canwrestle's blog

Bonded Like Brothers Part One

Robbie was caught in a full nelson. He was struggling to break free, grunting, flexing his chest, arms, and shoulders trying to force Danny’s hands apart. His lean, hard muscles rippled as he pulled downward. The elastic waistband of his loose boxer shorts sat low on his hips exposing a substantial bush of dark pubic hair. Apart from his densely coated legs, and the thick mop of black curls on his head, it was the only part of him that was hairy. His semi hard uncut cock poked out through the slit in the boxers as he fought. My cock swelled inside my shorts.

I’d walked in on them mid-fight. My first reaction was to pull them apart. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd had to do that since we'd been together, but then I noticed the sparse furniture in our living room had been pushed to the side, and a blanket had been placed on the carpet. This wasn't them fighting - it was a playful and planned wrestling match, something I imagined was common among brothers so close in age and size. Confirmation came when Robbie, who had Danny in a headlock, laughed, called his opponent a pussy, and slapped his ass, which elicited giggles from Danny.

So instead of interfering I threw my bag down and sat on the floor with my back against the wall to watch. I'd been working a landscaping job with a bunch of shirtless muscle studs all day and, although tired, was horny as hell.

With a final growl, Robbie accomplished his goal and broke the nelson. He twisted and threw his weight on top of Danny. They fought with hands and legs trying to gain a top position, then rolled across the blanket tangled up together.

I thought of them as brothers but technically they weren't. No relation at all in fact. However, it would be easy to assume that. They looked a bit alike. Both were about the same height, somewhere around 5'8, and both were lean and muscled, with impressive washboard stomachs and fully rounded asses. Both were boyishly handsome, with wide mouths, full lips, and small straight noses, however, Robbie’s heavily lidded eyes were a deep brown, with thick lashes, set beneath bushy eyebrows that arched upward giving him the look of someone always about to cause trouble. Danny’s eyes were larger, a golden green color, his eyebrows thin, and turned down at the end - giving him the look of someone who was always deep in thought. Robbie's complexion was also a shade darker, Danny was pinker, plus his hair was chestnut and bone straight.

However, it was less their looks and more how they acted that would make you think of them as brothers. They were protective but the deep affection was hidden behind constant bickering and teasing. They were also competitive and fought ferociously, sometimes in play, like now, but every so often, in anger.

To illustrate my thought, with a handful of hair, Robbie smashed Danny's head into the floor. I tensed, again ready to separate them, but then relaxed again when Danny retaliated by driving his elbow into Robbie's chin. They could play rough if they wanted, as long as it was also fair.

Danny forced Robbie onto his back and then tried to move to the side, but Robbie blocked him with his legs, trapping Danny's head in the space just behind one knee. Then he locked his ankles together. The lighter boy howled as his neck was constricted by the scissors. Robbie celebrated by reaching up, yanking down on Danny's white briefs, and slapping the perfectly unblemished ass cheeks of his opponent. He laughed and then demanded a submission.

I was very hard now… and sweating. It was hot outside and there was no AC in our tiny apartment. I pulled my dirty t-shirt over my head, balled it up, and used it to wipe away some of the moisture on my chest, then reached into my shorts and began to stroke my cock.

Although they knew I’d come home, neither had acknowledged me yet, both too intent on wrestling. However, with his opponent secured, Robbie was able to glance at me. He winked and smiled. He was a showman, he loved to perform, and I could see his leg muscles bulge as he tightened his scissors and amped up his aggressive commands to tap out… all for my benefit.

Performing was how we'd met. It was not quite a year ago that I'd been hired to film a scene for a low-budget porn company. I'd lost most of the contacts I had in the industry after I left Hunter, but this director had gotten my name and number from somewhere and offered me the job. I would have said no right away, but it was just regular, very basic sucking and fucking porn, which my ex never did, and I could certainly use the extra cash, so I felt safe taking the job.

When I arrived at the location, a tract house in the valley, I was introduced to Robbie, my scene partner.

I panicked. He looked like a kid. He claimed to be nineteen, but I was pretty sure that he was one of the many underage runaways who worked Santa Monica Boulevard as rent boys. Something felt wrong about fucking this kid on camera. I wasn't completely comfortable doing any kind of porn, if it hadn’t been for Hunter, I wouldn’t have gotten involved at all, and something about this situation brought out the Puritan in me.

I talked to the director about my concern, but he was high on something, and couldn’t have cared less. I told him I wouldn’t film the scene unless they showed me some proof of age. Robbie lost it, demanded to know why I was being such a pussy, then called me a bunch of rude names in Spanish. The desperation on his face, and in his voice, confirmed that I was right, I wanted the money, but he needed it. It escalated and he threw a punch. I defended myself and we ended up wrestling on the ground. While I was trying to restrain him and he continued to try and take my head off, we broke a table, a lamp, and knocked the director's camera off its tripod. That sobered him up and he screamed at us to get out, we were both fired. Robbie left, but I stayed and demanded that the guy pay me at least a portion of what he'd promised. When I threatened to call the cops, he coughed up fifty bucks which at least covered the gas I'd used to drive out there.

Outside I found Robbie sitting on the sidewalk, his head buried in his arms. I apologized and when he lifted his face to tell me to shove my apology up my ass, his cheeks were damp with tears. I knew the desperation. It was only a few years since I’d been in a similar place. Not quite a runaway, but only nineteen, alone, penniless, and doing whatever I could to get by.

“You owe me a hundred bucks,” he’d demanded.

“You were only getting a hundred?” I responded, “I was getting two fifty.”

His eyes narrowed and his mouth opened to let loose with another string of Spanish insults, but I cut him off.

“Look, I don’t have a hundred bucks, but how about fifty, and I’ll throw in dinner. When was the last time you ate?" I asked.

I got called a few more names and told to mind my own business but it was just bravado, he took the fifty and got in the passenger seat of my shitty little dodge.

We stopped at a taco place on the way back to Weho, and after demolishing two El Grande Burrito Supremes, I heard his story for the first time.
I’ve heard it several times now and with each telling the details have changed but the general gist has always remained the same. He’d come across the border illegally with his mom when he was a child, but only a few years after, he was abandoned. Once he told us his mom was the daughter of a drug kingpin and they’d escaped Mexico while being chased by thugs with machine guns. Another time she was the mistress of a famous luchador and was running from the wrestler's jealous wife. One time he was smuggled past border security in the trunk of a car, another he’d held his mother's neck while she swam the shark-infested waters from Baja to San Deigo. She’d either been caught and deported in an ICE raid, or gone into hiding to protect him from the gang members who were still searching for her, but whatever the case, he’d been alone since he was seven.

What happened after didn't come with imagined flourishes. He’d been taken in by another family, also illegals, but they were abusive and used him as unpaid labor. The cycle of running away, getting picked up by social services, and then running away again, started after that. At sixteen, when he ran away from a group home, nobody came looking for him, and he’d been living on the streets, stealing and turning tricks ever since. I also got the proof of age I’d demanded. With a smug look, he’d flashed me a social security card that stated his name was Roberto Delacruz and his birthday was August 15, 1986, making him legally nineteen. It may have been fake, but it was impossible to tell so I had to accept it as truth.

After dinner, I asked him where he was staying. There was a flop house he and a few others were crashing at off Sunset he said, but there was no running water and asked if he could come back to my place to shower.

Against my better judgment, I brought him to my ratty apartment, but kept a close eye on him, sure that the moment my back was turned he’d rob me blind. What happened instead though was he’d called my name and when I went in the bathroom to see what he wanted he was standing in the tub, the curtain open, with his thick cock hard as a rock. He smiled and asked if I wanted to join him. I did.

Just the two of us, with no cameraman or coked-out director present, it no longer felt wrong, so I took off my clothes and we had pretty decent sex. It had been six months since Hunter, and I was very horny. I sucked his cock in the shower, then we moved to my mattress, and I fucked him, both of us cumming in a great gush.
'
I offered to let him stay but he refused. He had to get back. "To what," I asked, but he wouldn’t say. After another shower, this one solo, he was gone.

