Dirty Fornicators
Published by Kyle Adams at Smashwords
Copyright© 2012 Kyle Adams
Smash words Edition, License Notes
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Warning:
This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. It has homosexuals fornicating and talking dirty.
I could feel the blood dripping down my face from the cut above my left eyebrow. A reminder I should have ended this match when I had the chance. Earlier I had quickly gotten the upper hand and had Striker pinned face down, my knee applying my full body weight into his lower back. Wrenching his arm back, I could have easily dislocated his shoulder or snapped his forearm. Would have been an easy win from there, but I have reservations about inflicting such damaging injuries just for a quick defeat.
I was regretting that now since Striker obviously didn't have those same hesitations. I managed to dodge a left hook aimed directly at my jaw. But ended up throwing my face into a strong right hand, connecting just above my left eye. I staggered back, unable to keep my balance, I tried to roll into the fall but the strike had left me dizzy. As I hit the mat, I slammed the left side of my face into the hard surface, splitting my cut open wider.
I didn't have much time to think about my injuries before Striker was straddling my back, trying to wrap his arm around my neck. I had my chin tucked against my chest preventing him from getting me in a rear naked choke. He tightened his arm on my chest, the pressure forcing the back of my head and neck against his upper body. Before he could get me into the choke, I put my palms flat on the mat and used what adrenaline I had left to push myself up onto my hands and knees.
Striker kept trying to get me in the hold, putting all his weight on my back. In an attempt to get him off me, I flipped us over. Trying to drive my weight into his stomach as we dropped onto the mat. I hoped the impact would force him to let go. We landed with him on his back, my back to his chest. Instead of letting go, he just constricted his arm tighter around my throat. I needed to make him loosen his grip, I could barely get a breath in at this point, I was scrambling. I frantically brought up my hands, digging my fingers firmly into his forearm. I pulled as hard as I could. He didn't budge. Bastard. Even though I couldn’t move his arm, I was able to keep him from locking the choke in tighter. We both knew he was losing his grip, he couldn't hold the position much longer. That's when I felt Striker wrap his legs around my waist from behind. Crossing his ankles, he squeezed like his fucking life depended on it.
"Just give up, Cross." Striker grunted, his hot breath in my ear. I tried to shake my head ‘no’ as much as I could with his arm still squeezing tighter around my neck. He must be an idiot, he kept his face near my ear. I used the situation to my advantage by lifting my fist over my right shoulder and connecting squarely with the side of his right eye. He grunted and tightened his arm around my neck. I tried to get another swing to hit him again, but he moved his head out of my reach. I was already dizzy from the blow to my face and slamming my head against the mat earlier. Striker finally locked in the choke, within seconds I began to see spots as he cut off the blood flow to my brain. Motherfucker was going to take me down.
I barely heard the crowd as they started cheering excitedly. I was always able to block out the crowd during a fight. Once every month, I came into The Cage to fight. I rarely lost, which is why those fickle fuckers watching loved it when it looked like I was losing. It was a small crowd, just a handful of guys with aggression issues they needed to release, but they could get loud. Staying focused was getting harder by the second. But Striker knew me in The Cage, we'd been here before. The only way I would submit, the only way to win against me was to beat me unconscious. Striker knew it well; he was one of only three guys from the group to have ever defeated me.
This was my twenty-sixth match, and fourth against Striker. I won two to one against him but it looked like we were about to be tied. I felt myself begin to slide into unconsciousness. My last thoughts were hoping I woke up without having lost too many brain cells, along with my pride.
****
When I slowly came to, my head was pounding. I felt like I was waking up from a punishing hangover, or more like three hangovers simultaneously wreaking havoc inside my head. I think I groaned a little but didn't open my eyes, just wanted to lay there until my head stopped spinning.
"It’s about time you woke up," I heard a vaguely familiar voice say all too cheerfully. I scrunched my eyes tighter and grimaced. Striker must have noticed my reaction. "Sorry, man," he said a lot quieter and more soothing. "You know, losing wouldn't hurt so much if you just gave up before being put to sleep. We might be a bunch of assholes that like beating each other up, but none of us want to beat a man unconscious just to rack up a win.”
