Cameron had always had an urge to try out pro wrestling, ever since he caught brief glimpses of WWE on late night TV at an early age. But the desire went to deeper than just the entertainment factor. Seeing those giant men in tight, colorful briefs, oiling themselves up and dominating each other had turned on Cam as long as he could remember. And though he had the interest in the sport, he never found the outlet.
At 23, Cameron moved to the city and found the freedom of living on his own. He built up a gym regiment and began to fill out some muscle. With a private room in a small apartment in Queens, he found it was too easy to browse the internet for wrestling pics and videos from some of the underground wrestling companies. And in the midst of one of these late night fantasy sessions, he came across a forum devoted to private wrestlers meeting up and holding erotic, fantasy matches.
This was it. At long last, Cam found what he'd always wanted. But truthful, he was nervous. He had never met up with someone in a pure fetish setting. To east into those waters, he put up a rookie profile and browsed some of the guys in his area. Most either didn't do it for him, had limited photos, or were too intimidating. Then, Cameron clicked on the profile of "Real Luchador."
It was one of the few accounts with a complete, full body and face pic. Whoever this guy was, he wasn't ashamed. And he was also muscular and attractive, which triggered Cam's suspicions. The gentleman wasn't roided out like many of the WWE athletes, but looked like a real man with a regiment. His biceps were framed by two green muscle bands on either arm. His legs were thick, padded in matching gear, and sporting serious, professional boots. His briefs were simple, but judging from the head-on photo anyway, he pulled them off. He was also handsome as hell. Slicked, black hair. A modest goatee. He reminded Cam of a few un-masked Luchadors he used to wank to when catching Lucha Libre on one of the local stations.
But Cam was convinced it was a fake profile. Really, he knew he was talking himself out of messaging the guy. Then, as he was about to sign off, a notification popped up.
1 New Message. It was from Real Luchador.
"Hey there. Name's Vin. 42 yer old with real pro wrestling experience from a Mexican league. Been out of the ring for a few years now, but I never lost my passion for the support. Am more into the erotic side of things these days, and I love taking rookies under my wing. If you're interest in getting a drink with me, feel free to reach out. No expectations. Safety and comfort are my top priority
- Vin"
Camer's heart throbbed (among other body parts). He stared at the message for a good while, and before he even knew what he was doing, he wrote back a friendly response. He offered to meet Vin at the local bar and immediately thought about what cute outfit to wear.
Later that night, Cam waited nervously outside the corner tavern. It was quiet that night, so they could talk to each other interrupted. Then, Vin approached, a friendly smile on his face. Hardly what Cam expected of a pro wrestler. He was a few inches taller than Cam. Not a giant. But he had a sturdy frame, the build of a lifter, and his muscles were apparent from his tight shirt.
Vin pulled him in for a big hug, and Cam could feel his hard body against his. He had to pull away before he popped a boner. But in a matter of seconds, all of Cam's nerves vanished. Vin was a conversationalist and a gentleman. He bought Cam a drink and they talked a little about their lives.
Then, after awhile, Vin brought up wrestling. Cam, blushing slightly, admitted he was totally green. But there was no judgment on Vin's side.
"I used to be a real pro," Vin said, finishing off his beer. "In a pretty popular league down in Mexico. I've been here in the states since I was six, but I'd fly back and forth."
He took out his phone and proudly showed Cam a picture.
"Oh damn," Cam said, eyes widening.
It was an old photo, from at least 15 years back. While the man sitting across from Cam had changed since that time, he still retained that stallion build. The younger Vin was clad in bright yellow briefs, some rubber or PVC material that left nothing to his imagination. He was ripped back then, though Cam appreciated his current softer musculature. But unquestionably he was a stud, standing in the middle of the ring, boots perched on a fallen opponent's back, and double-bicep flexing for the adoration of the audience.
"I miss having that longer hair," Vin laughed nostalgically. "My name was Rey del Músculo."
"King of Muscle?" Cam translated. "That's the extent of my Spanish."
"Haha, not bad, kiddo."
"And you never wrestled with a mask?" Cam asked.
"And hide this handsome face?" Vin winked. "I wear the mask sometimes. Can wear it for you if you want to do a match? No pressure."
Cam fought against his nerves. "Yes to the match, but no mask at first," he said. "So why did you quit?"
For the first time, Vin looked away and laughed. "I had to. They made me."
"Did you break someone in the ring?" Cameron asked, embarrassed that his sadism was showing.