Two days later he was back, but this time with Danny in tow. In what was probably the stupidest and rashest decision I’ve ever made, I let them inside. They never left.

With a cry of triumph from Danny and a howl of pain from Robbie, the head scissors ended. Danny had a handful of his opponent's cock and was squeezing for all his worth. Robbie lashed out with his forearm, shoving his tormentor off, and then scrambled back nursing his throbbing nuts. Without giving him any time to recover Danny launched himself and wrapped his lean arms around Robbie’s waist pulling him into a tight bearhug.

I was solid now, my balls tight and full, ready to explode. Danny's briefs were halfway down his ass, exposing the perky round mounds of his cheeks still rosy from Robbie’s slaps. As they twisted and thrashed around, I saw his remarkably large cock was out of the underwear pouch and was pressed tight to the darker boy's stomach.

“Fuck you!” Robbie grunted, his face contorted in pain from the tight squeeze on his ribs.

“Not this time bitch,” Danny grinned.

I pushed my shorts and briefs down setting my cock free and began stroking it vigorously.

Slowly, Robbie began to move from his knees to his feet. Danny went with him, still clinging tightly to the bearhug. Once up Robbie swept his foot and both boys toppled over. They fell hard, Danny on the bottom, and his hold broke apart.

A mad scramble followed Robbie had come close to tapping in the bearhug, and in retaliation, he got rougher, with slaps, elbows, and hair pulling. He hated losing, even when it was just for fun. He was a brawler, with no qualms about sportsmanship or fair play. Danny didn't back off though - his angelic face masked a tough-as-nails interior.

He was a runaway as well, but his story was less dramatic, and unfortunately all too common for gay kids from religious families. His were Mormon, some kind of very strict branch, and he'd left rural Utah at seventeen when things at home became unbearable. He and Robbie had found each other a couple of years ago and had been inseparable ever since, bonded like brothers, watching out for each other, navigating the mean streets together.

In the melee, the underwear of both was pulled off. They came up to their knees, semi-hard cocks jutting out from thick patches of hair and faced off. Robbie slapped Danny's cheek, leaving a red handprint that matched the one on his butt cheek. I saw Danny's eyes spark, he was smiling but the slap was a humiliation he was not going to take, even from the brother he loved.

He dove at Robbie, knocking him to the side, then he twisted and took his back. One arm closed around his brother's neck, the bicep cutting deep. He pressed his head tight to Robbie’s ear, preventing him from turning, then grabbed his other arm, bringing that hand to the back of the neck. It was a beautifully executed choke.

Hunter had taught me that, and I had taught it to Danny.

Robbie squealed at being caught, he knew the submission as well and shouldn’t have gotten caught so easily - but it was too late. Danny rolled onto his back, bringing his victim with him, then wrapped his legs around the darker boy's waist. Robbie was coughing and wheezing as the choke took its toll. Danny was grinning, squeezing his elbows tighter and roughly shaking Robbie’s trapped head.

“Give!” he commended.

There was no answer apart from more labored breaths.

I pumped my cock harder, the palm of my hand gliding up and down easily, lubricated by sweat and precum.

“I got you! GIVE!” Danny yelled.

I closed my eyes and threw my head back. I groaned as I felt the load moving closer.

“Okay, I give,” I heard Robbie wheeze.

My leg muscles tensed, and my arm picked up speed.

Suddenly my hand was pulled from my cock, and I felt two tongues run along the length of my shaft. I opened my eyes to see two heads of sweat-soaked hair buried in my crotch, one brown, one black. I gasped and shuddered as the bucket load of cum I’d been seconds away from shooting retreated slightly. It was almost painful.

Danny lifted his head and smiled, as Robbie's mouth closed around my dick and then sank down on it till his lips were buried in my bush. Danny moved up my torso with his mouth, kissing and licking my abs, stopping briefly to nibble each nipple, then my neck before ending at my lips. His tongue pushed past my teeth to wrestle with my tongue.

We kissed as Robbie continued to suck on my cock, pausing briefly to lick and kiss my over-full ball sack.

Danny pulled away, his eyes twinkled, the gold flecks igniting momentarily. He smiled again and flexed one of his arms. The bicep rose into a perfectly peaked mound, and then he brought it forward for me to appreciate it with my mouth.

"I won," he whispered as I kissed his arm, and that was it for me.

My cock exploded into Robbie's mouth, the hot stream of cum hitting the back of his throat with the force of a garden hose. He kept his lips firmly in place, sucking back and swallowing every drop. I moaned; my hips thrust forcing my dick further into Robbie’s throat and almost knocking a still-flexing Danny over. My whole body spasmed as I drained the last of my spunk. I tilted to the side and dropped down to my back while the aftershocks of my climax continued to rock my core.

With a final slurp, Robbie lifted his head off my dick. His grin was as wide as Danny’s.

As the last tremor rolled through me the two boys moved to lay on either side of me, settling into the crook of my arms, with heads resting on my chest, gently kissing and licking my nipples.

We lay like this for a while, I stoked their heads, feeling the soft bristles at the base of their scalps. I had recently given them both haircuts with clippers I'd gotten from a thrift store.

I could have stayed there for a while, but the spell was broken when my stomach gurgled and both boys giggled at the sound.

“Go shower,” I told them. I’ll start dinner.”

If you want more be sure to check out my full length wrestling novels. Message me for details.

As I edit a video I filmed for my Watchfighters page, (shameless plug: https://www.watchfighters.com/channels/canwrestle) I am contemplating what made this particular meet "ALMOST" perfect.

This is subjective of course, there are lots of opinions on what perfect is, and by no means do I think my preferred style is the only valid one. Nor do I want to give the impression that I haven’t experienced really awesome meet ups apart from this one. However, having read OsakaRob’s interesting post about your “wrestling quotient”, where he suggests one metric for our own desirability as a wrestler is the ability to fully explain what we are looking for in a match, what that means to me, and whether I can do that, has been on my mind. When I think about it, this one comes pretty damn close as an example of what was perfect for me... almost.

This match took place in my hotel with the incredible Bobby Ben Carter the first night of Wrestlefest Canada this past July. Although it was the first time Bobby and I were meeting in person, we had been chatting for months leading up to the event, and had built a pretty good friendship. This meant that when he came to my room we were already comfortable with each other. There wasn’t any awkwardness, our personalities meshed and the relationship we’d created on line was well established before we put the gear on.

We’d also talked about our likes and what we enjoyed extensively and so were comfortable with what was going to happen. Of course there is that fear that we will be disappointing in person. That we won’t live up to the persona created by sharing pics and messages, however, this didn't last long and we were quickly relaxed and easy with each other. Bobby exceeded my expectations and I got the feeling I met his.

The wrestling started and the only thing we planned was that we would wear matching singlets – for the shits and giggles. Right from the lock up we were in synch. We are very similar in height and weight and pretty close in strength (although he might have me there, but I think I got him in experience). I can enjoy the mismatch of wrestling with a larger or smaller opponent, but for me there is something special when the two combatants are equals. This was the case and the chemistry we shared in personality transferred to the physical.

Style is a tricky thing, especially when you add the video component. I pride myself on being flexible in this area, moving easily from pro to real submission and even freestyle depending on my opponent. Bobby and I had talked about a real wrestling match, but we also discussed that if you are making a video, that to keep things interesting, you need to qualify that realness with some flow. One guy in mount moving at a snail’s pace to secure a submission, while the guy on bottom moves equally slowly to reverse, does not make for an interesting video. You have to be able to give a little, allow a sequence to play out, and control your intensity so you’re not making your opponent tap within seconds. This is a hard skill to master. It helps if you have training, or experience at least. You have to walk a fine line and not everyone can or is willing to do this. Within the first few minutes of wrestling I knew Bobby had a good mastery of this skill. The fight would be real, but safe and controlled. I’d be sore and sweaty after we were done, but not injured, and we’d have a good video to share as a bonus. I also didn’t know if I would win or lose. It was going to be close and that gets my juices flowing.

