Camp Grapple 2: Hawkeye vs. Winchester

"We ain't keeping this wrestling thing secret no more, Surge? Fuck that. Done."

I lift my stethoscope off the sculpted left pec, "What?"

Hawkeye hops off the exam table and grabs his camouflage pants, "You heard me. I'm out."

Hawkeye

I put my hand on his forearm to stop him, getting a death glare in response. I don't move it. He might be tougher than me, but this is my office and as base doctor, I'm the one in charge here. I order him, "Get back on the table, soldier. We're not done with your exam."

Surge (me)

The handsome 29-year old reluctantly returns to the table. With my authority restored, I go back to listening to his heart then finish the rest of his checkup in uncomfortable silence, except for hearty coughs on command. When his pants are down for the hernia check, I avoid looking at his gorgeous cock. He's fucked me with it 10 times, but this isn't the right time for number 11.

When I'm done his exam, I ask, "Okay, you're healthy. Now, let's talk wrestling. What's going on? We're not changing anything. We're sure as hell still keeping it all quiet, so I don't get what you're worked up about."

The ripped muscleman grabs his pants. He replies. "This whole rasslin' thing is getting too big. We gotta fuckin' title belt, for fuck's sake. Now you're including the foreigners? No, no, no. Count me out. Y'all are gonna get caught. I don't care what policies have changed. I don't want an underground gay sex rasslin'' group on my record."

I sigh, "You're overreacting, buddy. Is this about Winchester?" The stare tells me it is. "A lot of us know the guy. We've wrestled with him. He's cool. In fact, you could say that the guy is already part of the group, just not with you. We can trust him."

"I can't."

"Then you don't have to wrestle him. Stick to guys you know. Like me. I'm always open to hitting the mats with you." Hawkeye softens at the invitation. I continue, "After your last run-in with him, you said how much you'd love to fuck his fat Brit butt. I figured you'd like me to set up a match. No pressure and I never mentioned you to him."

Hawkeye stares at me, thinking. He finally asks, "Who's wrestled him?"

"Me, Stone, Colossus, Sledge, Ranger. Lots of guys. Check around and let me know."

The handsome southern hunk hesitates. He'd love a crack at Winchester, but I get it. None of us want our underground, full-stakes, wrestling club to be exposed. We're a small group of like-minded studs who like to wrestle then fuck. We have formalized it with a title belt, but it's still about burning off steam by testing ourselves against each other. It's just fun. Painful and intense fun, but fun nonetheless. All based on our primal need for male camaraderie (and domination).

Hawkeye is one of our more conservative members. He's a good ol' Southern boy who identifies as straight, so I get why he'd want to keep this on the lowest of down lows. The guy is heavy into his faith and family, using wrestling as an outlet for his baser instincts, but it's not his life. He's got no interest in the title belt. He never watches other guys and doesn't like guys watching him. Too bad for Hawkeye, he's smoking hot and an audience is often part of his experience.

As a very handsome, chiseled hunk with a huge cock, Hawkeye always has guys challenging him. He's pretty good on the mats, but he usually sticks to smaller guys that he can dominate. Works for me, because I'm a smaller guy and we've wrestled a dozen times in the past couple of years. I've only won twice, but it's cool. I'd rather take his big dick than his tight ass any day.

Winchester would be a departure for Hawkeye. The Brit is bigger, beefier and more muscular, although less defined. Hawkeye's never ever seen him wrestle, but I know the guy. Winchester is a definite threat to win. For whatever reason, though, he's gotten under Hawkeye's skin. The southern stud has talked about him to me many times. It's an itch I'm trying to help him scratch.

Winchester

I do trust the Brit. He's here as part of an international team that's been working with us on base for the past year. There are members from all the NATO countries, a lot of them in special ops type roles. Like any group, there are a few of them who've gotten into some of our action. They don't necessarily know about the belt - it's strictly for the inner circle - but they're down with what we do.

I leave it with Hawkeye and it doesn't take long for him to come around. The next day, he asks me to set something up. I let him know that I'll be the only spectator, further easing his mind. He thanks me as I notice his bulge is a little bigger when he exits.

Ready for Action

Hawkeye and Winchester stretch out on the mats we've got permanently laid out in this forgotten storage room. Hawkeye is in standard issue green briefs. No special, sexy underwear for the no-nonsense stud. Not that he needs it. The stud is amazingly hot. He twists his chiseled torso, but I can tell he's 100% focused on the match.

Opposite Hawkeye, Winchester stretches. He's bulkier than his opponent, but not as ripped. I've wrestled both and they're a lot different. Hawkeye always fights to win, while the handsome Brit is more casual. Even his gear is more playful. He's wearing tight Union Jack briefs that strain to contain his massive butt. I get why the American wanted it so bad.

