Monday, September 28, 2015

Man of Black and White (Rd 2)

Round 2 

Many in the audience were impressed by this powerful man. He had totally dominated the circuit since his arrival by brutally beating down opponents with his massive arms and fists. But most of the fans despised him. Even though his superior strength and size were more than enough to defeat inferior wrestlers, he would always pummel them with a metal chair when they were prone and defenseless on the mat. After he got bored with that he would finally pin and put them out of their misery. His brutality offended a majority of the crowd and they booed him loudly, as he stood in the ring dressed in his size 14 boots with full length black tights tucked inside, and flexed his powerful bare chest while sneering at the audience. 

The bell rang and Hodges sprang from his stool. He took a flying leap at Khan and drove both feet into the man's chest. The force of the blow sent the giant against the ropes, where he teetered over the top rope before falling to the floor below, crashing face down with a mighty thud. Now Hodges ran towards Bucksaw and immediately got him in the ankle lock once again. The lumberjack tried to hold on, waiting and hoping for his partner to rescue him, as Hodges expertly twisted the ankle more and more. Screaming in agony, Bucksaw raised his hand to bang the mat and signal his submission when suddenly the ankle lock was released - the result of Khan having re-entered the ring to viciously whack Hodges across his broad back with a metal ringside chair. 

The fans screamed in protest. Why wasn't Khan being disqualified and Hodges declared the winner? The referee silently stood in the corner and watched what was happening, but made no effort to interfere. Even though Jimmy frantically paced the floor and pleaded with the referee to disqualify Khan, the official merely smiled at him and shook his head. 

Dick Hodges lay chest down in the center of the ring. He groggily pressed with the arms to lift his torso and rise to all fours, while Khan tossed the chair aside and ran towards the ropes. He bounced off them and headed for Hodges in a full sprint. Lifting his right leg on the final step, he planted the instep of his size 14 boot into Hodges' rib cage, a blow which sent the dazed wrestler three feet into the air and rolling towards the corner, coming to rest on his back. 

Now Khan stalked the prone man, grabbing both of his ankles and dragging him into the corner. Lifting Hodges up by the ankles, Khan draped the man's legs over the top rope, bending his knees over the rope on either side of the turnbuckle. Now he crossed and locked Hodges' ankles together, tucking them under a three foot long, woven steel cable. This cable horizontally connected the turnbuckle to its corresponding vertical steel post, one of four that supported the ring from the floor below. Hodges was now trapped. He was suspended upside down inside the corner of the ring, facing the center with his head six inches from the mat and forearms resting on it. He reached for the bottom rope one hand at a time and began to pull himself up, but Khan, who had left the ring and now was on the floor by the steel ring post, quickly grabbed Hodges' wrists and pulled the arms straight back towards the post, stretching them under the bottom rope outside the corner of the ring. 

Now it appeared as though Hodges was vertically frozen in a mid-air hand-spring flip. His arms were bent at the elbows and pulled back at the same angle of his legs, which were bent at the knees. His forearms and shins were all turned upwards towards the ceiling of the arena. Khan held the wrists close together, causing Hodges deltoids and laterals to expand and form an inverted "V" shape from the black trunks to his bushy armpits. His back was arched, as it was pressed against the padding of the bottom and middle turnbuckles, while his chest and abdomen jutted out towards the center of the ring, hopelessly vulnerable to attack. 

Bucksaw was still hobbling around the ring, but soon approached the suspended man and planted the gridded sole of his right logger boot into the center of Hodges' chest. The devastating kick drove the air out of the wrestler's lungs and left an imprint on his sternum. Khan continued to pull harder on Hodges' arms, forcing his back to arch and chest to protrude more and more. 

The fans screamed for the referee to stop the match. By the rules, Khan should have been counted out for being outside of the ropes for more than ten seconds, but this referee continued to stand in the distant corner, oblivious to the illegal tactics being used on the helpless wrestler. Jimmy also relentlessly pleaded with the referee to do his job and count out the Mongolian, but his protests fell on deaf ears. The audience members were beginning to suspect that some sort of arrangement had been made prior to the beginning of the match, while Jimmy was sure of it, for no other reason could explain this referee's blatant disregard for the rules. 

Khan pulled with all his might and Hodges groaned in agony, flexing his torso to prepare for the next assault. Bucksaw's ankle was now fully recovered and he lumbered over to the opposite corner, turned to face Hodges, then ran at full sprint towards the bound man. Gaining speed, Bucksaw came at him like a freight train and leaped into the air to deliver a devastating drop kick with both logger boots, one crashing into Hodges' chest and the other pulverizing his stomach. This caused a spray of saliva to spew from his mouth, as the air was pounded out of him. Now Bucksaw stood before the poor man and lifted his right boot, then repeatedly pounded Hodges' chest, stomach and belly with the sole of his logger boot. One devastating stomp after another rained on the helpless man's exposed chest and abdominal muscles, as Hodges groaned and grunted from this brutal punishment. Little red circles began to cover the front of Hodges' torso, imprints left behind from the thick sole of the gridded logger boot driving into his exposed chest and gut. 

Finally, Khan released Hodges' wrists and left him hanging there upside down, desperately gasping for air. He lifted his arms and rubbed his aching chest with one hand and pulverized belly with the other. 

As Khan stepped up to join his partner in the center of the ring, both men pointed to the helpless victim in the corner and started to laugh. These two brutes taunted their dazed opponent, while also teasing the crowd by raising their hands in victory as though the round was already over.

