CLAW 1: Ryker vs. Kwame

Locker Room, CLAW Training Facility, Arlington VA

As I stand naked in the locker room, I'm still thinking about last night's CLAW show. I mindlessly pull my practice gear out of my bag as I run through every moment of last night's match against Dante. We nailed it. We hit every one of our spots perfectly. We had the crowd going wild. I'm still high on energy. It's why I had to come to the gym two hours early.

My name is Ryker and I've come a long way to have this feeling again. I was moving up in the pro wrestling world with Hawk, my former best friend and tag partner. It all came crashing down when our greatest opportunity became our greatest nightmare. After being driven out of pro wrestling, my career - hell, my life - was saved by Batman aka Cody, my very own real-life hero. He's amazing and so is his buddy Ben, the owner of the Championship League of American Wrestling. Ben gave me a second chance when no one else would.

Yeah, so Ben took a huge risk on me and I owe him everything. Well, half of everything, since Batman is also owed everything. Lucky for me, they don't want anything from me except for me to succeed. And CLAW has been awesome so far. The guys. The work. Ben's an amazing marketer, so even though we're a small DC-based federation, we get a ton of attention. It's only been a month, but I feel like it's home.

Suddenly, I see a shadow move past me out of the corner of my eye. I'm startled, dropping my jockstrap and turning too fast. I fall against the lockers. BANG! I calm down as I see it's just Kwame. The handsome black man is stripping down, his flawless brown skin and ripped muscles looking incredible. He's laughing, "You okay, Ryker?"

Kwame surprises me
in the locker room

Finally relaxed, I smile. "Kwame. Hey. You're here early. I thought I was alone and was deep in thought."

"Yeah, I could tell when you didn't answer me. What's on your mind?"

I shake my head, "Oh, I was still thinking about last night's show."

Kwame makes a face and I get it. I'm here because I'm wired about last night. I bet he's here so early because he's pissed about the same show. He had a rough match with Xander, a big guy who looks incredible, but is clumsy and lazy with learning holds. All he cares about are his muscles. He stinks figuratively and literally. Hey, when you're in the close contact like we are, personal hygiene matters. So yeah, Xander's a complete mess and his lack of commitment to our craft was exposed last night. It'll be a long while before Ben puts him in another show, but unfortunately, that's too late for Kwame. The crowd really turned on them. It was embarrassing and painful to watch.

Xander = gorgeous, but a
terrible wrestler

I tell him, "Sorry about last night. I know that had to be rough. If you want to talk about it -"

"I don't."

"Okay. It's just that -"

"Seriously."

"Sure, moving on."

Kwame grabs his stuff and heads to the shower. I join him. We make small talk, but since we're the only ones here, we agree to spar and run moves for awhile. I offer to show him a few moves, but he gives me a hard look. I realize it probably sounds like I'm acting like an expert. Yes, I have more experience, but only by months. I can see why he wouldn't appreciate it at this time.

I really want to help Kwame

As he rinses off, I just stare at him. And not just because he's a gorgeous naked man. I feel like he shouldn't keep things bottled up. I want to be a friend. Pro wrestling is competitive and political. We all need people we can trust. Instead of leaving it alone, I walk up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow.

Kwame doesn't want my advice

I say, "I'm glad you're okay. I mean, you can trust me. I'm a good listener and -"

Kwame gives me a WTF look, "Seriously, man? We're on this again? Let it go. You had a good match and I had a bad one. Quit rubbin' it in."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, you are. Stop acting like my boss. Ben's my boss. We talked after the show. It's all good."

"Is it? Sorry. It's just that I want to help if I can. I've been there. I know what it's like to be nervous about the crowd. You can tell me anything. I've got a lot worse baggage than you."

The handsome black stud's eyes narrow as he replies, "Yeah, but your shit is your own fault. My isn't." My mouth drops opens and I don't know what to say. He shrugs, "What? I thought you wanted to talk? And I could tell you anything."

I fight to keep calm. I ask, "What the fuck, man? That's not cool."

"What? I'm just saying that I didn't pick that lazy slob Xander as my opponent or decide to make us do a buncha borin' chinlocks and scissors for 20 minutes 'cause that all he knows. But you? You and Hawk chose to fight and fuck on camera. You wasn't forced to get pounded like a little bitch by your tag partner."

