Attached is a fragment of a long story I'm writing . . . and am going ahead with putting these two out first. WARNING: If you are under eighteen or find explicit sexual references offensive and male to male sexuality, read no further. By silicondog@earthlink.net Private Cruz had been in the basement of the gymnasium in Okinawa when the phone call came. In the storage room he had adopted as his personal gym, he had been doing seated shoulder presses, the barbell bent under the hundred pound plates Cruz had stacked on both sides. 19-year-old Cruz hadn't had to use a lighter plate in two years. A tall stack of hundreds lay in one corner, as he methodically did set after set, the heat turned up high to give him a better workout. Finishing his last set, he gently replaced the loaded bar, the rack creaking against the weight. Getting up to use the bar for some bicep curls, he saw the four Japanese men came into the locker room. Cruz looked up and recognized them. "Jesus, not you fools again." The oldest man said "He wants a rematch, now!" The three others, wearing identical black suits, nodded. "Well, guys, let's have the party now, then" Cruz muttered, following the four down a flight of stairs to a basement. He had recognized them as the underlings of the champion sumo wrestler of Okinawa, a man Cruz had met briefly one month ago, a meeting which had put Cruz even higher on the Marine Corps' shit list than when he had enlisted, three days after turning eighteen, nine months ago. It had been a "match" of sumo, where the sumo champion of Okinawa had unofficially challenged the biggest American on Okinawa to a match of sumo. At the time Cruz (at 385 pounds and six feet ten) had been the biggest American, even though he gave away 100 pounds to the Japanese. Not that it mattered much. The "match" had lasted exactly seventeen seconds, as Private Cruz tossed his opponent (all 500 pounds of him) out of the ring. The Japanese had been scandalized as their champion had been defeated in public; the Marine Corps were embarrassed with Cruz for scandalizing the Japanese; Cruz was pissed at them all, the Japanese for starting an unnecessary fight and the Marines for acting ashamed when Cruz won it. Cruz and the others reached a door, and one of the Japanese knocked at it. The door opened; the man gestured for Cruz to enter. As he walked in, the door slammed shut. It was a small arena, floodlit in the center. Wearing only a mawashi around his waist, the sumo motioned him quickly to enter the circle. The sumo was a quarter ton six-foot four tower of muscle mounted on two kegs, his mawashi wrapped over a huge belly and monstrous shoulders. Under a topknot, his black eyes glared at Cruz, gesturing for him to come closer. Cruz walked casually closer into the circle. He wore only boxing shorts, the same design his late brother had worn when he boxed, the Mexican flag with silver trim. The shorts bulged and swelled around his thighs and two heavy balls bounced gently around the thighs and a coke can-sized cock that had no room between his legs. A waist of thick cables of muscle with no fat; intercostals that rolled and squeezed back into a back that swept up to shoulders over three feet apart. A light dusting of brown hair swirled around his marble pecs and skipped over the tips of his abs into the waistband of his boxers. Cruz' bulk and power was offset by twinkling brown eyes and brush cut that was almost overgrown into being combable. "Look" Cruz started, "I didn't ask for the first match, and I don't want a second." His opponent stood stock still, only breathing deeper and deeper. Shovel-sized hands clapped in front once, twice, a third time. Then silence. "Let's drop--" Cruz started, but in a flash, his speed incredible for a man of his bulk, the Japanese sumo wrestler lunged forward. Lunging towards Cruz, his arms reaching out to clinch him, the sumo wrestler charged into Cruz' arms, instead. On braced legs, Cruz spun the sumo wrestler over, around and onto the floor with a crash, the wooden floor shuddering under the impact of 500 pounds. But in an instant, he had righted himself and charged Cruz again, his eyes crazy with rage. And again the sumo wrestler found himself spinning through the air to land on his ass. Cruz watched the sumo wrestler right himself again and prepare for a charge. "All right, man, game's over. OK?" Cruz didn't expect an answer. The sumo was trapped between saving his honor and admitting defeat; he he was so crazy with rage he couldn't have answered. The wrestler charged and this time tried to lock Cruz in a bear hug. Cruz winced at his opponent's strength as his thick arms tried to lock around his torso, smelling his spicy sweat. The sumo wrestler, snarling with rage, felt Cruz's arms reach around to break the bear hug; and then his head snapped at Cruz' right ear. "Motherfucker!" Cruz roared, pulling his head back and breaking off the clinch. He reached towards his own right ear and saw a streak of blood on his own hand! A second feel found all of his ear, but just a bite on the top! In a rage, he turned towards the sumo wrestler who, looking into Cruz' eyes, froze for a moment. It was enough. Cruz lashed his arms around the sumo wrestler and, in a bear hug, swung the quarter-ton of muscle off his feet. His arms weren't long enough to completely wrap around the sumo's torso, but with a growl he squeezed, with ropes and cables swelling under sweaty brown skin. A roar from the sumo echoed off the walls as he beat his fists against Cruz' shoulders, big as basketballs and hard as oak. He tried to snap against Cruz' ear again, but he was being bent back by the brown vice of muscles, the shield-like pecs and arms clamped against his torso. Cruz could see into the sumo's eyes only a few inches away and his own eyes went wide; under the mawashi, Cruz could feel the sumo's raging hardon against Cruz' belly. And by now, the sumo's eyes were even wider; he could feel Cruz' far thicker, longer boner swelling down his leg out of the boxer shorts beginning to pump precum down the sumo's leg. With the strength of lust added to the rage of pain, Cruz squeezed harder still, feeling the great curve of ribs under the folds of muscle start to bend under the strength of his arms. Cruz ground his biceps into the sumo's armpits, the sumo's barrel chest losing its fight to expand against Cruz' arms. Every breath was crushed under the steel arms which