Wrestling is inherently erotic for me. I get off on it, that’s why I’m here. If I want sport I can go to my BJJ club and wrestle all the straight boys I want. What I hope when meeting someone from here is that there will be an attraction and the wrestling will include an erotic component. It doesn’t always happen, and that’s okay too, also what constitutes erotic can change depending on the person and the situation. Maybe the match will end in a mutual jerk, maybe there will be nudity, oral or sometimes even more. All can be satisfying and I can usually find pleasure in whatever happens. However, what it really means is, I like when the aggression is mixed with moments of passion, when there is kissing, body worship or more.

In this match the first kiss happened after about ten minutes of straight wrestling. I can’t remember which of us initiated it, but I know it happened spontaneously, coming out of the wrestling, pausing it for a moment, but by no means stopping it. I believe Bobby followed up the making out by trying to choke me out with a guillotine. As the match progressed, the frequency of these moments and the intensity of them built. For me this is exactly how I want the eroticism to happen - a natural extension of the fight. I’m not talking about dominance either, although that can be fun if it’s your thing. I’m talking about the struggle, the bond, the challenge and ultimately what it leads to. It’s not something that happens often, but when it does, it’s absolutely perfect in my opinion.

The title of the blog is "ALMOST" perfect, and there was unfortunately one thing that I would have changed if I could. Both Bobby and I had somewhere to be so unfortunately we had to end the match after the third submission. I could have gone many more rounds with this incredible guy and I believe so could he. Also, because of our prior commitments, the singlets did not come all the way off, something that, if we’d had the time, would definitely have happened next. The bright spot however is that we are both ready for a rematch and are now fully aware that we should plan to go all night the next time.

Not every meet is going to be perfect, and it doesn’t mean that the ones that aren’t suck. I can honestly say that most of my matches have been good ones in one aspect or another, but every so often we get lucky, all the stars align and all the elements are present to create the "ALMOST" perfect match.

For the rack or backbreaker fans I just uploaded a free compilation video to my watchfighters.
A great finisher and an awesome way to humble an opponent. What could be more dominant then having a guy drapped across your shoulders, helpless and begging to submit ? Especially if he's been stripped of his gear.
10 racks from 10 different matches, Dad vs Dad, Dad vs Son, 2 vs 1, AND clips from 2 as yet unreleased videos.
Check it out, drop a like and follow !
Cheers

Hollywood Naked Wrestling Club
A Charlie and Caleb Story PART FOUR

Caleb’s big thighs opened and closed around Jay’s waist as my ex-boyfriend moved in on my current boyfriend.

I could see the bright red welt on Caleb’s calf where Jay’s lightning-fast low kick had landed. It forced him off balance and allowed the standup specialist to drop low and catch a double leg. He’d then driven forward - ramming his head into the solar plexus and Caleb was taken off his feet and forced onto his back. But with all his training Caleb recovered quickly and instinctively went to guard. Jay’s progress was checked and my boyfriend’s ankles locked together just above my ex’s waist. A wave of jealousy washed over me, as this position put them cock to cock, but my feelings were tinted with excitement. I hadn’t yet taken off my shorts and my already swollen cock pressed uncomfortably against the fabric. Watching them wrestle had me incredibly charged up.

The grip fight began as the two men struggled to gain some leverage. “C’mon Caleb, get off your back!” I yelled. Jay was trying to posture up, while Caleb attempted to keep him low, and get control of an arm. A few times Jay managed to get a hand free, which he used to throw a few punches to the gut, but if he was hoping to weaken Caleb with body shots he was going to have to throw a lot more - Caleb took hits in the ring for a living. Finally, Jay managed to extract both hands and sat up quickly. Caleb countered by crunching his abs, and then used his hips to pull his opponent back down. Jay swung his elbow, probably aiming for the chest, but with his forward momentum he caught Caleb’s chin instead. The crack of the heavy blow reverberated around the mostly empty space, and was followed by shocked silence - the one rule of the club was no head shots. My body tensed, and instinctively I reached for the bottom rope, about to haul myself up onto the apron and climb through - whether to make sure Caleb was okay or to punch Jay in the nose, I hadn’t decided. I stopped when I heard Jay say. “Oh shit, sorry.”

Immediately Jay backed off. He looked sincere, so I relaxed and let go of the rope. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Mason smirking at me.

“Sorry Calvin, are you alright?” Jay said, leaning over Caleb who had propped himself up on an elbow.

“Yeah yeah, all good,” he answered, rubbing his jaw, ignoring the incorrect name again. He looked at the hand put forward, I saw his eyes narrow. He ignored the offered help and stood on his own. Jay rose up as well.

“That rule about no hits to the head?” Caleb spoke loudly, “is that set in stone?”

I looked at Jay’s face, and there was a moment when the challenge registered, but then the stone wall of stoicism I was so familiar with from our time together reappeared, and he looked completely nonplussed.

“Well it doesn’t have to be I guess,” he smiled.

“I mean if this is supposed to be a no holds barred match, seems silly to have any rules at all.” Now Caleb was smiling, but like earlier there was no nose crinkle.

“I agree.” Jay answered, not showing any reaction nor any concern for his movie star looks. I suppose he could easily pass off any bruises or black eyes as training accidents. It would be good for his image as well, an action hero who actually saw action.

“Great,” was Caleb’s equally casual reply. I’d told him about Jay’s background when I’d told him about how we’d met. He knew he was a former Olympian, trained in Judo and kickboxing, but apparently he wasn’t intimidated. It was a mystery to me that someone as kind and gentle could become such a beast in the ring. But then I supposed that was why he left all his aggression there.

The two men retreated to opposite corners to regroup. Mason yelled across the ring for the man who was timing to reset the clock. Then, just as they had a few minutes ago, they strode toward each other, this time with fists up.

Seeing them together I realized there wasn’t much difference in size, Caleb maybe had an inch in height, was thicker, his muscles denser - particularly that beautiful rounded chest I loved… the physique of a pro wrestler. Jay had gained in mass since I’d last seen him, and probably weighed close to the same as Caleb, but his muscle was toned to perfection. His abs rippled, with wide lats, flawless heart shaped shoulders and quads that looked as hard as metal cables running down his long legs… the physique of a movie star.

It also occurred to me that they shared a similar background in combat sports. Both had trained and competed in legitimate sports, but now both fought for show as a job, but I didn’t doubt that either would have any trouble throwing aside the fake stuff tonight. The punches, kicks and submissions would be as real as you could get. Caleb may have said he wasn’t trying to prove anything, but I had serious doubts about that, and Jay knew his name wasn’t Calvin, he was playing mind games.

A loud crack drew my attention fully to the action, Jay had landed another short swift kick, this time higher on the thigh and I saw Caleb dance out of range, a grimace on his face. Those kicks hurt, I knew from experience. Jay advanced, forcing my boyfriend back till he hit the ropes. Another kick followed, this one a straight front strike aimed for just below where Caleb’s arms were guarding his face. He saw it coming though and dodged to the side. Jay’s foot got only air as Caleb twisted, throwing the first punch of the match, a wild hook that missed its target but kept Jay from following up as he moved back toward center. I saw a momentary look of surprise cross my ex’s face. He only knew Caleb as a professional wrestler, probably wasn’t sure what his legitimate fight skills were - but he knew now. He shook off the shock quickly and once more advanced with his fists up.

In truth I was also taken aback. Caleb and I wrestled all the time, in training and for fun, but I wasn’t much of a striker so I didn’t expect him to be quite so good at defending. His ring style hadn’t changed much since I’d first started developing it with him when he’d joined Elite. It was based on utilizing his incredible strength, big explosive powerbombs, suplexes and spinebusters that got the crowd hyped up. He would then follow up with limb-bending submissions that made his opponents scream, moan and tap out. He was still wrestling under the name Kaleb, keeping the K and the drifter persona, hailing from parts unknown and all that. But he’d dropped his last name and the psychotic part of the character. He was just too popular with the crowd for him to keep working the heel angle. They loved him. He was one of Max’s top draws, the CWA champion for most of last year, only dropping it a couple months ago so that Max could build up to a card where he’d get it back. He’d only been able to come on this trip because he was supposed to be off somewhere healing his wounds, getting ready for his triumphant return, otherwise Max would never have let him take two months off, or work for other promotions out here.