I object, "We didn't -"

Kwame interrupts, "Whatever. I've watched your little show a thousand times and I've never seen no chair aimed at your head. You can make excuses all day, but you made a sex tape and it blew up. Everyone's seen it and even if they're not saying it, they're thinking about it. Hell, I'm thinking about it right now. If I get hard during practice, that's 100% on you, man."

"Shut the fuck up. I was trying to be a friend. You're being an asshole."

The rookie pro doesn't shut up. He accuses, "No, you were bein' fake nice. I'm from Georgia. I know fake nice. You're just lucky Ben's so fucking cool. I wouldn't put you out there if it was my place. All anyone thinks about is Hawk pounding your sweet white ass and you loving it. Your face when he's slamming into you? Damn. Look, I'm gettin' hard already!"

I suddenly grab the ripped stud by the throat and pec then run him back-first into the tile wall. SPLAT! Water from his shower hits me in the face as he bats my hands away. He steps forward, but I shove him back into the wall. I demand he apologize. He refuses, calling me a bitch and saying Hawk went too easy on me. We argue and it gets uglier.

I drive my fist into his abs. POW! OOF! Kwame clubs me across the head. He grabs my arm then whips my wet naked body into the opposite wall in the communal shower room. SPLAT! Kwame bounces back at me then kicks me in the abs. THUD! OOF! I bend over and he gives me a double axe handle to my back. I drop to one knee and he backs off, looking cocky, arms spread wide.

Kwame grabs his semi-hard cock and waves it at me, "C'mon, you wanna show me what you got? Show me your moves? Or you only bend over for the cameras? C'mon, you know the drill. Loser gets fucked."

I roar and spring at him from my kneeling position. He grabs for me, but I overwhelm him with a spear to the gut. I drive him into the wall under the running shower again, barely missing the nobs. SPLAT! I pound away on his chiseled torso, hammering him with fists. THUD! POW! THUD! He tries to push me away, but I'm too fueled by rage. His hard cock bounces up and down as I pummel his six-pack. THUD! POW! THUD!

Kwame lifts his leg between mine, his shin slamming inside my thigh and just catching my balls. SQUISH! I bend forward and stumble back. The ripped stud locks on a standing headlock, cranking my head against his side. I moan as he crushes my head. I can see his hard cock, so I reach to grab it, but he turns his hips.

"I don't think so, bitch. Only place that cock is going is up your ass after I put you down."

The pressure on my head is disorienting me. I slam his back then push back. We're soaking wet, making it easy to slip free. We lock up fast in a collar-and-elbow. Our feet slip and slide as we struggle on the wet tile floor. We grunt and strain for control, but it's tough. We twist and try to impose our will, but we slip off. Each time, we lock up again immediately.

As we continue to battle, I hear a voice, "What's going on in - whoa!"

Mateo

I ignore whoever it is, but Kwame gets distracted. I use the distraction to grab his leg and lift, toppling him to the floor. PLOP! The ripped stud lands on his ass and I dive down on top of him. I force him onto his stomach then hammer his back. THUD! THUD! THUD! I sit my ass on his back then reach under his chin. I pull up hard, leaning back.

Kwame moans as I punish him, my weight holding him down while I bend his neck and back. I can't help but notice my cock is hard, stretching up his back towards his head. The rookie wrestler grips my hands, trying to pry them apart, but I'm too pumped. I try to pull harder, but my foot slips on the tile and we crash forward. I pull him up again, careful not to overdo it. As long as he hurts, it's all good.

The shower room is steamy and loud, between the hot showers raining down, Kwame's cries, my grunts and now Mateo's voice. He's a CLAW wrestler, too. I'm sure Mateo distracting Kwame wasn't intentional and it might not be fair for me to take advantage, but I don't give a shit. He stepped over a huge line with me, bringing up the video. Mateo is joined by two other wrestlers, Jake and Nate. Great, we have an audience.

Jake

Nate

We stay focused as I demand Kwame submit. He swears at me then finally manages to topple me off his back. We struggle for top on the hard, slippery tile floor. It's rough and dangerous, but we don't notice and we don't care. I get forced on bottom. My knee is wedged between our bodies, holding him off, but my main focus is keeping my head up.

I kick Kwame off me then spin to a crouch. Two of the wrestlers watching, Mateo and Jake, try to break us up, but we push them away. Nate, the third wrestler comes in, dragging a resilite mat. We wait, breathing hard and staring each other down. Both of us are wet, pumped and our clocks are hard. Nate and Jake position the mat between us while Mateo turns on all the showers.

Jake says, "Okay, guys, you don't wanna talk it out? Go for it."

