JiminQueens2's blog

Time to take things to the next level, Jesse decided. He slipped his hands into the waistband of his jockstrap, then dropped it from around his waist down to the mat, to the thunderous applause of the onlookers. Naked and hard as marble, he stalked over to Brian’s prone form, reached down, and with a tremendous cry of rage and exertion, ripped the jock off the other man’s body!

“Get up!” he snarled, punctuating his order with a kick to the ribs.

Brian groaned but staggered manfully to his feet. His blurry vision told him that three Jesses were standing in front of him. He took a roundhouse swing at the middle one. And hit nothing but air.

Jesse easily dodged the clumsy attack and stepped behind Brian, squatted slightly, and wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist. He thrust his hips forward and lifted, and Brian was thrown over and behind Jesse to land flat on his back and neck on the mat to the thunderous cheers of the crowd!

Brian was almost out, but Jesse wanted to put him out in a way that would go down in bar fight legend. He bent over and grabbed the other man’s beard in his left hand, and then pulled up, first slowly until Brian got to one knee, then yanked it harder to force him up to his feet. Brian weaved back and forth, not for defense, but because his feet and sense of balance weren’t obeying the commands from his brain.

Jesse reached back with his right hand, and, still holding onto Brian’s beard with his left, landed a perfect right cross right into the other man’s jaw. Most of Brian went down like a poleaxed cow, but while most of his beard went with him, a small bunch of hairs decided they liked Jesse’s fist better than Brian’s chin and stayed behind. Brian would probably be screaming about the ripped out hair, but he was utterly and completely out, checked out with no forwarding address.

Jesse, swaying himself from exhaustion and the abuse his gut had taken, looked down at his fallen opponent for a long moment. The crowd was completely silent, in awe of the spectacle and brutality they had just witnessed. He bent over to examine Brian, but the other man was well and truly unconscious. He wouldn’t respond to kicks, so Jesse squatted down and physically rolled him onto his stomach, then spread Brian’s legs apart.

He searched the crowd until he found Mike. “Penetration, you said,” he said shortly. A low moan told him that Brian was starting to come to. Jesse spat on his hand and rubbed it on his dick, spread Brian’s ass cheeks, guided his dick to the hole, adjusted….and then plunged in.

*THAT* woke Brian up, and he screamed in pain as he was forcibly penetrated. Jesse only stayed in for two or three strokes before pulling out. He wasn’t going to waste a load on this. He got to his feet – and that was when the crowd burst into thunderous cheers, both for the fight itself and for Brian’s utter and complete humiliation at Jesse’s hands – and dick.

Jesse’s exhaustion seemed to vanish in an instant. Between penetrating Brian and the roar of the crowd, he felt new strength flooding into his body. He felt as if he could do anything – or anyone. His eyes began to search the crowd again, but this time he was looking for Randy, and he wasn’t looking long. Randy had come into the cage, picking up Jesse’s clothes and bringing them to him. As he reached Jesse, he knelt before the winner and held his clothes up as if he were making a sacrifice to a god.

Jesse smiled, then bent over and guided Randy back up to his feet. With a careless gesture, he knocked the clothes out of the otter’s grasp, then pulled him close and kissed him, long, hard, and deep, his hands sliding down Randy’s body to cup his beautiful ass. Randy wrapped his arms around Jesse’s neck and kissed him back just as hard, and the bar erupted into cheers. Jesse finally broke the kiss, stepped back, and raised his arms to his sides. Randy took the hint and began to dress him, making the action as sensual as undressing him normally would have been. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse could see Brian, head down in defeat and looking like nothing less than a whipped dog, collect his clothes and slink out of the cage.

Randy picked up Jesse’s shirt and pulled it onto the bear’s sweaty body, then knelt, reached over for Jesse’s jeans, and held them for Jesse to step into. Randy slowly pulled them over Jesse’s legs – hesitating only to run his tongue the length of Jesse’s hard dick and flick the slit in the head, then buttoned them closed. “Good thing there’s no zipper,” he whispered.

