The phone rang early one Saturday morning, startling me out of my well- deserved 
sleep. "Hi Brad, it's Joe. How're ya doin'? Listen, ya wanna come over this 
afternoon and wrestle? I got a good matchup for ya. Big guy, maybe even bigger 
than you, great shape, kinda hot - says he's lookin' for a tough stud who can 
give him a real fight. Yeah, the usual - start in trunks, take it from there, 
freestyle to submission, make it as rough as ya like, first guy to give's a 
pussy...sound good to ya?" I thought about it for a moment. Yeah, it sounded 
good. It'd been a while since I'd wrestled over at Joe's place - he had a neat 
little gym set up in the basement of his house, plenty of space, a good thick 
collegiate mat laid out, a shower where there was occasionally some grappling 
action of a different kind after the real match was over...It would be a nice 
change after my last few matches, bouncing off the furniture in cramped motel 
rooms...And I liked the sound of my opponent. Bigger than me, huh? Well, I'm 
6'4" and 220 muscular pounds, so I don't often find myself having to look up at 
an opponent or grapple with a guy I can't lift off his feet and drop on his back 
- it was an intriguing prospect. "Sure thing, Joe. What time?" "'Bout three?" 
"Great. See you there." I hung up and lay back in bed with a smile of 
anticipation on my face. Yeah, it would feel good to walk into Joe's basement, 
see my opponent waiting impatiently for me, strip down to my trusty red Speedos, 
flex my muscles, step on the mat - and kick his pretty butt from here to 
Timbuctoo. A pleasant feeling of hardness was growing between my legs. I looked 
down: my thick uncut nine-incher was arching up towards my smooth firm pecs, 
damp and gleaming at the head, begging to be taken care of. I reached down and 
took matters in hand...

As I stepped inside, Joe's basement greeted me with its usual smell of hot 
wrestlers' bodies and stale wrestlers' socks. I breathed deep, savouring the 
erotic power of the aroma - stronger than any bottled chemical I've ever come 
across. Joe was standing at the edge of the mat, his back to me, talking to a 
man whom I instantly recognized as my opponent. An intense thrill, mixed of 
excitement, fear, desire, and bloodlust, shot through me. He was indeed bigger 
than me, though only by a couple of inches. He towered at least a foot over Joe, 
who can't be more than 5' 6". As he became aware of my presence he looked up and 
directly at me, and at once I saw the note of challenge in his cold blue eyes. 
He knew very well who I was, and what we would soon be doing to one another. 
From his movements Joe realized that I had arrived, and he turned round, 
stepping to one side as he did so. Now I could see that my rival was already 
stripped for action - skintight black spandex bike shorts encased his crotch and 
upper thighs, leaving a hairy, muscular chest and stomach open to view. Broad 
and equally hairy thighs and beautifully shaped calves supported this solid 
frame, and their development was matched by the obviously rock-hard bulges of 
muscle in his shoulders and upper arms. And he had the unmistakable sign of the 
true wrestler: a thick, strong neck, formed by hours of bridging and gritty 
resistance to attempted pins and submission holds. 

A single glance was enough to tell me that I was in for a real battle if I 
wanted to impose my dominance on this ruthless musclestud. But it was his face 
that drew my attention, and held it. He was good-looking enough, not exactly 
handsome, but he had an open, pleasant face with just a hint of hardness in its 
structure, in the strong chin and the firm line of the mouth, softened a little 
by a dark, bushy moustache. But what caught my eye at once was the long, thin, 
sharp piece of ivory, like an elephant's tusk, that pierced crosswise through 
the cartilage between his nostrils, its two ends glistening with silver. I'd 
seen body jewelry before - nipple chains, rings through the lip or the tongue - 
but never anything like this. I was fascinated, repelled, attracted, envious - 
and he knew it. "Hi there", he said, holding out a hand. "You must be Brad. Nice 
to meet ya. I'm looking forward to hearing you squeal! My name's Jake, by the 
way - but most people call me - Animal". 

"Hi. I wouldn't waste too much time waiting for that squeal, if I were you - I 
plan to give you a thing or two to think about as soon as I get out of these 
clothes and we hit that mat. Most guys soon find out how hard it is to make me 
give". "Glad to hear it. Joe said you were for real - now's your chance to prove 
it. So what are ya waiting for? Shuck those pants and let's go for it!" I 
stepped back, unbuttoning my shirt as I did so. His eyes remained fixed on me, 
frankly enjoying the spectacle as I stripped. I tossed the shirt aside, unlaced 
my sneakers and kicked them off, then peeled down my jeans. I stood for a moment 
in jockey shorts and socks, hands on hips, staring back at Animal, meeting his 
challenge. "C'mon stud", he said. "You gonna rassle in those sissy little 
panties, or what?" Without a word I pulled down my shorts and stepped out of 
them as they hit the floor. My big dick swung free, and I made sure Animal got a 
good view of it as I relished the cool air on my sweaty nuts. 

