Cameron and the Luchador - Part 2

"So you made it in one piece."

Handsome, with his dark tan, Vincent, or Vin, pulled the shy Cameron into a tight embrace outside the subway station. Though gentle, Cameron felt his body tense up at the pressure from Vin's hard muscles, and took in the sublet aroma of his masculine cologne. Vin shifted slightly, holding on to his new friend and potential protege for a moment, and Cameron thought for a moment that the older man had deliberately rubbed himself on him. Released from the strong grip, Cameron, blushing stammered at how much he'd enjoyed watching Vin's match.

Which was an underestimation. Truthfully, Cam had never come harder to a wrestling match like that before. But that match had been filmed about a decade and some years prior to now. The man standing before Cameron was no longer the Luchador beefcake, El Cachas, but Vincent. His hair had slightly grayed at the temples, though a few more years had actually favored his face. His statuesque build had smoothed out into a formidable bulk, going from ripped to thick.

Somehow, Cameron felt, it made him even sexier.

But Cameron saw that mischievous spark in the forty-year-old's eyes. That strutting, slightly flamboyant, and sexually expressive heel, or rudos rather, was still there inside.

"You're nervous," Vin growled softly, unlocking the door. And Cameron couldn't hide it.

"I don't even have any gear," Cam laughed. He took a look at Vin's modest home, which was made up of old furniture and family heirlooms. It was homely. It felt safe, and a fraction of Cam's anxiety melted away. He noted the mattress, already put in the living room and surrounded by a careful arrangement of pillows and blankets to offer additional padding. It was no ring, but something about the impromptu nature of it and the implicit erotic suggestion of wrestling on a bed, made Cam's cock stiffen.

He could trust Vin as a man. But inside the ring, well, Cameron suspected was a whole other story.

Vin had experience with other rookies, so he didn't push things. He made Cameron feel welcome, offered him a glass of wine from a newly opened bottle, and spoke about general topics. He was easing him in. Cam appreciated it.

Finally, naturally, the younger and older men slipped into the subject matter of wrestling gear. Vin disappeared to his room for a moment and, when he'd returned, pulled out a gym bag.

"Have a look, friend."

As if he'd just opened a box of hidden treasure, Cameron rummaged through a pile of trunks, briefs, speedos, swimsuits, and even some thongs.

"And before you ask," Vin said, "I don't keep my old gear in there. Too precious. Too many memories."

Feeling daring, Cam asked, "You won't wear it for our match?"

With a smirk, Vin turned around and tugged on his jeans, slowly pulling them down. And stopping to reveal tight hugging, shiny red briefs. The way the clung to his muscle ass, Cam realized there were parts on Vin's body that had improved with age.

"Wearing them right now, chico," Vin winked.

Cam gulped and tried not to go hard. But looking down at the gear selection didn't help. He remembered back to the match Vin had sent him. There was a part of him that wanted to seem fresh and maybe more than that, a little bit humiliated.

These, Cameron said, turning a shade of red the same color as Vin's gear. He held up a a pair of pink, floral briefs.

Vin whistled. "A real jobber choice," he said. "I approve."

Ever the gentleman, Vin allowed Cameron to change in private. In the bathroom, Cameron slipped off his underwear and, somewhat shy, put on the gear. It was soft and silky against his skin, and Cam couldn't imagine how all wrestlers could ever avoid getting turned on while wearing stuff like this.

Unconsciously, Cameron caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His mouth hung open at how he looked right now. Blonde, with feathery hair and blue eyes, Cam had always been a baby face. The perfect jobber material. But wearing the sissy pink gear, he had immediately clinched the part.

A new side of himself taking over, Cameron blew himself a kiss in the mirror and turned and shook his butt at the pretend audience. "I'm too adorable to be beaten," he cooed to the nonexistence crowd.

Finally, he crept out into the living room. At the site of Vin, or rather El Cachas, however. His confidence melted.

Vin was clad from the neck down in a red, crushed velvet robe lined with gold trim. Cameron identified the adornment from one of El Cachas' matches. Vin, with his pencil thin "bad guy" mustache, pouted his lips and kissed his would-be opponent.

"Que bonito," he growled. "Damn, boy, you make a pretty jobber."

Cameron smiled and felt all at once, self conscious standing on a mattress in some living room in Queens, about to wrestle some near naked older man. He hadn't done anything like this before in his life. What was he getting into?

El Cachas picked up a remote and turned on the TV, for background noise. However, Cameron recognize the grainy footage as one of his old matches. This one he hand't seen before.