“Definitely,” Jesse agreed just before he kissed Randy again, his tongue slipping past the otter’s teeth to caress its counterpart in Randy’s mouth. His mouth moved across Randy’s face to his ear, and Jesse whispered, “Forget the socks; just grab my boots, get dressed, and let’s get out of here.”

The two men rolled across the floor, first one on top, then the other. It was still early enough in the match that they were respecting the rule barring punches to the face, but they found plenty of other targets for their fists. Hands closed around throats as they tried to choke each other out, and were quickly knocked aside. All the while, the jockstraps they were wearing became increasingly tight, as their cocks reacted to the body contact and the intensity of the match.

Brian’s beard was turning out to be an unexpected weapon. It was long enough to get in Jesse’s eyes when Brian was on top of him, and it kept getting in the way when he tried to get his hand on Brian’s throat. Jesse cursed his own, close-cropped beard; it wasn’t helping at all.

The two men struggled to their feet, still locked in combat, but with Jesse’s head trapped in a headlock and Jesse smelling Brian’s rank armpit. Brian frog-marched him to the edge of the cage—and then, before Jesse could react, Brian had gotten behind him and grabbed a couple handfuls of Jesse’s hair! He pushed Jesse’s face into the cage wall, and then started grating it against the wall like cheese!

Jesse howled in pain and tried to reach behind him to break Brian’s grip, but he was in the worst position to do so, and both he and Brian knew it. Brian gave him a couple more good rubs, then switched his grip to Jesse’s shoulders and spun him around.

With Jesse leaning weakly against the cage wall, Brian’s fists began to dig deep into his middle, hammering shot after shot at Jesse’s unprotected gut. Jesse grunted in pain at each impact, which only made Brian smile and hit even harder. Jesse was holding himself up and holding back tears by the thinnest of margins from the beating he was taking.

Brian reached down and effortlessly lifted Jesse’s limp body into the air. With Jesse held over one shoulder, he strutted around the cage, with the spectators absolutely silent. Then, when he was facing the spectators, with a feral, almost inhuman snarl, Brian slammed Jesse, back first, down to the mat. The mat wasn’t THAT soft, and Jesse’s cry of agony reverberated throughout the bar.

Brian stepped over Jesse’s body and squatted down. Jesse had only a moment to register what was happening before Brian’s ass was in his face. The musky, manly odor that Jesse normally found intoxicating nauseated him now, and he had to force himself to keep from retching.

Brian, meanwhile, was putting on a show for the spectators. He flexed, a double bicep pose, the sweat on his body making his muscles stand out in full relief, then, his fists still clenched, delivered a pair of hard shots to the helpless Jesse’s gut. Brian smiled, the most vicious smile imaginable, and bracing himself on Jesse’s legs, began to wiggle his ass back and forth, rubbing it into Jesse’s face!

The spectators began to boo, jeering the musclebear as he humiliated his far more popular opponent. Brian shrugged, got to his feet, and with a couple of solid kicks to the ribs got Jesse to roll over onto his stomach.

Brian kicked Jesse’s left calf, then his right, spreading the other man’s legs open. Dimly, Jesse realized that he was about to lose, and in the worst way, and the knowledge seemed to give him new energy. Quickly, he got to his hands and knees, drew one knee in to his chest, then lashed out blindly with the foot, hoping for the best!

He got it.

Jesse’s foot caught Brian completely by surprise and right in the gut. The impact doubled Brian over, and since he was already leaning forward, the net effect was to make him headbutt the mat. He collapsed onto his stomach, his hands cradling his forehead as lightning shot back and forth behind his eyes.

Jesse took several deep breaths, trying to will strength back into his body. He looked behind him and saw that Brian had rolled onto his back. He slowly got to his feet just as Brian was sitting up, and dropped down behind him. He shifted his legs so they were around Brian’s waist, and then wrapped his arm around Brian’s throat!