Vin shook his head. "No, I was always good to my opponents. But one night, I let my passions take hold. You see, I've always been a bit of a narcissist. I loved that body worship. Got me hard, even in the ring, knowing everyone could see me. And on my last night wrestling for the league...well...If you come around for a match, I'll show you. It's banned, but I got the VHS recording before I left the league."
It was decided. Cam would have a match. They decided on a time and agreed to meet at Vin's house that weekend.
Before they parted ways that night, Vin told Cam to look up a few matches to get his blood boiling, including one of his own. Cam knew what he'd be doing as soon as he got home that night.
The match was from the early to mid 2000s, judging by the look of things. Maybe even the late 90s. It was hard to tell, as the footage had been ripped off some Univision or Telemundo broadcast. Grainy, and unfortunately Cameron's minimal Spanish could not help him. He loved watching the Luchadors, who were a lot more colorful, high flying, and less melodramatic than their WWE cousins. Cam's only complaint was that not enough of them wore briefs, but he supposed that was part of this particular wrestling culture. He still had a lot to learn.
Finally, Cam got to the part Vin had pointed out to him. Vin's challenger was a masked, muscular young stud in blue trunks called Canejo Azul. Even with Cameron's limited Spanish, he knew that was a dumb name. "The Blue Rabbit". He also knew the guy was more green than blue. Not much of a personality to speak of, but quite athletic.
Flashing lights, a spray of confetti, and a liberal use of the smoke machine announced the next fighter. A decade and some change younger, Vin was still recognizable, but in an arena setting, his personality and aura were entirely different.
His masculine, handsome face and full lips got Cam's heart fluttering. Vin wore a reflective robe that covered his whole body, and immediately Cam was hungry to know what he was hiding under there. With a cocky smile, Vin strutted down the aisle. He kissed his index and forefinger and blew it to a fan. Then, from beneath his robe, he withdrew a red rose and handed, to of all people, and admiring young man reaching out to him from the wings. Vin winked at his fan, who Cam imagined was probably creaming in his pants. Around him though, a few audience members looked disgusted.
Which Cam appreciated all the more. That was a bold move. Defiant. Vin obviously didn't care what people thought about him.
Vin strutted to the ring, taking his time, content to leave the Blue Rabbit frustrated. When he finally stepped in over the rope, he let a bit of his shiny robe flutter open. Deliberate. It gave the camera a nice side-profile of his massive legs, and for a moment Cameron didn't think Vin was wearing anything at all-- a piece of his muscular thigh and ass, sticking out from the robe.
The announcer finally called Vin's name, elongating almost every vowel. "Ellllll Caaaaachaaaas!"
Cam laughed. He knew that word. The Beefcake. Really, Vin?
Then, Vin tore off the robe, revealing a thick, chiseled body. His pecs burst forth, followed by his bulging yellow briefs, with two intertwined roses around his noticeable crotch.
Immediately, Cam wasn't laughing any more. He was rock hard.
Vin, or El Cachas, broke into a dance, shaking his ass with perfect rhythm, clapping his hands, and strutting for the adoring crowed, all while Blue Rabbit looked on in shock. It was a deeply erotic moveset, similar to a stripper.
Vin turned to a camera, and as if winking right at Cam, began to shake and flex his muscular ass, which was mostly peaking out of the yellow briefs. Then, Vin turned around and began to seductively pull down the hem of his briefs, teasing the camera with the sight of a bright pink thong.
Cam nearly lost it there, and had to do everything in his power to restrain from firing his load. The bell rang, and Cam gave it a rest, making sure to watch the match in full.
It was one-sided from the getgo. El Cachas dug into El Rabbit or whatever with a firm clothesline from his meaty arm, then picked up the hapless luchador by the mask, shoving him into the turnbuckle. Vin flexed for the audience and struck a pose at every chance he got, which kept Cam from having to stop his jacking session, or risk blowing his shot too soon.
While his opponent struggled to catch his breath in the corner, Vin dramatically (and, to Cam's delight, a but effeminately) held up his hand and kissed his palm before slapping the shit out Blue Rabbit's chest, again and again, leaving big, red handprints.
Then a whip into the belt and a super kick, that sent the little bunny to the mat. El Cachas took the opportunity to give a double bicep flex for the audience, followed by bouncing his round, massive pecs. Cam could see the oil flecking off of them. He felt himself leaking from the precum, watching this stud, and he couldn't imagine his luck--or danger--knowing he would be facing off with Vin in just a few days from now.
Dazed and delirious, the Rabbit struggled to get off the mat, but Vin was happy to help him up. He grabbed him by the neck, and giving the crowd a "naughty" look, began to thrust his bulge into the humiliated rookie's face, much to the amusement of the crowd.