The next few minutes got used up while the two men tested each other out. Jay moving forward, feinting with a leg or a punch not really intended to land, gauging range and clocking reaction time. Caleb was doing the same, but with an eye to finding a way through to a takedown. The atmosphere in the room was tense, much more so than the previous fight, while I saw Neil move up onto the apron and hold the ropes so he could get a better view. He was followed by Mason, then the others, so I joined them, taking a second to kick my shorts off, letting my stiff cock free before moving up. As the feeling out continued, the guys, now arranged along the ropes, began to get more vocal.

Whether satisfied with what he’d learned, or spurred on by the men now calling for some action, Jay finally let fly with a kick he intended to make contact with - A big roundhouse coming from the back leg, the top of his foot catching Caleb on the cheek. I saw and heard the impact but my boyfriend was saved from the full force as he was moving when it landed, dropping his level and diving in on the standing leg. Still it must have hurt. He managed to get a hold of the thigh, but then fell to his knees without managing to take his man over. Jay responded by sprawling back, his weight dropping heavy across the back, and his hand snaking around Caleb’s neck in a front face lock. Caleb got his footing and rose up, still gripping the leg but Jay did not go over. Instead he used his free leg to hit Caleb’s exposed abs with multiple knees.

“BACK OFF!” I screamed, watching Caleb tenaciously clinging to Jay’s thigh - he was taking far too much abuse.

I don’t know if he heard me, but he followed my instructions anyway, letting go of the thigh, then used his hands to pry open the front face lock. Another couple of knees and he managed to back out. Caleb gave me a quick glance, there was the tiniest bit of uncertainty in his eyes when they found mine. I nodded my head, “Shake it off, keep working, you got this,” I yelled.

He had no time to think though, Jay was moving forward, a slight smile on his face. He used a couple jabs to back Caleb up further then, with a neat little turn, Jay spun around, and his leg shot out in a spinning back kick that landed fully in Caleb’s solar plexus. The sound of the foot hitting the wall of muscle was followed by the sound of Caleb’s air being forced from his body. He flew backwards, hitting the ropes, then dropped to the canvas clutching his stomach. Another tense moment occurred, while we waited to see if Jay would follow up. He didn’t though, taking a few steps back to the center, smirking more openly now and my blood boiled. I clutched the ropes tightly, working hard to stop myself from ducking under and knocking the smile from his face.

Caleb got to his feet, and Jay waited for him to come forward. Once he was in range he let fly with another kick but this one got only air as once again Caleb was dropping low for a single. Jay did the same thing as before and sprawled back, getting another front face lock, but before the assault with the knees began, Caleb let go of the leg and matched Jay’s position. He got his own front face lock and drove forward.

Bent low I could see their cocks hanging down between their bent legs, it was a spectacular sight. Caleb used his free hand to throw some kidney punches, Jay responded in kind. Then knees were brought up to deliver more abdominal abuse. I held my breath watching these two beasts hold nothing back, my own cock was completely hard and dripping, I understood what Caleb had meant about watching me fight those guys after the wrestling show in Florida. This was so hot.

The stalemate continued, but then Caleb showed off some of his incredible strength and I almost shot my load watching him. With his hold on Jay’s neck he tilted his weight back and lifted. Jay’s feet left the ground a few inches, and then he was tossed a good few feet across the ring, landing not far from where I was standing, as Caleb completed the snap side suplex. Jay hit the canvas with a loud crash but moved quickly to get back to his feet. Caleb was not moving on him though - he’d made his point and was standing in the center of the ring, waiting. Jay was no longer smirking.

Once again they faced off, now fully aware of what the other could do. Jay tried another kick but Caleb was prepared and ducked under. He stepped through, locked his hands around Jay driving him over and to his back.

“YES!” I hooted, this was where my boyfriend was going to shine.

Jay wasn’t a complete novice on the ground though, for I had taught him a lot when we’d been together, and he pulled guard. Caleb slammed his upper body down and the two began to fight with their arms. Caleb got one of Jay’s wrists pinned, but before he could lock on a shoulder submission, Jay turned into him. His arm wrapped around Caleb’s neck and he began choking him. Forced to abandon the shoulder lock, Caleb twisted and the two rolled across the ring. Jay opened his guard and attempted to get a knee shield, but Caleb managed to pull out of the choke and sit up. He pressed down on a leg and brought his knee across, pinning the thigh to the canvas. Jay crunched up and threw an elbow that hit Caleb’s jaw, but it was not hard enough to stop my boyfriend’s progress. He slipped his other leg past and was now in a full mount. Jay bucked but only managed to shove Caleb further forward. Now his crotch was in Jay’s face, and his big bottle sized cock smacked against the movie star's chin. Envy washed over me, and I gripped the ropes harder to keep myself from totally losing control.

Jay's hips were now free of any weight, so he bridged and twisted. Caleb was thrown to the side but he held onto Jay's head, getting a little help with a handful of hair, and then he straightened his legs. He pulled forward and locked his ankles together. Jay's face was mashed up against Caleb’s dick. I saw his massive thighs tighten and heard him growl.
Jay continued to twist till he was on his knees, but now Caleb had secured the headscissors. It was a painful hold but not quite deadly, Caleb would need to get a figure four if he wanted the submission. I saw him moving to the side, trying to get the right angle to bend one leg behind the knee of the other. Jay pushed forward, up on his toes. Caleb was forced onto his shoulders, his chin pushing painfully into his own chest. With a loud roar, Jay gripped the constricting quads and tried to pry some space open. He managed to slip a hand into the small space between the thighs directly in front of his chin. With the other hand he took hold of Caleb’s cock. The growls of effort turned to shrieks, as Jay twisted on my boyfriend’s dick. The pain he was dishing out, added to the space he’d created was enough to weaken the headscissors and he was able to pull his head back.

Jay didn’t let go, he held on tight and once free, twisted, forcing his opponent to turn part way to his stomach. Then using his great martial arts balance he spun on one leg, stepping over Caleb’s ass and forced him flat to the canvas. Jay sat back, still with the leg and cock gripped tight and Caleb’s spine was bent painfully in a single-leg Boston. I could see that Caleb was fighting it hard, using his massive glute and hamstring strength to keep his back from being bent to a point where he’d be forced to tap. Jay howled and lent further but he was losing ground. I saw frustration on his face as he dropped both his grips on the knee and cock, then dropped his ass down, landing with a thud onto Caleb’s back. He twisted, reaching for the neck, and his cock slipped into Caleb’s ass. I grunted without being aware I was making a sound, only realizing I’d done it when I saw Mason flashed me another crooked grin, he was enjoying my discomfort.

“Don’t let him get you like that!” I screamed.

Jay maneuvered to lock up a choke or headlock but Caleb caught his hand and held him off. At the same time he raised his hips and bumped Jay off his back. They both ended up on their side as a messy fight for control ensued. It ended when the two writhing men rolled together to the edge of the ring, becoming entangled in the ropes.
Caleb was on his back, while Jay scrambled to get on his chest, using the bottom rope to help him. He pushed it down and it came across Caleb’s throat as he moved into a mount position. Instead of letting go, he held on, adding his other hand and pushing the rope down harder till Caleb was kicking and flailing his legs as his air supply was cut off.

“What the fuck!” I howled.

“No holds barred, remember.” Mason responded.

“That’s not a fucking hold,” I growled.

“You wanna stop them?” he asked.

I did, but Caleb would not thank me for stepping in. It took all my self-control, but I stayed on the apron. I was gripping the top rope so tightly my knuckles were turning white.
With one hand, Caleb was pushing back on the rope trying to get some space, with the other he was alternately punching Jay’s side or reaching up and pushing back on his chin. The choking, however, was relentless as Jay pushed down on the rope with all his upper body strength. Caleb added knee strikes across the back of his opponent, desperately fighting for air. Finally I saw his hand close into a fist. With as much force as he could muster, he caught Jay on the chin. It wasn’t a great hit - flat on his back like that he didn’t have much power - but it was enough to knock his tormentor from his perch and he was able to roll out from under the rope.

