Wrestling A Senior Stud

Neither Reed nor Chance were surprised to see Brock walk back in the practice room a few minutes later in his singlet but, like Chance, noticeably forgoing a jock.

"Whoa, look at that, partner. These are gonna be some sweet pics."

"You don't mind, man? For real? If I flirt with Brock?"

"Hell, no," Reed said, maybe a little too chipper. "You give a hot young kid a Ferrari, and he's gonna go nuts with it for a while. But just remember who's waiting back at home for you when your joy-ride is done, junior!"

Chance had always thought Brock had the best body (next to his own) on the team. He thought of Brock as the senior stud of the squad. Brock wore his hair shorter on top than Chance and kept it shaved skin-close on the side; that jarhead cut, along with the permanent three-day beard stubble that always covered his lean jaw, gave him a macho look Chance's gaze loved to linger on.

His body, hard and wiry, more than lived up to that look's rugged promise. Chance wrestled at 163, Cain at 145. Chance worked out hard to maintain the 5% body fat rule (you couldn't have less, and Chance had not a drop more), but Brock, he felt, couldn't possibly have met the requirement.

He looked like he had -2% body fat or something. Most good-looking guys had a muscular physique you could describe as 'cut.' On Chance's body, far above average, there wasn't one muscle whose definition wasn't easily traceable; he went beyond cut to 'ripped'.

But Brock, though not as bulky, could only be called 'shredded'. Chance could see the actual striations of the muscles in his abs and arms, something he found sexy as hell.

In the shower, he'd noticed Brock had just a few sparse light-brown hairs between his pecs, and a sexy little line that went from right below his belly button down to a wispy puff of dirty-blonde hair that sat atop about seven and one-half inches of beautiful man-meat. It was a dusky pink, and curved ever so slightly.

Chance had always been attracted to it; now, as he studied what was outlined by Brock's singlet, he thought it looked delicious. Some guys had tight scrotums, but Brock was like Chance and Reed: he had that nice, loose ballsac that Chance loved to watch jiggle.

They got in their set positions, Brock on top, managing to casually brush Chance's ass a few times as he got set. When coach signaled, they jolted into action.

At the start, each boy was trying to show the other who was the alpha male. Chance easily evaded Brock's first hold, and managed to grip Brock tight around the waist and slam the boy to the mat. But Brock scooted up quickly before Chance could pin him.

"You're even faster than you look, man," Chance gasped.

"You ain't seen how fast yet," Brock sneered.

No more fucking around, Brock thought, so he moved in and cupped a hard hand right on Chance's ass-crack as he tried to push the boy to the floor. He made sure the tops of his fingers brushed Chance's balls and dickhead in a way that couldn't be misinterpreted.

"Like what you feel?" Chance grunted as he cupped one of Brock's pecs and tweaked his nipple. "Yep, guess so, cause yer tit's sure nice and hard."

"That ain't the only thing getting hard around here, stud," Brock said, straining to grab more of Chance's hardening cock. Both boys were very excited at how quickly this had turned to the kind of action they wanted.

Chance quickly reversed out of the hold Brock had him in, pushed the boy on his back, and was on him in a minute, making sure that both their straining cocks were touching.

"Fuck that feels good," Brock grunted, as they mashed their dicks against each other in a hold neither wanted to break.

"I was thinking the same thing, dude," Chance breathed low and hoarse.

Coach, meanwhile, was glued to this match alone. Who wouldn't be? These two, the hottest studs on his team, were sort of half-wrestling, half-fucking. Damn, was it getting him hard, Coach thought, as he rubbed his own cock through his sweatpants, trying to be inconspicuous but too jazzed up to really control himself.

He knew he was looking too long, and fuck that kid with the camera was pointing right at him; damn, I bet he got a pic while I was stroking myself. Cool it, Wyatt, he said to himself, you don't want to lose this job.

So he forced himself to look at some of the other matches for a few seconds before swiveling his head right back to the main event.

"Damn, you are one hot stud. Your cock is fucking huge, dude!" Brock almost coughed out as they broke for the next round. "You want to continue this in the showers after practice?"

"Love to, dude."

Coach whistled to start the second period and with that Chance got serious. He flipped Brock over on his back easily, the older boy's mind not in the here and now but rather divided between the memory of their mutual dick-rubbing and the anticipation of the shower to come.

Then Chance quickly reached behind to grab the senior by the ass-crack, forcing his shoulders to the mat while his middle finger worked Brock's hole through the thin singlet.

"OH YEAH, dude," Brock cried. "First time in my life I don't mind being pinned. Keep working my hole, dude. But make it look like we're wrestling, so Coach won't know. Shit, I gotta feel that donkey-dick of yours up my ass when it's all soaped up later."

Chance was pure steel now, erect as possible at the thought of a lathery fuck with Brock in the showers. He kept up the ass-play while he worked Brock's pecs.

When they broke again, they were eyeing each other's sweating, panting, perfect bodies with pure lust.

As the whistle for the last period sounded, both boys were of one mind: get on the mat again with Chance on top, his hard cock rubbing Brock's ass. They kept that up for about forty seconds. Coach, by this time, was hard and leaking, thanking the gods he had worn his jock today. His young wrestlers seemed better built every year, making his job that much tougher.

"Now there's just one thing I don't understand, bro," Chance panted, as the two sweaty studs lay next to each other after practice. "How they hell can we fool around in the shower?"

"Just chill here with me, dude, stretch or something, for about ten minutes. By the time we hit the shower room, everyone will be gone. Trust me, I've done this many times before."