I knew what he said made sense but I fought to win. Just giving up and admitting defeat wasn't satisfying. It was not my way. I had to fight until I couldn't open my eyes. That’s why I worked hard to keep my body in great shape. I was quick on my feet, and had endurance to outlast almost everyone else I have come up against.
I'm 5'11" and 170 pounds of solid muscle. I run five miles every day to keep up my stamina, and I hit the gym four to five times a week. I have midnight black hair that I keep short on the sides and just long enough on top to style, but not long enough for an opponent to grab onto during a fight. I have strong facial features with a square jaw, high cheekbones and a sharp small nose. I’ve been lucky, even with all the fighting, I’ve never had my nose broken.
I was lying on the wrestling mat trying to breathe, but even small shallow breaths burned my throat like I had just done a round of battery acid shots. Even feeling this shitty, it was worth it to know I fought until I passed out. I don't quit. "Where's Buddy?" I managed to say without sounding too raspy. This was Buddy's group, his cellar which the guys called The Cage, was below his old farmhouse about 10 miles outside of Pittsburgh. Buddy was always here after the fights taking care of anyone that got hurt.
"Buddy had somewhere to be, I told him I would make sure you made it out of here and locked the place up when we left." He knew what I wanted to ask and answered before I could open my mouth, "Buddy made all the guys leave with him so they wouldn't be hovering. You were only out for twenty-three seconds but you know Buddy, he had the guys leaving before I even released the choke. Of course, I let go as soon as you lost consciousness, and it's not like you stopped breathing or anything. You're fine," he said as he grabbed my chin, manhandling me he pulled my head to the side, “except for this nasty cut above your eye. You'll have to work on those reflexes.” I opened my eyes and glared, he was smirking.
Sexy fucking bastard. “Fuck you!” the croak in my voice made it sound less angry than I meant. I sounded like I was teasing, when I was about a minute away from breaking his smug nose.
“Maybe if you're a good boy,” he said winking at me, conceited bastard. "Hold still, I'm going to clean it with some antiseptic."
He started scrubbing the pad on my open cut. I resisted the urge to flinch from the sting of the alcohol and how much pressure he was using. I felt like he was cleaning it with sandpaper. Asshole! Did he have to be so rough? I didn't want to seem like a baby but this was hurting worse than it did when I got the cut. "Your cut won't need stitches. Nothing seems broken, you'll probably just be light headed for a while and have a sore throat for a few hours. If you knew when to submit, it wouldn't bother you at all." He smirked again.
He said it like it would have been okay to tap out and just give up. I smiled, thinking next time I would break his arm and dislocate his shoulder if I got the chance. I felt Striker press a small bandage onto my cut, when he finished he said, "You can sit up now. But move slowly," Striker added as an afterthought like I haven't been choked out enough times to know not to move my head too fast. I gradually sat up and noticed my balance was fine, I was already feeling a lot less dizzy.
Striker pulled off his latex gloves and put them in a plastic trash can before reaching into his pack and grabbing a bottle of water and some pills. He turned back to me and asked, "Are you nauseous at all?" I thought about it for a second before slightly shaking my head. "Good. Sip a little of this," he said before opening the water and handing it to me. I took a cautious sip and was grateful when it soothed the burning in my throat. "Here, take four Ibuprofen, it will help with the swelling and you should feel better soon." I took the pills and swallowed them one at a time.
I looked closer at Striker's face, he was already starting to bruise around his right eye, it would be a nice shiner in a few hours. He deserved it, just for being a smug asshole. He was about two inches taller than me but his body was the same compact build as mine. He wore his dark brown hair in the same style as me. His face was softer and more round. I had a rougher look, which some might even call ruggedly handsome, but Striker he was just stunningly beautiful. Just when my eyes were starting to take a full appreciative look of his body, he turned his head and locked his gaze onto mine.