There was a pause in the action. Jay was on one knee, shaking off the hit, while Caleb lay on his back a few feet away sucking in great gulps of air. He managed to sit up, then climb to his knees, but he got no further. Like a sequence worthy of all those martial arts films he’d made before his big break, Jay leapt forward, a powerful side kick landed full on Caleb’s chin. He was knocked flat on his back, and this time he wasn’t moving.

It’s over, I thought. He’d been knocked out and wouldn't be able to continue, but there was no ref to step in and call it. Jay moved quickly into a mount. He took hold of Caleb’s arm and lifted him enough that he was able to get his legs under my boyfriend’s head. Then Jay threw himself sideways, bringing his opponent with him and rapidly moving his legs to a figure four. It was the triangle choke that Caleb hadn’t been able to complete earlier, but Jay had it locked tight, including control of the arm.

Now off his back I could see Caleb’s eyes were open, he was conscious, but he was in big trouble and there was panic in his eyes. Jay brought his knees together, constricting the throat further. He positioned the arm he had under his own armpit, adding a nasty bend to the elbow. Not only was the hold deadly but it was humiliating, as his large uncut cock was pressed tightly against Caleb’s lips, which were already beginning to turn blue. I held my breath, desperate to call out encouragement but sure the uncertainty in my voice would betray me. The kick might not have knocked him out, but he was going to have to tap or the triangle choke would.

“TAP!” Jay grunted. “C’mon TAP!” and when Caleb refused he lifted his hips off the canvas adding more strain to the elbow and more construction in the choke. The room was silent, the only sounds were the growls of Jay, and the labored breathing of Caleb as he fought to stay conscious. Seconds passed, it would be a blow to his pride to be put out like this, but I could not see any way he could escape.

I thought I was through being surprised by him. I thought that in the two years we’d been together I knew all there was to know, but I was wrong. The depth of his desire to fight for me, as well as his determination and strength, were far greater than I gave him credit for. First he got his knees under his hips, then, by driving forward, he got to his feet. He began to straighten his back and with Jay’s tight grip on his arm, my ex was lifted up - first his hips then his lower back. With a roar, Caleb stood tall and Jay’s shoulders and head also came off the canvas. I breathed again, sucking air in a gasp. I was saved from another smirk from Mason as he was too riveted by the action in the ring to have noticed. Caleb gained a few more inches in height by curling his arm back toward his chest. Jay was now at least a couple feet off the ring floor, and so when Caleb kicked his legs forward sending his opponent crashing back to the canvas and dropping his full weight on top, the impact was enough that the figure four dropped open, the grip on the arm was gone, and Jay was now the one struggling to breathe.

“YES!” I hollered.

Caleb fell back, and then rolled, putting distance between him and the other fighter. He hit the ropes and stopped. His chest was heaving, he was drenched in sweat and the arm that had been tortured was hanging loose at his side. Opposite him Jay was curled into a ball holding his crotch. Caleb’s head must have made contact with his balls when he dropped on top of him. Good, I thought.

“C’mon Caleb get up!” I heard - it was Neil yelling. The other men joined in, a few calling out Jay’s name. I remained quiet, back to holding my breath.
Slowly both men got to their feet, Caleb using the ropes to help, the bad arm now cradled close to his chest. I hoped it wasn’t damaged. Staring daggers at each other Caleb and Jay moved to the center.

Once in range, Jay let fly with another kick, this one a high roundhouse to the side that Caleb had left open. Had it landed it would have been the end, but it missed its target. With perfect timing Caleb dropped low and shot in. He got a hold on the standing leg with his good arm, but moved deep enough that his shoulder was placed directly under Jay’s crotch. He stood up, and Jay was lifted high, falling across Caleb’s shoulders. He twisted trying to drop off his perch but the wrestler held on, shook his bad arm to get it moving, then reached up and snagged a grip on the kickboxer’s neck. It wasn’t a perfect rack, but it was close and Jay was bent across the big round shoulders of his opponent painfully.

Caleb moved around the ring, coming close to where I was standing, whether on purpose or not, he brought Jay’s face within inches of where I was standing and I saw the panic was in his eyes now. This wasn’t a position he was familiar with. I didn’t think I’d ever racked him before, considering he was a little too big for me, but with Caleb’s remarkable strength he was helpless up there. The two moved away from us back to center. Caleb growled and shook his opponent, pulling down harder on the head and the thigh.
“Submit!” he demanded, Jay howled and moaned out “No, no,” which prompted further shaking and bending from my boyfriend. “Submit!” he yelled again, and with a choked little whine I heard Jay say. “I give, okay I give.”

It wasn’t over though, the rules of the fight were that it went till one man quit. I saw Caleb switch his hand positions, placing his palms under Jay’s head and ass. Then, like he was completing a power lift he dropped into a split stance and pressed Jay up. The muscles in his arms popped and bulged as Jay was lifted above his head. I heard Mason whisper “holy shit,” and now it was me grinning at him. Caleb held him there a few seconds, then stepped back, dropped his arms and Jay came crashing down onto his back from a height well over six feet. The impact shook the ring so much I had to grip the rope to keep from falling off the apron. Jay instantly curled into a ball. None of his Olympic training could prepare him to take that kind of hit, and he had to be done. He rolled onto his belly and Caleb moved onto him.

He dropped an elbow across his back, further wrecking his opponent. There was no resistance when Caleb took hold of his ankles and folded his leg up, hooking a foot behind his own calf, then dove forward forcing Jay’s twisted limbs into his ass. Caleb dug under Jay’s shoulders and put him in a full nelson. It was a great finisher, as he’d used it in his matches a lot recently, but this time he was not holding back. Jay’s chest was spread wide, his legs excruciatingly bent and locked, and his lower back maximally twisted and stretched.
Caleb didn’t demand the submission this time. Like his ring character, he just grimaced and pulled the submission on tighter. Jay’s face was a picture of suffering, the strain too much to handle.

“I quit, I quit,” he moaned, “you win, I quit.”

With one last growl and one more pull, Caleb released the hold and Jay collapsed. Carefully extracting their entangled legs, he stood over his beaten opponent. I noticed he was favoring his arm again, probably having fought through whatever pain he was in to finish the match, but now feeling the full effect of Jay’s armbar. He looked over to me, I was beaming, and a wide smile broke across his face, this one complete with a nose crinkle. He raised his good arm and flexed his bicep for me. I smiled wider and nodded my head.
Mason had moved through the ropes and was already at Caleb’s side. He took the flexed arm and raised it.

“You're the winner, Caleb!” He shouted to thunderous applause and cheering from the other men.

Caleb acknowledged them, and then dropped his arm and turned to where Jay was lying on the canvas. He bent down and put his hand on the back. They exchanged a few words, impossible for me to hear with the noise from the crowd. He then helped Jay get to his feet. Now side by side, both of them looked over to me. There was an unspoken question hanging in the air, and I knew what it was. Based on what had happened after the last match, Caleb was now free to fuck or do whatever he wanted to Jay, and they were looking at me to gauge my reaction. The ugly green monster reared its head inside me. I didn’t want that to happen, I had no explanation for why, and I just didn’t. But I would not stop them. Caleb had won, it was his right, and maybe he wanted to fuck Jay. It was a bitter pill to swallow but I had to give my consent.

I nodded my head indicating yes, it was okay, and did my best to smile, but inside I was boiling with doubt. What if Caleb liked it, what if he wanted to leave me? I saw my answer register on both their faces, and Jay looked quite pleased. He turned toward Caleb, his chin forward and his cock already begging to rise. But instead of a kiss, he got a handshake. Caleb extended his palm and waited. There was a moment of confusion on Jay’s face, but as always, he pulled it together quickly and masked whatever he was thinking with his usual sober expression. He took Caleb’s hand and they shook. I realized that the others were all watching this drama play out eagerly and I was blushed with embarrassment. BUT inside, my heart was busting. I’d given him permission, but he wasn’t taking it. He wanted me. Maybe we’d been wrong about our choice to model our relationship on Dad and Jake’s. It worked for them, but maybe monogamy worked for Caleb and me.

