The Wrestlers

"Come on in, Dave." I said as I ushered him into our house. "Hi, Ma, this is my friend from school, Dave."

"Welcome to our house, Dave." my mother said, unruffled. We were country folks, and didn't blink at hospitality. I knew I could bring my friend home with me for the weekend without even asking.

"Thanks, ma'am." Dave said.

"Don't you have a wrestling match this weekend, Billy?" my mother asked. I hate being called Billy. Dave and the others at school call me Will. My own choice. "Will Wynn" sounded so cool, and it helped psych out my competition.

"That's why Dave is here, mom." I said. "He needs a lift to the meet. His folks are out of town."

"Well, your dad will be happy to have more company on the trip." Mom said. She is a swell old lady. Literally. I'm a child of her late middle age, and so here I am, an eighteen year old guy with a sixty-two year old mother. And Dad is sixty-seven, and retired on our little farm. "Now go upstairs and wash up. Supper will be ready at six."

"Come on upstairs, Dave." I said, showing him the way. "You can throw your stuff in my room. You don't mind sharing a bed, do you?"

"Of course not." Dave said as he preceded me on the stairs. I had arranged this; stairs are a wonderful way to watch a cute ass wiggle for you without worrying about being caught at it. And Dave has a cute, tight one. His muscles are developing real nicely as I had watched over the last few years, wrestling supplemented by weight-lifting. God knows I had weights in my room, too, a daily routine.

Dave is six foot one, with shockingly light blond hair, nearly white, and a lightly tanned body burned golden brown in the sun. He had his own farm chores to keep him tanned.

His body was the stuff of my dreams, recently. Just beginning to become rounded from his work-outs, strong as steel (as I knew from his grips in practice), Dave could lift 125 pounds (I knew) without grunting or straining. I didn't know what he pressed, but it probably beat my 140.

I try to keep myself in shape, but I don't have the body Dave has. I have to watch my diet carefully, and with Ma cooking all the time, that's tough. She calls me thin, but in fact I'm right at optimum weight, once you add in my efforts to work out. I was at least a bit rounded everywhere, but some of the round parts were muscle. My stomach wasn't ridged like Dave's, but it was at least flat and taut.

And I have a lot of hair for my age. It wasn't all over my body, but formed the pattern on my chest, that starts at the throat, encircles both nipples and down narrowing to the waist, but in my case, it is so damned thick! Even at my butt when I don't wear a top, there's a "fan" shaped block of hair that climbs up my waist, like it's pointing down at my crack. I had shaved myself once, and that made it grow back thicker than ever.

Dave reached the top of the stairs, and stopped, and I nearly nudged his butt with my nose. I stopped, and said, "Anything wrong?"

"No. Where's your room?"

"End of the hall on the right."

"Oh." And Dave led the rest of the way.

As he opened the door, I had a sudden attack of panic. I hadn't hidden my statue.

It was given to me by my grandmother, who had seen me admiring it at a shop. Ten inches high and about the same wide, it showed two wrestlers, both nude, one atop the other, holding his arm and twisting it behind his back, and both wearing serene smiles. You couldn't see anything but the ass of the guy on top, since they sort of figleafed themselves in their pose, but it was a hunky sort of thing to have. Would Dave understand?

But Dave went in and crashed on the bed, leaving his bag at the edge, and laid back. "Whew, I'm bushed from practice." he said. And before I could move to block it, he saw the statue. "What the hell's that?"

I explained, embarrassed, but Dave didn't seem concerned, only lightly amused. "Yeah, I know, grandmothers can be like that. At least yours got you something nice. Mine keeps thinking I'm eleven years old." He reached out and caressed the body of the guy on top, almost erotically, and I felt an immediate hardon, a constant menace at that age, tent out my shorts.

"Why didn't they wear clothes?" Dave said as I quickly sat down on the bed to hide my erection.

"They didn't believe in clothes during exercise." I said. I had read up on that period, even done a few papers on it. "Only men were allowed to attend their games, so they just went without. During the Olympics, you had a bunch of naked guys running all over the countryside."

"Wow!" Dave said, and sat down beside me. But not before I saw his own tent at his crotch. "But, in that position?" And he blushed beet-red. "Wouldn't a guy get a hard-on like that?"

"Oh, they would pull their foreskin out and tie a string around it. Kept them from getting hard."

"Really?" Dave said, interested.

"So they say." I massaged my crotch; the briefs were getting uncomfortable as my cockhead tried to get out of them, and I was trying to push my hard-on aside.