Not wanting to be caught admiring him, I narrowed my eyes and glared. Half smiling, he scowled back at me. We were only about a foot apart, and I couldn't tell if he wanted to hit me or kiss me. I wasn't friends with any of the guys I fought against, I didn’t talk to them outside of arranging fights so I knew nothing about any of them. This was the longest conversation I’d ever had with Striker and I had only really said a few words. He was gorgeous, and if I had met him anywhere else I would have taken him home and fucked him. But I don't make a habit of sleeping with guys and then beating the shit out of them.
"When are we having a rematch?" I asked. My voice sounded raspier than usual and my throat still burned when I spoke.
Striker shook his head. "There won't be a rematch. This was my last fight, I’m getting too old to keep making excuses for why I have bruises and tired of people assuming I’m always starting fights. I used to really love fighting and it was great for releasing tension but I’m ready to find a new release that doesn’t leave bruises and broken bones."
"What the fuck? That can't be your last fight; you have to give me a rematch. We have a two-two tie, you can’t let it end like that," I said raising my voice as loud as I could, ignoring my sore throat.
"I told Buddy before the fight this would be my last one. I don't see the problem ending with a tie. Equal!" he snapped back.
"It’s unsportsmanlike to refuse the looser a rematch. Stop being such a pussy," I said probably sounding childish, but I wanted my rematch. I had to win our last fight, I had to be at the top.
He looked thoughtful for a minute, grinning at me slyly, "I thought you might say something like that so I will give you a rematch but I have a few stipulations."
"And those would be what?" I asked irritably, he sounded like a diva. “You need your own pansy-ass dressing room?”
"I was thinking it would be at my house, no audience, and just grappling. That way you won’t be as embarrassed when I make you my bitch."
It was on the tip of my tongue to say no because I liked striking, and wanted to give him matching black eyes, but I’m very competitive and I wanted a rematch. And although I preferred fighting with my fists, grappling could be a good release of tension. "When are we going to do this?"
He gave me a playful grin before responding, "Tonight, if you're up for it, that is." Even if I wasn't feeling up to it, I wouldn't have been able to refuse the challenge in his statement. I just nodded my head. "If you think you’re okay to drive, you can just follow me home or you can ride with me if you want,” Striker said as he pulled sweats on over his athletic shorts. I got up and went to do the same.
Finished putting my clothes and shoes on, I turned around to see Striker watching me from the bottom of the stairs, his bag thrown over his shoulder. I grabbed my bag and went over to him. He motioned me to go up first. I waited by our cars while he shut off the lights and locked the doors.
"I live about 30 minutes from here, if you're sure you can drive, and are up for another fight,” Striker said as he approached the cars.
"I'm fine," I grunted. "Let’s go."
****
"Are you sure you don't want to shower first?" Striker asked for the second time since arriving at his house a few minutes ago. I shook my head, like I did when he offered a drink or asked if I wanted to relax on his couch.
“I just want to get to the grappling. Why shower when we will just be getting sweaty again?” I asked irritably.
“Okay, have it your way,” he said with another smirk before sauntering into his room. A few minutes later, he came out in just a bright red jockstrap. There's no way he could have fought earlier in this jock, with how little support it provided. His cock and balls were barely contained in that small front pouch. The jock was only held up by the thin waist strap, which was barely above the base of his cock, a couple inches below his waist. Then an even thinner strap from the base of the fabric below Striker's balls looped around each thigh just below his firm, round ass. “My shorts are in the dryer downstairs. Follow me.” Walking down the stairs after him, I couldn’t keep my eyes off his ass.
The basement was where he had his laundry supplies in one corner, the rest of the room was a home gym, he also had a large mat in the back corner. I walked over to the mat, standing there in just my black shorts, I watched as Striker ruffled around with the clothes in the dryer. After finding the pair of shorts he wanted, he leisurely bent over and stepped into them. He slowly pulled them up his legs, flexing his ass as he stood. I had to hold in a moan at the view he was giving me. By the time he finished his reverse-strip tease, I was uncomfortably hard in my own jock.