Jimmy jumped up to the ring outside the ropes and attempted to release Hodges' feet from underneath the steel cable securing them, but Bucksaw quickly moved toward him and planted a fist in the center of Jimmy's forehead, sending him back down to the floor, flat on his back. 

Then Bucksaw reached over and unlocked Hodges ankles, allowing him to tumble to the mat, where he lay chest down groaning in pain. Khan joined his partner and picked Hodges up by his armpits to a standing position. Soon he had the crook of the wrestler's elbows locked with his. Placing his forearms into the small of Hodges' back, Khan locked his wrists together and pulled back the victim's arms, forcing his chest and abdomen to push forward. Now Hodges' was held in the classic position, primed for a series of gut punches. 

Bucksaw placed his left hand on Hodges' chest and began the assault. He drove his fist into the stomach, just under the rib cage. Hodges had tightened the muscles there with all his might and the fist was received with a dull thud, causing Bucksaw's knuckles to feel like they had hit a brick wall. 

Unfazed, he resumed the pounding, driving his fist into Hodges' mid-section again and again, working his way from the stomach down towards the navel inches at a time. Now he grabbed the rim of Hodges' trunks with his left hand and pulled the torso towards him, simultaneously delivering a punch with his right hand aimed directly at the man's belly button. He continued pounding Hodges' lower abdomen with repeated rights, while Khan pulled the victim's arms back with painful effect. 

Hodges was slowly succumbing to these devastating punches. The only way he could defend himself was with the powerful muscles in his abdominal cavity, but they were slowly breaking down. The deep sounding thuds that accompanied each punch to his guts were now being joined by breath-heavy grunts, ooghs and ughs, so Bucksaw intensified the attack by including left hooks in his arsenal. He alternated right upper cuts to the pit of the man's stomach, followed by a left to the kidney and another right in the vicinity of the navel. Manly grunts echoed from the ring, as Hodges withstood a relentless flurry of blows to his exposed gut. 

After pausing to catch the breath and admire his work, Bucksaw bolted for the far ropes, bounced off them and returned towards his victim. He leaped into the air and planted both boots into Hodges' mid-section with another flying drop kick. A huge wad of spit shot from the poor man's mouth as every ounce of air was driven out of him. Khan finally released the arms and Hodges fell to his knees with both hands clutching the belly, then lingered for several seconds before collapsing chest down onto the mat. 

Again the hulks teased the audience. They pointed to Dick Hodges and laughed at him, ridiculing the man in front of his screaming fans. Scattered amidst the crowd were a few clapping hands and cheers, but nobody heard them. The vast majority was yelling at the referee, begging for him to do something. 

Bucksaw and Khan probably could have pinned Hodges then and there, but they were not finished with him. Now it was Khan's turn. Bucksaw prepared Hodges for the next punishment by placing the crook of his elbows under the man's armpits. Locking his hands behind Hodges' head, he now secured him in a full-nelson, then rolled over onto his back and brought Hodges with him. Next, he brought his ankles from either side, placed them over the tops of Hodges' and effectively pinned the man's legs to the floor between his own. 

Dick Hodges was held in a full-nelson while lying on top of the massive lumberjack. His chest rose high into the air as his arms, which together with his shoulders formed a "U" shape, were pulled down towards the mat. 

Khan retrieved the chair that had begun Hodges' downfall and - after folding the metal seat to a closed position, he approached the helpless victim, raised the chair high over his head and slammed it down across Hodges' protruding chest with a tremendous blow. As Hodges howled in unholy pain, Khan turned to the audience and taunted them, pointing to the stricken man as a way to further belittle their fallen hero. 

Some in the crowd were enjoying this spectacle and they cheered the mighty Khan, which caused small skirmishes to break out in the audience. The majority still wanted the beatings to stop and were outraged as to why anyone would be applauding the antics of these two monsters. Sure, there had been rule-breakers who had punished journeymen wrestlers before - jobbers they're called, but they were nobodies and the brutality had never reached this level. This was the number one good guy in the entire stable of wrestlers. How could it be that these men were being allowed to totally destroy him, with no sense of fair play nor an official who would enforce the rules? The fans were puzzled and beginning to fragment between those loyalists who loved Dick Hodges and those new to the sport who wanted something more exciting. With the outcome of the match still in doubt, the traditionalists held the majority, but little by little their numbers were dwindling. 

Khan turned back to his victim and straddled him by planting his size 14 boots on either side of Hodges' hips. Holding the chair by its legs, he scrutinized the powerful chest and belly stretched and defenseless before him, then raised the chair and drove the edge of its seat back into Hodges' flattened abdominal muscles. He brought the chair up and down again and again, pounding Hodges from the pit of his stomach down to his belly and back again. Spit was spraying from Hodges' mouth like a fountain each time the seat back was driven into him and he let out a guttural grunt with each blow, as oxygen was crushed out of him as quickly as he could breath it in. 

Kruil Li Khan was not yet finished pulverizing the helpless wrestler. He reversed grip on the chair and held the seat back with one hand. Using his free hand, Khan grabbed Hodges' trunks and lowered them to just above the pubic hair, then partially unfolded the chair to make the feet six inches apart. Placing two of the feet into Hodges' middle section, he began to lean on the chair. Now they were grinding into Hodges' abdominal muscles - one foot below the man's navel, the other in the pit of his stomach. His mighty chest expanded, while Bucksaw pulled down on his arms to further arch the back and stretch the abdominals. 

