WWA v. MMA

Claude Solis was a big mother of a wrestler, standing six foot two, burly as all get out, his face battered in innumerable fights in and out of the arena when he was a mediocre boxer before transitioning to the arena of the wrestlers. The life of professional wrestling was more to his liking, the pay was steady and he maintained a precarious lifestyle in the wrestling world as a third-rate wrestler and contender.

Claude had short-cut hair of smoky black, his eyes were dull brown, his face with its square jaw, cleft chin, flat cheeks, noble nose (thanks to the surgeon who repaired it after it had been broken in a fight), and full lips gave him an attractive but unfortunately stupid look that he didn't entirely deserve. His intelligence didn't exactly shine in the darkness, but he wasn't inclined to walk into oncoming traffic against the light. His agent Dave was a smarmy, small-built man who had the slender attributes and personality of a slimy lizard, who darted about and got him work in places both tolerable and questionable, so long as Claude kept going where Dave told him to go and fight who Dave told him to fight.

So Claude survived, if you can call a mangy room in a hotel and meals at ratty restaurants survival. You walk by such men all the time and never notice them, but they move and live and breathe in the underworld of the city and fill that odd niche that somehow is the foundation of any large city, the world of decaying buildings, ragged, faded and hopeless small businesses, sidewalks with prostitutes, pimps and bums walking about, the bars for working men, gays and lesbians and others, plus those where people with exotic tastes slink in and out, that get raided whenever a politician orders a clean-up. This was Claude's world, but even he was shocked at the latest bout Dave had lined up.

"I'm fighting where?"

"At the Blue Onion Bathhouse," Dave told him soothingly. "Come on, Claude, you know your jobs have been a bit skinny on the pavement these days, and this is decent money. Five thousand if you win the bout, two thousand otherwise, what's the big problem?"

"You mean problems, Dave, and I got three of them," Claude said. "First off, the Blue Onion is a freaking gay place, I'm going to be putting on a show for a bunch of naked or near-naked gay guys doing who knows what watching me fight."

"So let them watch, you don't have to look at them," Dave said soothingly.

"Second of all, I'm supposed to do my wrestling match naked, too."

"So what, you'll blend in, which when have you ever flinched at giving the crowd a little beefcake, you got a sweet body, Claude and a pretty face, you have to use that, it's your main draw. I can give you a pill to help you stay half-hard the entire time, so you won't be fighting with a shriveled wiener, if that's your problem...."

"No-o-o-o-o," Claude answered, though it was part of it, he had a nice nine-incher, but that doesn't show when you're soft, and worse, what if he pitched a woody in front of all those gay men? His reputation would be ruined!

"So what's your third problem, Claude, so far, I'm not hearing a good reason to turn down a guaranteed two thousand dollars, maybe more."

"My problem is I won't even be facing another wrestler, I'll be set up against a mix martial-arts fighter. How am I supposed to fight someone like that?"

To his surprise, Dave burst out laughing. "Hey, was that your worry? I thought about that, it's why I recommended you for this match! You got boxing skills, you can box bare-handed, right?"

"Well, yeah, but...."

"And you know down-and-dirty fighting, too, I've had to bail you out of jail often enough to know that. And finally, you should see this guy you're matched against. He's a shrimp, Claude, he's only five foot tall, weighs only a hundred and fifteen pounds. Against you, Claude, you're going to wipe the floor with him! Five thousand dollars, Claude, and a chance to do more jobs if they like you. You might get out of that hotel you've been griping about, and start up the chain to the W.W.A.! Think about it, Claude, but think fast, I got to call them back fast."

Claude hesitated, hell, even the two thousand loser fee, that would be fifteen hundred to him less Dave's 25% manager fee, and even that would help his bank balance. And a shrimp fighter would have a struggle, even with mixed martial-arts experience. "Okay, hell, go ahead, but give me one of them pills, as long as it only gets me half-hard, you get me?"

"I got you," Dave skittered off and three days later, Claude went to the Blue Onion about eight o'clock and made his way to the backroom competition arena. His bout was scheduled for ten o'clock.

He watched a few of the competitors, they were amateur wrestlers and they seemed to be more interested in groping each other than fighting. The crowd ate that up, he noticed. Well, it was a gay bathhouse. He'd taken the pill and it was working, he had a nice piece of meat that the guys were checking out as best they could under his bath towel, but he never gave them a look. Wait until the bout, guys.