As soon as they back off, we step on the mats and charge in. We lock up and I immediately overpower him, throwing Kwame to the mats. We roll around again, this time at full speed and power. With the protection of the mat, we don't have to hold back and we don't. I get his arm, but he slips free. He goes for my leg, but I get free. Neither one of us pause or stop to think, just fighting on pure instinct. It's so slippery and wet, but we stay focused.

I finally get control with a schoolboy pin. I demand he apologize. Kwame refuses, telling me I started it by disrespecting him. I smack his head, "I told you I was trying to be a friend. I figured you needed one after getting booed out of the ring last night. Fuck, you sucked."

The three guys watching let out an, "Ooooooo."

I ignore them, "You went too far with me, man. Way too far!"

Kwame bucks up and throws me off, "Yeah? Just wait'll you see how far I go!"

From our knees, we lock up again. At the doorway, Sean shows up with his tag partner Shane. Pretty soon, we're going to have the whole fucking roster watching this. Kwame doesn't get distracted again and neither do I. I guess we're giving them a fucking show. The water cascades down onto our ripped naked bodies as we grapple for dominance on the mat.

Shane and Sean

My power and experience give me the edge. I start manhandling Kwame, taking control on the mats as I move him around at will. He’s resilient and wiry, but I get him in some good spots like an awesome armlock that has him moaning, body scissors, and a vicious headlock. He won’t give, but I’m wearing him down. It won’t be long before this is over.

As I punish Kwame in a grapevine, he gets a burst of energy. The raining showers are a wild card, leveling the playing field. The ripped stud manages to slip free then throw me off him. I roll onto my stomach. As I rise, I slip, giving Kwame time to hop on my back. He locks on a sleeper as he rides my back. I strain to break free, but he’s got it locked on tight.

As I feel myself getting weaker, I manage to throw us to the side. We land on our sides and slide off the mat. The move distracts Kwame enough for me to break free. I roll back onto the mat then start to rise. Behind me, the chiseled rookie dives at my leg, taking out my knee and sending me down hard. WHAM! I reach for my knee, but Kwame has my leg.

Before I can react, the ripped black stud is rolling me over into single leg crab. I cry out as he sits back, bending me in half. I try to push up, but my hands slip. Kwame pounds my knee, keeping me from being able to focus. He demands I surrender, but I respond with a few choice words instead. Frustrated, he releases the hold, realizing it’s not going to finish our fight.

I get up to my hands and knees, but he comes down with an elbow to the back of my head. CRACK! I collapse on the mat, leaving myself wide open as Kwame goes for another sleeper. I get back to hands and knees with him on my back. He cinches in the hold, but I’m able to reach back and grab his head. I throw him forward. He slides over my back, flipping onto his ass in front of me. PLOP!

I wrap on a chinlock, squeezing hard. Kwame squirms as I lean forward, pressing my weight on him. His head is forced between his knees as he sits under me. I crank on the chinlock then surprise him by pulling him up and all the way back, slamming the back of his head onto the mat. CRACK! With the ripped stud stunned, I sit on his face, facing down his body.

I unleash a flurry of fists into Kwame’s meaty pecs and ripped abs. THUD! POW! THUD! He bounces with every shot. His grunts are muffled by my ass and I feel gusts of air leaving his lungs on my hole. Kwame tries to bridge and throw me off, but he can’t get his feet planted without them slipping on the wet vinyl.

Kwame finally gets his feet planted, but I’m a step ahead. I thrust my fingers onto his bulging pecs and squeeze hard. ARGH! My double pec claw has him writhing under me as my fists have softened him up just enough that he’s really feeling this. In desperation, Kwame throws his legs up to try to kick me, but instead, I grab them and pin them under my armpits.

I fold the ripped hunk in half and spank his ass. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! “I gotta admit, Kwame, you’ve got a sweet ass. I’m going to like stakes with you.” He thrashes and kicks, but I hold him firmly in place. I look at the six wrestlers now watching, “Any of you wanna jackhammer this jobber? It’s right here for the taking.”

The threat must give him an adrenaline rush, because Kwame bucks and I’m thrown forward. I slide to the edge of the mat on my stomach. The ripped hunk moves in fast. Too fast, actually, running right into a donkey kick to the gut. WHOMP! OOF! Kwame flies back, landing on his ass then collapsing.