Jesse knew that the match—fight, at this point—wouldn’t end if Brian tapped out, but the choke hold was sapping Brian’s energy, so he poured on the pressure and ducked his head behind Brian’s, even as Brian tried to claw at his face and hair. He felt some hair on his horizontal arm, and he felt around with his hand – and sure enough, Brian’s beard was within his grasp. He grabbed it and straightened out his hand, and Brian’s head was pulled to the side even as Jesse’s arm crushed his windpipe.

Brian’s hands reached up, pushing at Jesse’s face, trying to free himself, but Jesse jerked his head to the side and left Brian’s hands grasping only air. But Brian’s hands quickly found Jesse’s face again, his fingers pushing into Jesse’s cheeks and the side of his nose – and then Brian deliberately poked Jesse in the eye.

Jesse’s hands reflexively came up to cradle his injured eye, releasing Brian from the choke hold, and Brian slowly got to his feet. All pretense at a wrestling match was gone now; Brian drew his foot back and kicked Jesse in the stomach, sending the other man down on his side in a fetal position. Brian threw another kick, and Jesse howled his agony for all the bar to hear. Again and again Brian’s kicks sent Jesse rolling across the mat in torment.

Jesse had reached the wall, and Brian bent over and forced him to his feet. He started throwing punch after punch, mostly targeting Jesse’s gut, but a couple found their way to his face. When Jesse bent over from a gut punch, Brian grabbed his head and threw a couple of knees into his face as well. The assembled men stood in silent shock at the beating Jesse was taking.

Jesse’s mind was reeling from the punishment Brian was inflicting on him, but as he blinked his bleary eyes, trying to clear them, he saw Randy at the edge of the cage. If the otter had been anxious before, he looked terrified now.

Time seemed to slow down as Jesse saw another fist coming for his face. He ducked, and Brian’s punch landed right in the wall instead. The other man howled in pain, shaking his injured hand, and Jesse, now fully invested in this being a fight, sent him staggering back to the middle of the cage with a right cross that spun Brian almost completely around.

Now it was Jesse’s turn to punish Brian’s middle with solid hooks that left the other man gasping for breath and holding his middle. An uppercut snapped Brian back upright, his beard flapping in the air, and Jesse couldn’t resist. He grabbed Brian’s beard with one hand and pulled, while the other landed a cross that sent Brian spinning into the cage wall!

“Wrestling!” came a voice from the crowd.

“Yeah, wrestling ONLY!” came another. “No punching!”

The chant went up: “WREST-LING! WREST-LING! WREST-LING!” Jesse was a little surprised – none of the bar patrons shied away from rough contact. But maybe it’s because it’s me and Brian, he thought, and they want to help me out.

Brian strode over to Jesse and got in his face. “You really don’t want to do this, little man,” he growled, his breath stinking of beer and whatever cheap shit he’d had for dinner that night.

Jesse noted that, while Brian always seemed larger than life and the biggest man in the room, chest to chest they were almost exactly the same height and build, with massive muscles built from long hours with the weights. He started to feel better about his decision to get into the cage with this man.

“I’m not afraid of you, dipshit,” he growled back. “If you’re too much of a pussy to fight me, the door’s behind me. But if you’re man enough to do this, then let’s do this. I’ve had enough of your bullshit to last a fucking lifetime.”

A look of pure surprise passed over Brian’s face; Jesse realized that probably no one had ever talked to him like that before. But before Brian could respond, or more likely throw a punch, Mike was, shockingly enough, in the cage with them, forcing his body between them so that both men had to take a step backwards. “We have a wrestling match!” he announced, “but to what finish?”

Half of the room shouted “Submission!” and half shouted “Pin!”, and it went back and forth while Jesse was trying to decide how where he’d hit Brian first. But just as the controversy died down, one lone voice yelled “PENETRATION!”

Jesse turned sharply in the direction of the voice, but there was no sign to tell who had said it. Brian looked to be just as shocked, one of the few times Jesse could remember the two of them agreeing on anything. But the crowd apparently loved the idea, because the chant of “PE-NE-TRA-TION! PE-NE-TRA-TION!” began to echo throughout the bar.