Hodges sucked in and tightened his belly with every ounce of strength he could summon, desperately trying to withstand this horrific punishment. The groaning of the man was a pitiful sound, as he strained against Bucksaw's firmly clamped full-nelson and raised his head with lower jaw jutting forward. Gazing past his heaving chest, Hodges looked down to the sight of his own torture. He and his powerful belly muscles were locked in a battle against the feet of the chair, as Khan ruthlessly drove them deep into him like impaling stakes. 

Soon, tiny lines of blood began to trickle from the corners of his twisted mouth. The grinding feet of the chair were slowly crushing his stomach and the organs in his belly. Seeing this, the giant raised the chair embedded into the man's muscles and tossed it to the mat. He gazed at the audience to see and hear a few cheering and applauding these antics, but most were shaking their fists at him and demanding that he stop torturing the poor man. 

Khan knelt to the mat and positioned himself beside Hodges' abdomen. He stared at every line of the stretched muscles he had just ground to a pulp, while the helpless wrestler's chest and diaphragm rapidly rose and fell. He struggled to take in fresh oxygen in an attempt to bring renewed strength to his pulverized belly, then turned his head to find Jimmy standing at ringside. 

With Khan on the far side from him, Jimmy had a full profile view of his helpless hero's tormented body, as it strained against the torturous stretching of the full nelson. He saw the line of Hodges' abdomen quickly and repeatedly rise and fall, noting at how It was caved in to such an extent that the massive, expanded chest cavity appeared to be miles higher than the belly itself. Add to this the drama of his muscular body gallantly struggling to escape the full nelson and Jimmy was mesmerized by the scene. 

He marveled at the incredible power of the man, but at the same time was devastated by the sight of his hero's suffering. He so dearly respected and admired Dick Hodges, not only for his masculine strength and athletic skills, but also for his unwavering commitment to the sport they both loved, that Jimmy's eyes moistened, his face consumed with anguish. 

With head turned, Dick Hodges cast his eyes upon his devoted assistant, and in a thoughtful gesture to console him, flashed a smile, coupled with a reassuring wink. This strengthened Jimmy and he resumed his attempts to persuade the useless referee to do his duty, but the fool made no moves to disqualify these two henchmen. 

Just then Khan raised his arms high and formed two claws with his gigantic hands. He brought them down full bore onto Dick Hodges' belly and clamped on the abdominal claw. Hodges writhed in agony from this devastating hold. Few men had survived its paralyzing punishment under normal circumstances, but now Dick Hodges was forced to endure this agony with his arms and legs hopelessly pinned, chest raised high in the air and exposed abdominal muscles stretched, flattened and relentlessly ground to a pulp. 

The hero let out a manly groan with each exhale, as Khan ruthlessly clutched his 10 powerful fingers into his flattened abdominals. Hodges clenched his teeth and raised his head to witness the grinding punishment. 

Staring him down with an evil grin, Khan told the struggling man to submit, but Hodges shook his head side to side, as he groaned and grunted with lower jaw jutting forward in defiance. Khan then raised up on his haunches to increase the leverage, driving his fingers deeper into the poor man's belly muscles. He again demanded a submission, but Hodges held on with all his strength. 

Illegal in almost every circuit (including Chicago - not that it mattered), the abdominal claw renders a man nearly lifeless. By attacking the muscles and nerve endings, a form of paralysis sets in, as the metabolism slows and organs begin to nearly stop functioning. The longer such an attack is sustained upon a man, the further his body becomes defenseless - that is if he merely lies flat on his back to withstand the punishment. The belly of Dick Hodges was in a far worse predicament and position of vulnerability, but still he somehow was able to maintain enough strength to flex his muscles in defense. This caused his mighty chest to expand and rise even higher into the air. The sight of this poor man's struggle was somehow both tragic and beautiful. He alternated his gaze, first looking to his tortured belly, then to the referee and Jimmy, then to different areas of the audience. 

A few were cheering their approval of these tactics, while others seemed indifferent. A few cried - both men and women. It was painful for them to see their mighty hero's manly body punished in such an unjust manner. This man was the ultimate design of masculine strength and beauty, yet they were forced to watch as he was relentlessly beaten to a pulp - ruthlessly tortured before their very eyes. To them, this was not wrestling, but the unwarranted, undignified destruction of a magnificent athlete. They could not understand why nobody was willing to help him - why there was no one to stop this two-against-one torture in the center of the ring. 

What they did not realize was that they were witnessing a rebirth of the sport. Just as surely as the fingers of Khan were slowly grinding the life out of Dick Hodges, so too was the life being drained from the scientific and legitimate sport of professional wrestling. As the outrageous, illegal assault continued to wear him down, this final bastion of pure wrestling techniques began to realize the outcome was unavoidable - his defeat inevitable - but not yet. 

Despite the odds stacked against him, he silently vowed that as long as there was one ounce of strength remaining in his tortured body, he would never give in to them. They would be forced to beat him down until he could no longer move any muscle in defense. Until then, Dick Hodges was fully prepared to withstand any form of punishment they cared to dish out.

With newly-found resolve, Hodges turned his head, glared at Khan, and shot a wad of spit directly into his face. A bulls eye! 

Immediately, Khan released the abdominal claw and stood in a rage, wiping the offensive saliva away from his eyes. Then, seeking revenge, he schemed for a new attack. 
As Hodges relaxed his belly and continued gasping for air, Khan placed his hands onto the elevated chest of his victim, raised his legs in a handstand and brought both knees down into Hodges' abdomen. 

The hapless wrestler grunted with a loud, echoing "UGH," as the air once again was driven out of him. The first blow had caught him off guard, knees plowing into his belly while his muscles were relaxed and innards unprotected. For the next, Hodges flexed in defense, as Khan unleashed a repeated attack by raising his legs again and again, bringing both knees down repeatedly into the stretched muscle.

