Rough Trade (31 page)

“That’s it now, baby. Open up. You know you want this. It’s going deep into your pussy. Tell me how much you want it.”

tell him how much i want it how could i oh its tightening

“Okay, careful now.”

“Hey, loosen up, baby. Tell me how much you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

such a man
tell me your my pussyboy

“Tell me now. Tell me you’re my pussyboy. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“Mike, I…uh…”

“I’m going to ram it in hard unless you tell me!”

i’m your pussyboy oh how i’m your pussyboy

“Okay. Okay. I’m…your…pussyboy.” i say it without expression as though i don’t mean it but oh i mean it just give in i have to anyway he’s totally in control this is the real me not the son of a vietnam vet farmer not a member of the l.a. quake i’m a nellie girlfriend

“Oh, yeah baby. You’re feeling good. You’re feeling oooh!” he goes in deep the mans into me i’m feeling all of him a real man and i’m his girlfriend i’m his pussyboy i’m his total bottom i groan he can tell the pleasure of that groan now i can show him because now i am free i am free to be who i am and he is so deep into me i was born to be fucked i was born to be a pussyboy

“Oh baby, your pussy feels so good. What do you like now?”

he knows just what i like

“To be fucked by you.” I say it so strongly showing him what i want. “To have you fuck my pussy all night long.”

That gets him going he drives harder and harder fucking my pussy all night long. oh and now i am free now i am truly free

Wrestler for Hire

Greg Herren

I can’t believe I am doing this,
I thought to myself for maybe the thousandth time, lighting another cigarette and pacing.

I know I shouldn’t be smoking—usually when I’m about to wrestle I keep my bad habit a secret. I don’t tell my opponent I smoke; I rinse my mouth out several times with mouthwash and gobble breath mints like M&M’s. Intellectually, I know I’m not fooling anyone—you can’t get years of smoke stink out of your breath, off your clothes, and out of your hair in just a couple of minutes with Scope and Tic Tacs—but no one has ever said anything about it. Maybe they’re just being polite—maybe they just want to wrestle so bad they don’t care—maybe that’s why some of them won’t ever wrestle me a second time. Fuck if I know. There’s no point in trying to figure out people’s motivations. I figured that out a while back. If they don’t want to wrestle me again, I just blow it off and shrug. Hell, there’s guys
I
won’t wrestle a second time.

Manhattan is full of wrestlers—all the contact sites have pages and pages of Manhattan wrestlers, many of them with stunning bodies and into the same kind of wrestling I am. But I am only here on business for a few days, and my time is pretty limited. I am meeting one of my publishing buddies for drinks downstairs in a couple of hours, and this is the only real open window of time I have for a match. None of the guys I’d e-mailed or friends had recommended I get in touch with could make it at this time, which sucked. I’d hoped to get a match in while in New York.

One guy I’d wrestled had told me after we’d wrestled that sometimes, when he was in the mood to wrestle, he picked up a street hustler and paid him fifty bucks to wrestle with him for an hour. I’d been shocked—the thought of paying someone to wrestle when there were plenty of guys out there who’d do it for free didn’t make sense to me. Although I’d gone months at a time without wrestling—sometimes I could coax a bar pick-up into wrestling around, but while they liked it and got into it, they didn’t really know what they were doing and it wasn’t that much fun. Oh, sure, my cock had gotten hard and the sex was always intense, but it wasn’t what I really wanted.

After my lunch meeting was over and I’d come back to the hotel, the escort thought kept going through my mind. I’d never hired one, and I was a little nervous about it. But I’d picked up one of those gay bar rags with the big escort section in the back and started paging through it in my room, and then it just jumped out at me.

WRESTLER FOR HIRE. You like to wrestle? Then I’m the stud for you. 5'9", 200 pounds of solid muscle; 31 waist, 50 chest, 20 arms, 28 quads. Out only. Chase.

