Saturday, 19 July 2008

The Drunken Wrestler by Boomer3775

The Drunken Wrestler by Boomer3775

It was the mid '70's and I was 21 and just starting college after a hitch in the Marines, when I first met Paul. He was 19 and a New Jersey Italian attending our Western university on a wrestling scholarship. He is a classic Southern Italian wet dream with just a touch of Cro-Magnon. He was six foot three and one hundred and ninety pounds of pure muscle, dark curly hair with an olive complexion, with big brown happy cocker spaniel puppy eyes. The Cro-Magnon is a rather pronounced brow ridge which was accented by a Groucho Marx eyebrow that covered both eyes and a permanent five o'clock, if he didn't shave three times a day you could use his face as a carpenter's sanding block. He shaved from his cheek bones to his collarbones, from his collarbones on down he was about as hairy as Zak Spears was in the "The Coach's Boys".

We actually met in the dorm. The college policy was all freshmen regardless of age had to live in the dorms. We were suite-mates. That was where I first got the itch for his butt, that perfect jock ass, that high tight-muscled cream-colored peach-fuzzed ass. He liked to walk down the hall to the showers with his towel over his shoulder, his shaving kit in his hand, wearing nothing but shower thongs and a Mona-Lisaesque smirk. We became and still are best friends. Something just clicked into a perfect fit. I tolerated his practical jokes and enjoyed his exhibitionism and it didn't bother him that the person sneaking out of my room in the wee hours of the morning was a guy as often as not.

It was his idea that we find something off-campus for that summer and our sophomore year. We ended up in sharing a bedroom in an apartment complex that catered to the college. That bedroom was bigger that some apartments I've had since. The high point of our sophomore year was the two weeks after spring break when he was broke and scraping by on peanut-butter and jelly or toasted cheese sandwiches. I'd offered to give him money for food but he said he'd make do. He got so constipated three days before payday that he asked me if I had any Exlax. I said "No, but I have an enema kit." I gave it to him and after reading the instructions he asked me to help him with. So I told him to get undressed and join me in the front bathroom.

By the time I had the water temperature right and the bag filled, he had snuck in and closed the door. I turned around and there was the butt that had tormented me for the better part of two years. Not only was it bare, but it was spread and begging me to shove something up it. My dick went from flaccid to totally erect in about one second, which really hurt as I was wearing a pair of 501's that were a size small. It hurt even worse when I took a dab of Vaseline and smeared it on that rosebud pucker surrounded by damp little pin curls. Somehow he didn't comment on my hyper-ventilation as I pushed some more Vaseline into his resisting sphincter with the tip of my forefinger. Slipping that enema nozzle up that tight opening made me even harder. I managed to get about two quarts up him. Told him the longer he held it the better. Sitting there on the toilet staring at the twin objects of my affection I realized that I am a bit of a masochist. Asked him why he was so determinedly facing the back corner of the tub/shower. He said he had a problem and I asked what it was, he slowly turned around exposing his stiffie in all its glory. I told him that it was a perfectly natural reaction and in no way meant he was queer. That relieved him so much he almost shit the tub. Just to prove to myself that I was just a much a sadist as masochist, I told him we had do it twice more to make sure we had solved his problem. After filling him up for the third time, I told him to wait a few minutes and then he could finish up and clean up.

I walked across the hall to our room, closed the door behind, ripped my 501's open, shoved them and my Jockey shorts down to my ankles, grabbed a dirty t-shirt out of the laundry hamper, took exactly two strokes on my painfully engorged cock and blew one of largest loads of my life into that dirty t-shirt. I came so hard I nearly blacked out and my knees buckled and I ended up kneeling on the floor, gasping like a marathoner at the finish line. I'd barely got my pants fastened when he came walking in toweling his hair.