I still have no idea why this is a grudge match, but I do know that it's actually a one-sided grudge. The handsome Brit has no problem with Hawkeye. When I proposed the match to him, he agreed because the American is hot as hell. I wonder if the one-way intensity will make a difference with Winchester wrestling for fun and Hawkeye wrestling for honor.

It's a best three-out-of-five. Both guys wanted a long, real test. You can fluke into one fall, but it takes skill to win three. Of course, they both jumped at stakes, with the loser getting fucked. Hawkeye's cock is amazing and I love seeing him on top, but seeing the arrogant stud get humbled and fucked by the beefy Brit would be cool, too. And I can always comfort the loser.

Fact is, no matter what, I feel like I'm in for a good show.

Fall 1

The two wrestlers are ready. They move in. Hawkeye forces a lock up immediately, no circling, no feeling out. He goes low, showing off his speed. The chiseled hunk gets a hold of Winchester's leg then lifts fast. The beefy Brit falls back onto his ample ass. PLOP! Hawkeye tries to wrap up the thick tree trunk, but Winchester pulls it free and rolls away.

As Winchester casually rises to lock up again, Hawkeye doesn't wait. He charges in like lightning and grabs a leg again, this time spinning and flipping the big beefcake down with a leg drag takedown. WHAM! The big Brit grunts with surprise. The American keeps hold of the leg and flips the bigger hunk over into a single leg crab.

Hawkeye sits down and back, really working the hold. Winchester pounds the mat. If he expected a feeling out period of rolling around, he was wrong. Winchester pushes up, lifting them with his powerful chest and arm muscles. The chiseled American releases the leg, but he doesn't move off. Instead, he leaps up, coming down with his ass driving into the Brit's back. WHACK! Winchester is flattened to the mat.

The ripped Hawkeye reaches for his opponent's ankles. He folds them together then spins around. The relentless American pushes down on the ankles, pushing Winchester's heels into his amazing ass. Hawkeye pins them down with his leg then pounds the Brit's big back. THUD! THUD! THUD! The overwhelmed wrestler grunts with every shot.

Instinctively Winchester reaches back to defend himself only to have his wrists grabbed. Hawkeye pulls up on the arms, lifting the beefy Brit's chest off the mat. Winchester's grunts turn into moans as he's punished, his shoulders straining and his back being tested. When the ripped dominator starts to rock, the moans rise an octave as the helpless hunk is weakened.

Hawkeye releases the wrists and legs. He dives forward, clubbing Winchester across the back of the head. WHACK! CRACK! Winchester's head flies forward, slamming into the mat. He writhes on the mat, stunned by impact. The ripped stud slides onto the Brit's broad back then powers him into a full nelson. He rolls them over, pulling the beefy limp carcass on top of him.

A body scissors gives Hawkeye even more control as he squeezes on the nelson. His earlier shoulder work makes it easier to keep his hands locked. I can see the pain and frustration on Winchester's face as his chin is pressed down between his meaty pecs. He's a big, tough guy, but so far, he's shown nothing. I give Hawkeye more fight and I'm 50 pounds lighter.

Hawkeye taunts, "C'mon, big man. Surge gives me more of a fight than this."

Winchester growls and flexes, trying to power out of the full nelson. I see Hawkeye's chiseled muscles tense as he fights to maintain control. The grunting from both men fills the room (and my cock) as they engage in this epic test of strength. There's no movement, but the intensity is high. They struggle and strain until Winchester finally powers Hawkeye's hands apart.

The ripped American wrestler gives up the fight, but he keeps the bigger man under control. He immediately grabs Winchester into a rear naked choke, keeping his body scissors from behind. The beefy Brit reacts quickly, twisting and shifting to keep Hawkeye from locking it on too fast or too tight. Both men are sweating and grunting as they try to assert their dominance.

Winchester is strong and finally adapting to the speed and ferocity of his opponent. He picks up his pace, managing to use his arm to wedge the rear naked choke apart. The beefy Brit swings an elbow back, connecting with Hawkeye's temple. CRACK! With the chiseled stud stunned, Winchester powers free of the body scissors.

When Winchester spins around, he immediately gets a foot to the gut. THUD! The British beefcake wasn't ready and the foot sinks deep into his unflexed abs. He looks like he might lose his lunch. Hawkeye spins on his ass, diving in for a front facelock. He squeezes hard. Winchester uses his powerful legs to rise, forcing Hawkeye up with him.

Both men are bent forward, the American keeping a tight grip on the facelock. Suddenly, the chiseled stud spins fast, using the hold for a spinning neckbreaker. WHAM! They land on their backs, Winchester holding his head, his feet weakly kicking up and down as he moans on the mat. Hawkeye grabs an arm, locking on an armbar. He twists at the shoulder, brutally attacking the joint under the thick slab of muscles.

Winchester groans as he's pushed onto his stomach, his arm wrenched up and back. Hawkeye's knee holds the big beefcake down as he cranks on the armbar. Winchester thrashes in a puddle of sweat as he fights not to give. I can see the anguish on his face from the relentless assault.