There was a picture of a bare torso that made my mouth water. His body was smooth, tanned—the muscles huge and defined. With my hand shaking a little bit, I picked up my phone and dialed the number. He answered on the second ring. “This is Chase.” His voice was deep, masculine. My cock started to move inside my underwear.

“Um, hi, Chase, my name is Greg, and I was wondering if you had any time available this afternoon?”

“Well, yeah, about four. Does that work for you? How long?”

“Two hours?”

“Okay, I charge two hundred per hour, cash only. That a problem?”

There was an ATM in the lobby of the hotel, “No, not a problem.”

“I need to tell you up front I don’t do anything anal. We can do oral, that’s fine, but I save the anal stuff for my lover.” He laughed. “You like to wrestle, Greg?”

“Yeah, I do.” I gave him the address and room number.

And now it was five minutes to four, the four hundred dollars in crisp new twenty dollar bills was sitting on the nightstand, and I was nervous as hell. I took another swig of water. I sat back down on the bed. I was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants. I had a thong on under the sweats, but didn’t know the protocol. I jumped when someone knocked on the door. I got up and walked over, opening it.

Standing there with a big grin on his face was a tank of a man. He was five nine, for sure, a few inches shorter than me, but that was the only way he was smaller. He was wearing a white string tank top that showed off the heavy veined muscles in his shoulders and arms perfectly. The deep cleavage between his massive pecs disappeared beneath the white cloth, but a tanned, half-dollar-sized nipple peeked out on the left side. He was also wearing baggy black nylon sweatpants, but they didn’t hide the size and power of his mighty legs. Over his left arm was slung a gym bag. His black hair was buzzed short, marine-style, and his green eyes stood out brightly against the dark tan of his skin. “Greg? I’m Chase.” He stuck out his hand and I shook it.

“Um, come in.” I stepped aside and let him pass, looking at the round mound of hard ass under the nylon.

“Oh, thank God, you smoke! Mind if I have one?” he asked, kicking off his shoes and sitting down in the chair next to the nightstand. He rummaged around in one of the side pockets of his bag, producing a rumpled pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter. “I haven’t been able to have one for hours.”

“Go ahead,” I said, a little bemused. The last thing I expected was a muscle god to want a cigarette.

He lit one with obvious pleasure and blew the smoke out across the room. “Man, that’s nice.”

I lit one and sat on the bed. “Your body is gorgeous,” I blurted out, feeling like a complete dork.

“Thanks!” He smiled at me, a genuine smile that lit up his eyes. “You’ve got a pretty nice one, too.”

“Yeah, right.” I shrugged. Next to him I looked like I’d never lifted a weight in my life. But then, he was getting paid to please me, right?

“I mean it.” He flicked ash. “Take your shirt off.”

I obliged, a little self-consciously, aware of the love handles no amount of cardio seemed to get rid of, the little roll at my navel. He whistled. “That’s nice, man.”

“I could be leaner.”

He stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray and placed one of his big hands on my leg. I jumped a bit, and he laughed. “Relax, man, I’m not going to bite you. We’re gonna have some fun, right?”

I nodded.

He stood up and pulled the miniscule tank top over his head, folded it, and put it on the floor next to his gym bag. I just stared. The cuts in his stomach were deep enough for me to stick an entire finger inside. His torso was shaved completely smooth, and there was no hair under his arms. His armpits were really white. He gestured to me. “Come here.”

I got off the bed and walked to where he was standing. “Jump up on me and wrap your legs around my waist,” he instructed.

“Okay.” I did, and he put his arms around my back and pulled me in close to him. His skin was warm and smooth against mine, and I felt my dick growing. His skin was also surprisingly soft over the steel-like muscles underneath. He carried me over to the bed and lay me down gently on top of it, and stood there beside the bed, and popped his arms up and flexed them. Huge veins popped out in his forearms, on his biceps, and in his shoulders. “Damn,” I breathed out.