But Cam saw that Vin was honestly hard inside his trunks. He was shocked they hadn't blurred out the footage even. He got off on wrestling. Must have. And to be able to live such a life? Cam wasn't sure if he wanted to wrestle like Vin or be wrestled by him.
The Beefcake continued his assault, putting the rookie into all manner of painful submissions. Crabs. Even a startling Mexican Ceiling (befitting the match locale). But Cam had a keen eye, and knew the Rudo was merely toying with his prey.
Finally, El Cachas allowed his opponent, or victim as it were, stumble to his feet. He was completely at the stud's mercy now. El Cachas gave the audience another little seductive dance, before he withdrew a small spray bottle from his trunks. The ref obviously wasn't happy about this, but what was he going to do? Cam for one, had no idea what this gimmick was about.
El Cachas made a big deal of spraying the cologne, or whatever it was, under his arm pints. Then, he sprayed it on his hand and fingers before throwing the bottle off to the side. He posed once again for the audience, and then pulled Blue Rabit up into an embrace that almost seemed tender. Almost.
For a moment, Cameron thought The Beefcake might go for a bearhug, and he salivated at the sensation of being crushed between those glistening arms and giant chest. But Vin had other ideas for the little rabbit. He forced the rookie's head back, gripping the mask from behind, and then shoved his freshly scented fingers into the rookie's mouth.
Cam had seen a move like this before, a mandible claw. It was a dirty, painful submission maneuver that supposedly pressed onto the soft, nerve-filled pallet just below the tongue. It was brutal as it was humiliating, as the pain was enough to knock a grown man out. Coupled with the fact that El Cachas' fingers were coated in likely bitter-tasting, overpowering cologne, Cameron couldn't imagine what that poor rookie must be going through.
But something about the fact the Rabbit was wearing a mask, with just a hole for his mouth, made Vin's prying, prodding fingers all the more erotic to witness. And he was going in deep too. If Rabbit wasn't selling this move, then it had to be the real deal, because he was struggling in vain, eyes watering, the muscles in his throat pulsing--likely gagging--as El Cachas dug in deep. All the while, it looked like the Beeface was romancing his opponent, whispering tenderly in his ear. It was twisted. Hot. But Cameron had a feeling he needed to hold on just a little bit longer.
The Rabbit went down, knocked out from pure pain. El Cachas went in for the pin, and planted his yellow, rosey bulgey on the Blue Rabbit's face. The ref counted him out while Vin smiled and flexed his chest for the camera. The bell rang, the ref raised Vin's hand high, and the announcers went wild.
The Luchador again did his little dance, giving the audience a peak of his muscle ass this time. Only a peak. Then, he went to the corner of the ring and brought forth two items. First, he leaned down next to his knocked out opponent and roughly removed the Rabbit's mask. The poor guy was practically just a kid, likely 18 or 19 tops. Cameron almost felt bad for him.
El Cachas added insult to injury by spraying the mask with his signature cologne, then shoving it down his pants. But the humiliation wasn't done, and El Cachas had to intimidate the ref into keeping at bay while he went about his work. Next, Vin put on his opponent's face, an entirely different mask. It was bright pink, frilly, and covered in hearts. El Cachas kissed the mask and then placed it tenderly over Blue Rabbit's drooling face.
Finally, El Cachas withdrew a second rose, bowed to the camera, and then shoved it into Blue Rabbit's open mouth. Cameron knew he had to have shoved it into his throat based on how Blue Rabbit twitched and started to sputter.
He was awake, and El Cachas was pleased. He called for a small mirror, and waited for El Rabbit or whatever to get to his feet. Dazed, with a flower hanging out his mouth, the Blue Rabbit turned around and caught sight of his humiliating, pink mask and the rose dangling for his lips. He screamed in shame and grabbed his head.
El Cachas pretended to be offended, a lover scorned. He threw down the mirror, punched the Blue Rabbit in the head and then shoved him straight between his thighs. He brought up his opponent's briefs into a violent, atomic wedgie, hoisted him up in the air and then drove the poor bunny head first into the mat.
Cameron couldn't take it any more. He moaned and came right there, sending off huge jets of cum, which covered the laptop screen. Behind the deluge, Vin winked at the camera, put his hands behind his neck and gyrated for the audience.
After an embarrassed and deeply satisfied Cameron cleaned up himself, his bed, and his computer, he texted Vin. He needed to know everything.
