welcome to the pit – BOY – KEVIN – WHITTAKERRRRRRR!!!!!!!”

Kevin stepped from behind the curtain, still clad only in the jockstrap – it hadn’t been “white” for a while, and the oil had soaked completely into the fabric, turning it an odd off-gray. I watched as the crowd melted away as he made his way to the pit, Daddies and Boys alike. I smiled as a surge of pride went through me. My Boy was going to be a fine Daddy someday.

He stopped in front of me and held his arms out in a T. Someone handed me a fresh bottle of baby oil, and I sprayed it across his massive chest and, after he turned around, across his beautiful back and onto his bubble butt. I could feel the envious stares of the other Daddies and Boys as I worked the oil into my Boy’s skin, putting my hands all over him in the ways only I was allowed to do. I squatted down and sprayed Kevin’s left leg, then worked the oil into his thighs and calves. This close to his jock, I could smell Kevin’s essence coming through it, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to say the hell with this and take him to the nearest bed.

As I finished with his right leg and stood up, Kevin smiled at me. I put both my hands on his shoulders and repeated what I’d told him after the near-fight. “Win or lose, I am so incredibly proud of you,” I murmured.

Or at least I thought I murmured – but Stevenson had crept close to us and had the microphone ready to catch my words. I almost took his damn head off, and Kevin even gave him a glare before getting himself under control and turning to climb into the oil pit.

“And his opponent,” Stevenson continued, “stands at six feet two inches tall and weighed in at one hundred and ninety power-packed pounds, coming down the aisle now, here is – BOY – WYATT – TAKETAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

The other Boy stepped into the main room from behind the curtain; I’d noticed him before, but hadn’t taken more notice of him than the other Boys, and certainly not more than mine. He was just a little leaner than Kevin was, but with lots of muscle where it counted, and with dark hair and eyes and the sort of face that would break hearts if your heart was inclined to break.

He made his way to the pit; the crowd gave way, but not quite as quickly or thoroughly as they had for Kevin. Like Kevin, he was clad only in an oil-stained jockstrap that was clearly unhappy about trying to keep whatever he was packing contained. He stopped in front of an Asian man, obviously his Daddy, who held a bottle of oil in his hand. I watched, feeling a stirring between my legs, as the Daddy lavished the same treatment on his Boy as I had on Kevin. No exposed inch was neglected, and when the Daddy pulled the front of his Boy’s jock to apply oil to the one placeit wouldn’t be needed, I almost came in my pants.

I glanced into the pit at Kevin. Kevin’s got one of the best poker faces I’ve ever seen; completely impassive when he wants it to be, giving nothing away to anyone. But after two years and everything good and bad that came with it, I can read Kevin as easily as he can read me. He was focused and ready for a good scrap, but he also was as turned on by his opponent and the other Daddy as I was.

The other Boy climbed into the pit; Kevin had moved to the far side to give him room. I saw Stevenson try to “help” the other Boy – Wyatt, I reminded myself – by giving him a hand into the pit, specifically, a hand on Wyatt’s perfect ass. But the other Daddy nonchalantly stepped between Stevenson and his Boy, not even glancing in Stevenson’s direction.

I smirked. Between my throwing cold water on Stevenson’s fight fetish and the other Daddy’s smooth cock block, it was hard to say which one of us Stevenson hated more right now. But that meant he wouldn’t have any reason to favor one Boy or the other, and the other two judges had no reason to do so, either. The match would be settled on the Boys’ merits, something I wholeheartedly approved of. Especially the merits shown off so nicely by those two tight jockstraps, and the oil-coated merits shining brightly in the bright lights.

And then, the bell rang to begin the match.

Wyatt extended a hand, which clearly surprised Kevin. He looked at the hand, looked at Wyatt, and then gingerly took it, clearly expecting a trick. But Wyatt only shook it briefly but firmly, and then let Kevin go and crouched into a wrestling pose, with Kevin matching him.

The two Boys locked up in a collar and elbow tie-up, slipping and sliding a little on the oil-soaked tarp. Then Kevin jerked his hands down sharply, and Wyatt went down to the tarp, landing right on his face. Kevin dropped down and wrapped his arms around Wyatt’s chest, sprawling as he did so and getting all his weight on the other Boy.

Kevin slid his body over Wyatt’s until his legs were near Wyatt’s head. Quickly, he crossed his ankles to complete the scissors and began to squeeze, his massive quads and hamstrings bulging and the oil on them reflecting the lights in the party room. Wyatt manfully struggled to his feet, with Kevin’s thighs still crushing his face, and the spectators on the other side of the pit got a terrific look at his oil-coated ass framed by the jock, while my side got an eyeful of Kevin’s huge chest and beautiful six pack. Wyatt’s hands were around Kevin’s ankles and he was trying to pry them loose, but Kevin quickly threw his weight to the side and the two Boys tumbled to the mat, Wyatt still writhing in Kevin’s powerful scissors.

