Rough Trade (13 page)

He dropped down to his knees, both arms crossed over his stomach.

I stepped right in front of him and shoved his face back into my crotch.

I rubbed my groin against his face.

And he head-butted me right in the balls.

Hot iron spikes shot up into my intestines as I fell back, my body curled up as I groaned. Vaguely I was aware of him standing over me, saying things in a taunting angry voice. He kicked me in the lower back and I rolled away from him. I was breathing hard and I was furious. The little shit! You want to fight dirty, motherfucker? I’ll show you dirty…

He rolled me onto my back and straddled my head. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved my head into his crotch. “You like that, old man? How do you like it?”

Actually, I liked it just fine. His cock was hard, and his balls felt heavy and full of young man cum. He smelled musty and sweaty—a smell that drives me wild with desire. I let him rub his cock against my face, and then he was rolling over onto his side, taking me with him, and he gripped my head with his quads.

His legs were strong.

I forgot the dull ache in my balls as my head exploded with crushing pain. He was trained well in applying a head scissors, too—Allen had undoubtedly let him know that head scissors were a huge turn-on for me. He knew exactly what to do—apply some blinding pressure and then ease up just as I was about to submit to it…and then once I was able to get some air into my lungs, tighten it up again. He twisted my head from side to side with his legs, pressed himself up onto his arms to get a better angle for pressure. But I wasn’t going to give in to this punk, this little boy who thought he was tough enough to beat Cage at his own game…

FUCK.

The pressure built. Surely he couldn’t keep that up…if I just resisted a little longer…

“I submit! I submit!”

He let go and I fell back onto the mat, holding my aching head. Through the roar in my ears I could hear him taunting me, and I looked up to see him flexing and posing in triumph.

The little fucker.

He was going to pay.

I got to my knees.

“Anytime you’re ready, old man.” He folded his arms and smiled at me.

I got to my feet. I slowly walked toward him. He unfolded his arms and watched my approach. As soon as I was in reach we locked up, collar and elbow. I shoved him down and brought my knee up into his chest. He fell back onto the mattress, and I leaped into the air and came down with my elbow on his abs. His air left him in an explosion, and I grabbed his ab muscles in a claw with my left hand and squeezed. Both of his hands flew to my wrist, trying to get my hand off. With my right hand I grabbed his balls and squeezed. He half screamed.

“You like ball work, boy?” I panted as I gave his balls a brutal squeeze. I let go and he rolled up into a ball—until I grabbed his hair and picked him up, dropping his back across my right knee in a back-breaker. His oh-so-perfect abs were there for the taking. I drove an elbow into them and then ground it into the groove between his top two washboards. With my other hand I reached over and yanked his trunks down to his knees. His cock, oozing a little pre-cum, arched up toward me.

I grabbed his neck and crotch and hoisted him back up in the air, then dropped him down across my knee again. He flipped off, landing on his stomach, and he arched his hard little round white ass up in the air. I reached down and smacked it. It was hard, with little black hairs in the crevice between the cheeks. I grabbed his trunks and yanked them all the way off. I stood over him before dropping down to my knees and wrapping his trunks around his neck, pulling him back. His hands went to his sweaty trunks, trying to get some air as I choked him.

My own cock was aching as I felt his hard little ass bucking up against me.

Once you submit, boy, I thought, I am going to fuck you senseless.

I let go, tossing the trunks to the side. I stood up and yanked my own trunks down. I flexed every muscle in my body as I let out a growl of lust, and with my right foot I nudged the boy over onto his back. I grabbed his ankles and hoisted him, turning him over into a Boston crab. He started screaming almost immediately, and the view of his twisted body, his hard cock hanging there, was sublime. I hoped that Allen’s camera had a good view of it—I was going to want to see it in slow motion.

“I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT! I SUBMIT!”

“Say please.”

“PLEASE! PLEASE!”

“You done, boy, or do you want me to beat on you some more?”

“I’m done! I’m done!” his voice quivered.

I let go, gently dropping him down to the mattress. I flexed over him a few times as he lay there moaning. I got up and went over to my bag. I slipped on a condom and lubed it up before heading back over to where he lay.

I got between his legs and lifted his hips up over mine.

“You ready?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Fuck me, please, sir.”

I eased my cock into his tight little hole, and as I did, I glanced over and saw Allen still taping. His own trunks were down, and he was pulling at his own cock.

Erotic is only for private,
I heard him say again as I forced my cock into my groaning boy.

How many times had Allen taped me fucking someone I’d just beaten?

How many times had Allen taped me being fucked after getting beat?

I leaned down and nibbled on one of the boy’s hard nipples. He moaned, his eyes closing as I slowly worked my cock all the way inside.

Oh, he was so tight on my cock, it felt so good.

I started to pull out slowly, gently. He began to writhe underneath me.

“Oh yeah,” he breathed, “fuck me, oh please fuck me, sir.”

I slammed all the way back inside him. His eyes rolled back in his head as a deep moan reverberated in his throat. Once inside, I ground against him and his entire body began to tremble.

I traced a finger from his throat down the valley between his pecs and along his abs.

I moved my hips back until all that was inside of him was the head of my cock.

He opened his eyes. “Yes, sir, that’s the way, that’s so nice.” He gasped, his eyes half closing as I moved deep inside of him, bit by bit, resisting as he arched up against me, trying to get me inside all at once.

He shuddered as I reached full penetration, rotating my hips in a circular motion to loosen him up some—and he let out a shout as he starting spewing cum out of his cock.

