Gay Erotic Stories

"Wrestle? Joe, hey...I don't want to wrestle you...especially not tonight" I complained (although the idea of feeling his powerful body next to mine was somewhat exhilarating). I was insisting that there was no room to wrestle anyway as he left the weightroom and began moving furniture around in the living room. He managed to clear a large area in the center of the room as I simply watched in amazement wondering what I was going to do to talk him out of this encounter. Joe then went back to retrieve the video camera, returned, and told me to hook it up to the large television and set a wide angle to capture the upcoming match. I was protesting with a variety of excuses when he leaned toward me and growled, "...I'm not asking your permission here, I'm telling you what you're going to do... now do it". He didn't raise his voice which let me know that he meant business. I paused and briefly considered faking anger and ordering him from my house. However, although I truly didn't want to wrestle Joe, I wasn't ready for him to leave either; I had a feeling something unforgettable was going to happen. A little angry and a little frightened, I followed directions thinking to myself that I was going to somehow have to find a way to show this cocky young stud that, although he had obviously proven himself to be physically stronger, I was still worthy of his respect. My wrestling background might just be the answer. While I was getting the camera set to record and show its picture on the screen, Joe removed his army boots. He stood and his short stature was emphasized even more giving me a resurgence of energy. But then, with all the pride of a peacock, Joe bowed up his impressive chest, lats, and shoulders quickly deflating my already injured ego. Even though in height, I towered over him, in weight I had maybe 25 pounds on him, and in experience I had coached and wrestled competitively for years, I knew that this short but stocky young powerhouse obviously had something more to prove tonight. Joe approached me and threateningly said, "...and now I'M gonna school YOU in the manly art of wrestling". We began to circle each other, me waiting for him to make the first move and hoping to provide the appropriate counter when he stopped with an idea. "Back off, old man", Joe muttered as he brushed me to the side so that he could see himself in the tv screen. It was a perfect picture as Joe's massively wide shoulders filled the frame. He knelt down and hit a few most muscular poses admiring once again his powerful pecs and traps and solid, six-pack abs. I would have killed to have those abs. Then he hit a double biceps pose and arrogantly layed a wet kiss on each arm as he tensed them confidently for the camera. Satisfied with his "performance", he then offered the floor to me to do the same. Thinking I would keep him in a good mood by complying, I followed his lead. This amused Joe and he laughed at my pathetic attempts at posing. It was true that I paled in comparison, but I didn't find it that comical. I was embarrassed now, angered, and ready for a fight. I had not realized how quickly I had allowed myself to be intimidated into losing the necessary calm state of mind I coached my athletes to maintain: I was being mentally psyched out by Joe. "Lord, we thank you for the beating this man is about to receive," Joe said as we once again began to circle each other. My adrenalin was pumping at that moment, and I actually did want to fight. Joe tempted me with a test of strength challenge which I was wisely refusing when he suddenly sucker punched me in the gut with his right fist...hard! "Huuuugh!" I had never been hit in the stomach before and the experience was devastating. I doubled up and was met with a smashing forearm blow to my neck and back which put me on my knees. This type of wrestling was not what I had anticipating, but my opponent was totally serious and obviously had vengeance and more domination on his mind. Joe put a painful side headlock on me, wrenching my neck tightly with obvious enjoyment. He held this hold for over a minute talking trash all the while and draining me of what little strength and confidence I had. It was hot and we were both already sweating profusely. He then grabbed my hair with his left hand and wrapped his right arm around my neck from behind, choking me with the pressure of his bicep. He roughly pulled me back away from the tv so that we both could watch the massacre. I had no breath anyway from the gut punch and headlock, but I couldn't have caught a breath if I had wanted to because of the pressure around my neck. Joe continued to taunt me by urging me to "smile for the camera" as he worked and tightened the front necklock around to create more pain. I was no match at all for this kind of onslaught. He maintained a one-armed grip around my neck and then arrogantly flexed his left bicep in front of my face saying "do you really think you could beat this, huh? Oh no... you can't beat THIS, you fat fuck!" When he began cursing, I came to the realization that I was seriously in danger. No one talked that way around Mr. Edwards. But I don't think Joe was just wrestling his teacher; he was wrestling every kid who ever pushed him around, every teacher who belittled him in class, every authority figure who exerted control over him. For the next half hour, Joe dominated me with wrestling moves I had only seen by the pros on television, holds that were certainly not part of my wrestling arsenal. He put me in a leg scissor hold that had me screaming with agony as he repeatedly pounded his fist to my chest smiling with each punch. "Hyuuugh...hyuuugh". He controlled me with painful arm bars. He sat atop me the way young boys wrestle, holding my arms to the floor daring me to push him off; I had zero strength left and was helpless in this position. "Come on, you weak son of a bitch! You are a fucking poor excuse for a wrestling coach." He rolled me face down on the rug, held me down with the weight of his chest, and repeatedly punched me in the gut with his fist every time I tried to move. "Get up... hyuuugh; come on,get up... hyuuugh!" I could sense the pleasure Joe was getting at overpowering me by how he sensuously laid across my body, patiently awaiting my next attempt to muster up an escape attempt so that he could savagely punch me again. Then, while I lay scared and defenseless on the floor, Joe began squeezing my crotch as he taunted me with "come on, show me SOMEthing!" With my aching balls in his right hand, Joe would lift me off the floor, my knees clinched together in an unmanly attempt to avert the pain, dump me back to the rug, and then viciously grab my balls again . There