Mike raised his hand for silence, and surprisingly he got it. “Well, if the boys are going to wrestle THAT way…” he said, “we need to see what they’re going to work with. Drop your pants, you two!”

Jesse stared at Mike in disbelief, but then he thought, Well, what did I think I was going to wrestle in? He quickly undid his jeans and let them drop to the floor, then pulled off his shirt. Something had told him to wear his favorite black jockstrap tonight, and the crowd certainly approved, judging from the whistles and cheers.

Brian did not look happy, but with Jesse standing there in just a jockstrap and ready to wrestle, he obviously wasn’t about to back down. He grabbed his shirt in a two-handed grip and literally tore it off his body, letting the rags drop down to the floor, then unbuckled his belt and swung it in the air a few times, looking directly at Jesse the whole time. The implication was clear but Jesse wasn’t even remotely intimidated, and Jesse shot him a look of pure, unvarnished contempt.

Even wanting to kick Brian’s ass, Jesse had to admit that he liked the view. Brian had big, burly shoulders and a massive chest, with a nice bear belly underneath it – no six pack, but solid muscle covered by that nice covering of fur. Jesse found himself comparing the other man’s body with his own, and realized with a start that, except for the color of the fur, their bodies were pretty much identical. Physically, at least, they were evenly matched.

Brian frowned when he didn’t get the result he wanted. He tossed the belt into a corner, followed by his boots and socks. He unbuckled his jeans and let them drop to the floor, revealing a black jockstrap that matched Jesse’s. He kicked the jeans to the corner and stood there, bouncing on the balls of his feet, clearly ready to wrestle.

“You bulls must have been psychic,” Mike said into the mat, to uproarious (and disproportionate, Jesse thought) laughter from the men in the bar. “Here are the rules: wrestling with body punches and kicks and anything else you can think of, nothing to the face, no holds barred, no holes barred! But the only way to win…get your junk in the other man’s ass! No pins, no submissions!”

“Fine,” Brian growled.

“Fine,” Jesse said calmly.

“All right, then, gentlemen—to your corners!” They hadn’t been assigned any, but Brian and Jesse backed into opposite corners, neither one of which was near the door. Mike moved to the door, saying, “When I’m out of the cage – come out fighting!”

They didn’t wait. Mike had just opened the door of the cage when the two men bears charged each other, and as he scampered outside and slammed the cage door shut, they locked up in a collar and elbow. They strained and pushed, first one man pushing the other backwards, then the reverse. The muscles in their arms and back bulged as they tried to establish their early dominance over each other.

They broke the collar and elbow and stepped back. Jesse came in for another collar and elbow, and Brian looked as if he was going for it, too—but at the last minute, his hands dropped, his right hand clenched into a fist, and he drove it deep into Jesse’s middle. Jesse wasn’t prepared for a gut punch and he doubled over, gasping and his eyes watering. Brian clasped both his hands together and brought them down hard on the back of Jesse’s neck, and Jesse hit the floor, seeing stars.

Jesse got up on his hands and knees – a big mistake, because it let Brian let loose with a savage kick that caught him in the stomach and sent him rolling across the floor, holding his middle and groaning in pain. Brian followed just as Jesse got up his hands and knees again. Brian drew his foot back for another kick, but this time Jesse was ready. His hands shot out and grabbed the ankle above Brian’s planted foot, and he pulled with all of his strength. Brian’s bare foot slid across the floor and he tumbled down, and Jesse leaped on top of him.

(thanks to JHK49 for the idea!)

It was Friday night at the Stallion and Falcon. Jesse Gibson took a swig from his Bud Light and wondered what the hell he was doing here. It had been one hell of a week at work, and he hadn’t planned on coming out tonight. Order in dinner, a little TV, and then bed, that had been his plan. But then Mike, the owner of the bar, had texted him from his direct number – not the bar account – and told him that there was something special planned for the evening. It had to have something to do with the curtained-off area in the back; with half of the floor space off limits, the bar seemed more crowded than usual.

He checked his watch. Just past eleven. He’d give it until midnight and then he was out of here. He was tired and he just wanted his damn bed already.