I pulled back out, stroking myself as he finished shooting.

The first time Allen had fucked me, I’d come almost immediately.

I was you once,
I thought as the boy smiled back at me.

I peeled off the condom, going up on my knees and stroking. He sat up and started playing with my nipples—and in three strokes I was coating him with my own load.

“Wow,” he whispered, smiling at me.

Allen turned the camera off and set it down. “That was even hotter than I thought it would be.”

I unlaced my boots and slipped them off. I stood up. “I’m going to take a quick shower.” Without another word I walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

As I washed the sweat and smell of the boy off me, memories flooded through my mind.

I’d fallen in love with Allen, and had always wanted to please him. Even now, fifteen years later, I was still trying to please him—even though he’d moved on to other wrestlers. It had hurt to realize that I wasn’t special; that I wasn’t even the first and I wasn’t going to be the last.

I thought about the Kid. I had, indeed, been him once, young and innocent, excited that an older guy wanted to make me a wrestler.

How many times had I shown up in a hotel room to wrestle Allen’s latest find, for his videotaping pleasure? How many times had I been the first guy to wrestle the new boy, other than Allen?

This is the last time.

I toweled off and walked back into the other room. The boy was sucking Allen’s dick. I closed my eyes and saw myself doing the same thing after getting beaten up and fucked by one of Allen’s friends.

I got dressed without saying anything. I put my gear back into my bag and hoisted it up onto my shoulder.

“You want to get dinner?” Allen asked. The boy smiled at me.

I shook my head no, and walked out of the room.

Once out in the hallway, I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.

This,
I told myself,
was the last time.

Giovanni

Logan Zachary

I stood in the doorway, uncertain of where to go or what to do. Remingtons was a male strip club in Toronto. The sign read “Cover Charge $5.00,” but no one was manning the front door. I pulled out an American five and looked around.

A man danced on the stage, wearing only a pair of white briefs and tennis shoes. The music blared around the semi-crowded room. It was still early. My gaze looked to the bartender, who was busy filling mugs of beer. My glance returned to the stage, and the man’s briefs were down around his ankles. All of his business stood semi-erect and danced in time with his pelvic thrusts.

Arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind and pulled me close. “Enjoying what you see?” a young voice asked in my ear.

I turned and saw a shirtless man with a smooth and pale chest. His torso looked sculpted from stone. His belly button was in and a thin triangle of fine dark hair disappeared into his surfing shorts. His black hair was cut short and spiked straight up.

My mouth was dry and I couldn’t swallow. “I just got here. Where…where do I pay the…” I waved my bill at the sign.

“Forget about that, spend it on what counts.” He winked at me. He stepped back so I could get a better look. No fat on this boy. Young and firm. Very nice-looking, but not my type, he looked barely nineteen.

My eyes caressed his form and I looked over his shoulder on stage. The dancer was showing himself in full glory. The audience had stopped talking and stared as the music ended.

“Give a hand to Dante. He’ll be walking around soon.” The man on the stage pulled on his underwear and descended the stairs. He walked to a back hallway and disappeared.

“Give it up for Chance,” the bartender said as a man strolled to the stage with a cowboy hat, chaps, and holster. His vest flapped open showing a six-pack to die for.

“I’m Carlos. I’ll be dancing soon.” The man next to me guided my attention back to him.

I smiled and nodded.

My confusion must have been easily read, since he continued. “Do you know how this place works?” He took my hand and ran it down his warm chest to where the fine hair began.

This was my first time here, I didn’t have a clue.

“All the dancers have a set on stage and then they walk and work the floor. We talk to the customers.” He ran his fingers through my blond curls and continued, “And if you like what you see, you can have a private dance.”

My eyes widened.

“Upstairs.” His eyes looked to the back of the bar. “There are private rooms there, so you can be alone with the dancer, and get a special dance.”

I swallowed hard, but that wasn’t the only thing hard.

“What are you drinking?” he asked.

My mind was spinning so alcohol was not a good idea right now. “Just a Coke.”

“I’ll be right back.” He started off and then returned. He took the five from my hand and walked to the bar. His tight shorts hugged his perfect butt.

“Keep the change,” I called. At least I hoped there would be change.

A thin blond wearing a wrestler’s singlet walked by. An olive-skinned man approached, paused, looked over my shoulder, and veered to the left.

What was wrong with me? Could they tell I was a tourist? Marked by Carlos? A warm breath blew across the back of my neck. Then I knew, someone was behind me.

Slowly, I turned and saw why everyone else made a wide berth. He even made my breath catch in my throat.

My five-year-old nephew collects Rescue Hero figures. Ones I have purchased for him for Christmas and his birthday. This was one of them, live and in the flesh. This was the one I wanted to play with. He wore a pair of Levi’s painted on his perfect body. A thick, black leather belt with two hooks surrounded his narrow waist. He wore big black leather boots on his feet and he had no shirt. Thank you.

He walked up to me and smiled. Holding out his hand, he said, “I’m Giovanni.”

I bet you are, my mind thought.

His chest hair was cropped short against his tanned chest, an even covering of hair that added contrast to his rippling muscles. His pecs fanned out and sloped to a washboard stomach. His treasure trail made the perfect hourglass pattern. He was perfect.

Carlos returned with my Coke, and Giovanni thanked him. He took the glass and handed it to me. Carlos stood there for a second, but before he could say anything, the announcer called him to the stage. He ran his hand through his spikes and headed to the stage.

My body swooned and I sidestepped to a table nearby. I leaned against it, hoping it would hold me up.