After
some serious pleading, eye-bat lashing, and a double bicep flex, Billy
convinced Bato to make it a ‘private’ wrestling tutorial. Unless I’m getting
my ass handled, I don’t need an audience to see my ass getting handed to me.
Besides,
this was more about buying time than enjoying a tussle in the ancient world.
Feeling naked even before taking off his clothes, Billy followed the giant
Ethiopian man—whose frame nearly blocked the stone corridor—to a small room
with a sand pit, and an open ceiling for lighting. Billy, sighing, leaned over
and removed his socks and shoes, grounding himself by the sensation of sand
between his toes. The later noon sunlight brought Billy some peace and relief,
but the sand reminded him of the arena, and nearly dying.
The
truth was that Billy hated getting naked unless the situation was sexual, not
because he was a raging horn dog (he was) but because of the control. During
sex, nudity was power. It was strength. It was confidence. Outside of some
erotic entanglement outside of judging eyes, Billy couldn’t imagine anything
less sexy than having to prove his athleticism, naked, to some random Roman
dude.
Turned
out, the Roman wasn’t so Random—and he was Celtic too. As Billy kicked himself
for internally griping about scenarios his more adventurous friends would have
probably killed to experience, the familiar face of a bulky redhead with
alabaster skin and knotted muscles rounded the corner, drawing the curtain
behind him for privacy.
Billy’s
heart jumped, and then immediately fell into the pit of his stomach. He
shuffled in the sand, nervous, but tried to sound excited. “Brennus! I haven’t
seen you since we—”
Right
away, it was clear Bren was in no mood for hello’s. “Drop the pleasantries,” he
said. “As well as your pants, for that matter. We’re here to wrestle.”
Oh,
he is so going to kick my ass. Billy bit his lip and scratched his head. He
laughed. “How about we play cards instead? Or I can take out my Switch and we
go around of Spellbreakers. I can teach you how to parry moves.” Having said
this, Billy cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at the thick,
redhead. “You know, now that I think about it, you actually remind me of one of
the characters, Ci—”
Brennus
sharply cut him off and advanced further, closing the space between them. “You’re
not going to wrestle in your clothing, are you?” With that, Brennus dropped his
breechcloth to the floor and kicked it away.
Suddenly,
Billy forgot what he was saying. “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying!” Because
his focus was on Brennus, thick-cut, pasty body, and the fat knob hanging from
a golden covering of bush. Bren wasn’t as endowed as Serge, but he had a
girthy, uncut cock and a pair of huge, low hanging balls that made Billy drool.
Thankfully,
or perhaps because it hadn’t been long since Billy’s last release, his better
judgment took hold. Remember what Eros said. “Look, B, I’m not one of those
gays. I wasn’t trying to steal your man.” He paused. “On purpose.”
The
Roman era jock wasn’t buying it. Emerald eyes narrowed maliciously. “Stop
blabbering and take your clothes off.”
“Alright,
alright!” Billy did as he was told, with just a touch of shyness. Now that he’d
gotten a very good look at his would-be opponent, Billy decided that he was
more attuned to his ‘weight class than he’d first thought. In fact, Billy
suspected he had more muscle and weight on Bren—no doubt thanks to coming from
an era of protein drinks and easily-accessible nutrition.
Dare I say, I might actually have the advantage here? I mean, all I
gotta do is just get on top of him with my chest, right? That’s how normal
wrestling works.
Billy
looked down and found he wasn’t as shy as he’d thought. “I can’t believe I’m
doing this,” he sighed.
Bren
smirked. “Your words say one thing, but your body speaks another language.” For
that matter, Bren was sporting a pretty soldi stiff one himself. His round,
pink cock head pulsed. “Cupid blesses us with his favor. Truly, this will be a
great match…if not a quick one.”
If
Billy had zero self-control, he might have started ‘sword fighting’ with Bren
instead. “Right,” he said, trying to remember what a ‘grappling stance’ looked
like. “So is there like a bell or—”
“HRRRRAH!”