Then I pulled on my trunks, adjusting the hang of my manmeat for comfort, and 
moved back on to the mat, stretching and flexing my back and shoulder muscles, 
testing their suppleness before the bonecrunching clash that lay ahead. "You're 
in good shape", said Animal appreciatively. "It's gonna be a pleasure to get my 
hands on you and make you submit!" "Don't hold your breath", I answered. "You'll 
be needing it to scream with. And by the way, what happens with the tusk?" He 
grinned. "What are ya, worried about getting a little scratch on those fine 
smooth pecs? Don't worry, buddy, I can kick your ass easy enough even without a 
weapon in the ring". So saying, he reached up and twisted one of the ends of his 
nose jewelry. The silver tip came off, and he was able to slide the bone out and 
put it aside. He turned back to face me, crouching instinctively into a 
wrestling stance, hands outstretched, one leg thrust forward, the other held 
back to provide a firm springboard for his attack. Without even thinking, I had 
moved into the same position. The room was silent except for our breathing. The 
anticipation of a fight with this tough, cocky stud was making my dick stiffen 
in my trunks. Joe's voice cracked like a whip. "Wrestle!"

Animal lived up to his name. I usually like to start a match slow, circling 
round my opponent, sizing him up, then making a swift opening move, maybe 
grabbing a leg for a takedown that twists him on to his stomach, or ducking 
around and behind him to go for a full nelson or a chicken wing. Being as tall 
as I am, those moves have served me well down the years, and left a whole lot of 
gasping, sweatsoaked losers stretched out in pain on the mat. But this match 
wasn't going to be like that. With a deep, full-throated, guttural roar, Animal 
launched himself at me like a tiger, and we crashed to the mat together in a 
muscular tangle of flailing arms and kicking legs, rolling over and over as each 
of us tried to establish dominance by holding the other down and applying some 
gruesomely painful hold. 

Already I could see that I would have no chance in this encounter to use the 
skills I had learned in all those weary matroom hours in high school and 
college. Animal had come to fight, and to win, and he didn't care too much about 
how he did it. Right now he was on top, stretched out full length on me, his 
well-packed crotch pressing into the small of my back and the full weight of his 
hairy frame flattening me into the mat. He was sliding an arm under each of my 
armpits, working to link his hands behind my neck or turn me over on my back; I 
was stubbornly resisting, gathering my strength to rear up underneath him, send 
him sprawling, and regain the initiative. But it was becoming clear to me that 
he was too strong for that. Those thick-muscled, rock-solid arms had my upper 
body in a vice-like grip - I could feel myself being pulled upwards away from 
the mat, and hear the grunt of satisfaction as he realized that he had achieved 
his objective and was going to flip me over. A moment later it was done, I was 
turned and laid out flat for him, and he instantly broke the hold, sprang in the 
air, and came crashing down on top of me with the deadly force of his whole 
body. 

I opened my mouth to scream, but there was no air left in my lungs; all I could 
do was curl up in a ball and live through the agony. I heard a grim laugh, and 
then he came crashing down again; but this time, instead of leaping up, he 
remained squatting on my heaving chest, his knees digging painfully into my 
shoulders and the bulging front of his already sweaty trunks only inches from my 
face. The strong scent of his cock and balls filled my nostrils. "Having a good 
time, Brad?" he sneered. "Looks like you'd better give up now and save yourself 
some suffering." "Fuck you!" I gasped in reply. "Oh no, I don't think so. I 
don't think it's gonna be me that gets fucked", he said, and spun around, 
pivoting on my chest and sliding backward, so that his butt ended up pressing 
down right on my face. As he did so he reached down between my thighs, slipped a 
forearm under each one, and hooked my legs backward and upward, folding me 
excruciatingly in two at the waist. 

Total humiliation: I was helpless, beaten, the prey of this human animal who was 
even now grinding his ass into my face as a token of my defeat, and ramming the 
message home with a few stinging and well-aimed slaps on my butt. But I was 
damned if I would admit it! "Come on, boy, it's over and you know it. Give it up 
and I'll spare you the pain. No harm in admitting that I'm the better man - and 
you're just a prettyboy pussy!" "Fuck you!" I repeated, but the oath was stifled 
by the firm spandex-covered asscheeks pressing against my mouth. "OK, Brad, I 
can sit here all day if you like. Maybe you're getting to like it, huh? Feeling 
a real man squatting on top of you? Getting your butt kicked on the wrestling 
mat? Maybe you'd like to show me some real appreciation...", and with that he 
reached behind him with his left hand, taking care to grip my upraised legs ever 
more tightly with his right, and pulled the waistband of his spandex bike-shorts 
down so as to expose the darkly furry flesh of his magnificent butt. "That's 
right, boy, kiss my ass and show me you know who's boss"... 