"Claude Solis?" came a voice to his right, and he turned. Young blond-haired guy, cute as hell, thin but adorable! Claude actually felt his cock jerk in interest at this sweet piece.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Justin. Nice to meet you. Come with me, we need to set you up for your bout," the guy told him. Claude followed him to a side room and found it was a dressing room for the various acts the bathhouse put on. Someone could have told him about this place.

He waited there until his turn came and he found Justin in line behind him. "Have a good bout, Claude," Justin told him.

"Yeah, you too," Claude replied, and his name was announced. Just like in the W.W.A. and he doffed his towel and walked out proud and strong and gesturing like any wrestling match, only this time, his wang waving proudly back and forth as it swung between his legs as he walked. Dave's pill was a great helper there, he probably would have suffered a "scared turtle dick" if he hadn't taken it!

He stopped in the middle of the ring and did a bouncing around with his fists up high as his (meager) accomplishments were extolled in florid language, the announcer/referee was doing a great job for someone who was wearing nothing but a whistle and a loud voice.

The announcer showed him his stool set in one corner and he went to it and sat down as the announcer said, "And his contender this bout of W.W.A. versus M.M.A. is the mixed martial-arts fighter of renown, Justin Lindsay!"

Claude's jaw dropped as his contender walked up and got into the ring. It was the cute blond that had fetched him from the crowd and brought him into the dressing room! He did what Claude had done, dancing around in the middle of the ring as Claude watched and the announcer extolled Justin's prowess in the ring. He was supposed to fight this little guy? It was going to be a freaking walk in the park!

So he thought. He moved in traditional wrestling moves and so did Justin, but when Justin moved, his moves were nothing like the moves of a fellow wrestler. A wrestler tries to move in and close ranks and grapple, Justin started with jabs and blows. His head and neck were off limits to any punches, but they hurt and disoriented him and to strike at Justin felt like he was trying to swat a fly in mid-air!

He tried several attacks, he attempted to grab Justin's legs and pull him down that way, but Justin backed out of reach, Claude raised up and he staggered in getting his footing, and Justin did a straight hand "cross" strike, hitting Claude's chest and knocking him backwards, Justin moved in and did a "knee strike," hitting Claude's chest with his knee and sending him sprawling onto the mat on his back.

Justin pounced on him and Claude was finally able to bring his greater size and strength to bear, he flipped the smaller form over and tried to get him into a chokehold (he couldn't punch but he could choke or put pressure on the contender's neck to bring them to submission), but Justin rolled with the motion of being flipped over and rolled to his feet while Claude was still getting to his feet.

Justin had Claude on the defensive from that point on, and for the rest of that round and the next three rounds, Claude was at his mercy, spending all his efforts on fending off the roundhouse kicks and elbow strikes and always, always avoiding letting Claude get a good hold on him to actually wrestle him. Claude felt like a moveable punching bag, and after a while, he had to just give up, his mind was giddy and his world was whirling and he could barely keep to his feet. He found himself up against the ropes and he sagged, clinging to the top rope and sagged, waiting for the strike that would take him down.

"Whoa, look at that huge tool he's got!" someone hooted from the crowd and Claude looked down, the pill was working too good, he had pitched a full-on boner during this wrestling bout. His nine-inch, uncut pecker was a thick, vein-bulging-sided monster of a whanger, he had long been proud of it, but here??? Now???

Justin was approaching him with his hyper-aware motions of a martial artist and he got closer and closer to the dazed Claude, come on, damn it, get it over with, Claude thought wearily. His body refused to move, just clung and waited for defeat and/or death, it no longer cared any longer. He managed to thrust his hips forward, a slight, quick jab, and that was all, his cock waggled defiance at the small, victorious contender.

Justin saw that and his countenance changed, changing from the professional gaze of a martial arts master to the smirk of a trickster intent on impish deviltry. Justin dropped to his knees in front of Claude and the big wrestler gasped as he felt the warm lips enclose his hard cock and with the warm moisture of his mouth that felt like it would dissolve his prong in glory, he sank over the majority of Claude's nine-inch marvel.

The crowd went wild as they saw this, loud cheers and applause as Claude felt the soft lips and benevolent breath caress his shaft, the moist mouth bathing his length and his masculinity and he felt absolved and redeemed in this moment and he groaned, his pleasure surging within him. "Huh-uh-uh-uh-uhhhh-huuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he moaned in a shuddering, timorous sound.

"Yeah, do it!" crowed someone from the audience, a different voice from the one before. "Give that motherfucker hell! Suck him hard and fast!"