Like
a charging, white bull, Bren shot forward into the sand, kicking up particles
and wrapping his meaty arms around Billy’s equally meaty quads. Bren pushed his
head painfully into Billy’s side and the big boy went down, into the dirt
before he knew what was happening to him!
Caught
literally with his pants down, Billy at least had the instincts to turn
over—which of course meant sticking his big, juicy butt out for Bren. Guard,
guard! Billy kept telling himself, gripping the sand.
Bren’s
response was to jump onto Billy’s brought back, wrap his arms around Billy’s
neck, and push his face down into the sand in a wicked full nelson. This, while
Bren wrapped his meaty legs around Billy’s thighs, to try and prevent him from
leveraging his weight.
“I
didn’t think this would be submission style,” Billy squeaked. “Holy shit, you
got a grip.” Billy wasn’t sure if he was imaging Bren rubbing his cock against
his lower back, essentially humping him, or if he just wanted to imagine
it.
Bren’s
frustrated voice stung Billy’s ear. “It’s whatever style I want it to be,
Billy.” He clenched down harder. “Come on! After seeing you hold your own out
in the arena, I thought you might at least have some more fight in you.”
Billy
thought about barking back, and making his situation worse, but then Bren
rolled him over, twisting Billy to his side and essentially cradling Billy in
his grip.
Billy
tried squirming, but Bren kept his grapevine and his nelson on tight. “Aghhh!”
Billy cried out, wincing. On the inside though, his body and his brain were in
conflict—the war over pain versus pleasure. This is just like the end to
Lords of the Locker Room!
Straining
against the thick, Celtic beefcake only served to make him even harder. “You
love it,” he sneered. “I can feel your heat against mine. Is this what you did
with Serge?”
“N-no!”
Billy cried out in agony. But he wouldn’t give up. He’d taken cocks up the ass
bigger than this beefy, bossy, bottom, bitch. “Agh! Is this because I slept
with your crush?“
“Partially,”
Bren growled. “I’m taking out my aggression. And I want to make Serge jealous.
Also, you’re also cute when you’re in pain.”
Billy
went to say ‘thanks’, but then Bren turned him over onto his side again,
releasing him. The relief, and mercy, was only temporary though. Before Billy
could recover, he found his head wedged between two massive, white
anacondas—Bren’s meaty thighs. Even worse, Bren was closing his quads around
Billy’s neck and driving his face into.
“Mmmmff!”
Heaven
and hell, all in a giant, pasty, birth-mark kissed bubble butt. At least Bren
bathed.
Billy
couldn’t see it, but Bren was happily content, yawning and flexing, and hardly
applying much pressure at all. “I’ll release it once you kiss it!”
He thinks this is humiliation, Billy
thought, struggling to breathe. But really, it’s the best day of my fucking
life!
Suddenly,
Bren’s expression changed. His lip quivered. “H-hey, I said kiss it
only. What are you? Oooh that feels good. Too good.”
Blushing,
Bren released Billy from his imprisonment, only to reposition his pelvis on
Billy’s face, dragging his wet cock and musty ball sack over Billy’s mouth.
“Taste me,” he said. “Taste your conqueror.
With
Bren’s fat cock and balls smashed against his face, Billy scowled. “This is why
redheads scare me,” he said, before he wrapped his mouth around Bren’s glans
and put on a submission technique of his own. He inhaled the Celt’s heavy cock
like it was an ‘extra meat’ filled burrito on taco Tuesday, thickness and girth
be damned.
Bren
didn’t expect that! His eyes rolled back into his head. So used to Bren
was in inflicting pain, that he’d never expect an opponent to turn the tables
by inflicting pleasure instead! “What-what kind of technique is this!?”
Billy
had him where he wanted him, and he felt like a damn champion. He stupefied
Bren with some of his own special, mouth wrestling techniques. The twirling
tongue. The up-and-down. The chicken head bob. Bren’s cock cried ‘mercy’, in
every release of salty precum. Each expulsion was a victory for Billy.