"Maybe you ought to do that." Dave said, noticing my hand, and I blushed, too, I think.

"I wonder if it works?" I said. "Sometimes when I'm wrestling a guy, I'll have him in a hold, and he's squirming up against me, and my cock will throw a boner. It's damned embarrassing."

"I know. I have the same problem." Dave said. "Maybe we ought to try it."

"Here? Now?" I asked.

Dave stood up and grabbed his t-shirt at his waist, double-handed he shucked it over his head. I stared at a smooth chest lightly dotted with his hairs, pale straws on a golden surface. "Why not?"

"But my mother...."

"Is she going to just barge in? Or will she knock?"

"She always knocks." I said.

"Then what are you worrying about? Let's get some string and try that out. I throw boners at a match, too, you know. That may be a good idea."

I gulped and stood up, my crotch a triangle in front of me, shucked my own shirt.

Dave was sitting on the bed, unlacing his sneakers. "Come on, let's hurry, before your dad gets home or something."

I gulped, tried to get my cock to go down as I unlaced my own sneakers. I took my time, but the damned erection wouldn't go away! It wouldn't.

"All right." Dave said, and I looked up. God, the meat on that guy! It was flaccid, and uncut, but it dangled down to mid-thigh! I wanted to reach over and slurp that meat into my mouth.

"Billy?" my mother called.

"Yes, Ma?"

"Does your friend like pork?"

I looked at Dave, grinning. "Do you?" He nodded, laughing silently. "Sure, Ma." I said.

"Thank you."

"One good thing about that exchange, my cock drooped into quietude. I got up and shucked off my shorts and jockstrap, and was naked in front of Dave.

"You got string?"

"Sure, top drawer." Dave got it and I pulled off a couple of lengths, cut them off. My cock behaved itself, thank God.

Dave made a loop about his foreskin, but couldn't tie it down. "How am I going to do this?" he asked.

I can't believe I did what I did next, which was to grasp his foreskin and stretch it out. "Like this."

Dave pulled the string loop quickly and it held. "Yeah, that did it. Now for yours."

I'm cut, but not too closely. Dave handed the other length to me, then grabbed my foreskin and pulled it out, taut. I dangled the string down and grabbed it at my balls, pulled it up and tied it quick, before my cock, rising up, could get hard again.

It worked, though it was painful. My foreskin felt numb.

"Okay, Will Wynn, let's wrestle." And Dave grabbed me, threw me onto the bed.

"No fair, Bear." I hollered his nickname, and we enjoyed the wrestle, working on our holds, and I did find it quite enjoyable and not at all erotic. Thank God for that string.

Or so I thought. After we were winded, lying side by side on the bed, and I reached down to pull off the string, I found out the bad part of the string.

Now I was young then, and erections were commonplace. What happened next could have been just the horniness of the eighteen-year-old. I'm not sure the Greeks had this problem (though given their culture, they may have and didn't care), but when I pulled off that string, I got the hardest boner I've ever had.

Dave had done the same, and had a boner, too. The two of us, lying side by side, sweaty, both with boners.

And God, was I suddenly horny, too. I'm talking like it was as if I had been whacking my meat all that time instead of wrestling.

Dave was panting, too. He grabbed his cock and began whomping it hard. "God, Will, I gotta get off, now." he moaned.

"Me, too." I said, reached for my steel-hard rod.

And Dave reached over and grabbed it, began whomping it alongside his own.

I didn't argue, but I did knock his hand off his cock, and grabbed his boner. If he was going to flog my cock, I wanted to flog his.

Dave turned and got onto his knees on top of me, my hand never leaving his cock. He was panting hard and so was I. This would be a quick jerk-off for both of us.

And Dave matched our cocks together, wrapped both hands around them, jacked them together.

I was loving this feel, the feel of Dave's cock rubbing mine, the feel of his hands rough from farm labor pounding my pud, and I moaned, shot my cream all over myself.

And Dave stared bug-eyed at my load, and shot himself, his come flying onto my body, landing all over me, and we were shooting our loads together, his come dribbling now, dribbing onto my cock to mingle with my own dribbles as my ejaculation slowly ended.

Dave fell on top of me, moaning, and intertwined, our cocks coated with our come, and our come rubbing onto Dave's chest, we lay there for a time.

After we caught our breath, Dave rolled off of me, and I looked at his body, spots of white come on his golden form.

"Jesus, Will," Dave groaned. "Coach warned us not to whack off before a meet."

I rememebered; he was right. "Yeah, I know. But I couldn't help it. That string came off, and suddenly I was horny as hell."