That suggestion was popular, and Justin did begin to slurp up and down the prodigious pecker, milking the majestic manhood and pulling his foreskin like a pro. But of course, if he worked here, he would naturally be a world-class cocksucker, wouldn't he?

"Come on, drag him onto the mat and really give him a working over!" A third man called.

What were they anyhow, a freaking peepshow? Dave hadn't told him that this would happen, hell, he was a wrestler, not a porn star! Just because he was getting his cock sucked while his body was staggering from the beating he had just taken in the ring was no reason to think.

"Come on, pull him down!"

"Pull him down!"

"Get him on the mat!"

Hands had come from the crowd and they pulled Claude's hands off of the ropes and he perforce slid down the ropes onto the mat. Justin let go of his prong, but was dragging him bodily across the mat, Claude had worked up a sizeable sweat in the bout and he slipped across as if on rollers. Justin got on him with his butt in Claude's face and his dong poking Claude's chest-plate, and he again gobbled down the pounding pud which eagerly welcomed him back again.

Claude was still dazzled, his brain had been addled and he felt like his body was on automatic, he watched as his hand reached up to grasp the erect shaft of his smaller opponent and guided it to his own lips. He'd never tasted a cock before and was surprised to find it wasn't at all nasty-tasting, he found it like inserting a meat-flavored Ice Pop into his mouth and he sucked on it the same way. The taste of the velvet-skinned prick was oddly intoxicating and the pleasure of his dong swayed his judgment, he began to bob his head back and forth, though his mind swam in a mire of blurry images and sensations all mixed up and confused in his head.

Justin groaned and sped up his assault and his body moved, he shifted his lower body to yank his dong out of Claude's mouth and next thing Claude knew, Justin had shoved his butt into Claude's face.

The asshole was clean as possible and the scent was pleasant and inviting, there were no hairs around the dimpled tucker of flesh. Claude realized very well what he was doing when he did what he did next, which was to form his tongue into a sharp point and delve into the soft dimpled flesh folds.

"Yeah, do it, dig in that ass!" came a call.

"Lube him up, the winner wants to claim his trophy!"

"Give it to him, give him a hard one!"

"Yeah, yeah, lube him up, Justin! Get him nice and wet!"

"Whoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

Claude had intended nothing like fucking Justin whether willingly or not, but the crowd had spoken and so must it be! Claude didn't think of it this way, but like the gladiators of old when giving the spectators the option of sparing their opponent's life or slaying them, their choice was to be honored.

He worked the soft flesh which yielded to him willingly and he imitated Justin's act of pushing as much saliva onto his tongue as he could, and he soon had the butthole a wet morass of slobber-laden skin.

"Okay, okay!" Justin said. "Let me get around." He stood, turned around and sat down on Claude's stomach, a comfortable cushion of hefty hunk, and slid backwards as one hand behind him guided the missile of Claude's cock toward the tender target of his tuckerhole.

Contact, and Justin grunted as he stuffed the huge hunk of hunk-honker into his honey-well. "Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huh-huhhhhhhhhhhhhh, huh!"

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnn-hnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnh!" Claude groaned at the same time. Supine on the mat, he let his rigid raunchy rod be ridden by the ravishing ravisher. This was a hell of a situation to be in, his mind was only now beginning to get shaken back into some semblance of sanity and he was now in full flagrante delicto in front of a large crowd of horny gay men who had come to the bathhouse to have insane, anonymous sex with strangers, and here he was, putting on a show for them, letting his body be used by...by....

Damn, but Justin was a cute stud of a man. Sort of a pocket stud in his own right, when you looked at him the right way, the face belonged more on an angel on a fresco than a man's face but when you stuck that face on a slim but fit body and perched that body on your pecker--Damn!--but it felt like the rightest damned thing in the entire world!

Claude grinned up at Justin who smiled beatifically down at Claude, and then Justin began to move his body, his knees and his agility let him bound up and down from his sitting position and ram his rump down onto Claude's dong and pull it up again as swiftly as a woman could only wish she could match.

"Yeah, come on, you mixed martial arts man, ride my wrestler pecker and ride it hard!" Claude growled. "Show it how fast you can move when the action is this instead of dancing around on a mat, show me the real talent you got on a mattress!"

"Oh, God, your cock is so damned big, I feel like I'm going to be broken in half by it," Justin moaned, "I want to ride this fucker forever, live my whole life perched on this prick and wringing it dry every time it gets stiff, ahhhhhhhhhh, yeah, come on, man, give me a hot load off your balls, I want it in me, want it in me!"