grew stronger even as the sumo's chest weakened. Unable to fill his lungs against the monstrous pressure of the American's arms his vision grew red but his cock, grinding between his belly and the gaijin's marble abs, stayed hard. Then suddenly Cruz dropped him onto the wooden floor on his ass. Unable to feel anything other than the hot air which could only now get return to his aching lungs, the sumo could only stare as Cruz reached to his shorts and twisted it around and down his legs over the boner that had been stretched halfways to his knees; but now, breaking loose of the boxers, it bounced and swayed stiffly before the sumo's wide eyes. Soda straw-thick veins pulsed from the base into a cut head whose ridge was pulsing red under the brown skin. Cruz reached between the sumo's legs and with a snap tore the mawashi off around his belly, its thick cotton snapping like a paper towel under his fingers. A few seconds, he had tied his hands together over the sumo's head, laying on the wood. The sumo was naked under him, his own boner, smaller but just as thick, flapped over his round belly, looking far more alive than its exhausted, defeated owner. Flipping the sumo's heavy legs over his own shoulders, Cruz leaned over the sumo and positioned the head of his cock against the heavy cheeks around the sumo's asshole. The sumo could only watch, dazed, as Cruz tied his hands with his own mawashi behind his head. After a second of silent taunting, his cock only rubbing lightly into the sphincter, Cruz snapped his hips forward and with one splintering drive embedded his cock to the hilt in the sumo. His snarl was drowned out by the sumo's roar as the pain of his assring awoke his last energy. Cruz's hips then viciously pulled out almost completely, his cockhead scraping almost two feet through the sumo's belly. Then the cock ripped back in and he leaned further over the sumo, his sweat dripping off his nose into the sumo's eyes. The roars and snarls of the sumo echoed the moans of Cruz and the slap of his hips against the sumo's legs. The roars and snarls started to lose their power, and soon were replaced by moans and whimpers, which echoed the pounding of Cruz against the sumo's butt. The sumo's heels, which had been pounding futilely against Cruz' pumping ass, gradually stopped their banging and instead only rubbed up and down, holding Cruz deep inside him. Cruz could feel the sumo's muscles lose their power as grow limp their owner lost control, as he could only feel the pounding steel rod and sweating granite muscles of its owner. He leaned down until his other ear was only an inch from the sumo's gasping mouth. “Wanna go for this one, sushi?” Cruz whispered? The sumo could only gasp as Cruz' two-day-old beard scraped harshly over the cheek as he leaned against his ear. "Okay, asshole, who do you think you are, eh? Mike Tyson, maybe? You're a champion, all right, man, champion asshole!" The sumo's chest suddenly heaved, and his cock, which had been flapping up against the heavy plates of Cruz' six-pack, suddenly shot thick white cum into the cracks and crevices of Cruz' abs and dripped over his sweaty belly. Cruz felt the iron bands of the sumo's asshole grip his own rod even tighter in the orgasm, but held the sumo just as tight, and clamped his head between his hands. "All right, man, I can do this for hours! You like that?" The sumo, now knowing that Cruz would not shoot and lose his power over the sumo's body, moaned in total defeat. "I'm giving you a Spanish lesson tonight, man!" A low moan for an answer. The sumo could only stare, eyes red and glassy. "Only two words, you only gotta remember two words for this class. You know what are they? No mas!"With those last two words, Cruz pounded his rod twice into the sumo, then ground from side to side against his butt. "You know what that means, in English? No more. How does that sound?" The sumo rolled his eyes. "How does that sound, my man. You ready to give it up?" After a long second, the sumo's head bobbed slowly up and down; his bound arms tapped the polished wooden floor behind his head. The sumo's eyes then grew wide as his guts felt Cruz' first flood, a cooling wave that started in his belly and began to pulse down from the tip down to the assring. More pulses squirted around the cock and down the heaving checks of his ass, down the hairy baseball-sized nuts bouncing against his cheeks and down to a spreading puddle of cum on the sweat-soaked polished wooden floor. Cruz whispered, "Wanna play wheelbarrow, sushi?"With that, his three-by-twenty turning his guts to hot jello, Cruz forklifted the quarter ton of muscle up with his vise-like hands clamped over the sumo's deltoids. Cruz jacked their combined half-ton of muscle up on his trees of legs like a leg press as the sumo, speared beyond his dreams, skinning his ankles on Cruz' iron asscheeks as he tries to hold Cruz embedded in his belly. The sumo's right hand waved in the air, signaling defeat. Their bulk lowered until the sumo could once again feel the come- and sweat-slick wooden floor under his back. Slowly pulling his hips back, feeling his ridge grind back through his guts, Cruz slowly got to his feet and let the sumo's legs slide off his huge shoulders onto the floor, and stood straight up. Locking the sumo's black eyes with his own, Cruz shot off again without even touching himself, spurt after spurt flying down onto the sumo, his head, his chest, his belly and down his legs, thick ribbons of cum dripping down the sumo's sweaty torso. Not until the sumo's belly was practically white with the thick ribbons of cum criss-crossing his torso did Cruz' balls finally pump dry. His own sweat dripping down the pumped plates of his chest into his six- back, Cruz reached down and with one rip tore the mawashi off of the sumo's arms. Giving the sumo a harder fuck with his eyes than he had done with his own cock. The sum only had the strength to rub his fists together bruised on Cruz' marble shoulders, licking the cum which had shot onto his lips. Cruz took the mawashi and tied it around his own forehead. The blood pounding in his ears subsiding, and the red draining out of his vision, Cruz pulled his shorts back on over a still swollen cock. He turned to see the four other Japanese standing, shocked. Their mouths were open in shock; two even had visible boners in their pants. One of them had a telephone in his hands. It was ringing.