Now we were getting into position to start our rematch. He was standing on the mat across from me in nothing but his tight white shorts. Tight enough I could see his skimpy red jock through them. I was having trouble concentrating since I couldn’t make myself look anywhere but at Striker's barely covered cock. Striker asked if I was ready, I absently nodded my head. I was expecting us to circle around each other, waiting for an opening to make a move but as soon as I nodded Striker was on me. He skipped the clinch and just slid around to my back, quickly locking his arms around my midsection. He then pulled my back tight against his chest, pinning my arms to my sides.
"You're gonna have to be faster than that if you want to win, baby, and trust me you want to win. Winner gets a very special prize," he whispered in my ear as he ground his hardening cock into my ass.
"You're cheating." I whined like a little bitch before I could stop myself. If my hands would have been free I would have introduced my palm to the side of his face.
Striker just chuckled before whispering in my ear again, "It's not cheating, I’m just using your attraction to me to my tactical advantage." I knew he was right, I wanted him so bad I wasn't even trying to escape his hold. "Winner gets to top, and after I win I am going to ride you so hard you won’t walk right for a week."
He was blatantly cheating, even though I could easily break his hold I didn’t want to, I was enjoying the feeling of his body caressing mine and how his light breathing against my neck made my body tingle. I was lost in how easily his stiff cock just pushed my ass cheeks apart, snuggling and rubbing between them like it belonged there. Even through the jock and shorts, I could feel every hard inch. I got lost in the pleasure of him rubbing against me for a moment, but then I started thinking about his tight ass bending over and all I wanted was to pound my cock into his ass. I liked that idea; I had to win and then I was going to fuck him until he passed out.
“If you’re not even going to try, I might as well tie you to my workout bench with my hand wraps and spend the rest of the night fucking your ass.” He paused to lightly bite my neck where it curved into my shoulder. I think I moaned or whimpered or made some sound I normally wouldn’t make. “I was hoping for a challenge before I claimed your ass. You want to just bend over for me instead?”
“You know, you’re an asshole,” I grunted out as I lightly tested his hold to see how easily I could slip out of it. If he thought I’d just submit because I liked how his cock nestled against my ass, he had a surprise coming.
“You’ll be a complete slut for me, you’ll be begging me to fuck you. I’ve been waiting to fuck you into submission since I first watched you fight. You don’t know how many times I’ve jerked off thinking about tying you to my bed and fucking you senseless,” Striker practically growled in my ear.
I almost let myself whimper, “please,” but caught myself in time. No matter how much Striker made me want him, I wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of dominating me. He was already an egotistical prick, and I’m sure he would find a way to rub my nose in it if I lost, or worse if I did just roll over with my ass in the air for him.
With renewed determination, I was thinking through my best options to quickly end the match. He kept rambling about all the dirty things he could do to my ass, and how I’d beg for more. Then he surprised me when he jerked me harder against his chest, bringing my feet a couple inches off the ground before he twisted and slammed us both onto the mat. The impact against my stomach knocked the air out of me. Striker was still on my back, but his arms were no longer wrapped around me.
I managed to flip onto my back, making our chests touch. I lifted my legs and crossed them over Striker's waist. I was hoping that by getting him into full guard it would help me flip him, but instead it just made our cocks rub against each other through our shorts and jocks. Striker had his face hovering above mine, and as he rubbed his crotch against mine, he leaned down and kissed me.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus, his lips were perfect as they covered mine. I moaned and he thrust his tongue into my mouth. I was lost in his kiss and the feeling of his hard cock grinding against my own, fuck he was going to make me cream in my shorts. It was a few minutes before I got my head back in the game. Once again, I was reminding myself we were fighting and that I was going to win that fight. I pushed at his shoulders and he pulled back licking his lips.
“You cheating fuckface, that has to be a disqualification, foreign objects aren't allowed. And that tongue is definitely a foreign object.”
Striker just grinned at me before responding, “Really? You want to win by a disqualification?” Fuck, when he put it like that it did make me sound like a chicken-shit.
“No, I would much rather kick your ass,” I said before sweeping out from under Striker and rolling him into a mount, he ended up on his back with me straddling his hips. I was stretched out over him holding his biceps to the mat. Instead of trying to break my grip or reverse our positions, he began thrusting his hard cock against my ass. He pulled both his legs up with his feet flat on the ground making his thrusts sturdier. Bouncing me a little each time he shoved up against me. Bastard.