It was more than I could bear. A wave of energy shot through me, and with a 
ferocious shout I kicked upward and outward, at the same time twisting my 
imprisoned upper half to one side. Startled, Animal lost his balance and slid 
off me on to the mat. I was on him in an instant, locking him into a full nelson 
and trapping his body between my long, powerful legs. He saw what was coming and 
struggled to break the hold, and to keep my body scissors from closing; but the 
nelson was on too tight, the pain and the feeling of powerlessness were growing 
in him with every second, and he was doomed. When my legs crossed at the ankles 
in a lock that many of my opponents know only too well is unbreakable, I felt 
him groan. With his arms trapped limp and useless above his head, with the 
pressure from the body scissors steadily increasing, with the hopelessness that 
comes from finding yourself trapped without a chance of escape in the power of a 
stronger and more skilful wrestler, it was only a matter of time. I decided to 
enjoy myself a little. "So what was that about showing you I know who's boss, 
huh?", I murmured - lying alongside him so as to maximize the intensity of my 
combination hold, my mouth was right against his ear, and I could smell the fear 
of defeat he was giving off from every pore. "Kinda looks like I am, doesn't it? 
Or do you have plans to change that at all? Well, come on then - give it your 
best shot! Doesn't look to me like there's a whole lot you can do while you're 
trussed up like that, though..." 

Snarling and spitting, Animal thrashed from side to side, struggling in vain to 
free himself from my grip. The sweat was running freely down his chest and 
stomach, tracing patterns in the thick black hair, and staining the thin 
material of his trunks. His ample cock was clearly outlined in the damp spandex 
- it was swelling into hardness even as I spoke. Deep down in Animal's psyche, 
and in spite of his fear, he was responding with pleasure to his impending 
defeat. The thought of surrendering to a better man than himself was turning him 
on. "Aw, come on, Animal, you can do better than that", I said as he tried one 
especially vicious thrust to get out of my cruel hold. "A big guy like you? Why, 
Joe promised me a real fight with a tough stud, and all that shows up is a big 
old fairy with a bone through his nose..." "Shut the fuck UP!" he yelled, and as 
he did so he summoned every particle of strength he had to lever both of us 
upward and backward. He was paying me back in my own coin - just as he had been, 
I was taken by surprise, lost my balance and concentration, and let him break 
out of the hold, twisting away out of my reach. For a moment we both lay side by 
side on the mat, breathless and dizzy, neither ready to regain the upper hand. 
But then we both moved at once, two sweaty torsos crunched together, our arms 
locked tight around each other's bodies, and the fight was on again...

As we grappled, I lost all consciousness of time and place. Nothing mattered any 
longer but the elemental ferocity of my fight with Animal: the harsh breathing, 
the straining muscles, the grunting clash of bodies. Each of us was trying 
everything he knew to get that crucial advantage that would lead to submission 
and the loser's acknowledgement of defeat, but we were too evenly matched. My 
height was no use against a man taller than me; his strength was turned aside by 
my skill. Every time one of us locked on a hold the other found a counter, or 
slipped out of his grasp. Joe's tiny airless basement was full of the heat and 
stench given off by our heaving tangled bodies; the sweat was pouring off us 
both on to the mat. My trunks were soaked through, and the outline of my rigid 
cock stood out clearly in them. Animal's spandex shorts were showing a similar 
massive bulge. Both of us were gasping harder for breath now, returning more 
slowly to the fray, taking longer to regain our strength after yet another 
promising maneuver had failed to get us the win we both so much desired. We were 
literally wrestling each other into exhaustion - I began to wonder if we would 
both just collapse there on the mat and leave Joe to declare it a draw. As the 
thought crossed my mind I swore to myself that it wouldn't end that way. I would 
win, or destroy myself - and him - in the attempt.