"Well, Coach always said that whacking off would make you lose your match. I guess we'll find out."

"Yeah, and as long as the damage is done," I said as I took him boldy into my arms. "We might as well enjoy it."

"Bill?" came my father's shout from the stairwell.

"Jesus, I promised to help Dad when I got home." I rolled out of bed and grabbed for my shorts. To hell with the jockstrap, Dad was on the stairs now, and he never knocked. "Quick, Dave, get your clothes on."

Dave grabbed his shorts and when Dad opened my door, we were both dressed in shorts and t-shirts, though nothing else.

"What's that?" Dad asked as he looked at me.

"What's what?" I asked, curious.

"On your neck."

Dave reached over and wiped at my neck quickly, and I realized that one of his loads had hit me there. "Just a piece of string, sir." he chipped in quickly, pantomiming throwing something on the floor.

I introduced Dave quickly, and Dad agreed that it would be good to have another guy on the meet. "Our pickup will hold two, all right. Bill (his name for me, the trouble of the name William is all its nicknames), you ready to help me lift those joists?" Dad was building us a smokehouse, and needed my help for the big jobs.

Dave helped us and we got the smokehouse done except the walls, which Dad could handle alone. We had dinner (Mom makes great pork chops), and we all watched TV. Dave sat awfully close to me, but my folks didn't seem to notice. I couldn't notice anything else, his thigh brushing mine every time he moved. I had a beautiful boner by bedtime, and from the bulge on one of his shorts' legs, he did, too.

Finally, after a hundred years, we went up to my room and to bed. Mom gave us a friendly warning to go right to sleep and "not yak and cut up half the night. I swear that boys are worse than girls at a slumber party." I promised her we'd go straight to bed. The advantage of parents my age is that they don't climb stairs if they can help it, and we have awfully steep stairs. The entire second floor held my bedroom and bathroom, my weight room and storage space (mine, again). My parents had added a bed to the study on the first floor. The upshot was that when we went in bed, there was the entire length of the house between my parents and me.

But at that age, when your parents or your coach tosses out platitudes or supersititions, you swallow them whole. When Dave got up there, shucking his shirt (and I saw our come still on him, white patches dried hard), I got nervous. "Look, Dave, maybe Coach is right. Maybe we shouldn't jerk off again. I mean, you're a good friend, and I want to, but maybe we shouldn't."

Dave finished undressing and so did I, and he came toward me. "Well, then, we won't jerk off." he said, and knelt down at my feet. I had never felt anything like what I felt next, the warm, wet feel of Dave's mouth as he took my limp cock into him and slurped noisily on it.

I had a boner again in no time, and the feel was incredible. Dave's mouth felt better than my hand ever did! I didn't think I'd ever jerk off again, if I could get Dave to take care of it for me.

But that wasn't all I wanted. I grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head off of my cock, he looked up with glazed eyes. "Let's get on the bed." I said huskily.

He climbed in and I followed, but my feet at the head of the bed, so I could grab his cock the way he grabbed mine.

I had never sucked a cock before, but this was Dave, my best friend, the object of my desires as yet not truly formed. When you're eager enough, it takes the place of skill. I wanted my buddy's cock in my mouth, I wanted to give him the pleasure he gave me. So I attacked his cock savagely, slurping and slobbering all over it as I bobbed my head on and off it furiously. Dave moaned for a while, his hand flailing at my cock, then shifted and took mine down again.

His cock in my mouth, his mouth on mine. I've never felt anything as intense as that before or since that night. Ten seconds later, I was orgasming, holding back my come so Dave could let go of my cock, let me shoot it outside of him.

But he held on. I couldn't hold it any longer and I burst all of a sudden, a powerful explosion of come into Dave's mouth. Dave slurped on it and swallowed it, and I felt him shudder, moan, warning me of his come about to fly.

If he would swallow my come, I'd swallow his. That's only fair, isn't it? So I held on, and his come shot into my mouth in a huge load, so hot and salty, and sticky. My buddy's come, his seed, his very essence! I swallowed the gummy paste-like come gratefully, his gift of himself to me.

After a while, I turned around in bed, got my head on the pillow next to Dave, and we kissed like old lovers, my tongue sliding into his mouth, welcoming his tongue into mine all salty with my come. We kissed, feeling our sweat drying on us or dripping onto each other, like, I don't know, like we were suddenly now only one body, one being. We talked of all manners of things, things important to teen-age boys, for quite some time, lying like that, and all of it was bright and new for me. Dave seemed to glow in the dark, his golden skin carressing mine as his hands moved across me from time to time, and my hands did the same on his, fondling his nipples like hard pellets under his skin, my cock lying on his thigh, his nudging my navel. I felt...well, it's hard to explain.