He made his way over to me. I leaned across the ropes and we kissed, the salty taste of his clean sweat tanging my lips. Our cocks met as our hips pushed forward, pressing against each other as tightly as we could. The action in the ring was continuing, Mason calling for another challenge but we paid no attention to it.

“How’s the elbow?” I asked.

“Sore, but not damaged, I’m gonna need some ice,” he answered.

“And for your jaw, that’s quite the bruise.” I smiled, pointing to the dark purple spot where Jay’s side kick had landed, nearly knocking him out. “Wanna ditch the party and I’ll play nurse.”

“You don’t wanna take a turn? Maybe fight Mason or Neil?” he asked.

“Not tonight.” I answered, “I wanna take care of my man.”

“Oh yeah?” he smiled, “that’s me right?”

“Yep, that’s you, and only you.”

Quietly we slipped out of the building, the only person that noticed was Neil, who smiled and gave us a wave. Mason had been challenged by the young director and was busy destroying the kid, who looked pretty happy about it. Back at the guest house, I took care of Caleb as promised, bandaging a small scrape on his cheek, icing his chin and his strained elbow, and then we showered and fell into bed. Too exhausted to do more than cuddle and kiss till we both fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning excited to get home to my son and my family. Sitting in the back of the car on our way to the airport I remembered a dream I’d had the night before. The Elite wrestling warehouse was mine now, and the new ring I’d commissioned had been completed. In my dream, I was standing inside it, admiring the clean canvas, the tight ring ropes and the shiny new turnbuckles. But when I looked down I wasn’t in my wrestling gear - I was in a suit. My Dad was standing next to me, holding Will in his arms, and both were also dressed in suits that would match mine. I looked over to the dressing room and saw Caleb emerge, similarly attired, flanked on either side by his tall, doppelganger father, and his mother in a flowery caftan and feathered hat. Some music played and they began to joyously walk toward us…

THANKS TO ONCE AGAIN TO GINGERMAN FOR PROOF READING

Hollywood Naked Wrestling Club
A Charlie and Caleb Story
PART THREE

It was just over two years since the motel room in Florida, and I hadn’t spoken to Jay since. I’d seen him, of course, after his super-hero movie came out it was impossible to avoid him. Even today, shopping for Will, I’d had to walk past a huge display of Rising Sun action figures, backpacks, lunch boxes and clothing emblazoned with his face. I was over him. I loved Caleb, but now, standing twenty feet from the first man I’d ever been serious about, I had to admit there was no such thing as being completely over anyone. It would never have worked for us, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still attracted to him, physically and emotionally. Seeing him in the flesh again had my pulse racing and everything that had drawn me to him came rushing back as fast as my galloping pulse.

Caleb’s distinctive laugh drew my attention away from Jay. He was still in conversation with Neil and my first thought was how awkward this situation would be for him. Who wants to hang out with your boyfriends ex? I quickly prepared an excuse for Neil to pass onto Mason about why we had to leave, but before interrupting their exchange I made the mistake of taking one last look at Jay. He was looking at me. He smiled, waved, then mouthed “hi”. I was caught. There wasn’t much I could do except nod my head in acknowledgment of his greeting. A second later I saw him touch the shoulder of the young director, say something, and begin to move toward us.

“Is that?” Caleb said. He was done talking to Neil and was now looking at Jay approaching. I only had to time to nod apologetically before my ex-boyfriend had crossed the short distance to where I was standing with my current one.

“Hi,” Jay said with an awkward little smile. Neil moved to the side making room for him in our circle. “I swear I had no idea this gathering was for you. Really, I promise. I don’t have to stay.” It occurred to me that this was probably just as uncomfortable for him.

“No, it’s good. I’m glad you’re here, it’s nice to see you.” I responded.

It seemed juvenile to ask Jay to leave. There was nothing between us anymore, we should all be able to handle this like adults, I reasoned.

“Oh do you guys know each other?” Neil asked.

“Yeah,” we both answered, then chuckled nervously. Jay spoke again.

“Charlie and I were friends when he was wrestling in Japan and I was making all those awful soaps.”

“Oh right,” Neil answered, I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes as he leapt to the correct conclusion. I also noted the term, “friends”.

“Actually, the first time we met was in a ring. We did a shoot wrestling match for a television show.”

A bubble of irritation moved up my throat, first at Jay for still not being able to say ‘boyfriend’, especially considering where we were and who he was talking to. But also at the mention of our match --- I’d seen a few clips used in news stories about Hollywood’s latest action hero, but they only ever showed the parts where he’d knocked me down.

“Which I won,” I added, trying to sound like I was making a joke but not doing it very convincingly.

“Hi,” Caleb interjected into the awkward silence I’d created, “I don’t know if you remember me, we met in Florida, in the motel.”

In our time together I’d gotten pretty good at reading Caleb’s expressions. It wasn’t too hard. He was incredibly honest and generally I could tell from the set of his mouth, the crinkle on the bridge of his nose, and the tightness of his jaw whether he was annoyed, bored, amused or happy. He was pretty chill so it was usually the later, but as he spoke and reached his hand out for Jay to shake, I discovered an expression I was not familiar with. He wasn’t angry but his nostrils were flared and his chin was pushed forward.

“Right yes, Calvin, the tag partner.” Jay answered taking the offered hand. A vein I hadn’t seen before appeared on Caleb’s forehead.

“It’s Caleb, and sometime tag partner yes, but mostly just partner partners.” He was smiling but there was no nose crinkle, and the muscles of his arms were bulging. However, if he was exerting any excessive force in the hand shake, Jay’s face betrayed nothing.

“Oh,” Jay said, “lucky guy.” He didn’t take his eyes off Caleb so I didn’t know which of us he was referring to as lucky.

Neil let out a little cough laugh, then tried to cover his amused expression by saying, “Well, small world.”

Another awkward silence followed, Caleb let go of Jay’s hand, and we all just stood looking at one another. I was about to say something about his movie, although I hadn’t actually seen it, but Mason spoke before I could. He’d left the other actor and moved toward us. “You’re here, great we can get started.” He was grinning, looking quite pleased, then he turned back and announced to the others. “Gentleman it’s time! Follow me.”

He led the way, the young director moving quickly to walk beside him, the rest of us falling in line, heading away from the pool toward the building that housed the ring. Jay was in front of us, walking with Neil.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered into Caleb’s ear, the still slightly puffy one from his high school wrestling days. He didn’t answer, just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders like he wasn’t sure what I was sorry for. There was no time to explain though, the short walk was over, and Mason had opened the door.

“NICE!” the other actor called moving inside and catching sight of the ring. “Hope you’re going to leave this up permanently, Mason, because the driving range wasn’t helping your golf game anyway.” Hearing his voice, rough with the slightest hint of Boston in it, I realized that I knew him as one of the stars of a long running television drama set inside a prison.

“Yeah,” Mason answered with a laugh, “well I know something I can still beat you at.”

Chairs were placed around the outside of the ring and everyone moved to take one, The two older guys on one side, the actor on another, with the reporter and Neil on the third side. I hesitated but felt Mason directed Caleb and I to the fourth side. The young director shot us a dirty look before joining Neil, leaving Jay with the other actor. But, before anyone sat, everyone started removing their clothes. Some didn’t have far to go, Neil only kicked off his sandals and shucked his shorts down before he was totally naked. I avoided looking over to Jay and instead addressed Mason who’d begun the same process.

“What’s going on?” I asked him.

“Initiation,” he smiled, revealing an impressive uncut cock that slapped against his leg with a meaty thump. “Are you going to join us?” He flashed his famous grin, but, before I could answer, he stepped away, climbed onto the ring apron and rolled under the bottom rope. He stood and did a turn with his arms out. The others, now just as naked as our host, took seats, some clapped or called out encouragements like “Hell yeah! and “Let’s get it on!” .

