JiminQueens2's blog

(Keith’s narrative resumes)
It was standing room only in front of the oil pit. With eight Boys wrestling, it was going to be a single-elimination tournament, and those of us whose Boys were stripping down got ringside seats. One of the other Daddies – whose Boy was not wrestling – had suggested that they do loser rounds, too, with the ultimate loser – the Boy who lost all three of his matches – being humiliated the rest of the night. But I put that shit idea to bed right away.
“There are at least forty Boys here tonight, and only eight have the balls to get in the pit,” I pointed out, with an edge to my voice. “So who are the ultimate losers?” And I smiled as both he and his Boy turned beet red and turned away.

And then Stevenson grabbed a microphone and began to announce the evening’s festivities. “Gentlemen and gentlemen! Let’s meet our wrestlers for the evening!” He began to rattle off names; Kevin’s was the fourth. One by one, the Boys came out from the back room and took their places on the stage, each one clad only in a white jockstrap—no elaborate patterns or logos, and each one doing a complete in-place turn so that we could check out the assets. Most of the others were built like my Boy: big, muscular, single-digit body fat. The one exception was this blonde twink about half the size of the other Boys. I silently hoped that he was a black belt or something, because otherwise he was going to get killed.

“Here are the rules,” Stevenson said. “There are no rounds and no periods – the Boys wrestle until there’s a winner. Wrestling only, no punching or kicking, and no scratching or hairpulling.” He grinned at that last, but the joke fell flat. “I’ll be one of the judges, along with Ramirez and Nesbitt.” He gestured at two other Dads standing next to him. “When we feel that one Boy has established complete dominance over the other, we’ll award him the victory.”

“Now let’s get the first two oiled up!”

Two of the Boys jumped off the stage and approached the oil pit. Stevenson and the other judges produced bottles of baby oil and began to squirt it all over the two of them, then two other men – presumably their Daddies – rubbed the oil into every nook and cranny on their body. Ready for battle, the two Boys climbed into the pit.

Kevin was the third match of the first round—I made sure he was nice and greasy and that every muscle he had gleamed in the lights—and his first opponent for the night was the blonde twink who really shouldn’t have been in the pit at all. Kevin went easy on the kid and carried him long enough to put on a good show for us, but it wasn’t that long before he had the kid in a schoolboy pin with the kid’s head pulled up into his crotch. Stevenson and the other “judges” rang the bell to signal that Kevin had won.

His semifinal opponent looked Spanish or Italian, with more hair on his chest than some of the Daddies watching. This one was tougher; the kid put Kevin in a couple of bad positions that made my stomach drop down to my shoes, and Kevin put him in some but couldn’t seem to put him away. They went back and forth for a good twenty minutes, but then the other Boy slipped and landed flat on his ass, and Kevin pounced on him.

He grabbed one of the guy’s legs and wrapped his other arm around his head. It was a nice, tight cradle, and it was clear the other Boy wasn’t getting out of it. Stevenson rang the bell, giving Kevin the win.

Kevin sprang to his feet, but almost went down again as his balance got a little wonky. The other Boy, clearly furious, climbed to his feet, and as Kevin approached him for a handshake, the son of a bitch took a swing at my Boy.

It didn’t connect. Kevin ducked the swing and immediately countered with a jab cross combination. The other Boy went down like a poleaxed cow, and he didn’t look like he was getting up any time soon.

I heard a roar of outrage, and one of the other Daddies started to climb into the pit. I immediately jumped into the pit and got between him and my Boy. The other Daddy was sputtering, “He hit my Boy! I’ll fucking kill him!”

“I’ll fucking kill you,” I said coldly, “if you lay a finger on my Boy.”

Stevenson and Ramirez had grabbed the other Daddy and pulled him away from the pit. “Your Boy threw the first punch,” Stevenson said coldly, “so maybe you should clean him up and get your asses out of here.”

I didn’t move a muscle until the scumbag was hustled out of the common room; a couple of the other Daddies and Sons cleaned up the mess my Boy put on the tarp. Once the mess and its Daddy were out of the room, I relaxed and turned to look at Kevin.

In the two years we’d been together, I’d never seen such a look of admiration and devotion on Kevin’s face as I saw there now. He walked, a little uncertainly because of the oil, over to me and hugged me. I didn’t even mind that he was getting oil all over my uniform. I hugged him back to the thunderous cheers of the men around us.

“I love you, Daddy,” he murmured.

“I love you, too, Son,” I murmured back.

And then came the tap on the shoulder. I schooled my features into as neutral an expression as I could manage and turned. It was Stevenson, of course; man never met a mood he couldn’t sit on. “I hate like hell to break this up,” he said, and if there had been the slightest hint of mockery in his voice, I would have taken a swing at him and the hell with it. “But your Boy still has one more match tonight.”

“In a minute,” I replied coldly.

I turned back to Kevin and took his head in both my hands. “Win or lose tonight,” I told him, “You are my Boy, and I love you and I am proud of you.”

Tears welled up in his beautiful eyes, but he smiled the sweetest smile I’d ever seen and said, “I’m proud to be your Boy, Daddy.”

I climbed down out of the oil pit, then turned to help Kevin down. Someone brought us towels; I only needed one, but Kevin needed a few to get all of the oil off of him. Stevenson was babbling, “We’ll give him and the other Boy half an hour or so to rest, then turn them loose!”

He was practically drooling at the thought of Kevin and the other Boy – who I didn’t even remember at that point – tearing into each other. Well, he could fantasize all he wanted, but Kevin was coming home with me that night, not him, and nothing was going to change that.

Well, something did change that, but that’s the next chapter…