Suddenly, I knew how I felt and why I was feeling like that, and I knew only a few words to explain it. So I said it, "I love you, Dave. I really do."

"I love you, too, Will. God, how long I've waited to do this with you," he sighed. "Didn't you ever notice how I wanted to share showers with you, how I'd watch when you changed your clothes and stuff?"

"Uh, gosh, no, Dave. I guess I was sort of stupid," I said, thinking back at all the signals he had given me, the taunts I'd thought were friendly about the two of us, which I'd laughed off so carelessly and returned in kind. All of my past took on a new light at that time.

"I do love you, guess I always have. I just hadn't thought about it." I said at last.

"Then there's one more thing for us to do." Dave said.

"What's that?"

"Let's fuck each other tonight. To hell with the match."

"Uh...." Okay, so I was stupid! You try growing up on a farm in the middle of nowhere and see how sophisticated you are! "But how? Don't you have to have a woman?"

Dave laughed. "Not usually. Look, when I'd go visit my uncle in the city, he had some magazines in a bottom dresser drawer. I'd look at them every chance I got. He even caught me at it, once, and he taught me, well, let me show you. You got any Vaseline in the house?"

"Sure, in my medicine cabinet." I used Vaseline for chapped lips and hands (constantly in the winter). I had no idea of what he planned as he got out of that bed, but I knew I was going to do whatever he wanted me to do.

I watched curiously as he lubed up my cock, and seemed to be scratching his asshole. But when he got astride of me, and I felt his warm ass encircle my cock, I knew all of a sudden how two men could fuck.

I think there's an instinct in things like this. God knows I'd never had any experience other than jerking off by myself. But as he settled down, and I felt the hairs on his ass cheeks brushing my balls, I suddenly found my body telling me exactly what to do. I made the bed squeak furiously, fucking upwards into him, him riding me like a horse, hanging onto my breasts, massaging me as he moved, him wriggling on top of me. I grabbed his cock and flogged it for him, and he let me, his cock steel-hard in my hand, so damned hard. And he shot his wad again, as if it were our first load rather than our third, his ass clutching hard at my cock, and I erupted into him, feeling the splashes dribble out onto my balls, and he fell onto me when we were done, lying on top of me, my limp cock still inside him, as if we were now joined together like this forever.

We slept for a time, I'd guess, for next thing I knew it was dawn, the rooster's crow waking me up. Dave was lying, not on me all the way, but his leg and arm drap ed over me.

I kissed him awake, and he opened his eyes, smiled at me.

"We fell asleep," I informed him, and he nodded soberly. "We have an hour before mom and dad get up. You still have time to fuck me if you want to."

"It hurts a little the first time," he warned me.

"I don't care. Get the lube and slick up your cock for me.

He did it, and my cock got hard watching him stroke himself, his cock shining in the morning light. Then he scooped out some more lube, and I felt his fingers playing with my ass.

I've learned since then, in my few outside sexual encounters, that I can't let just anybody fuck me. I tense up. But Dave, again, I loved the guy, and still do. My ass opened up easily, welcoming his probing fingers as if it had always let him do it. He slid his fingers into me, and I felt, wow, this feels so damned good! If I'd known, I'd have played with my ass as much as I jerked off!

And he lifted my legs up, resting them on his shoulders, and I felt his cock push insistently, hard, into me.

There was pain, but not as much as I'd thought there'd be. I was welcoming his cock into me as an old friend enters your home. In no time at all, he was fucking me hard and fast, the bed bucking and squealing under me. I rememeber thinking through the haze of passion that I'd better oil those springs before Dave slept over again. Which was going to be often, if I had any say in it.

Dave didn't last long, and neither did I. I fell in love with being fucked by Dave that morning, and still have trouble sleeping until he fucks me. He flogged my cock for me, lifting one of my legs so damned high so's he could fuck me sort of obliquely, and I shot my load when I did all over my bedsheets, while Dave's load filled my ass brim-full.

We fell asleep on the journey to the meet, my mother says we were lying across each other most of the trip, our heads resting on each other's thighs. Says that's when she knew we were lovers.

And the Coach was wrong. We won that wrestling meet hands-down. Dave and I both pinned our men in no time. Of course, I told him, we'd been practicing holding men down most of the night. I don't think he got the joke.

THE END
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