But
Bren wasn’t going to surrender that easily. Forcing himself not to release, and
lose this fight, he leaned forward and declared, “We’ll see who yields first.”
Mouth
full, Billy’s eyed widened as he felt something amazing happening to his own,
pulsing ‘weapon’ in this arena. Bren was a master of the mouth himself! Though
less proficient, he took Billy in easily.
The
two opponents went at it, in a lock-up of tongues and mouths. Billy’s mind
sparked endorphins, reeling from the feedback of Bren swallowing and sucking
him, and him suckling the meat boy’s fat cock. He could have staid in this
position for hours.
But
Billy intended to win this match. And, fortunately (or unfortunately_ so did
Brennus. With neither men relenting to the other, but their bodies vibrating,
suggesting that the other might lost his load any moment, the two beefy studs
dove in faster, with an insatiable hunger for the other—both of them thinking
they might swallow the other hole.
In
the end, there was no yielding. Bren’s moans of pleasure melted into Billy’s, a
loop of pure ecstasy. The two equally matched, white bulls flowed into the
other, with Billy letting out a high-pitched hum, and Bren moaning sweet
vibrations into Billy’s throbbing shaft, coaxing out more and more cum.
The
two studs came in each’s others throats at the same time, with stifled groans
and overflow of white trickle from their lips. Neither thought of spitting,
though Billy thought he might actually drown from how much Bren unloaded. It
must have been awhile since his last release. Bren, clearly, had the easier
time of it.
It
was easily the angriest, most intense ‘69’ of Billy’s life, but damn if it
didn’t feel fantastic!
Bren
and Billy released each other, gasping, at the same time. They scrambled to
their hands and feet, like cats mid fight. Their sweaty faces met, and then
their eyes. Billy saw the sticky white thread dangling from Bren’s puffy,
parted lips. Speaking a wordless language, the fighters turned, in a moment,
into lovers. Billy and Bren kissed each other, tasting the other’s seed, and
fighting with their tongues.
The
two men, groaning and growling, clawed at each other’s back, getting fistfuls
of muscle, fat, and ass. When they were both content, they broke away—as did
the spell—with either man looking at the other as if they weren’t quite sure
what had just happened.
Bren
composed himself first, wiping his mouth. “Well,” he said. “Seems we are more
well-matched than I thought. Your techniques are unorthodox, certainly show
promise.” He smirked. “I imagine you will be quite popular with the other
wrestlers.”
I’ll need a fucking stomach pump before I get out of this era, Billy thought, sickly in his post-nut clarity. “Yeah. I definitely
feel like a winner.”
“Mmm.
No. Technically you were flat on your back, so I won.”
Billy
sighed, with Bren still fresh on his breath. “Let’s not do this again. Are we
even?”
Billy
expected Bren to deck him across the face, or (hopefully) put him ina sleeper
hold. Instead, Bren said something…unexpected. “Far from even. We are equals,
Billy!”
Billy
blinked, but before he could say anything, the massive wall of Celtic meat
pounced on him, pinning his hands and violently making out with him.
“Let’s
go to the brothels!” Bren said, with horny mischief. “We can have a night the
whole night. Any men we want! Any men we crave. It’ll piss Serge off, so
much! What do you say? Some more fun?”
This
was far too much! With sand now nestled in places Billy dared not think about
(it must have been Eros’s divine intervention that stopped him from getting
only cum in his mouth) Billy winced. “Bren, I am not the one you’re
meant to fall in love with!”
Back
to the old, squinty, testy Bren again. The gladiator stood up. “Who said
anything about falling in love?” he said. “I enjoy your body, Billy. And your
spirit. We would have a time together! And I can drink and fuck the thoughts of
that oversized ox, Serge, away!”
Drained
and defeated, Billy laid back in the sand and looked up at the orange, setting
sky hanging over the wrestling guild. “Is anybody in this time period
well-adjusted?”