Soon, the spit spewing from the mouth of Dick Hodges had a reddish tint, as blood intermingled with saliva to produce a pinkish spray. 

Something inexplicable happened with many in the crowd when they saw these fountains. They forgot that they had come to the arena to see a wrestling match. Many more of them now had become excited by the violence, the savage assault and resulting blood being spewed up in the center of the ring. The audience began to count as Khan's knee-drops ruthlessly pounded the man's belly to hamburger: seven... eight... nine... ten! 

The increased bleeding from the corners of Dick Hodges' mouth sent much of the crowd into a frenzy. These were the ones who had suspected for years that wrestling was fixed, but weren't quite certain of it - until now. Those fans were slowly becoming caught up in the violence - the brutality of the spectacle and they rushed closer to the ring, trying to get a better look at the relentless torture of Dick Hodges.

Some of the other fans tried to pull them back, but the audience was now split about 50-50 between those who were upset and those who were loving this drama.
Bigger skirmishes broke out as the people fought over who was right, and Khan, who sensed that things might get out of control, removed his hands from Dick Hodges' heaving chest and stopped his attack. 

Khan stood gazing down at his pitiful victim, and then, he stepped up onto Hodges middle section. With both feet he stood, his full weight crushing down. 

Hodges strained his arms and expanded his chest, while tightening his muscles in a valiant attempt to withstand the incredible load bearing down on him. His amazing strength caused his abdominal cavity to lift Khan's body up a few inches with his every tormented breath of air.

More and more people began to cheer the spectacle. One by one, they realized that this drama was no longer centered around who was the better man, but how the intense scene might play out. Good versus evil - athletic skills and masculine prowess versus illegal tactics and brute force - who would prevail? Because they no longer were concerned with what was right and what was wrong, they threw their support to the brutal duo. It stimulated them to see one man at the mercy of two and they urged the thugs to inflict more punishment to the stricken wrestler. 

As Khan raised his arms in triumph, he looked down and nodded to the lumberjack. He was finally ready to put the finishing touches to whatever was left of the man beneath his boots. 

Khan stepped off Hodges' belly, then Bucksaw rolled over on top, released Hodges from the full nelson and left him lying there face down. They both began mercilessly stomping on his back, until Khan poked his foot under Hodges' arm pit and rolled the beaten man face up and spread-eagle. Bucksaw stood on Hodges' chest. Khan stood on his belly. They both flexed their muscles to the crowd, as the referee counted very slowly: one...... two...... three. The bell rang. Round 2 had ended. 

Round 3 in a week

Saturday, September 26, 2015

Man of Black and White

Originally titled Challenge Match on the Jardonn's Erotic Tales web site.

written by Jardonn 

posted here by rounds

Round 1 -- The Match is Made 

Dick Hodges was a dying breed. He had wrestled in all the smaller circuits, year by year moving up the ladder towards the big time. It had now been four years since he had made it - Chicago - the Mecca of all professional wrestlers. Not only was the National Guard Armory Arena packed every Friday and Saturday night, but the television broadcasts were beamed to thousands and tapes of the action were sent to stations all over the country. 

Despite being the most popular wrestler on the circuit - and therefore the owner's favorite, Hodges was unhappy. The game was changing right before his eyes. Bad guys were getting away with more and more every week. Sure there had always been cheating, but now they were going way beyond the unspoken boundaries. Illegal devices were being brought into the ring, ringside chairs were being used to knock opponents out and double teaming was seen with increasing frequency. All of this was being done in full view of the referees, but cheaters were being declared the winners despite these dirty tactics. 

Hodges had complained to the owner many times, but the answer was always the same. He claimed that many in the audience enjoyed the violence and that since they helped pay the salaries same as the traditional fans did, there was no harm in allowing that other segment their jollies every now and then, too. The motto has always been "give 'em what they want." 

Dick Hodges felt he was becoming a dinosaur. He still believed that true wrestling skills and playing by the rules would always win out and he was going to prove it. Knowing that the owner would be in Europe for a few days to sell his product to TV stations there, Hodges issued a challenge on the Friday night broadcast. He picked the three dirtiest players for a "loser leaves town" match. 

Saturday night he would face them in a best two out of three rounds challenge event. The first round would pit Hodges against one of them while the other two remained in the locker room. In round two a second man would join the first and face him two against one. If a third round were necessary, Hodges would take on all three in the ring at once. Each round was to be determined by pin-fall or submission and there would be no time limit to any round.

The bad guys jumped at this opportunity, because Hodges was the final bastion of scientific wrestling left standing between them and total domination of the Chicago circuit. The owner had always told them they could do what they wanted to any of his wrestlers, but Dick Hodges was off limits. With the owner out of town, they saw this as their best opportunity to get rid of the golden boy for good by any means necessary. Contracts were signed on the Friday live broadcast and the four men actually shook hands on the agreement. 

So the match was set. It was to lead off the popular two-hour, Saturday night "Wrestling at the Armory" broadcast and even if it took the entire time to do it, this contest would determine the future of pro wrestling. 

Dick Hodges was greeted with wild enthusiasm as his name was announced to the audience packing the arena. He bounded down the aisle and entered the ring to a hero's welcome. He removed his black robe and unwrapped the white towel from his neck, handing them to Jimmy, his ringside assistant. Now he stood before his adoring fans with arms raised, his ankle-length black lace-up boots and black trunks set just below the navel perfectly defining his traditional style. Hodges' muscular and well-defined upper torso, arms and legs glowed in the bright lights illuminating the ring. 