"Well if that's what you want, we're doing it all wrong!" Claude snarled and he reached up and pulled the beautiful face to his and kissed him and then he rolled the two of them over so he was on top and he rose up and with Justin clinging to his waist by his legs and his hands on both of Claude's shoulders, Claude began to work his whanger with every ounce of recovered strength he had in his body.

"Hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk-hnk!" Claude grunted as he hammered his hard hammer-slammer into the soft supple suckerhole of his supine supplicant.

"Hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!" Justin gasped as he was royally rammed by Claude's glorious gag-gherkin, his face was glowing from the joy he was receiving from the relentless pounding he was receiving from the broad, burly body of the wrestler opponent he had just bested in the evening bout. He had won easily and this was his real prize, that was evident in his face, he had always planned to end their bout this way, not in a groveling submission, but in this way, locked in a moaning, groaning, writhing, wailing ecstasy!

"I'll teach you what happens to those who win a bout from me, you little M.M.A. bitch!" Claude snarled. "Dancing around like a ballet dancer in 'Swan Lake' and I'm expected to best you in wrestling, hell, next time I'll be ready for you and I'll show you how well I can fight that fairy-dance you were doing! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-arrrrrrrrrrr!" His final noise was a growl of raw frustration at how cleverly he'd been conned into this humiliation, a wrestler is constrained by his art to fight in only certain ways and they don't include the free-style combat of the mixed martial artist, they knew full well ahead of time that he'd be defeated.

He avenged his treatment at this debacle with the savagery of his thrusts and Justin took it all and loved it every bit, and soon the cute stud Claude was laying gave a warbling moan of "AHHHH-AHHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AHHH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH!" and ended with his final wail of "HAH-HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Claude was pelted with the hot splats of jizz from Justin's cock and he snarled, "Did I say you could come yet! You little son of a bitch, I'll, I'll, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh, UH-UH-UH-UH-UH-UH, HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH-HUHHHHHHHHH, GAH-HANNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG-HHHHHHHHHHHH!"

His orgasmic cry was a vow of vengeance as much as a veil of vindication and Claude spurted a huge load into Justin's bowels, as he came more heavily than he could recall since his youngest days of puberty.

"Ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-huh, ah-hah, ah-hah, ah-hah, ah-hah, ah-hah, ah-hah, you, ah-hah, you damned, ah-hah, hahh, hahhhh, hahhhh, hahhhhhhhhhh, you damned son of a bitch! You set this up, didn't you?" he snarled at Justin.

"Set what up?"

"This mixed match, is what. You fought me, knowing you'd win and I'd be dazed and you could do what you wanted with me. You wanted a damned sex show, didn't you?"

The announcer burst into their tête-à-tête before Justin could answer. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he declared. "Justin here has nothing to do with the Blue Onion Bathhouse. He fought the same way you did, for the prize money and he won fair and square."

"Yeah?" Claude asked.

"Yeah," Justin confirmed.

"Yeah," the announcer declared. "Now, if you want a rematch with him, like you said, we can set one up for you two, say, a week from tonight?"

"A week from now? How much?"

"Same deal, five thousand and two thousand, you two were great. Except the next time, the winner gets to fuck the loser. He wins again, he gets to fuck you, Claude, how about it? Put your ass where your mouth is? Or are you afraid?"

The announcer said that loud enough for the crowd and they were cheering hard.

Claude looked at Justin who grinned and he had to grin back. "Hell yeah, it's a deal! Next week, same time, right here, and the next time, I'm going to mop the floor with you before I fuck you."

Things got chaotic and Dave came in (fully clothed, the coward) and ferried Claude out. "Great idea, asking for a rematch, Claude!" he nattered. "You have a chance for a whole new circuit with this, I can send out word to the other gay bathhouses seeking some talent and...."

Claude tuned him out, he saw Justin and he went over to the guy. "Justin?"

"Yeah, it's me, couldn't you recognize me?"

"Not so much with your clothes on. You up for that rematch, are you all right with it?"

"More than all right, Claude. Except if you are going to fight me next week, you need someone with an expertise in mixed martial arts to have any chance at it. You need a coach."

"Like who?" Claude wanted to know?

Justin took his hand and said, "The best one I know. Me. Come on, I'll show you how to counter my attacks better next time." His smile told Claude they wouldn't only be training over the next few days.

Hand in hand, they walked out of the Blue Onion Bathhouse, with Dave chattering on about Claude's bright new career.

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