I rise to my feet and move in. I drive my bare foot into his abs. STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! I grind my foot in, making sure it really hurts. Kwame grabs my ankle, trying to topple me but he can’t stop me from getting in another big foot. STOMP! When he tries to trip me, I leap up, coming down with a huge knee to his abs, driving all the air from his body. THUD! OOF!

I drag Kwame up, immediately lifting him up then dropping him across my knee in a gut buster. WHOMP! OOF! I push him off my leg and he rolls across the mat, holding his stomach. The wrestlers applaud, so I rise, turn and bow. I move in then put a foot right on the battered abs of the helpless hunk. I flex over him, showing off for my fellow studs. Beating Kwame is cool, but humiliating him will establish me in the locker room. No one will mess with me now.

I underestimate Kwame’s ab strength and resilience. While I’m showing off, he’s getting into position then trips me to the mat. My arms are up in a double bicep pose, so I can't brace myself right when I land. WHAM! I land wrong on my arm, my shoulder taking the brunt of the fall. WHACK! I grab it and writhe on the mat as my opponent rises, getting his second wind.

Kwame forces me to my feet. He sees I’m favoring my arm, so he whips me into the tile wall, shoulder first. CRASH! ARGH! I bounce off, crying out in pain. The ripped stud grabs my bad arm then locks on an armbar. He twists it hard and I’m seeing stars from the pain radiating from my shoulder. All I can do is slap my shoulder and try to re-focus.

The ripped hunk bends my limp arm into a chicken wing, grabbing me around the neck as he controls my arm. I struggle, but when I fight too hard, it only increases the pressure on my arm. I get driven into the tile wall, face first. The guys have shifted their loyalty, cheering for Kwame as I’m crushed and controlled against the wall.

Kwame tightens the chicken wing. I whimper and everyone laughs. I suddenly feel the ripped stud’s thick cock split my ass cheeks. As the tip find my hole, Kwame says, “Somebody put a rubber on me. I’m gonna wreck his arm then I’m gonna breed this fucker right now.” This time, it’s me who gets a burst from the threat of being fucked. I manage to push back, breaking free.

We face off again. We’re breathing hard, our chests and stomachs heaving as we suck in air in the steamy shower room. Our smooth skin glistens under the bright shower room lights. Any sweat is washed off our pumped muscles. The wrestlers watching start howling for us to lock up. They’re enjoying this way too much, but it doesn't matter. Nothing is settled, so we’re going to keep going.

We charge in, tying up in a collar-and-elbow. We slip and slide, suddenly toppling down. SPLAT! I land on my wrong side, my aching shoulder slamming hard. WHAM! Kwame is one me fast, sitting on my back. He grabs my wrist then wrenches my tortured arm up my back in a hammerlock. I moan and squirm under him as he forces my wrist towards my head.

I want to tap, but I resist. The cocky stud knows he’s hurt me. I feel something on my hand. It’s his hard cock. I grip it and Kwame laughs, “Go ahead, jerk it. Get me hard, ‘cause you know where it’s going next!” I try to crush it, but I can’t get my hand tight. I feel his cock sliding in my fist, Kwame pumping his hips. The asshole is mocking me.

My adrenaline fires up. I ignore the pain and thrash hard. I twist enough to relieve the pressure from the arm hold. Kwame tries to re-apply it, but I rise up, throwing him off me. The ripped stud moves in, not wanting to lose his advantage, but I’m ready with a foot right into his abs. THUD! OOF! Kwame flies back onto his ass, holding his abs.

I shake out my arm as he angrily slips and slides, trying to rise. When he finally gets to his knees, I’m ready. I dive at him, clotheslining him down with my good arm. WHACK! With Kwame down, I rise up then come down with an elbow to his chest. WHOMP! The ripped stud rolls onto his side away from me, exposing his back to me. I elbow him in the head, stunning him. WHACK!

I grab his wrist and ankle with my feet in his back. I pull back on the bow and arrow, stretching him out. The assembled crowd whistles as the ripped black stud’s glistening body is put on display facing them. They can see his face, etched with pain and his big cock and balls dangling as he fights to escape. Kwame just moans, ignoring my call for him to give.

Kwame won’t give, so I pull harder. Too hard, I guess, because the combination of the arm torture and water allows the chiseled hunk to kick his leg free from me. I still have his wrist, so I drag him across the wet vinyl into a side body scissors. I pin his arm down with my body weight and squeeze his torso.

The handsome hunk throws his head back and groans as I crush him with my legs. He flails his free arm, but I swat it away any time it gets close to my face or manhood. His cries echo throughout the chamber, but no submission comes. The pained whimpers just make me more excited. I hear Kwame’s pal Koke tell him to just give, but the ripped stud won’t.