Next, the MC announced the first opponent and Bucksaw Jones lumbered down the aisle. A scattering of cheers and applause was quickly drowned by a din of boos and hisses. He stood in the ring with hands on hips, his 6'7" 270 pound frame towering over the crowd. Fitting with his lumberjack image, he was dressed in a flannel shirt with sleeves torn away and baggy Levi's tucked into knee-length logger boots. His massive arms and chest were the perfect build for beating down his opponents and the illegal logger boots were his secret weapon, stomping and kicking victims on his way to victory. 

The bell sounded and match began. Hodges moved in fast, knowing he needed to finish Bucksaw quickly and save his strength for Round 2. Dipping to one knee, he grabbed one of the legs and moved behind the hulk, who was as slow as a turtle and possessed no wrestling skills whatsoever. 
Bucksaw soon found himself face down on the mat with his left leg clamped in an ankle lock and even though this joint was protected by the thick leather of his logger boots, the skill with which Hodges executed the hold caused Bucksaw to scream in pain. With the ankle leveraged against his forearm, Hodges could have broken Bucksaw's ankle at any time, but he was not the type of man to use his skills for such things. That was not his purpose. Instead, he intended to create enough pain to cause his opponent to forfeit the round by submission, which happened in less than thirty seconds. Bucksaw pounded his meaty hand on the mat and begged the referee to end his suffering. Round 1 lasted a total of 53 seconds, with Hodges declared the winner by submission. 

It was always Hodges' custom to rest on a stool in his corner between rounds and the duty of assisting him had been given to a young man he had met early in his career. Jimmy was a fan of Dick Hodges dating back to the days when his professional career began in Enid, Oklahoma. He had written countless letters to his hero and when their meeting finally took place, Jimmy begged Hodges to let him be his ring boy, securing the star's robe before the matches and setting up the stool in multiple-round events. 

Hodges had agreed to this, paying Jimmy a small percentage of his salary for this assistance and from that day on, Jimmy had followed him up the ladder of success. Now, with Hodges making good money, Jimmy's loyalty was rewarded with the same percentage of the much larger salary. After all this time, he still was devoted to the man and they maintained a very close friendship, with Jimmy taking care of all the equipment, traveling with the wrestler to every town on the Chicago circuit and acting as a sort of "buffer" between Hodges and some of his overly enthusiastic fans. 

Over the years, Jimmy had read countless library books and magazine articles relating to the anatomy of the body human, so he was quite skilled in helping Hodges to not only maintain, but also nurse the muscles, tendons and ligaments back to health. This he did both in the locker room after a match had ended and sometimes at the wrestler's home or motel room before time to arrive for the next contest, plus in between rounds whether it was needed or not. 

As Hodges sat awaiting Round 2, Jimmy rubbed and squeezed the wrestler's trapezoids, while Bucksaw angrily paced in the opposite corner, trying to walk off the pain in his ankle. 

Then the Master of Ceremonies made the announcement. "Ladies and gentlemen, now entering the ring, standing over seven feet tall and weighing in at 325 pounds, the Mongolian Giant, Kruil Li Khan!" 

Round two will be posted in two days.

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Shoot the Galoot

originally titled Perfect Timing on the Jardonn's Erotic Tales web site

written by Jardonn Smith

Joey Scimeca was a big guy. Big, strong and stupid. It wasn't like he was mental of nothin'. It's just 'cause he never learned from his fuck-ups. 

See, Joey was a two-faced back-stabber. No matter how many times fellas in the neighborhood would try to help him out, he'd screw 'em over when they wasn't lookin'. 

For example: One time Joey's hard up for cash and can't pay his rent, so this guy gets him a job workin' at his brother-in-law's meat market. Two days later, 'bout 50 pounds of beef comes up missin'. Sure enough, when the fellas busted into Joey's apartment, there's the meat scattered all over in the front room, just rottin' and smellin' up the place. He didn't even want the shit. He just took it 'cause that's the way he was. 

So, we'd always have to take him somewhere and beat the crap out of him. But did he ever learn? Hell, no. He'd just start hangin' with some new pals and do the same thing to them. He even did about six months inside Ellsworth for some petty bullshit, I can't even remember what. But did he learn? Must have learned enough to keep from takin' a shank or gettin' his salad tossed. Or maybe not on the second part. Hell, I dunno. All I know is, back on the outside, back to the same old Joey.

The cops weren't really surprised when they found Joey dead, 'cause of his reputation and all. What did kinda get to 'em was how they found him. These detectives were hard-nosed dicks who thought they'd seen it all, but findin' Joey like he was, well, I guess it kinda turned their guts inside out. 

Joey got to hangin' with some hoods up north of here, seein' is how he used up all his credit with us. He hooked up with this guy called Eddie Rosario, who was runnin' some sorta underground slot machine racket up there.

Well, this Rosario didn't really know Joey Scimeca, and Joey sure as hell didn't know him, not good enough anyway. The guy asks Joey to watch his girlfriend for a coupla hours like a bodyguard type deal, while he and his pals goes to make some collections. 

Naturally, Joey starts hittin' on her for a piece of ass and when she ain't willin' to give it up, he beats the shit out of her and takes it anyway.

Didn't take long for Rosario and a few buddies to come into our neck of the woods to drag Joey away. You think we was gonna save his silly ass? No fuckin' way. We figured they'd just beat him up real good like we always done to him and that'd be the end of it. 

