Wrestling Tim

What had I agreed to? A wrestling match with another twenty-year-old, why? Isn't that something you do at school age? But wrestling Tim wasn't about two lads grappling for bragging rights. This was a serious adult engagement and it was going to be rough.

Any physical contest with Tim would be tough and intense. How could I take him? Sure, I had height over him and I'm built too but not like him. He might have been shorter but Tim had speed, skill, agility, muscle, strength, and aggression on me.

His aggression wasn't an expression of violence or anger. It presented as a determination to win at all costs. His goal wasn't to wound or cause harm but to establish his physical superiority over mine. When he had me, my choice was simple, submit and obey or endure more punishment from him.

Like most people I hardly understood BDSM. To me, it was leather and boots and all sorts of whips and chains. This wasn't that, so what was it? It would involve one of us dominating and mastering the other.

Tim had already declared his intention to own me and he was certain he would. What if I could change that?

Mastering Tim would be stimulating! His hard muscle, entangled with mine, his stubbled sweaty face locked hard into my flexed bicep or between my flexed thighs. Breaking him down, draining him, watching him sweat and strain until he had no choice but to admit defeat.

Tim defeated! the thrill of it brought to his knees and made to pay. How would he take it, his fall? He's never been beaten. His ego, built on alpha genetics would start to crack with defeat. Then I would start to own him, break him down with submission and humiliation until he accepted me as master.

Whoever would be master, there was a clear strong attraction between us and as I learned later, we physically slotted together, my parts fitted him, as though we were born to connect.

It didn't help my confidence to see Tim in the gym the day before we wrestled. He was in the changing room with his teammates spewing 'team stench'. A collective primeval, pungent, intimidating odor. I wonder was it a natural release, to ward off prey in ancient times? Tim's team, the college rugby under 21s, produced some seriously intoxicating stench, a mix of sweat and feet. It would as the expression goes, 'knock you out.

To my surprise, the more the mirrors misted with 'team stench', the more turned on I was. Tim was in the thick of it naked. He was always quick to strip off and slow to cover up. He had it and he enjoyed flaunting it.

He saw me staring at his cock. It was so unfair, he was seated opposite me, legs spread wide, hands behind his head, his manhood boldly displayed. They all looked at him in awe, even Darren who packed at least an eight-incher.

Darren might have been bigger, but Tim's cock was thicker, more vascular, and hungrier at the head. His balls were massive too and I wondered how he managed them with thighs that big.

One by one they went to shower, Tim waited until we were alone. He hadn't spoken to me in front of his teammates, but once they were showering he was ready to engage: 'all set for the big day tomorrow, ready to learn you're lesson, understand your place in the world?'

He pointed to his crotch, the message was clear, I saw his cock pulse, grow, and tower, and he launched it almost like a weapon. It is both beautiful to look at and intimidating.

I was on fire, already bubbling precum just at the sight of him. His teammates returned, smelling of cheap shower gel, I preferred their body odor. Tim went in to shower and I followed.

The next fifteen minutes were bliss. I watched the powerful jets of water, fall on his peaked muscle only to be repelled back, and forced to flow through his aesthetic physique. He was under the showerhead beside me, erect. He looked glorious, he let me stare at his cock. He concentrated the full force of the water spray to pleasure his cock head. We both watched it pleasure him until his thick cum frothed and pelted out, hitting my face.

His eyes closed for a second, and the room filled with his earthy cum scent. It was everywhere, filling the steamy mist, filling my lungs, he was inside me.

I lost all control, my cum shot out with a trail of tingling pleasure. I grabbed the shower rail just to stay standing and fell into a hard orgasm.

The last glimpse I remember was of Tim's muscular butt. By the time I'd stopped shaking, he was gone.

All the way home, I was hard, desperate to cum again, thinking of him. I tried to resist it. I couldn't keep jerking every time Tim was in my head. Instead, I'd distract myself, put on a wash and try to get dinner.

As soon as I opened the zip, I smelled Tim again, he had stuffed his soiled rugby socks in my gym bag. I had no choice now, I needed relief!