“Gentlemen, fellow fighters, welcome. As you can see we have two new members joining us tonight,” everyone turned to look at us, but I kept my eyes on Mason. I was beginning to think I understood what this was. “Caleb, Charlie,” he continued, “we would like to extend to you an invitation. After getting to know you both over the last couple months,” he stopped talking for a second, glanced over to Neil, and then continued, “we feel you would make excellent additions to our roster. The philosophy of the club is simple. For some men, wrestling and fighting comes naturally, it is what we were born to do. However we’ve become civilized, that path has been blocked, it’s no longer acceptable, and the opportunity to express that side of our nature does not exist. Some years ago Neil, myself and few others discovered our mutual passion and, slowly and carefully, we found others who shared our views, thus our Hollywood Naked Wrestling Club was born. Every so often we get together to express that part of us, the one deemed inappropriate. As you can see membership is very limited, discretion imperative, and we would like you to become our latest members.”

The seven men clapped and cheered his speech. I took a second to look at Caleb. I expected to see the wide eyed look of shock he’d displayed at Neil’s beach house but it wasn’t there. Instead, he was looking across the ring at Jay, with the same enigmatic expression he’s been wearing earlier.

“Now! Before you answer boys,” Mason continued after the applause died down, “Let’s get a match going, a demonstration of what we do here … who’s up first?”

“Right here!” The other actor stood. “Dan, you ready to settle this?” he called across the ring.

“Of course,” the reporter stood and answered him. “It’s going to end badly for you Vic, just like it did last time.”

There was a murmur of excitement from the others, and then Mason shouted “Excellent, our first challenge has been issued and accepted. Vic, Dan, the ring is yours.”

There was more clapping and calling out, some for the actor Vic, and some for the reporter Dan as they moved toward the ring and Mason stepped through the ropes.

“This is going to be a good one, Vic has been pretty much undefeated the last couple years until Dan handed him a loss at our last event. Choked him out and Vic hasn’t taken it so well,” Mason said, once he’d returned to the chair between Caleb and me.

“What exactly is going on?” I asked --- although it was now pretty obvious.

“Isn’t that clear?” Mason flashed me the grin. “You know you and your Dad are not the only guys who like to wrestle?” He laughed and gave my shoulder a pat. “Neil told me about you both and about what happened the night you arrived. Basically this is the same thing, just a little more organized.”

“So it’s just wrestling?” Caleb asked.

“Well we only have one rule,” Mason answered, “no strikes to the face. We all rely on them too much for our jobs, but other than that it’s no holds barred, so to speak. There is no limit on submissions --- you get as many as you can. A match ends when one man quits or cannot continue for some reason. For private matches we don’t use a time limit, but in the interest of giving everyone a chance to fight we limit the bouts to twenty minutes for these formal events. If, by the end of that time, neither man has quit, then we act as judges for the match. We vote based on skill, dominance, and number of submissions. Watch the match though, you’ll get the idea.”

Unsure, but undeniably excited to see these two men wrestle, I turned my attention back to the ring. They were standing in opposite corners, having taken the time to stretch while we’d been talking, both looking very impressive.

At first glance you would have given the match to Vic. He was probably somewhere in his mid forties, and maybe twenty or so pounds heavier then his opponent, with a hard thick body and excellent muscle definition. He was also quite hairy, with a full chest of brown fur that ran down his rippled stomach to the full bush that surrounded his thick uncut cock. Dan looked a bit younger, and smaller, outweighed, but, as I’d observed outside, very buff, with a super slim waist and impossibly wide shoulders. He must have had the suits he wore on the news channel custom made. He was also much lighter, his skin a pale pink compared to Vic’s warm olive, and hairless, with only the faintest trace of light brown stubble surrounding his longer, thinner, cut cock. But, if the smaller, lighter, reporter had won their last match, he must have some serious skills to compensate for the size difference, I reasoned, and, in spite of my lingering bafflement, and my unease seeing Jay again, I was looking forward to seeing them displayed.

There was no bell or official call to start, both men moved toward each other by unspoken consent and then slowly began to circle. At the same time everyone left their seats and moved up to stand against the ring apron. A few slapped the canvas and called out for whoever was their favorite. I gave Caleb a quizzical look. He was still wearing that enigmatic expression. He shrugged his shoulders and then joined Mason, so I followed.

It was clear this was a mismatch in styles right from the start. Immediately Vic moved in on Dan, not caring about the danger of getting taken down, simply trying to out muscle his rival. Dan was a technician though, with an obvious background in freestyle wrestling, so he fended off the direct attacks, choosing moments to shoot in and get Vic’s legs. Mostly, with brute force, the older man fought off each takedown. But, he did get caught a few times, and he hit the canvas hard. Dan did not follow through however, choosing to move away each time and wait for his opponent to get up again. It was a strategy that probably worked in his favor the last time --- wear the big man down then move in for the kill once he was gassed. Dan must have sensed that moment had come when he caught a high crotch, switched to a double, brought Vic crashing to the canvas, but this time stayed on top of him.

Using speed and leverage Dan worked Vic in a bunch of holds, a shoulder lock, a vicious straight arm bar, some chokes and a head scissors. Apart from their flapping dicks, it looked like a typical wrestling match. However, much like when they were standing, Vic powered out of each submission before tapping. Larry had taught me that nine times out of ten technique will overcome muscle, and I knew that was true from my own experiences in real wrestling. I expected that this was the same and eventually Vic’s strength would fail him and Dan would get a tap. But apparently, this was that tenth time, and after a brutal and exhausting period of Dan dominating, a savage stomp on the reporter's groin turned the tables.

Dan had an ankle lock, one of Vic’s feet tucked neatly into his armpit, his legs tightly controlling the other man’s knee and his upper body twisting in the opposite direction. He had to be coming very close to ripping multiple tendons and ligaments but still Vic didn’t tap out. The lighter man demanded the submission, but the actor, his face a mask of pain, answered that demand by kicking out hard with the sole of his foot, viciously connecting with Dan’s cock and balls. The poor guy howled in pain, the leg lock was gone and he curled up in the fetal position. I’d seen lots of crotch shots, given some, and been on the receiving end of a few, but there was no attempt to pull this kick, and poor Dan was hurting bad.

Vic got to his feet, favoring one leg, having definitely suffered from the ankle lock, but he shook it off. He took a second to collect himself and then dropped down on his curled up opponent. He smashed his elbow hard across Dan’s upper back, then forced Dan to his stomach. With his opponent helpless, his bare ass wide open, Vic took the opportunity to give the reporter's cheeks a few good slaps, the crack resounding through the room like a whip. Then, he took both wrists and pulled them up, making the backs of the hands meet, and forcing more wails out of Dan. He dropped his hips down on the ass of the wailing man and I saw his cock slip into the reporter’s asscrack. As he continued to torture the shoulders and chest, he began to thrust forward adding humiliation to the hold. Dan was not only just losing, he was also getting fucked.

He fought and twisted trying to pull his hands out of Vic’s tight grip but he had no strength in this position and soon the rhythmic frot was taking its toll, and his screams became moans. Eventually, deciding he’d tortured his man enough, Vic released the hold and stood. With a handful of hair he hoisted Dan up, then deftly lifted him so he was perpendicular across his own chest.

Starting at a run Vic upended his opponent and slammed him to the ring floor with relish. One of the first things I did when I’d arrived here was get under the structure and open the springs to the maximum. It was safer, helped to absorb impact and made some moves easier to execute, still, even at is most springy, the power of this slam was enough to knock all the wind out of Dan and make him even more helpless. I waited to see if the poor guy would continue or if he would throw in the towel. Vic paced around him, the frot had made his cock rock solid and it stood out from his crotch like the hands of a clock at three fifteen. Amazingly Dan began to stir, he was apparently much tougher than he looked. With a growl Vic moved in and lifted him again, this time locking his hands around the slim waist of the lighter man, then charging the corner slamming his back into the post. He let loose with a flurry of gut punches, each one connecting to the rippling abs of the reporter. Dan tried to cover up but Vic took his wrists and held them out, then used his knee to continue the abdominal abuse. When the beaten man dropped forward, barely able to stand, Vic pressed his forearm across the throat to keep him in place, then clamped his other hand on the already battered cock and balls of his opponent.

“Is it always this brutal?” I asked a gleeful looking Mason.