They took him out to the end of Murfreesboro Road, where one of 'em's got an uncle with a tire warehouse and no alarms. Once they got him inside there, they took turns holdin' back his arms and punchin' him all over his belly and chest, 'til they knew he wouldn't fight back no more. There's about 12 of 'em takin' turns workin' him over, while Rosario stands back to watch. After they's done, he tells 'em to strip Joey and take him over to this big work bench they got in there that's about three feet tall. So, they get him all naked and layin' on top of this bench, then they tie up his hands and feets with ropes. 

He's layin' face up on top of this bench with no clothes on. His arms's stretched past his head and his head's right at the end of the bench. They tie his wrists together and knot the ends of the ropes back to the legs of the work bench, so his arms's kinda pulled down below where his head is and his back's raised off the table a bit and chest stickin' up in the air.  

This bench's about four feet long, so Joey's legs're bent at the knees and they tie his ankles to the legs holdin' up that end of the bench.

There he is all stretched out and naked, waitin' to see what Rosario's got in mind as far as revenge. Joey had a helluva body. I seen it before when we's at the swimmin' beach. His chest's all thick and solid, and his belly's tapered down to the waist with real heavy lines of muscle that look strong as shit. He didn't try to be that way. He's just born with it I guess. 

The first thing they do is bring out Rosario's woman. She starts slappin' and punchin' on him, then took her nails and scratched the shit outta his face. Kinda made him look like her. After she finally wears herself out gettin' even, Rosario takes over. 

He has 'em all get some tire irons and start wailin' on Joey. Guess they cracked about every rib in him and turned that hard midsection of his into a bowl of mush. Rosario just stands there watchin' and listenin' to poor Joey grunt and groan. Guess he never did cry out or beg 'em to stop or nothin'. Don't know if it's 'cause he's too stupid or just didn't give a fuck no more. 

After Rosario gets satisfied, he brings over this chick he knows that works the streets. He gives her a few bills and tells her to start suckin' Joey's dick. He's beat all to hell and probably bleedin' inside out, but the big guy gets his cock hard real fast. Guess that whore really knew how to work it.

Anyways, while she's gettin' Joey off, Rosario leans over and whispers somethin' in the cock sucker's ear. She keeps on blowin' him while Joey's cryin' out like a bitch. Whether it's from the bj or the beaten he'd took or both, I couldn't tell ya.

Bottom line is that just as Joey's about to shoot his load, the chick takes him outta her mouth and Rosario pulls out this little pistol, like a Beretta Tomcat or somethin', I dunno. Joey shoots his wad just as a bullet's goin' through his cock. Blood and jizz spew out the end of his dick at the same time, which's gotta be one helluva thing to see. 

That's when Rosario tells his boys to start cuttin' him up. They all pull out their blades and go to work slicin' Joey to pieces. They don't do his face, 'cause Rosario wants the cops to see who he is. Don't do his cock or nuts or what's left of 'em neither, but everything else gets cut up real good. 

That's how they left him. Then, they come over here to tell us all about it. Every bit of every minute of what they done to Joey, like we're supposed to believe this shit really happened... then again, puttin' what Rosario said with what the cops said, I gotta bad feeling Joey got all that done to him for real. 

Anyways, Eddie Rosario comes struttin' over to us like some macho man, actin' like he's wantin' to start somethin' up with us. We just stand there listenin' to him, while he's slobberin' from givin' us all the details. Talkin' like a real hot shit smart ass, darin' us to do somethin' about it.

Know what we tell him? 

We say, "Thanks. We shoulda done it ourselves long time ago. Now, get your fuckin' ass outta here. Next time we see you on our turf we'll do all of you's like what you's done to Joey."

Cops ain't ever gonna solve this one, 'cause they don't give a shit any more'n anybody else. Guess I used to feel sorry for Joey when he'd get beat up and all, but that's a long time ago. Fucked up shit like that happens 'cause it's supposed to. Ain't nothin' I can do about it. 

Monday, September 7, 2015

Screw Him (3)

Part Three

My boobs sprang to life, enjoying the fresh air as Brenda and Suzie removed the tape binding them. 

“Brenda and Mike-come-Michelle,” Suzie chirped. “Such a lovely pair. I think in this particular case my husband deserves some special treatment. Would you object to a bit of oil with your wrestling?” Waiting for Brenda and me to greedily nod in agreement, Suzie continued. “I tried this once before on him. Slicked him up so he could play like he was a chained muscle man. You know, like in those Italian Hercules movies. Then I jumped on his bone and screwed him senseless.” 

Our excited expressions became much more animated, and soon Eddie was besieged by three naked females descending the stairs. He didn't see us. Hadn't moved much, but was rolled over pretending his escape by slowly slithering on his belly. Too weak to stand and run. 

Suzie commanded, “Seize him!” and we made a dash for his ankles, grabbed and held them while he clawed at the mat trying to get away. “Now, turn him over and rack him.” 

A stretch rack -- not a kick-in-the-groin rack. Brenda grasped his ankles and I his wrists. We rolled him, pulled his limbs in opposite directions while kneeling at opposite ends of him, and awaited Suzie's next move. 

With a handful of towels and bottle of oil, Suzie dropped her buttocks onto his stomach and spoke sweetly. “Eddie, darling, I appreciate your gesture, but Brenda and I won't be available. We have a play to attend here in town Saturday night, and wouldn't miss it for the world. Perhaps you and Michelle can get tickets and join us. Doesn't that sound like fun?”

Finally, Eddie opened his eyes. My boobs hovering above his face brought an instant reaction. "Holy crap! Mike's a..  uh..." 