Kevin was resting on his side, propped up on one arm, while Wyatt flopped around on his stomach and still tried to find some way out of the scissors. Kevin glanced around the watching crowd, and, grinning ear to ear, gave them a single bicep flex as he tortured the helpless Wyatt.

The other Daddies roared their approval. Kevin somehow found me and winked, then turned his attention back to Wyatt. He made sure that the scissors was locked nice and tight, but now he turned his attention to the other end of Wyatt’s body. He got a good, solid hold on one of Wyatt’s ankles, and slowly but surely pulled it over his head, now putting tremendous pressure on Wyatt’s lower back as he was bent backwards, which Kevin helped along with constant jerks of his body that bent Wyatt a little further backward every time.

Wyatt’s grunts of pain every time Kevin jerked his body was barely audible at the edge of the pit where I was, so I’m sure the other Daddies and Boys couldn’t hear them. But Kevin sure did, and the smile on his face grew wider and wider every time. This was a side of him I’d never seen before, and I kinda liked it.

Kevin kept glancing at Stevenson and the other judges, but they clearly weren’t going to ring the bell this early – he and Wyatt only had been wrestling for a few minutes at this point – and Wyatt wasn’t going to quit from the headscissors bow and arrow combo. So Kevin decided to switch positions.

He let Wyatt’s leg go and concentrated on the scissors, letting his legs slide down Wyatt’s chest and coming to rest over his abs and lower back. Wyatt didn’t seem to be fighting back, and Kevin got his legs completely around Wyatt’s waist and started squeezing. This time Wyatt’s howls were audible even over the Daddies and Sons in the room. And they were eating it up, loving the punishment my Boy was inflicting on his opponent.

“Your Boy must be very strong. My Boy normally would break a hold like that easily.”

The voice had come from my right. I glanced over, and sure enough, Wyatt’s Daddy was standing next to me. Now that we were up close and personal, I could see he was just a little shorter than me, but his arms and chest were just a hair bigger than mine. “He is strong,” I replied. “I train him as hard as I train myself.”

Wyatt’s Daddy let his eyes travel over my body, noting every muscle and sinew. He nodded approvingly. “So I see.”

A yelp of surprise turned our attention back to the pit. Kevin was sitting up with his hands between his legs, looking like he trying to grab Wyatt’s wrist and I guess pull him into an armbar. But Wyatt wasn’t having it, and for the first time, the oil put in its two cents. Wyatt’s arm slipped out of Kevin’s grasp, and Kevin fell backwards, landing flat on his back.

Wyatt pounced on Kevin, and the two of them slipped and slid all over the pit and each other. The oil was making it difficult for either one of them to get much of a grip on the other, and they kept rolling back and forth, first one on top, then the other, scuffling like two little boys in the schoolyard.

“My name is Ryu,” Wyatt’s Daddy said. His hand tapped me mildly in the gut, more to get my attention than anything else.

I shook it briefly. “Keith,” I replied, then turned my attention back to the match. Keith had managed to get Wyatt in a headlock, and the Boys were on their feet, so Wyatt was bent over, with his ass sticking out for everyone to see. Meanwhile, Kevin was flexing his chest as he held Wyatt in the lock, and the oil highlighted every muscle.

Kevin adjusted his grip a little. His left arm still held Wyatt’s head in a viselike grip, but his right hand reached in to grasp his bulging bicep. I smiled; I’d taught him that one. His forearm was pressing on one of the arteries in Wyatt’s neck, at least slowing the blood flow to Wyatt’s brain. And Wyatt’s head was turning an interesting shade of purple.

But with that much oil and staggering around so much, it was inevitable that Kevin would put a foot wrong. And when he did, he reflexively put his hands out to break his fall down to the mat, freeing Wyatt from the headlock. They hit the mat with Wyatt on top, and Wyatt immediately slid his arms under Kevin’s and clamped on a full nelson.

Wyatt began to thrust his hips foreward, mimicking fucking Kevin’s ass. The whoops and hollers from the crowd made me furious; I wanted to haul off and belt the nearest man. But the nearest man was Ryu…and somehow, I didn’t want to hit him. Not in that way.

Wyatt released the nelson; he’d made his point. Kevin flipped over onto his back and threw his legs in the air, trying to get another headscissors on Wyatt. But Wyatt was clearly ready for him now. He caught both of Kevin’s legs and held them close to his chest, then got up on his knees, driving Kevin’s body higher into the air and putting all of his weight on his neck.

“Get out of there, Kevin!” I yelled, but if he could hear me above the roar of the crowd, he didn’t acknowledge it. Wyatt let him up from the press, but he quickly flipped my Boy back onto his stomach, then spun around himself and straddled him, facing his feet. He got as good a grip on one of Kevin’s legs as the oil would allow, while his own leg held Kevin’s other one down on the tarp.