"Firstly," Vin texted back, "Most of that is staged. Most of it. Blue Rabbit actually went on to become a pretty great wrestler, under a different name. I'm glad you enjoyed it though, chico. Because this Saturday night, I'm gonna do far worse to you ;) "
The match was from the early to mid 2000s, judging by the look of things. Maybe even the late 90s. It was hard to tell, as the footage had been ripped off some Univision or Telemundo broadcast. Grainy, and unfortunately Cameron's minimal Spanish could not help him. He loved watching the Luchadors, who were a lot more colorful, high flying, and less melodramatic than their WWE cousins. Cam's only complaint was that not enough of them wore briefs, but he supposed that was part of this particular wrestling culture. He still had a lot to learn.
Finally, Cam got to the part Vin had pointed out to him. Vin's challenger was a masked, muscular young stud in blue trunks called Canejo Azul. Even with Cameron's limited Spanish, he knew that was a dumb name. "The Blue Rabbit". He also knew the guy was more green than blue. Not much of a personality to speak of, but quite athletic.
Flashing lights, a spray of confetti, and a liberal use of the smoke machine announced the next fighter. A decade and some change younger, Vin was still recognizable, but in an arena setting, his personality and aura were entirely different.
His masculine, handsome face and full lips got Cam's heart fluttering. Vin wore a reflective robe that covered his whole body, and immediately Cam was hungry to know what he was hiding under there. With a cocky smile, Vin strutted down the aisle. He kissed his index and forefinger and blew it to a fan. Then, from beneath his robe, he withdrew a red rose and handed, to of all people, and admiring young man reaching out to him from the wings. Vin winked at his fan, who Cam imagined was probably creaming in his pants. Around him though, a few audience members looked disgusted.
Which Cam appreciated all the more. That was a bold move. Defiant. Vin obviously didn't care what people thought about him.
Vin strutted to the ring, taking his time, content to leave the Blue Rabbit frustrated. When he finally stepped in over the rope, he let a bit of his shiny robe flutter open. Deliberate. It gave the camera a nice side-profile of his massive legs, and for a moment Cameron didn't think Vin was wearing anything at all-- a piece of his muscular thigh and ass, sticking out from the robe.
The announcer finally called Vin's name, elongating almost every vowel. "Ellllll Caaaaachaaaas!"
Cam laughed. He knew that word. The Beefcake. Really, Vin?
Then, Vin tore off the robe, revealing a thick, chiseled body. His pecs burst forth, followed by his bulging yellow briefs, with two intertwined roses around his noticeable crotch.
Immediately, Cam wasn't laughing any more. He was rock hard.
Vin, or El Cachas, broke into a dance, shaking his ass with perfect rhythm, clapping his hands, and strutting for the adoring crowed, all while Blue Rabbit looked on in shock. It was a deeply erotic moveset, similar to a stripper.
Vin turned to a camera, and as if winking right at Cam, began to shake and flex his muscular ass, which was mostly peaking out of the yellow briefs. Then, Vin turned around and began to seductively pull down the hem of his briefs, teasing the camera with the sight of a bright pink thong.
Cam nearly lost it there, and had to do everything in his power to restrain from firing his load. The bell rang, and Cam gave it a rest, making sure to watch the match in full.
It was one-sided from the getgo. El Cachas dug into El Rabbit or whatever with a firm clothesline from his meaty arm, then picked up the hapless luchador by the mask, shoving him into the turnbuckle. Vin flexed for the audience and struck a pose at every chance he got, which kept Cam from having to stop his jacking session, or risk blowing his shot too soon.
While his opponent struggled to catch his breath in the corner, Vin dramatically (and, to Cam's delight, a but effeminately) held up his hand and kissed his palm before slapping the shit out Blue Rabbit's chest, again and again, leaving big, red handprints.
Then a whip into the belt and a super kick, that sent the little bunny to the mat. El Cachas took the opportunity to give a double bicep flex for the audience, followed by bouncing his round, massive pecs. Cam could see the oil flecking off of them. He felt himself leaking from the precum, watching this stud, and he couldn't imagine his luck--or danger--knowing he would be facing off with Vin in just a few days from now.
Dazed and delirious, the Rabbit struggled to get off the mat, but Vin was happy to help him up. He grabbed him by the neck, and giving the crowd a "naughty" look, began to thrust his bulge into the humiliated rookie's face, much to the amusement of the crowd.
But Cam saw that Vin was honestly hard inside his trunks. He was shocked they hadn't blurred out the footage even. He got off on wrestling. Must have. And to be able to live such a life? Cam wasn't sure if he wanted to wrestle like Vin or be wrestled by him.