He grinned at me and slid his hands inside his sweatpants, then inched them down. All he had on underneath was a black thong. His pubic hair had been waxed so none showed around the spandex hugging the big hanging package. He had a bikini tan-line that showed stark white, like his armpits, against the deep tan. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to wear,” he said, “I have other things in my bag.”

“That’s fine,” I said, my heart racing.

He turned around and showed me his beautiful muscled ass. The thong was just a couple of strings running above the top of each perfectly molded cheek, then a tiny triangle just above the deep canyon between them. He bent over and touched his toes, making his ass flex and curve.

I almost came right then.

He turned back around and grinned down at me. He reached up and started pulling my sweats down. I lifted my hips a little to help, feeling a little embarrassed at how my body looked in the white thong I had on. “Nice legs.” He whistled. “You have to promise to head-scissor me at some point. I fucking
love
that.”

“Okay.”

He jumped up on the bed, which bounced, and lay down beside me on his side, resting his head in his hand, the bicep bulging. “What you into, Greg? Sub? Pro? Jobber/heel? Give/take? Just trading holds?” He put his top leg over mine. It was heavy, but I liked the way it felt on me. His free hand began tracing hands around my left nipple.

“I like it all,” I said, hearing my heart beating in my ears. “I usually leave it up to my opponent.”

“Dude—you’re paying—you decide.” He rolled over on top of me, our crotches against each other. His dick was hard, too. He grabbed my arms and held them down over my head, making my back arch up just a little bit. He bent his head down and started flicking his tongue over my neck. My body started to tremble. He grinned up at me. “Why don’t we just roll around a bit and then see what we feel like?”

I swallowed. “Sure.” I actually liked what he was doing, but didn’t say anything. I wanted to see what he would do next.

He let go of my arms and rolled off me, getting up on his knees. I didn’t move for a minute, just sat there and admired the beauty of his body. He sat back on his haunches and grinned at me until I finally got up on my knees. “Flex your arms,” he ordered.

I did, feeling a little silly. Mine looked like pipe cleaners next to his. He whistled, and grabbed each bicep with one of his hands and squeezed. “Nice, man.” He let go and traced an index finger from the base of my throat down between my pecs and down to my navel.

“Can I—” I swallowed, “can I put you in a full nelson?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He turned around so his back was to me, the hard cheeks staring at me. I put my arms underneath his armpits and locked my fingers behind his neck and pressed down, moving in closer so my crotch was right up against the boulder butt, my hard cock between the cheeks. He groaned a little bit, put up a bit of a struggle against the hold so I had to apply more pressure to hold him in it. He began alternately flexing his butt cheeks, so that my dick was kind of getting a massage back there.

It felt incredible.

“Oh man,” he breathed, “that’s nice. A little tighter, do you mind?”

I squeezed and he let out a long moan.

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh…”

I leaned and fell backward, pulling him with me so he landed on top of me, and I put my legs around his waist and locked the ankles, squeezing.

“Oh, yeah, man, that’s hot…fuck yeah…torture me, man…I can take it!”

I squeezed my legs together with every bit of strength I could muster, and he groaned, his breath coming faster and shorter as I pushed his head down further, squeezing with my arms, until finally I couldn’t squeeze any more and relaxed.

“Fuck!” he said, rubbing his back against me. “You’re good, man.”

I squeezed again and he cried out a bit, fighting against it, until after a few seconds more he said, “Okay, man, okay! I give, stud!”

I let go of him and he rolled off me onto his stomach. He grinned at me, shaking his head. “You know what you’re doing, man. Fucking hot! So many of these people who hire me don’t, you know?”

“Really?”

He shrugged. “Most of ’em don’t really wrestle—it’s just a fantasy for them, and sadly, many of them aren’t in very good shape—they don’t know how to put on holds or anything, so I just have to pretend.” He rolled onto his back. “Sit on my chest and work my abs over.”

“Okay.” I climbed up on his massive chest, enjoying the feel of his hard pecs under my ass, and punched him lightly in the stomach.

“Yeah, nice. You can go harder.”