I was so turned on I could barely focus at all and he just licked his lips. “If you wanted to ride me, all you had to do was say so,” he purred, trying to sound seductive. Sexy fucker thought he was just so smooth, and I’m sure with his devilish smile and sly tongue most guys ate it up, or dropped to their knees and sucked it up. I waited for him to thrust his hips up and I pushed myself forward so I could get my knees on his shoulders. As I did that, I reached behind me with my right arm and hooked it around his thigh under his knee. I watched the smirk fade from his face as he realized I was about to pin him. He tried to struggle, but I already had his leg in a firm grip, and my knees were pressing his shoulders into the mat.
He gave up struggling after a few seconds and just looked at me. “Guess you win. Better go grab the lube and condoms above the dryer before you claim your prize.” I just nodded before getting up and walking across the room to get the supplies. When I turned back around, Striker was on his knees with his face on the mat, his ass in the air. He had removed his white shorts but remained in his jock. His knees were far enough apart I could see my prize. I wanted to rush over and dive into that sweet ass, but made myself go slowly. I wanted Striker to think I was in control even though I knew if he ordered me to do something, I’d do whatever the hell he wanted.
Kneeling behind him, I put my hands on his firm ass cheeks and started squeezing. Like a target, the jock’s waistband and the straps around each thigh framed his ass perfectly, leaving his hole in the center waiting to be fucked. I leaned in with my mouth open and gently nipped at his left cheek. He moaned and I bit his other cheek but much harder, just let my teeth sink in, not hard enough to break the skin, just hard enough to leave my mark. I loved the taste of his skin, salty from sweating but it was a clean manly sweat. It even smelled delicious. I used my tongue and slowly licked my way up to his lower back.
“Please,” Striker moaned, “fuck me already.”
“You know for as enthusiastic as you were to fuck me, you sure are an eager bottom.”
“I'm just a horny bastard. I love to drive, but I am just as happy to go along for the ride.” He wiggled his sexy ass at me again. “Shut up and get to fucking.”
“No,” I said firmly, “I will decide when or if I fuck you.” I wasn’t sure when I got myself back under control, but I was planning to keep it that way. “Suck me,” I ordered as I stood back up. I was pleased when Striker immediately pushed himself up onto his knees. He turned to face me and quickly pulled my shorts down around my ankles, leaving me in my black jockstrap. Leaning forward, he put his mouth over the head of my covered cock. He continued sucking my hard cock through my jock while he glided his hands over the back of my legs working his way up until he was cupping my ass.
I let out a gasp when he gripped my ass hard and pulled my crotch tight to his face as he moved his lips from the head of my cock down the shaft. He was wild and uninhibited, he knew what he was doing and loving every second. When he started sucking my balls through my jock, my knees almost gave out, it was too much. I put my hand on the side of his head, and pulled him off. He looked up at me and cocked his head a little to the side. I could tell he wanted to know why I stopped him.
“I said suck me, not tease me.” I pulled down the waistband of my jock, hooking it below my balls and pushing them forward. I grabbed my dick by the base and pointed it at Striker’s eager mouth. “Now suck it while I decide if I’m going to come down your throat or up your ass.”
Striker leaned forward and inhaled my cock, taking it all the way in until his lips met my fingers. I moved my hand and he swallowed the remaining couple of inches. His chin pushed my balls back against my jock, the pressure on my balls felt amazing. He rubbed his nose in my pubic hair before looking up at me. He slowly pulled my cock out of his mouth before swallowing it whole again. He closed his eyes and started sucking up and down; Striker sucked cock like he was suffocating and his only source of oxygen was in my balls.
He didn't just suck my dick, he worshiped it. Using his tongue, he teased the underside of the head before pressing it against my slit. I could only whimper, his tongue drove me so crazy. Then he deep throated me again and pressed his teeth lightly against the base of my cock with just enough pressure to feel incredible. The stimulation was too much, he was going to make me come too soon.