But it wasn’t more than ten minutes later that microphone feedback made every man in the bar wince and involuntarily reach for their ears. Mike, a burly man in his mid-fifties with a respectable beard and a nice gut, adjusted the sound controls and took up the wireless microphone. “Okay, boys and bears, it’s time for the special event of the evening. Please welcome Randy—and he is—to the stage!”

Jesse rolled his eyes at the “clever” double entendre—but then his eyes were riveted to what stepped out from behind the curtain. This boy was….beautiful. Slim, thick reddish-black hair on his head and a light coating of it on his chest and abs, angular elfin face, looked to be about twenty or twenty-two years old, wearing only a white speedo. Someone had wetted him down, so his skin glowed in the lights and the speedo was almost see-through. Jesse could feel his dick stirring in his jeans. He wanted this boy.

And so did a lot of other men in the room. Offers were being made – some financial, some sexual (“I’ll blow you if I get to fuck him”, like that). But Mike just smiled and walked over to the far wall – then grabbed the curtain and pulled it back, revealing a miniature cage, about eighty square feet, with a mat laid on the floor inside it and a door on the bar side.

“You didn’t think this boy was going to be anyone’s for free, did you?” Mike asked mockingly. “You want this boy – you’d better be prepared to fight for him!”

Jesse rolled his eyes again. Mike thought of himself as the greatest showman since P.T. Barnum, but Jesse found that a little of his act went a very, very long way. But Mike wouldn’t have texted him if he hadn’t expected Jesse to be one of the men in the cage, and since Mike was always understanding when Jesse was a little late with paying his bar tab, Jesse knew that he was better off in the long run getting in there.. And from the sound of things, it was going to be a long night, because at least a dozen guys were still clamoring for Randy, and a couple had even removed their shirts in preparation for whatever sort of fight Mike had in mind.

But the noise died down abruptly when one man stepped into the cage, slammed the door behind him, and peeled off his t-shirt. Brian Driscoll. Tall, shaved head, built like the proverbial brick shithouse, massive torso covered in light blonde fur, matching beard lightly flecked with gray and reaching down to his chest, and one of the meanest, most unpleasant people Jesse knew. No one really liked Brian, but everyone, even Mike, was more than a little afraid of him. Jesse had tried to get to know the guy, maybe see what made him so angry, but it wasn’t more than twenty minutes before he figured out the truth. Brian was, purely and simply, a grade-A asshole and he liked it that way.

But Brian was also tough as nails. The Stallion was mostly a tight-knit community, and mostly friendly, but every bar in existence has its share of bar fights, and the Stallion was no exception. The one time that one of those fights had involved Brian…Jesse still shuddered at the memory. The fight had been close, for about two minutes. Then Brian had shown that he had just been playing with the other guy, and put a beating on him that stopped just short of hospitalization. Jesse couldn’t even remember the other guy’s name, because he’d never shown up at the bar after that.

So when Brian took his stand in the cage and wordlessly staked his claim on Randy, a lot of the voices “bidding” for the twink suddenly became quiet. Randy was smoking hot, no doubt about it, but Jesse could almost see the couple dozen guys who’d been raring to fight for him redoing the math in their heads, and deciding that no piece of ass was worth risking taking a beating from Brian.

Maybe it was beer nuts, or maybe it was just wanting his nuts to unload into Randy…but Jesse decided that he was going in the cage that night. Or maybe, he thought, I’m just fucking sick of this guy and it’s worth the risk of getting my ass kicked if I can stop him from ruining the Stallion.

He stripped off his shirt and tucked it into the back of his jeans, then made his way through the crowd – not quite pushing guys out of his way, but “adjusting” their bodies to give him a path. Eyes followed him as he made his way to the cage, some in annoyance at the unexpected touch, some in admiration at the muscular bear body brushing against them, but most in shock as they realized that he was volunteering to lock up with Brian.