Thanksgiving Weekend our junior year was the next plateau. He couldn't afford to fly back east twice a year so he always waited for Christmas and I was an orphan by then and had nowhere else to go. This Thanksgiving all his girlfriends were gone and it was just the two of us. T-day we got royally smashed and were talking about this girl we were both dating and getting real hot and bothered. Somewhere along the line someone came up the idea that if he'd blow me first I'd blow him. Well the only problem was every time he even licked the tip of my dick with the tip of his tongue he'd pitch a gagging fit. He did try though, he tried from every angle imaginable but every time his lips got near my dick he'd about choke to death and I would be damned if I was going blow him without getting blown in return. So we ended up jerking each other off. He had no problem kissing me. Man, is he a good kisser! I taught him that a man's nipples are just as sensitive as a woman and I showed him all the pleasures that lips, fingers, teeth and binder clips can bring to a man's tits. As for his dick, it's about six and half inches long and about as thick as my forefinger and index finger combined (I wear a size 13 glove). He was uncut with a dark rose pink head peeking out of a pale caramel foreskin. He was the first uncut guy I had ever played with. As for him, he alternated between admiration and jealously over the fact that he could wrap both hands around my 8+ inches and the tip would still be exposed. We stayed drunk the next three days. Smooching, twisting tit and pounding pud. Never got on to anything more serious and damn near got caught by one of our apartment mates when he came back Sunday afternoon.

January that year we were at some jock party, I'd spent nearly an hour chatting up a psych major before finding out he was there with his girlfriend. So I drifted into the kitchen to refill my beer, there was about ten guys in there including Paul. One guy was bitching about the proctological exam in his recent physical. Paul immediately chimed in about how he had enjoyed his, backing up on the doc's finger as far as he could. Winking at me he went on that getting a good enema also gave him a stiffie. I realized he was enjoying blowing their minds as much as I would've enjoyed blowing their cocks and as the notorious cunt-hound that he was he could get away with saying such things. We were laughing about the expressions on their faces as we walked home later. I was drunken enough to tell him that I had often stood over his bed and admired his bare butt as it stuck out of the blanket he slept naked under, and about how horny giving him that enema had made me. We ended up rolling on the ground, laughing at my confession. After we got up and started on toward home, he said laughingly if I was that desperate and couldn't wake him up that I should feel free to do what ever I wanted to.

It was the first weekend in March. I came home from my part-time job at about 3 a.m. Saturday morning and as I opened the front door. The only light came from the soundless TV, the only noise was the scratch of a stereo needle in the last groove of a record. There were seven people (two apartment mates and five strangers) passed out in various positions around the room and the place was ankle deep in beer and booze bottles. I stood there a moment wishing I hadn't had to go work and miss the party. I put the tone arm in its cradle and turned off the stereo and the TV and groped and stumbled my way back to our bedroom. I closed the door and turned on the lamp on the desk by the door. I glanced at his bed to be sure he was alone and that I could claim my own bed without disturbing someone.

I'd stripped down to Jockeys and socks and was pulling my socks off when I noticed his perfect peach butt sticking out of the folds of that baby blue blanket. I walked over to his bed and stood there gazing down at perfection. I could smell the Jack Daniels on his breath and the Old Spice on his neck, and the unique smell of him. I hadn't even had time to beat off all week between work and school, so as I stood there smelling him and his butt gleaming palely in gloom I felt an abysmal horniness. Something in me snapped that night. I'd spent the previous weekend on the couch so he and one of his girlfriends could use the room. I reached down and shook his shoulder so hard his head flopped back and forth and then I called out his name just about shouting in his ear. All the while his voice was ringing in head "feel free to do what ever you want to..." and all he did was grunt. Just the heat of his body thru that blanket was enough to give me a hardon, and this time without the restraining Levis it fell out the fly of my Jockeys and waved back and forth as if sniffing out its target.I shoved my Jockeys down to my ankles and kicked them toward the laundry hamper. I jerked his blanket down so that only his left foot was covered. I turned to my bed and grabbed the jar of Vaseline from my nightstand drawer. As I turned back I gasped with lost breath at the beauty spread carelessly before me and at the thought of what I was about to do.