The Beefcake continued his assault, putting the rookie into all manner of painful submissions. Crabs. Even a startling Mexican Ceiling (befitting the match locale). But Cam had a keen eye, and knew the Rudo was merely toying with his prey.
Finally, El Cachas allowed his opponent, or victim as it were, stumble to his feet. He was completely at the stud's mercy now. El Cachas gave the audience another little seductive dance, before he withdrew a small spray bottle from his trunks. The ref obviously wasn't happy about this, but what was he going to do? Cam for one, had no idea what this gimmick was about.
El Cachas made a big deal of spraying the cologne, or whatever it was, under his arm pints. Then, he sprayed it on his hand and fingers before throwing the bottle off to the side. He posed once again for the audience, and then pulled Blue Rabit up into an embrace that almost seemed tender. Almost.
For a moment, Cameron thought The Beefcake might go for a bearhug, and he salivated at the sensation of being crushed between those glistening arms and giant chest. But Vin had other ideas for the little rabbit. He forced the rookie's head back, gripping the mask from behind, and then shoved his freshly scented fingers into the rookie's mouth.
Cam had seen a move like this before, a mandible claw. It was a dirty, painful submission maneuver that supposedly pressed onto the soft, nerve-filled pallet just below the tongue. It was brutal as it was humiliating, as the pain was enough to knock a grown man out. Coupled with the fact that El Cachas' fingers were coated in likely bitter-tasting, overpowering cologne, Cameron couldn't imagine what that poor rookie must be going through.
But something about the fact the Rabbit was wearing a mask, with just a hole for his mouth, made Vin's prying, prodding fingers all the more erotic to witness. And he was going in deep too. If Rabbit wasn't selling this move, then it had to be the real deal, because he was struggling in vain, eyes watering, the muscles in his throat pulsing--likely gagging--as El Cachas dug in deep. All the while, it looked like the Beeface was romancing his opponent, whispering tenderly in his ear. It was twisted. Hot. But Cameron had a feeling he needed to hold on just a little bit longer.
The Rabbit went down, knocked out from pure pain. El Cachas went in for the pin, and planted his yellow, rosey bulgey on the Blue Rabbit's face. The ref counted him out while Vin smiled and flexed his chest for the camera. The bell rang, the ref raised Vin's hand high, and the announcers went wild.
The Luchador again did his little dance, giving the audience a peak of his muscle ass this time. Only a peak. Then, he went to the corner of the ring and brought forth two items. First, he leaned down next to his knocked out opponent and roughly removed the Rabbit's mask. The poor guy was practically just a kid, likely 18 or 19 tops. Cameron almost felt bad for him.
El Cachas added insult to injury by spraying the mask with his signature cologne, then shoving it down his pants. But the humiliation wasn't done, and El Cachas had to intimidate the ref into keeping at bay while he went about his work. Next, Vin put on his opponent's face, an entirely different mask. It was bright pink, frilly, and covered in hearts. El Cachas kissed the mask and then placed it tenderly over Blue Rabbit's drooling face.
Finally, El Cachas withdrew a second rose, bowed to the camera, and then shoved it into Blue Rabbit's open mouth. Cameron knew he had to have shoved it into his throat based on how Blue Rabbit twitched and started to sputter.
He was awake, and El Cachas was pleased. He called for a small mirror, and waited for El Rabbit or whatever to get to his feet. Dazed, with a flower hanging out his mouth, the Blue Rabbit turned around and caught sight of his humiliating, pink mask and the rose dangling for his lips. He screamed in shame and grabbed his head.
El Cachas pretended to be offended, a lover scorned. He threw down the mirror, punched the Blue Rabbit in the head and then shoved him straight between his thighs. He brought up his opponent's briefs into a violent, atomic wedgie, hoisted him up in the air and then drove the poor bunny head first into the mat.
Cameron couldn't take it any more. He moaned and came right there, sending off huge jets of cum, which covered the laptop screen. Behind the deluge, Vin winked at the camera, put his hands behind his neck and gyrated for the audience.
After an embarrassed and deeply satisfied Cameron cleaned up himself, his bed, and his computer, he texted Vin. He needed to know everything.
"Firstly," Vin texted back, "Most of that is staged. Most of it. Blue Rabbit actually went on to become a pretty great wrestler, under a different name. I'm glad you enjoyed it though, chico. Because this Saturday night, I'm gonna do far worse to you ;) "
No comments:
Post a Comment