I reach out and add a face claw to the scissors. Now Kwame is really thrashing. HIs hips buck and his junk flops around as he suffers in the double hold. I’m amazed that he continues to resist, but all it does is motivate me to go harder. Fuck it, if he can take this, I can keep dialing up the power. My knuckles go white as I crush his temples in the claw, my legs throbbing from the force of my deadly vice. All Kwame can do is thrash his naked body more violently.

I have to admit, I love seeing him writhe. You’d think my experiences would’ve given me empathy, but really they’ve made me just never want to be a victim again. I can’t believe he hasn’t given. I release the hold, kicking him in the side. He rolls onto his stomach, whimpering on the mat. His only movement is one leg flopping up and down.

I slowly rise then grab my bottle of liquid soap. I squeeze it out onto Kwame’s ass, toss it aside then kneel down. I rub the soap all over his ass then force my soapy fingers inside him. That gets the ripped stud moving. I tell him, “I want a clean ass to fuck, you know.” I finger fuck him, the soap lubing my fingers. Kwame moans, but he humps the mat, obviously getting off on this.

I use his wrist and throat to force him up. I can see that his huge cock is rock hard as it bounces and throbs the whole way up to his feet. Of course, he tries to attack my sore arm in desperation, but I’m ready for that. I block him then slam my knee into his chiseled abs. THUD! I step over him hip then power him into an ab stretch. ARGH!

I crank on it hard, listening to his moans. As they get higher and his gasps get more rapid, I know he’s tiring out. Kwame tries to flip me, but even with the wet vinyl under our feet, he can’t topple us. Still, anything can happen, so I switch out of this. I ease up on the ab stretch then scoop him up in my arms, cradling him like a bride crossing the threshold.

It seems sweet until I drop down, slamming him across my extended leg in an over-the-knee backbreaker. CRACK! I crank on the hold, weakening him even more. He flails and moans, but there’s no escape. I can’t believe he’s not giving, but I know he’s done. The only thing that’s still hard on him is his cock, which stretches out over his stomach.

I grab his cock and jerk it. He moans as I play with him, begging me not to. I ask if that’s a submission, but he responds, “Fuck you!” I squeeze tighter and slide my hand faster. At the other wrestlers’ urging, big Xander ambles in then grabs my soap bottle. He drizzles it on Kwame’s hard cock, lubing him up. Oh yeah, perfect.

From the wings, Jake yells, “C’mon Kwame, shoot already. Ben is gonna be here soon and we all need to shower and get ready. You can get him next time.”

Kwame, moans, “NEVER!” However, his body convulses and within seconds, I’m forcing a load out of the unwilling wrestler. His ripped body shudders on my leg as I steal his seed from him. It shoots out over his body, landing on the mats, his torso and chin. When I’m only getting drops, I push him off my leg, letting him collapse on the mat.

I drag him into a seated position, locking on a sleeper, “You ready to apologize?”

Kwame shakes his head, too tired to talk. I’m pissed, squeezing harder than I intend and putting him completely out. I lift his arm three times and it falls limp. SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! The wrestlers clap, congratulating. I rise slowly then flex for them with my foot on Kwame’s ripped body. My arm hurts, but I’m okay. And I’m rock hard. I need to shoot.

I slap Kwame’s face then pull the exhausted and aching Kwame to his feet. He can barely stand. I quickly bend forward then I hoist him onto my right shoulder. His head hangs down behind me as I bounce to adjust him. I turn with the defeated stud and see the guys in the doorway.

I tell them, "Get out." The assembled pro wrestlers back up, but don't leave. I say, "Out. I'll tell you when you're allowed back in here."

My naked body is pumped. I just kicked Kwame's ass. And I must have a tough look on my face, because they reluctantly obey. I'm not the biggest guy, but I'm the scariest right now. As much as they all want to see me finish the job, no one wants to be next on my list.

Finishing the Job

With the locker room cleared, I move to one of the benches. I check myself out in the mirror. Fuck, I look great with Kwame's carcass on my shoulder. I flex my left arm and smile. After admiring myself I flip Kwame over onto the bench, lowering him carefully onto it. His feet and hands hit the floor on either side, hanging down limp. The ripped stud is exhausted and sore, barely conscious.