Staring off into the past, a slightly wistful expression on his face, Vin sad, "My final match as a pro," he said. He looked over at Cameron and shook his head. "You'll see why soon. You ready, son?"

Cam glanced at the television and saw Vin's opponent was a young guy, white, and not too dissimilar to him. Clad in blue briefs and with a choir boy's disposition, the jobber graciously bowed, waved, and smiled at this audience.

"...Yeah." Cam said, turning back to his opponent, assuming a high school wrestler's grappler stance.

Vin's appearance took on a haughty, aloof, exaggerated demeanor as the Luchador standing before Cam and the Luchador on the television, synched up.

"You ready, FOR THIS!!!!"

With a dashing flourish, El Cachas tore of his robe and flung it towards the couch, revealing a slightly oiled up, thick, muscular body barely contained in a red speedo. He jiggled his pecs and began to strut around the room in time to the music coming from the match on the TV set.

Cameron was immediately embarrassed for himself. What had he gotten into. On set, he could see his counterpart looking just as perplexed and nervous.

Though flamboyant, there was something so erotic about how El Cachas, moved, how he swayed his hips, posed, and flexed his muscles in perfect time to the rhythmic, Latin beat. Finally, as the bell rung on TV, El Cachas advanced on Cameron.

Taking on a gentlemanly stance, El Cachas placed one hand on his back and extended his other hand in friendship to Cameron. Cam immediately fell into the role of the naive jobber, perhaps too well. Bashful, he shook El Cachas hand...

And was immediately pulled into a tight bear hug. El Cachas belly laughed as he lifted Cam up off the ground and took him into his pectorals.

The touch of the warm, hard body and the slick sweat, made Cameron pop at once--so much so that he was afraid his cock might start peeking out of his briefs. He sold the pain and humiliation like a seasoned veteran, crying out loud and wriggling as the man constricted his muscles.

Not only did El Cachas make an effort to (seemingly) crush Cameron, he turned it into an embarrassing display.

"Bailando," El Cachos growled in Cam's ear as the bear hug became a sort of dance, with Cameron's body pushed into Vin's, his thighs interlocked with his as he was "danced" around the arena, unable to break free. All the while, El Cachas grinded against him. Cam felt his cock, covered in the silk fabric, forced and rubbed against by the Luchador's. It was humiliating, but Cameron couldn't help get harder and harder. He was afraid he might create a wet spot in his new friend's gear.

Then he was on the ground, reacting and selling as El Cachas wailed on Cameron with a series of blows to the head. Throughout the unrelenting assault, Cam caught glimpses of the match on TV. It was the same moveset and everything. Vin was reenacting the match with him! The thought made Cameron stiffen up even more.

But a part of him was afraid how it might end.

Tree trunk legs enveloped Cameron's midsection as the jobber squirmed and yelped. Of course, Vin wasn't causing him any real pain, but he was so strong that Cameron felt his body being constricted by what felt like a giant, hungry snake. Cameron looked down at Vin's professional boot,s glittery and all laced up, and couldn't imagine that he was now being handled by a real pro. Vin grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look up as he flexed his biceps.

He made kissy faces at his opponent. "You cannot even move!" he said in that showmanly, overly sexed way. "You are paralyzed by El Cachas. You submit to his giant muscles, chico!"

"I'll never submit..." Cameron groaned. For a moment, Vin broke kayfabe and gave his younger friend a proud smile, pleased at how awesomely this rookie was selling.

Then the punishment resumed again.

Cameron was knocked to the ground, clotheslined, hurled over El Cachas shoulders and slammed down into the couch. Then, El Cachas struck a pose. Cam saw where this was going, and groaned a helpless, "No....no...no!" from his position on his back. El Cachas jumped through the air with the grace of so many high flying Luchadors before him, and body splashed young Cam, flattening him into the fabric.

El Cachas gave another sexualized growl as he once again grinded his bulge against Cameron's. This time, Cam felt how hard his opponent was. He took pride in turning on the man.

Cameron, pulled up by his head, was thrown into El Cachas' pits. The smell of natural musk and fine cologne filled Cam's nostrils, and coated his face, all but guaranteeing that he would catch whiffs of the man's masculine odor long after the match had ended. Then, El Cachas, channeling more American pastures of wrestling, slammed Cameron head first into the ground with a painful DDT.

The blow actually did catch Cameron off guard, but Vin was an expert at his craft and knew how to ensure his safety. Cameron sold the move, bridging his back and twitching for added measure, selling the fantasy of potential nerve damage.