was no offense or escape unless the neighbors could hear my screams. Joe seemed to enjoy watching me writhe in pain on the floor as he got up and stalked me, menacingly looking for the appropriate place to repeatedly stomp my body...my stomach, my chest, my groin; he delivered unnecessary gouges and ruthless punches. Joe was obviously a professional wrestling fanatic, but he wasn't pulling his punches. He applied several submission holds to which I quickly gave in though he ceased the holds only when he felt the need. I must have cried, "I submit" or "I give" no less than 20 times that night realizing later that my cries of submission only lengthened the duration of pain. Joe knew what he was doing, and I wondered who he had tortured before me. He was simply too accomplished at this submission style of wrestling not to have done it before. Had I orchestrated this evening or had he or had it just evolved. He applied several humiliating ball grabbing holds. Twice he pulled my arm back through my legs, savagely pressing it against my balls and forced me to walk around the room in this most degrading manner begging him to release the hold or to let me submit. The worst pain I felt occurred when Joe, from behind me, put his hand down the back of my boxer shorts and ruthlessly grabbed my balls making me do whatever he demanded: rise to my toes, fall to my knees, bark like a dog; I was a slave to whatever degrading action came to his mind. And the more I groaned and pleaded, the more he taunted and laughed. Another of Joe's favorite holds was positioning my face firmly in his armpit, forcing my torso to arch upwards, and then slugging me in the stomach but not allowing my limp body to fall to the floor. He repeated this move many times, and I could tell he was watching the show on the screen... "yeah... just look at this piece of shit I'm holdin' here? I think he likes my armpit in his face? yeah, I think he likes the smell of a man... hyuugh!" Joe grabbed my hair and continually rubbed my face in his sweat covered pit. Despite his accusations to the invisible audience, I was NOT enjoying this. "You all ready to watch the teacher get fucked up?" he said to the television. In fact, with every move he carefully repositioned my helpless body for a better camera angle and a chance to better view his muscles and revel in his complete domination. During my few streams of conscious awareness, I couldn't help but notice the considerable bulge in Joe's jeans. I thought to myself that he must be concealing another big muscle that he hadn't shown off yet. I noticed this first during one of the little breaks of narcissism when Joe seemed to temporarily forget about me and simply enjoy watching himself on the television. I enjoyed watching him too and these short intermissions gave me a brief time-out from the beatings. But each time I thought Joe was finished with the massacre, he would seem to get seriously angry again and come at me with something new and more painful. I offered little resistance because I knew of none. I was drained, overpowered, and outmatched, and I hoped Joe would show mercy if I displayed little opposition. No mercy came. He grabbed my hair, brought me to my feet with a disdainful "get up" and put me in a suffocating bear hug around my lower back that nearly made me pass out; I wanted to pass out, but Joe seemed to know just how far he could go. Obviously aware of his relation to the camera and showing off for it, Joe growled "huuugh" as he jerked my body and I cried "I submit! I give! I've had enough. Please, no more, sir!" I thought my calling him sir might earn his pity, but my cries seemed to do nothing but encourage more aggression from Joe. "Huuugh... huuugh" he continued until he grew bored with my lack of retaliation and effortlessly lifted my back across his wide shoulders. He dangled my defenseless body there, occasionally jerking to inflict more pain. I could see him admiring the way his biceps flexed in this position. With my body sprawled across his shoulders, Joe walked around the room with his prize before returning to the camera angle that best showed off his massive arms. The pain finally became unbearable and I began to scream loudly. Joe quickly covered my mouth with his hand and told me to "shut the fuck up or I'll FUCK you up REAL bad!" This must have given him the idea. He brutally brought my back down hard across his knee and held me there. As I feared, he moved me to a better camera angle and began to squeeze my balls with one hand while continuing to cover my mouth with the other. I could tell he was still enjoying the show by the comments he was making. "...yeah, just look at the teacher now; tell everybody who your new daddy is?...oh yeah, tell 'em who's your daddy." I wondered what had I done to deserve this anger and humiliation from Joe? I was his former teacher and friend... why me? Because I was weak? Because I represented authority? I didn't know if he was taking his aggressions out on me for all his years of abuse or simply... simply because he could. At any rate, I was in serious danger, and it crossed my mind that Joe could easily lose control and literally kill me should he so desire. Ironically and perhaps miraculously, as I lay there in his degrading clutches with Joe's right hand squeezing and fondling my balls...my cock began to get hard. I don't know if it was his arrogant talk that aroused me or if it was because I was starting to somehow feel pleasure in the slowed down domination of this humiliating position. After years of being the one in control, here was someone who had taken over COMPLETE control of ME, and seemingly I was willing to submit all. Had my rising cock caught Joe by surprise or had he carefully constructed this scene? It struck me that he might just be playing me like a fiddle, knowing precisely which strings to play and when. As one might expect, Joe had several comments about my sexual reaction, each of which aroused me even more. "Well, what have we got here, huh? I do believe the coach LIKES all this attention... yeah, ya know what I think? I think you WANT me to be your daddy don't you, huh? Yeah, I think you want me to FUCK you, is that what you want? Hell, you've had a boner ever since you saw me tonight haven't you, you fucking faggot?" Joe removed his hand from my mouth, put his face close to mine and kept repeating, "Do you want me to FUCK you, is that what you want? Or do you want to suck my big cock? Come on, tell your daddy what you want?" Well, I couldn't believe my ears when I heard my own voice pitifully answer, "Yes....yes...please...I want to suck your cock... I want you to do whatever you want to me...yes sir, I want you to fuck me, sir..."