"Mike is a Michelle," his wife finished his sentence for him. 

"Hello, Eddie," I reintroduced myself with a smirk on my face and a wiggle of my boobies. "It's a brand new pleasure to meet you." 

Eddie's laughter was so raucous, his jiggling belly bounced Suzie up and down with it. 

"So, Eddie," his wife got him back on subject. "Wouldn't you prefer to cancel your NYC weekend and come to the local play with Brenda and me?"

"No, no, no," he guffawed, looking at his wife, and then again at me. "You two go on ahead. Mike... er, Michelle and I will go to New York and fornicate in the hotel room." 

“Very funny, smart guy.” Suzie flipped open the bottle, turned her head and spoke to Brenda. “Get rid of that jock strap.” While Brenda stripped him, Suzie slathered his chest with oil. 

He watched her a few seconds, recognized the play and got into character. “Evil woman, what are you doing to me?” 

Her right hand spread the oil while her left tipped the bottle, adding more. “We're going to work you over good, mister. Punish you until you change your mind. When we're finished with you, you will gladly accompany us to our theater.” 

“Ha! Do your worst,” he scoffed, hamming it up as any bound bodybuilder-trying-to-be-a-serious-actor would. “You will never break me down.” 

“May be, but we will wear you out.” With that, she raised off of him, dried her hands and moved to his feet. Clasping his ankles, she nodded to me. “Now, stretch him.” We pulled him in opposite directions. “Brenda, take him. He's all yours.”

My Brenda flipped the bottle lid, stood straddling his flanks so he could see her, dripped oil first onto his belly and then all over her breasts. After a giant squirt between them, she dropped the bottle and erotically slicked her front side, fondling her breasts, fiddling with her nipples, catching tributaries running down her stomach and painting herself a glossy sheen. 

Between her legs, I spotted Eddie's penis. A glorious tool, fully rigid and bouncing on his belly. Like the rest of him, Eddie's cock was a solid build, thick and powerful, nearly two inches of diameter and six of length, with a gigantic helmet. The rim of his corona surely surpassed two inches around, and in its surging excitement its flesh pulsated a bold color of purplish-red.

“Oh, you pitiful, tortured man,” Brenda moaned, dropping to her knees and covering him chest to chest. Her oil-slicked titties slithered along his stretched pectorals and greasy fur. “Why do you make us punish you this way?” She smothered his mouth before he could answer, her jaw wide open, her tongue invading his throat, while at their middle her spread-apart labia wedged his hard penis between her walls. Her juices flowing, she lubricated his peter, thrusting her pelvis to and fro and gliding her hot vagina the length of his throbbing cock. 

She slid her greasy hands under his shoulders. Squeezed her breasts against him while smothering him with kisses. Their chests made squishing sounds, mouths made slurping sounds, as her pelvic undulations manipulated his cock head to target her clitoris. 

“Oh,” she moaned upon feeling his power.

“Ugh,” he grunted as she took him deeper. Raising off of him, she straddled him with her knees, her upper torso vertical, and slowly impaled herself with his mighty tool. 

“What will you do now, tough guy?” I asked Eddie while gazing into the ecstatic eyes of my Brenda. Peering around her, I saw Suzie lay on her side atop his shins, pinning his legs as her fingers deep-massaged his manly, fur-topped feet. 

I continued my taunting. “Here you are. Stripped of everything.” I let go his wrists, replacing my hands with my shins to pin him while kneeling. “Stretched on the rack.” My twat hovered above his face. “It's three against one. No escape. You are completely at our mercy. How will you survive it?”

He couldn't answer because my dripping vagina covered his mouth. Drowned, stretched and screwed, our tortured hero invaded me with his tongue. Found my clittie and attacked, while Brenda punished his penis with her crunching, vaginal muscles. Inside her wet velvet she enveloped him, clipping her little peter against his massive, hammer-head corona. My hands assaulted his oiled chest; Brenda's his flattened belly; Suzie his writhing feet. Our man took what was given him, and we used him to satisfy ourselves. With my weight I bore down on him, my taint pressing his nose, my vagina smothering his mouth. His talented tongue brutalized my clitoris with wet scraping. Brenda brutalized herself with his fat, juicy cock, bumping her clittie with his helmet, crushing his diameter with her vaginal muscles. Increasing the pace of her ride up and down his glorious pole, her eyes glazed, and knowing her time was near, I leaned forward so I could put my hands on her breasts. Stimulated her nipples with my thumbs while she bounced on him, her claws digging into his belly for leverage. She screamed at him. Her ecstatic howls of orgasm echoed the room, and I removed my twat from his mouth so he could breathe, so he could elevate his hips and properly finish her while I cradled his head and peppered his face with kisses. 

“Eddie, Eddie,” I whispered. “You beautiful, beautiful man.” 

“That doesn't begin to describe it,” Brenda collapsed atop him, smearing her face with his oiled chest. “More like a masterpiece.” 

“Ain't I lucky, gals?” Suzie left his feet and joined us, laying on her side to his left with me doing the same on his right. 

Brenda slid down and used his belly for her pillow so Suzie and I could hand rub his chest while kissing his face. 

Surely, this must be every man's dream. Three naked women fawning over him, and Eddie did bask in our affection as long as he could before announcing, “Dear ladies, you know I feel the same about you. I am truly one lucky S.O.B. I'd love to stay here forever, but I've got two problems.” 

“Go ahead,” Suzie prodded. “We're listening.” 

“Number one, my back is as stiff as my pecker.” 