His left and lower leg was straight and his right and upper cocked as if mounting some dreamland stair. As I grabbed his right butt cheek to pull it up and out of the way, an almost galvanic shock spread through me almost pushing over brink into orgasm. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blowing my load all over his naked form. When I felt like my normal rabid self once more, I grasped his ass-cheek and exposed that so well remembered rosebud. Another but lesser shock went through me as my finger penetrated its load of Vaseline and made contact with that seemingly incandescent ring of muscle. If anything it was tighter and more resistant than the year before. Yet eventually my finger penetrated into the clinging internal inferno. As I probed deeper and with another finger I discover why the doc's finger and the enema nozzle pleased him so. He has a prostate gland you can't miss and as I stroked it he groaned and moaned in his stupor. His ass squirmed back against my hand of its own volition. The clasping his sphincter on my two fingers almost brought me to orgasm. I had to jerk my fingers from his ass to regain whatever control was left to me. He moaned almost sorrowfully as his empty ass lips puckered and flexed. I grabbed his hip and pulled him over flat on his back and there was that railroad spike dick of his. Suddenly my mouth was as dry as the Sahara and I knew there was only one way to slake my thirst. I knelt between his legs and pried his stiff dick way from his belly to my waiting lips, his precum was strangely bittersweet. As my nose met his pubic hairs I slipped my two fingers back to his anus, which grasped at them like a suckling calf at a teat. It didn't take long with my lips and tongue lavishing attention on his cock and two fingers stroking his prostate like a purring cat to bring him to orgasm. As I lay there with his dick in my mouth and the now relax clasp of his sphincter on my fingers, I was once more aware of the raging hardness of my own cock.Pulling off and out, I grasped his knees and pulled them up and toward his chest until I could grasp his ankles and I pulled them together and pushed them up and down toward his face until his hole was staring back at me. Using one hand to hold his ankles together, I used the other to guide my aching cock to his pucker. At first it was as tight and resisting as ever, then suddenly it was like falling off a cliff until I hit bottom and we both groaned.

I don't think I have ever been in another ass as hot and tight as his. I don't remember whether I fucked him for a minute or an hour. All I know is the sensation was too intense and too brief. I think I passed out briefly. I came too face down in his chest, his legs draped around my waist, listening to a God awful snore. Eventually I was able to pull my still hard dick out and roll him over on his side, which stopped that horrible noise. I snuggled up against his back spoon fashion. As I lay there basking in the heat of body, I realize that not only was I still horny but also slightly chilly. So I pulled up his blanket and covered us both, then I nudged the head of my cock against those gates of paradise once more. Putting my left arm over his left shoulder and under his head for leverage, using my right hand to lift his leg I entered him once more. This time was slower and nicer. If I pinched his tit his ass grasped me one way, if I stroked his dick and pulled back his foreskin and rubbed my thumb over the exposed head his butt would push back against me while his ass would flex wildly around my dick. I hardly had to move all. The last thing I clearly remember was his cock jerking and spitting in my hand and the flexing of his ass in orgasm.

The next thing I remember is the warmth of a butt against my belly and clasp of firm thighs on my hard dick. Then like the click of a light switch I remember whose butt, thighs, and bed. Sunlight was beating relentlessly against the curtains and before I can move a muscle he rolls away from me and into a sitting position on the edge. I lay there paralyzed with fear. My mind chasing itself in circles of "He hates me, he's gonna kill me, he's gonna call the cops, he's gonna get me kicked out of school!" He looked over his shoulder at me and grinned and then twisting around and down suddenly he kissed me on the lips. As he kissed me his free hand grabbed my still hard dick and gave it a couple quick jerks.

As he broke the kiss he said "It looks like someone needs to beat off." Then Paul stumbled to his feet, grabbed a towel and was out the door. We didn't talk about that morning for quite a while, although that wasn't the last time we woke up like that!

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