He had only been sucking me for a few minutes when I used my hand on his head to make him stop again. “Put your face back down on the mat so I can fuck you.” He quickly turned around and dropped his upper-body to the mat, leaving his ass in the air. I kicked my shorts off before removing my jock and tossing it behind me. Reaching down I picked up the condom from where I dropped it earlier. I quickly opened it and rolled it down my spit-slicked cock. I grabbed the lube off the mat and squeezed some onto the top of his crack. His legs were spread out enough I could watch it drip down his ass, mixing with the sweat that was already there. I used my finger to rub it around his hole before pushing into him.
“No, just lube your cock and fuck me!” Striker ordered. I thought about continuing to stretch him but I wanted to fuck him the way he wanted, and his tone made it clear he wanted it rough. I poured more lube around his crease before generously slicking my cock. I lined up my cock and slowly started to push in. I had the head just past the rim when Striker growled and pushed himself back, only stopping when his ass hit my thighs and my entire length was deep inside him. I moaned at the feeling of being completely surrounded by him. “Don’t move until I tell you. I need a second to adjust.”
I rubbed my hand over the bite mark I left on his ass while I waited for him to get comfortable. He looked fucking hot wearing my mark, I'd be sure to give him a few more. A few moments later Striker panted. “Okay, fuck me like you paid for it.” I think I might have suffered some brain damage earlier because I didn’t know what he meant.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Fuck me like you would a whore. Hard, fast, dirty, but don’t cry after,” he snapped back at me. I didn’t have a problem fucking him rough and dirty. Tired of waiting for me, he started rocking back and forth on my cock. Taking charge, I clamped my hands on his hips to hold him still. I pulled my cock slowly out of his ass, he whimpered when the head of my cock was out completely but didn’t say anything. Good. I was tired of him trying to top from the bottom. Without warning I thrust back into him with all the force I could generate. We both moaned and grunted as I kept pulling out and pushing back in, making it rough like he wanted.
I pounded his ass vigorously, fucking him as hard as I could and he still moaned and begged for more. It felt amazing and I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. I had needed to come since I followed him down the stairs earlier. I was so lost in my own pleasure I wasn’t even listening to Striker, but I’m sure he was talking dirty when he wasn’t moaning. I started shortening my thrusts so I could lean down against Striker's back. I slid my hands from his waist up to his nipples, pinching them as I bit his shoulder, not hard enough to break the skin but hard enough it smarted.
He lifted his head off the mat and turned towards me. “Yeah, baby, punish me for teasing you so bad.” I twisted his nipples hard as I continued to thrust forcefully. I stopped leaving marks on his shoulder and turned my head to cover his lips with mine. I kissed him hard and fucked his mouth with my tongue with the same enthusiasm I was pounding his ass.
He pulled his mouth away before shouting, “Oh shit, Cross. I’m coming.” I felt his body tense under me and his ass tightened around my cock. I leaned back up and grabbed the thigh straps of his jock and pulled them tight knowing it would put pressure on his balls and cock. I used them as handles while I fucked him through his orgasm. He started moaning, “Oh fuck, oh God.” When I was about ready to come, I pulled out of him and removed the condom before erupting all over his back. He did say he wanted me to fuck him like a whore.
“That how you like it, bitch?” I couldn't help taunting as he collapsed on his stomach. I fell to my side next to him.
He looked at me and smiled. “That's how I love it, you made me come in my jockstrap.”
“You like it dirty,” I teased.
“You didn't even touch my dick.” I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just smiled that I made him come just from fucking him.
We laid there for a few minutes before I asked, "You let me win, didn't you?"
He chuckled lightly before leaning over and giving me a quick kiss. "Depends on your perspective. To me I’m definitely the winner here, besides this was just round one," he winked before leaning in and kissing me, he was ready to start round two.
####
About the author:
Kyle Adams has been writing gay romance since, well he forgot how long. Trust him, it has been a while. He’s quiet and maybe a little shy, but he decided to start releasing a few stories. We’ll see if people like reading them as much as he likes writing them.