“Nah, but Vic can’t wrestle for shit, he’s just a brawler. You gotta put him out before this happens… looks like poor Dan missed his chance… although Vic’s particularly mean tonight. He really doesn't like losing.”

A howl from the ring brought our attention back to the match. Dan was no longer in the corner, instead he was flat on his back, desperately trying to peel Vic’s foot off his crotch. The actor had both legs split wide and was grinding his heel into the reporter's cock.

“I give! I give!” Dan screamed.

“You what?” Vic growled keeping his foot in place.

“Please I give,” was the answer.

With a sneer, Vic held the legs wide, then dropped down head first, smashing his forehead into the reporter's groin. Once more Dan was in the fetal position holding his crotch.

“You quit?” the actor asked.

The room was silent, everyone listening closely for the answer. It has to be yes, I thought --- he can’t take anymore.

“I asked you if you quit bitch?” Vic hissed, leaning close to his fallen opponent.

Through the moans and whimpers Dan snarled “Fuck you!” and unbelievably rose up, launching his whole body forward and ramming his shoulder into Vic’s chest. The room exploded with cheering, I couldn’t help myself and clapped along at this amazing display of determination from the smaller guy.

The hit was enough to knock Vic on his ass and Dan leapt on him. His fist flew as he delivered some gut punishment of his own. The actor bucked with his hips and the two went rolling across the ring. There was a messy exchange, with elbows and more punches, but with speed, Dan passed Vic’s legs, forced him over and mounted his chest. Vic reached up to pull Dan down but the reporter grasped the wrist and threw himself sideways. The bigger man’s arm was trapped and Dan thrust up with his hips forcefully. The armbar was almost perfect, Vic was in trouble. The strain on his elbow showed on his face as he cried out and twisted under the legs of his opponent. He managed to get one shoulder up and reach across his body to clasp his hand. Dan pressured with his legs trying to force him down but Vic was apparently as determined as Dan was. These Hollywood guys took this naked wrestling club thing pretty seriously. There was yelling from all sides, some urging Dan to break the arm, some screaming for Vic to fight it.

Dan lifted one leg and tucked the foot up against the bicep of the arm Vic was using to hold off the armbar. He kicked out but Vic kept a firm grasp on his tortured hand. With some of the downward pressure taken away from his torso he also managed to twist even further, then I saw his hips turn and he got his knees onto the canvas. “Shit,” I murmured. Mason had said Vic couldn’t wrestle for shit, but he was doing all the right things now to escape this submission. Slowly, he got his feet under him. Dan clung to the armbar desperately. It had to be nearing the twenty minute time limit and I imagined that if it came down to a vote, if they were both tied with one submission, most would give Dan the win. I sure would. However, Vic was on his feet now, pressuring down on Dan, folding him like a piece of paper. Slowly I saw him begin to pull his arm back. The coach in me wanted to scream out to Dan to switch off to a triangle, or let go of the arm and reach around for an ankle pick, but before I could Vic was free, and Dan paid the price for his stubbornness.

The smaller man tried to scramble back after he lost his armbar, but Vic dropped a knee onto his opponent’s thigh, then threw his weight behind it to keep him in place. Ignoring the fists that Dan was throwing to his sides, he continued to push until he was able to lock his arms around the waist. Then he leaned back and stood bringing Dan up with him in a powerful bearhug. He held him suspended off the ground, growling and shaking his man, his fists tight in the small of the back as he crushed the ribcage. Dan was fighting it, pushing on the chin and shoulders but, like watching him melt, slowly the fight went out of him and the movement stopped. It was hard to hear exactly what he said, but he mumbled something that could have been “I give” or “I quit” and Vic unceremoniously dropped him. As he crumpled to the canvas one of the older men across from us stood and yelled “TIME!”

Vic flopped to the canvas, spent, favoring one arm as well as one leg now. We all clapped for them but neither seemed to have the energy to acknowledge the applause. Mason left us and climbed into the ring. He moved to Vic bent down and asked him a question, the answer to which was the actor shaking his head no. Mason stood and raised his hands for silence.

“Gentleman, both fighters made it to the twenty minute mark without giving up so it’s up to us to vote. By a show of hands who gives this match to Vic?”

I glanced around the ring - all the hands went up, including Caleb’s. I hated to do it, I always favored the technical wrestlers over the brawlers, but undeniably Vic had won this. He’d gotten two submissions and had dominated the last half, not with any real wrestling in my opinion, however, this was a no holds barred match so he’d done what it took and I could appreciate that. I raised my hand as well, but in the back of my mind I was thinking about Dan, and how much fun he’d be to wrestle with. I wondered if his job ever brought him close to us.

“By unanimous decision… your winner Vic!” Mason said while performing the traditional hand raise. Vic got to his feet and acknowledged the cheering, then he limped over to Dan. He helped him get to his feet, then raised his arm as well. He was a bruiser and a bully, but apparently still a good sportsman. They hugged, then kissed. I raised my eyebrows, somewhat surprised. Although the frot earlier had been a pretty good indicator that this club’s wrestling was charged with eroticism, it hadn’t been explicitly mentioned. There was cheering and cat calls from the audience, the kissing progressed to making out, and both men began to stroke the other's cock.

“Take it outside you horny bitches!” Mason yelled, “we need the ring.”

There was some laughter, the two men broke apart and then both headed out of the ring. They did not return to their chairs, but, hand in hand, kept going right out the doors.

“Do I have another challenge?” Mason called. I was still watching the door, musing on the fact that these two men had been beating the crap out of each other only seconds before but were now going to fuck. I knew that feeling of course, discovering it as a teen while watching my Dad wrestle another man. Still the dichotomy always amused me.

“Am I allowed to challenge Sir?” It was Caleb’s voice and my attention shot back to him.

“Of course, son, you’re part of the club now.” Mason answered with his famous grin.

“Caleb.” Was all I got out before he said it.

“I would like to challenge Jay.”

“Caleb!” I repeated louder but he ignored me.

“Sure, I’m up for that.” I heard Jay say, but I didn’t look at him either

“Challenge issued and accepted. Caleb, Jay, the ring is yours boys.” Mason announced.

Caleb had started to undress, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him back to where our chairs were. “What are you doing?” I asked once he’d untangled himself from his shirt.

“Participating in the club,” he said innocently.

“Caleb, you know that I don’t have any feelings for Jay, right? I don’t love him. I love you.”

He looked down but I saw a slight hint of color bloom across his cheeks and the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. He looked back at me. The odd expression from earlier was gone, it was just my sweet, kind, open and honest boyfriend again.

“Remember in Florida,” he said, “when you fought three guys just to get to me? You didn’t have to do that Charlie, you could have just told me and I would have gone with you. But I’m glad you did, it’s still one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

It was my turn to look down and blush.

“I know you love me, and I love you. I’m not trying to prove anything. I just want to kick that cocky son of a bitch’s ass… he called me Calvin !? that okay with you?”

I answered his question by grabbing his shoulders and pulling him toward me. We locked lips and I kissed him as hard as I could. I felt him push into me, returning the passion and intensity equally. I hoped he always would and what we felt for each other would never weaken or fade. Apart from maybe Neil, nobody here knew my history, and wouldn’t understand the dynamics underlying this fight, so seeing us kissing, they probably thought I was jealous or maybe worried about my man. But they could think what they liked, I wasn’t worried and I was too deep in love with this guy to care what anyone thought. I broke away, then reached down and unbuttoned the fly of his shorts. I pulled them down, and tossed them aside. Caleb didn’t move, he let me continue to undress him, understanding the symbolism behind my actions. Slowly I removed his sneakers and socks, then finally I took hold of the waistband of his briefs, and stripped him of those as well. I grasped his beautiful cock and gave it a tug while we kissed again. Both hard now, I patted his ass and sent him off to the ring where Jay was waiting.

Mason was already standing along the apron. I joined him, keeping my eyes on Caleb as he moved through the middle rope.

“Oh my,” our host murmured, almost breathless with anticipation.

I had to agree with him. How many guys get to see their boyfriend fight their ex-boyfriend in a naked wrestling match?

FINAL PART COMING SOON !!!!!