From his viewpoint, face flat against the mattress, Cameron looked at the TV and his heart sunk (while his cock began to leak). In the match on screen, El Cachas signified the finisher Cameron had watched a few nights before. The nasty, no doubt painful move the studly Luchador had inflicted on the Blue Rabbit.

Cameron was lifted up by his hair yet again (it looked like Vin enjoyed pulling and playing with his hair). This time, he was pulled into El Cachas, almost tenderly. A lover's embrace. Both men were now drenched with sweat. And both's cocks were starting to protrude out of each other's respective gear choices.

"You ready?" El Cachas whispered. Then, he pulled Cameron into a long, wet kiss.

Cam's head flooded with endorphins. He wasn't sure if this was part of the fantasy, or something more. His head swum. But then, he realized, as did his equivalent on TV, that it was all for show. As Cam's head was pulled back, he felt something pry open his lips, and then the taste of Vin's (thankfully clean) fingers, proving for the soft part under Cam's tongue.

"Now, you just need to trust me," Vin whispered.

But this was no game. Vin pressed down, and Cameron's mouth filled up with pain. Vin clawed at his jaw and pulled back his head. Cameron's eyes went wide, as did the eyes of the poor jobber on the TV set.

As Cam struggled to breathe and tears filled his eyes, El Cachas nibbled and licked his ear. He began whispering, gently, in Spanish. It sounded like a love poem. But Cam was too caught up in the dizzying sensation, afraid Vin might actually do him permanent harm. Through the pain and the fear though, Cam felt his cock emerge from his briefs. He was leaking. How was he enjoying this?

Then, Vin's incessant, prying fingers found the right nerve. The pain vanished, replaced by wave after wave of impossible bliss. El Cachas had studied human anatomy and knew of an old trick. Cam's vision began to fade, blacking out from the sensory overload, but it wan't an unpleasant unconsciousness that took him into the black.

The dream was fleeting, and pink toned. Cameron lay in the ring on TV, only it was covered in rose petals, as a glistening naked Vin, cock obscured by a championship belt, lay next to him, playing with his hair. Cameron struggled against his grip but succumbed to his tender kisses, and then found the championship belt placed around his own waist...

Another kiss, in the real world, woke him up. On TV, the ripped muscular man of Vin's past, flexed over his opponent.

In the real world, Cam sat cradled, helpless, with his head against Vin's heaving pectoral. Delerious, Cam could do nothing other than let the older man milk him, each stroke like a lover's kiss as Cameron experienced a new type of pleasure.

"Now you shall see, chico," Vin whispered to him softly. "The reason why I was banned."

On TV the bell had already rung, and El Cachas stood triumphant over his opponent.

"I got off to when the audience worshiped my muscles," Vin explained, unrelenting in his jacking Cameron off. Slowly. "All their eyes on me. The defeated, laying at my feet. I always wanted to show my love for them. It always turned me on. Until this night, when I could no longer refuse my desires."

On TV, El Cachas reached down and ripped--actually ripped--his briefs in half, much to the shock of the audience and the commentators at ringside. The tape El Cachas had secured was unedited and unblurred. From his briefs emerged a wide, uncut cock. Not long exactly, but girthy. Soaking in the raw adoration of the audience, El Cachas began to jerk himself off over his unconscious opponent (who Cam later learned was in on the stint the whole time and actually dated Vin for awhile after).

Finally, Cameron could no longer hold back. "Fuck...fuck, papi, I'm gonna..."

At the same time on screen, El Cachas let out rope after rope of thick load. Who was going to stop him. In the real world, Cameron did the same. And nearly slipped back into unconsciousness again.

Mercifully, Cam didn't have to do much. Vin, sighing, turned off the TV and stood above Cameron, flexing and jerking himself off while Cameron caressed his thighs, his stomach, his pecs. Finally, with a masculine roar, Vin let himself cum all over Cameron's chest. He fell back to the mattress and then proceeded to make out with his new protege.

After sharing an intimate shower together, Cam and Vin retired to his bedroom to watch more wrestling matches together. Back in their briefs. Cam rest his head against Vin's chest and was held, as Vin excitedly showed Cam his favorite matches.

Cam learned that Vin had paid off all the legal fees for pulling such an erotic stunt, and took the forced retirement in lieu of any actual trouble. Vin then promised Cam that he would train him to be a real wrestler. It would not be the last time they wrestled.

But that's for another story.