I straddle his waist then sit down on his battered stomach. He groans from the weight. I slap his face, making him wake up. The defeated stud looks up at me. We lock eyes, but stay silent. He grimaces as he lifts his right hand. I just stay seated on him as he grabs my cock. Kwame starts slowly jerking me. I nod, silently accepting his surrender as he pays off the stakes he set.

Kwame turns his head and thrusts his chin up to his locker. I rise then look in his bag, finding condoms. I look down on him, "You come prepared." He shrugs, but stays lying on the bench, completely compliant. I grab one and toss it onto the bench between his open legs. I reach down and grab his wrist then pull him to a seated position.

The ripped black stud stares at my cock. He reaches up and grabs it as he moves his mouth to it. When he takes the head, I let out a huge gasp. Kwame works my cock and get hard immediately. I look down and watch him service me, knowing I earned this. He's good. Real good. His head and hand work in conjunction and he has my legs weak within a minute.

I feel his big hands caressing my leg as he continues to suck on my shaft. Kwame slides them up and tightly grips my ass before plunging deep onto my rod. He uses his grip to pull himself forward, gagging himself on my long cock. I whimper from the feeling, bracing myself by grabbing his head. When he finally slides off, my cock is painfully hard and ready to go.

Kwame grabs the condom then sheathes my cock before lying back on the bench. I grab his legs then lift them up as I step over the bench. I hoist his legs up my body, raising his ass higher and higher until he's in just the right position. He reaches back and grabs the bench, his elbows up as he waits. I guide my cock to his hole and he whispers, "Do it, man. Fuck me."

It's all the encouragement I need. I drive my hips forward, splitting his cheeks and piercing his hole. He groans loudly as I penetrate him. I take my time, but I go in all the way. When my pelvis is pressed against his cheeks, I start riding him. Kwame braces hard against my thrusts, moaning as I pound his fine ass.

I hammer him hard, building up fast. It's not like we're making love. This is primal domination, winner over loser. We both know it as Kwame begs me to go faster and even harder. I'm slamming his ass and he's crying out in pain and pleasure. My hips slap against his cheeks, my cock filling him up. I look up and focus on his submissive moans. It doesn't take much longer.

I slide out and lower his legs then free my rock hard cock. I stand over him, working my throbbing organ. I gasp and my hot white seed sprays out over his dark chiseled torso. The first shot runs from his chin to navel then more and more flies out until he's lined with ropes of cum. I drain every drop I have then sit on the bench.

I order, "Your turn."

Kwame eagerly seizes his big rod. He jerks fast and tight as I can see the tension in his grip. His handsome face is etched with pain, his ravaged body wanting to rest, but his cock needing release. Within a minute, the ripped stud is unleashing his own load, even bigger than mine. He adds to my load, our cum mixing and pooling in the deep crevices of his torso.

When he's done, I pat his thighs then stand up. "Come on, we've still got practice."

Settling Differences

Kwame slowly rolls off the bench. He rises to his feet and stretches. When he looks at me, I think I'm ready for anything, but he manages to surprise me. The ripped stud extends his hand. I accept and we shake. He pulls me into a bro hug, resting his head on my shoulder.

Kwame says, "Sorry, man. For real. I stepped way over the line and I apologize. "

I relax and rub his back, "Okay. I didn't mean to push so hard."

"It's cool. You wanted to help. This helped." Kwame breaks the hug then he moves back to the shower area to clean up. I join him and things are relaxed.

I'm rinsing off my front when I hear Kwame whistle. I turn and he shakes his head, "Man, you know how stupid hot you are, right? I mean, fuck, look at that ass. You open to a rematch?"

I laugh, "Yeah, you bet. Wait. You don't mean now, do you?"

"Naw, I gotta heal up, but I need to win that ass real soon."

I smile, "And I just might let you."

Kwame goes serious, "Let me? LET ME?"

I brace for another brawl, but a smile breaks on his face. I breathe a sigh of relief. Phew. We're just turning off the showers when we hear Ben's voice in the shower room doorway. "What's going on? Why aren't you letting guys get ready?"

Oh yeah, I kicked them all out. I stammer a response, but our irritated boss doesn't wait to hear it. He stops me cold with the evil eye that tells me he doesn't care why we messed up. Ben's a great guy, but he's tough. Oh shit, this is going to be a monster practice now. Ben is not a guy you want to make mad. Our boss tells us we have two minutes to be in the ring before he stomps off. We hear him ordering everyone back into the locker room.

Kwame and I run to get ready without even drying off. Better wet than dead, right?

The End