The following is the first chapter in a new bit of fiction I've been working on. See what you think. I will probably post subsequent chapters. The story is actually a form of fan fiction. I have co-opted a story-line from Stephen King and re-imagined it in a gay wrestler's world. The title--Middleboro--is just a placeholder. I'll figure out a better title later. See if you can guess which Stephen King novel I've used.
P.S. The pic above is of a friend of mine. He looks great, I think, and sort of matches the look of the character in this chapter.
He was squatting at the end of the driveway in a pair of black leather pro boots, a black leather mask, and a black trunks. Lonnie had just raised the garage door and there he was, looking right at Lonnie, flexing his big guns.
Lonnie was on his way to work so this was unexpected, to say the least. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he squatting there, looking straight at Lonnie?
He looked slightly familiar. Actually, he looked very familiar. Lonnie had seen him on a gay wrestling website just a few days before, and he’d been fantasizing about the guy ever since. So how had he come to be at the end of Lonnie’s driveway? Lonnie hadn’t contacted the guy. He’d just lingered over his profile long enough to masturbate. But here he was, dressed out in some badass gear and looking ready to wrestle.
The guy reached down between his legs and pulled an enormous cock from his trunks. He grinned at Lonnie as he began to stroke his dick. It became even larger as he became hard, and Lonnie, almost in spite of himself, got hard, too.
But what the hell? What if someone saw him? Lonnie looked two doors down. Mrs. Spaznitz was calmly watering her lawn in her housecoat, not noticing a thing. She could look up at any minute!
Lonnie looked back at the guy. He was standing now, just a few feet away. Lonnie took a step back. How had be gotten to his feet and gotten so close so fast? It didn’t make sense. His cock was still out. He held it firmly in his hand and he was looking at Lonnie, grinning a lascivious grin that sent a thrill down Lonnie’s spine.
The guy was so hot. Thick muscled legs. A hairy chest. Big rounded biceps. He took a step toward Lonnie and Lonnie tried to step back, but he didn’t. He seemed frozen in place. Unable to move. Mrs. Spaznitz would see him. A car would drive by. He needed to get to work. But the guy was right in front of him now, his tongue down Lonnie’s throat. Lonnie reached out and ran his fingers over that massive chest. The guy’s nipples suddenly became erect like two temperature gauges in a Thanksgiving Turkey.
To hell with work. They were going to wrestle. That was all there was to it.
Lonnie turned, and the guy walked past him into the garage. Lonnie pulled down the metal door and the rasp of the hinges seemed to echo in his head. There was an empty space beside Lonnie’s car, and the guy reached up and yanked the light cord throwing a ring of yellow light on the concrete floor. His muscles leapt into stark relief, and Lonnie saw that he was flexing his pecs. Then, as though the guy had been there before, he turned and was unfolding the mats that Lonnie had stashed against the wall.
“Who…who are you?” Asked Lonnie, but the words hardly came out, his mouth was so dry, and his heart was pounding so fiercely.
The mats were down, and the guy just smiled at Lonnie and flexed his massive guns. He was showing off, taunting Lonnie. The guy’s cock was back inside his trunks, but they were skin-tight, and Lonnie could clearly make out the vein-y erection beneath.
Without even really thinking about it, Lonnie stripped off his clothes and let them fall to the cold, concrete floor. He almost tripped trying to get his briefs off, and he wondered if the guy would think him weak. But the guy was nodding in satisfaction, and he reached inside his trunks and massaged his cock. Lonnie broke out in a sweat. This was almost exactly how he’d imagined a match might go with this guy. He’d masturbated to this exact fantasy only the night before last. And here the guy was, in the flesh, ready to wrestle.
They came together, locking hands. Lonnie was suddenly aware that he was nude while the guy was wearing his pro gear. Should he go inside and get his gear? It didn’t matter. It was too late. The guy had Lonnie in a headlock and one muscled hand was fingering one of Lonnie’s nips. An electric sensation of pleasure ran through Lonnie’s body down to his balls and he almost laughed.
Lonnie was built pretty well himself. He worked out regularly and watched what he ate. Okay, he’d eaten dessert at the Cheesecake Factory last Saturday and had one, okay maybe two, glasses of wine. But other than that, Lonnie watched what he ate. He had a pair of broad shoulders and a nice tight waist. Lonnie’s arms were big. The last time he’d measured his guns, they were sixteen inches around. True, he’d been flexing—hard--at the time, and he’d just gotten back from the gym. But Lonnie was no twink.
Still, Lonnie wasn’t sure he could take the guy. He appeared to out-weigh Lonnie by maybe thirty pounds. But Lonnie broke the headlock and gave the guy a knee before taking him to the mats. The guy was fast, though, and he caught a leg and took Lonnie down. Before Lonnie knew what had happened, the guy had Lonnie in a Boston crab. He lowered Lonnie’s legs enough to put some real pressure on Lonnie’s back, but not enough to cause any real pain.
And then he let Lonnie loose, and Lonnie climbed to his feet and locked on a full nelson. The guy had massive shoulders but Lonnie punished him for a bit, his hard cock against the guy’s ass. That was when Lonnie realized that the guy was naked except for his mask. His boots and trunks were gone. When had he removed them?
Lonnie tried to think how that was possible, but the feel of the guy’s muscles and the curve of his hairy ass distracted Lonnie. What the hell? Who knows how he did that? Did it even matter? This guy was great.
He broke loose from Lonnie and they came together in a mutual bearhug. Lonnie’s cock was hard as a rock and it was crushed between them on the guy’s hard abs. The guy had such a massive hard-on, too, and they worked to crush each other in their hugs as they moved up and down, massaging each other’s cocks.
Lonnie pushed the guy back and they hit a collar tie, Lonnie’s arms entangled with the guy’s massively muscled arms. They worked for position on each other and Lonnie got the impression that the guy was laughing at him, taunting him. That would not do, so Lonnie turned into him and got him in a standing headlock. He forced the guy’s head down and Lonnie felt the guy’s tongue rake his cock. The sensation was almost overwhelming, and it caused Lonnie to loosen his grip. That was all the guy needed to break free and catch Lonnie under one leg. He hoisted Lonnie up over his head and Lonnie saw—actually saw—in his own mind, a mental image of the muscled stud holding Lonnie aloft. Both of their cocks were so erect, so hard. Lonnie couldn’t believe it.
Then the guy slammed Lonnie down onto the mats, and straddled him. Lonnie tried to get out from under him, but the guy was too big, too damned hot. Their cocks were rubbing together in the sweat on their abs and Lonnie felt himself getting ready to cum. He wanted this to continue. He wanted to wrestle this guy all day.
“No yet…” He whispered, but the guy just increased the pressure, and Lonnie distinctly heard him say “Cum…”
Or did he? Lonnie couldn’t tell if he’d heard it, or if he’d sensed it somehow.
Whatever, it didn’t matter. The frottage was so intense, so unbelievably stimulating, that Lonnie was about to cum. He pushed on the guy but he wouldn’t move and then Lonnie felt it. A white hot sensation of pleasure like he’d never felt before. His cock shot a bolt of cum and everything went blue. He almost passed out from the way his cock was contracting and spewing cum. His whole body ached with pleasure. His mind reeled. He was going to pass out! And in that final second as he lost consciousness, he saw that the guy no longer wore a mask.
His eyes were red orbs of hate.