The silence was deafening as he walked around the front of the cage and stepped through the doorway. Mike, thank goodness for small favors, was speechless, and even Brian looked surprised that anyone would be willing to challenge him. It wasn’t until he was inside the cage and had pulled the door shut behind him with a loud CLANG that Jesse realized that the rules for this fight, if any, hadn’t been announced yet, and he could have just let himself in for a no rules brawl.

But Mike recovered quickly, and announced into the mike, “Well, unless anyone else wants to step up, looks like we have our two bulls ready to fight over this calf!” That last was accompanied by a gesture at Randy. Jesse glanced in the twink’s direction, and to his surprise, Randy was staring directly at him, a look of fear and anxiety on his beautiful elfin face. He glanced once at Brian and then returned his gaze to Jesse, silently pleading with him not to let Brian take him.

“Okay, men…time to vote! How does this go down? What rules?” Jesse looked sharply at Mike. What the hell was he playing at?

Weakly, feeling miserable, Johnny nodded. Ryan let go of his hair and caught his unsteady body in his arms, then guided him into a sitting position against the wall. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone far less sharp than it had been. Johnny nodded just as weakly.

“Ice?” he asked, his voice hoarse and rough. Ryan nodded and sprinted to and up the stairs. Once in the kitchen, he opened the freezer, cracked an ice tray, and dumped the contents into a plastic bag. He ran back downstairs; Johnny was where he’d left him. He applied the ice pack to Johnny’s battered face himself, and Johnny shot him a grateful look.

For a long moment, the two men sat there, not speaking. Something odd was passing between them. But finally Johnny spoke up. “You kicked my ass,” he said simply, “but I’m still glad we finally did this.”

Ryan grinned at him. “Could have gone either way,” he said, “and I’m glad, too. Best workout I’ve had in a long time.”

“Same here,” Johnny agreed. He glanced at Ryan’s briefs, and noted the still-bulging material. “Looks like something else needs a workout, too.”

Ryan’s grin grew wider. He immediately reached down and pulled his briefs down to his knees, revealing a respectably-sized erection that bounced up and slapped against his stomach. “I haven’t been this hard in a long time,” he confessed. “This fight was better than Viagra.”

Johnny slipped off his briefs; he was just as hard as Ryan. “Yeah, same,” he said. “Shall we?”

Ryan began to stroke his dick, his eyes locked on Johnny, who was stroking his own. For a long moment there was no sound between the two men, but eventually Ryan said, “Hold on a minute.” He quickly ran back into the main house, returning after a few minutes with a bottle of vegetable oil.

“Best I can do,” he said sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Johnny poured a liberal amount of oil on his cock, then began to stroke again. “Yeah, this is much better, thanks.”

“No problem.” Ryan began to jerk his dick, but after a moment, with a look at his erstwhile enemy, he sidled over until he and Johnny were hip-to-hip, then reached over and got his hand under Johnny’s and began to stroke the other man’s dick for him. Johnny smiled and reached over to grasp Ryan’s shaft in a firm grip.

“Why didn’t we do this in high school?” Johnny murmured.

“Because we were fucking stupid,” Ryan replied.

“No argument here.”

The two men continued to stroke each other. Neither made any move to escalate matters; neither was wired that way. They’d shared the second most intimate exchange two straight males can experience; now they were sharing the first.

Ryan came first, a geyser of thick, white semen exploding from his dick under Johnny’s careful hand to cover his torso and splash against his chin. Johnny wasn’t far behind; he didn’t shoot as far, but his chest got its own coat to match Ryan’s. The two men sat there, gasping with exertion, their hands moving away from each other’s cocks to slide around each other’s shoulders.

They sat there for a long moment, their arms around each other, their dicks slowly getting softer and smaller, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. Then Ryan, with a wry chuckle, said, “You know, I can’t even remember who told me you’d called me a fag.”

Johnny laughed. “Does it really matter at this point?”

“Only that I’d probably want to thank him,” Ryan smirked, “right before I watched you beat his ass.”

“Maybe we should ask around at the next reunion,” Johnny replied.

The two men’s laughter echoed throughout the garage.