Message from John Carter

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Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Perfect Match (Continued from a previous post)

We move in close to each other, in the center of the mat.  He slaps my cock and I retaliate.  He tries again, and I catch hold of his wrists and we begin to lock up.  We stand close, our flat bellies slick with oil and sweat.  I can feel the heat rising from him; hearing his breathing.  I know he wants to dominate me, to make me cum first, to expend all of my energy until I am broken and at his mercy.  But I refuse to let him take me.

He tries a throw, but I counter, and I find myself behind him, my hard cock against his ass cheeks.  I catch him around his waist and begin to try and get him off his feet.  My arms pull in tight against him and his feet are of the floor.  I hear him moan--from the pressure of my muscular arms or from the pleasure of being taken--I'm not sure which.   Then he's down on the mats, me on top.  Our arms are intertwined and I feel his muscles.  But the oil.  He's slick.  And he escapes me.  Then it's me who is caught, his strong arms catching me around one arm and around my neck.

He pulls me backward and I'm on top of him, my back to his stomach.  His legs work to control mine, and we struggle like that for a bit on the mats.  I try to break his hold around my neck, but he's strong, and he refuses to give an inch.  I feel his hard cock behind me and I realize that he's gaining control of my legs, working a grape vine on me.

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