“That's understandable,” I sympathized.

“And the second?” Brenda wondered. 

“I've gotta piss.” 

Men! So vulgar. So crude, and we would have this man no other way. 

“All right,” his wife gave permission. “Let him go, girls, so he can admire himself in front of the mirror.” 

“Can we watch?” I asked. “You don't have a nervous bladder, do you, Eddie?”

“No, right now I've got a bladder that's about to burst.” 

We raised off of him, grabbed his arms and helped him sit up. “Allow your new girlfriends to escort you,” Brenda offered, as she and I held his hands and walked him to the bathroom. Rubbed his chest and kissed on him while he shot a long stream into the toilet, and then we followed him to the sink and kissed him some more while he washed his hands. 

We took turns complimenting him, Brenda going first. “Eddie, what you did is amazing. The weekend trip, I mean, do you have any idea how happy you've made her?” 

“And us. Why did you include us? We should reimburse you. This trip must have cost you an arm and a leg. Especially with no discounts for advance purchase.”

Brenda backed me up. “Yes, we will reimburse you. Or at least go half. Surely you'll let us...”

“Good grief, you two,” he pulled away from us, grabbing a towel and drying his hands. “Stop already. I used Travelogue-go and got the best prices I could find. As for the theater, they're probably crappy seats. Two are in the first balcony. Two are left center near the back, and yes, they cost a pretty penny, but who gives a shit? I'm getting my reward, ain't I? Both of you make us happy. It's not easy finding good friends like you. People we can trust. People Suzie and I are comfortable with, people we enjoy...”

“Good grief, Eddie,” I admonished him, teasingly thrusting my fist toward his stomach, just like old times when he wasn't sure if I was male or female but didn't care. “Stop already. We get it. We feel the same about you and Suzie. So, shut up and let us give you more of that reward you've earned.” 

We returned to find Suzie had made all preparations. A giant pool of baby oil awaited Eddie, as we stepped onto the mat and wallowed in the slime. With our hands we saturated one another, every part, from the hair of our heads to the nails of our toes, with Eddie getting most of the attention. We laid him on his belly. Our thirty fingertips dug into his muscles, removing knots from his neck, shoulders and shoulder blades, his back, his buttocks, his thighs and calves and soles of his feet. We turned him over. Kneaded like bread dough his pectorals and abdominals and tops of his thighs, and before long we molested him. Our breasts and bellies writhed all over him, while fingers massaged his testicles and stroked his penis. Eddie reciprocated, rolling onto his side and grabbing any part of any woman within his reach. Like a nest of serpents, we coiled and writhed atop and beneath one another, paying no mind to whom or what we were touching. 

Oiled flesh is sexy. Instigates a savage kind of ecstasy. An orgy of mutual praise. A glorification of the human form. A frenzy of lust, but when I felt as though on the verge of orgasm simply from burying my slimy face into glowing female breasts and hairy male chest and undulating bellies and saturated crotches, I wanted him in the most mundane manner possible. I wanted Eddie traditional-style. Vanilla. A big, strong man and his hard, slick muscles laying on top of me. 

It is what I asked for. It is exactly what I got. He enveloped me in his arms, smashed my breasts beneath his manly fur. His oil-drenched chest hairs scraped my nipples, as he thrust to and fro, gently sliding his penis into my welcoming vagina. 

He is an artist. A hypnotist. A masterpiece who magically pivots his hips, twists and turns left and right to stimulate me from every possible angle. He is a lover. A Romeo. A Don Juan who presses his mouth to mine, slips his tongue inside to mesmerize me with his juxtaposition of brute, masculine strength versus gentle, thoughtful romance. He is what every man should be. He is what I aspire to be, for myself, and for Brenda. 

He is alive inside me. Nothing can replace the male penis. Strap-ons are merely functional. They have no heartbeat. They have no soul, and their size changes nothing. Eddie responded to me. His cock targeted me as only a living, feeling, ecstasy-inducing master-work of masculinity can, and as his two admirers spurred him on with massaging hands to his back and buttocks and legs and feet, my beautiful Eddie brought me an orgasm never before experienced. The heights of my pleasure caused me to wrap him in my arms and squeeze with all my might. My oil-slicked body gyrated beneath him. I thrust upward my pelvis to meet him, to take every micro-inch of his penis into me. I wanted connection with him. I needed to meld with him. The ultimate man was mine, and until he sacrificed to me a smattering of his gift I would not let go. A minuscule sample, that's all I wanted. An infusion of his strength, his manliness, his thoughtfulness, his love for his woman, his appreciation for me and my woman. He would give it and I would take it. Absorb it. Cherish it forever. 

Good God Almighty, he is one beautiful hunk of man. 

My, my, but we were the most charming of couples on our whirlwind, New York weekend. I resumed my public butch with my strapped-down breasts. Nobody outside our circle of four knew the difference between Mike and Michelle, but back in our Marriott hotel room it was Eddie and his three concubines. His harem of females worshiping him to exhaustion. No oil. We dared not saturate their beautiful bedding. 

Of course, Brenda and Suzie frothed over the production of Kinky Boots. Even Eddie and I had to admit the show was well-worth the high price of admission, and Eddie still considers it one of the best investments he's ever made. 

As for our Thursday nights, their mat will soon need to be replaced. Seems to be developing wrinkles for some reason. Don't know if baby oil could be the culprit, but I do know it will be many a year before we run out of scenarios with which to praise our Eddie. Our pitiful, tortured hero. Our masculine marvel, and the best guy any gal could ever hope to know. 

The End