He was on his knees now, propping himself up on stiff, straight forearms, 
fighting painfully for breath. I dropped to my knees at his left side, clamping 
my right arm tight about his neck and pulling upward and backward, while my left 
arm delivered a rapid series of jabs to his belly. Choking in the headlock, he 
reared up, lashing out uselessly with his hands and trying to rise to his feet. 
Rising with him as he did so, I released my hold, but in the same instant seized 
the back of his neck with both my hands and thrust him suddenly and violently 
downward. The momentum of his own movements added to the brutal force with which 
his forehead hit the mat. A shudder ran through the whole of his long, muscled 
body, now stretched out at full length before me, and he lay still. The end was 
nigh. Swiftly I turned in my standing position and dropped down to seat myself 
comfortably on the small of his back. 

He was still dazed; there was only the slightest murmur of protest as he felt my 
weight settle into place. For a moment I sat there, enjoying the feeling of 
total control, savoring the knowledge of what I was about to do and the victory 
that would now surely be mine. I looked down at Animal's fine butt, still 
encased in spandex, and took a brief mental snapshot of how it would look when 
the shorts came off. Not long to go now. Leaning forward, I slid my hands along 
the muscled ridge of Animal's thighs, then down to hook them underneath his 
outstretched legs just above the knees. A strong sharp upward tug, and his legs 
were in the air, his body beginning to fold in two at the waist, the pressure on 
his spine to reach crisis point. Animal awoke to the realization that he was 
caught in a Boston crab. I could smell his terror. With a cry he began to kick 
and squirm, raising himself on his hands in a vain attempt to shake me off, 
trying to alter the cruel angle at which his body was bending and ease the pain. 
There was nothing he could do. I was leaning far back now, his legs were trapped 
tight under my armpits, there was nowhere for him to go. Further and further 
back I leaned, till it seemed that at any second I would hear his spine snap. 

He was screaming now, howling like the animal he called himself, but still 
struggling, still instinctively resisting me with all the courage and refusal to 
surrender that are the hallmarks of the true wrestler. But I had him. He was 
going down, and somewhere deep inside he knew it and thrilled to the knowledge. 
"Come on, boy, give it up!" I grunted through clenched teeth. "It's all over 
now. Give it up like a good boy and tell me I'm the better man." 
"Go...to...Hell!" was the only reply. I tightened the hold still further. The 
sweat was dripping off me on to my prostrate opponent, mingling with his own. 
His breathing was harsh and agonized. I knew was he was going through - I 
remembered the very first Boston I'd ever been in myself, years ago, back in 
high school, when Coach Siciliano had shown me a few pro moves one night after 
practice. Folded in two by my hairy, stocky idol, trapped face-down on the mat 
by that prime hunk of Italian manmeat, I'd suffered the worst physical agony of 
my life - yet when I stood up afterwards the front of my singlet was drenched 
with my cum. Since then a lot of guys had tried their Boston on me, and a few 
had made me give to it. I knew what it was all about. 

"Hey Animal, you know, you'd better give it up before you really get hurt here. 
I'm not putting this on half as bad as I could. All ya gotta do is say one 
little word and it'll all be over. One little word, Animal - just tell me you 
submit." No reply. Instead, I felt his body heaving and straining beneath me, 
making one last supreme effort to escape. A strange thrill ran through me, a 
thrill of respect for this man who was fighting to the last ounce of breath and 
strength he possessed, who was so determined to avoid submission to another male 
that he was willing to endure even this humiliation and pain. We were two of a 
kind, he and I. But even so I was going to make him submit. As he raised himself 
one last time underneath me, I made sure that his legs were securely held under 
my arms and then threw myself backward, stretching out to my full six-foot plus 
and bending Animal's back far beyond a right angle - his heels almost touched 
the back of his own head. The force of the move was too much for him. "Yes! Yes! 
Yes!" he screamed. "I submit! God damn and fuck you to hell, I submit!" I 
released his legs, and rolled off him to one side. 

I lay there, gasping for breath, listening to Animal's quiet sobbing and Joe's 
appreciative applause. Another win for the Matmeister. But the events of the day 
were not over yet. Standing up, I pushed at Animal with my foot. He looked up at 
me resentfully, fear, humiliation, but also - yes - just a touch of admiration 
in his eyes. "Get up," I said. Slowly, painfully, he stood. His whole body was 
soaked with sweat, forming patterns in the thick black bodyfur. The bulge in his 
shorts was more visible than ever. "Looks like you lost," I said. "Yeah." "You 
know what happens to losers here?" He looked quickly up at me, read my meaning 
in my eyes. His gaze travelled slowly down over my body, stopping at my crotch. 
"Yeah." "Then do it." In a single lithe movement he fell to his knees and pulled 
down my trunks. As he leaned forward toward to my aching, rockhard erection, 
newly freed and standing proudly to its full nine uncut inches, his eyes closed 
- and his mouth opened... My fight with the Animal was over, but the action had 
only just begun.