The handsome American locks the arm under his armpit, freeing his right hand. He reaches over and adds a side pec claw, savagely digging under the muscle. That elevates Winchester's grunts to cries of pain. Hawkeye's oversized, powerful hands match his oversized, powerful cock. I know his claw is devastating, having submitted to it multiple times myself on multiple parts of my body. Winchester is lucky it's not lower.

The big Brit grits his teeth then twists his body with a sudden burst. The combination of his power, surprise and sweat on the mat allows him to slip around onto his back, easing the pressure on his arm and pec. Hawkeye holds onto the arm, but there's no tension. As he tries to figure out what to do, Winchester whips his legs up and wraps them around his opponent's head. He pulls and flips Hawkeye over and away.

Hawkeye smoothly rolls and rises to his feet in one smooth move. Winchester rises, shaking out his arm, but he's too slow. The chiseled American is charging. Hawkeye lifts a foot into the bigger stud's gut. THUD! OOF! Winchester bends forward only to be grabbed and thrown against the wall, sore shoulder first. WHAM!

Winchester bounces off, his arm looking limp. Hawkeye moves behind then locks on a big full nelson. He locks his hands behind the big muscleman's head and squeezes. Winchester's thick shoulders collapse under the force and he moans in pain. The ripped dominator shakes Winchester back and forth, increasing the pressure. The big Brit is whimpering as he tries, unsuccessfully, to power out.

Hawkeye squeezes, but Winchester won't give. In fact, the big Brit runs them back, slamming Hawkeye into the wall, back first. The dominant hunk doesn't even ease up on his hold, his ripped muscles holding up just fine. To avoid another run, he lifts his foot onto the back of Winchester's knee then presses, forcing the bigger stud down to his knees.

The chiseled American uses the new added leverage to really press down. He shakes again, violently throwing the kneeling muscleman around. Sweat flies around, even splashing on me as Winchester is treated like a ragdoll. It's incredible, seeing the beefy Brit being manhandled like this.

The force is too much. Winchester screams out his submission, "UNCLE! UNCLE! I GIVE!"

Hawkeye throws his opponent down with contempt. His muscles are incredibly pumped and even more defined. Meanwhile, Winchester lies in a heap, moaning and rubbing his shoulder. He mutters to himself as I move in to check his shoulder. The big Brit waves me off, telling me he's fine to keep going. I back off, but I have my doubts.

Fall 2

Winchester is back up and looking at Hawkeye with fresh eyes. Despite easily winning the first fall, there's no smile on the American's face. He looks just as determined for round two. The bigger hunk shows no tenderness or pain as he swings his arms. He says, "Good fall, Hawkeye." The ripped stud just nods, acknowledging the praise, but not losing focus.

They circle the mat. Hawkeye dives in, but backs off, testing Winchester's defense. The beefy Brit is cautious, reacting to every feint. It's a tense game of cat-and-mouse and their roles are obvious. Winchester is clearly off his game and Hawkeye is clearly controlling this battle. With just the threat of a lockup, the smaller stud has maneuvered his opponent's big butt all the way back against the wall.

Winchester tries to shift, but he can't escape without eating himself open. Hawkeye moves in. The bigger beefcake charges forward. It's his only move, but that just means that Hawkeye is ready for it. As Winchester lunges for a lockup, the American stud goes high, pushing past the extended arms. He gets a front facelock on then pulls and twists. Winchester flips over, landing hard on his back. WHAM!

Hawkeye immediately sits on Winchester's left arm, trapping it, as he wraps up the head and right arm of his overwhelmed opponent. The chiseled hunk squeezes hard, once again controlling his nemesis. Winchester grunts and squirms. He bridges his legs to flip them, but he can't get leverage to move the ripped muscleman off him.

Winchester suffers in the hold for almost a minute before finally successfully throwing his legs up and using his beef to twist free. He scuttles backwards to safety then rises without taking his eyes off the aggressive American. The two studs circle. The big Brit goes low, but all he does is charge into another front facelock.

Hawkeye lifts up fast, straining the neck then he falls back, driving Winchester's head into the mat. CRACK! The beefy hunk goes limp as he's casually rolled onto his back. Hawkeye grabs his opponent's leg and folds him into a cradle. He puts on a mock British accent as he asks, "Surge, if you would be so kind." I dive in immediately to count.

I try to slide my hands under Winchester's shoulders and can't. I slap the mat, "ONE! I try again, but nope, they're down. "TWO!" I check for a third and final time, but the bigger hunk suddenly and violently bursts up, kicking his leg free and rolling onto his side. I state the obvious, "No pin!" I slip off the mat, back to my viewing position, cock hard, but untouched in my shorts.

Winchester is lying on his good shoulder, which makes sense from a pain standpoint, but is a bad decision from a wrestling standpoint. Hawkeye is on him immediately, moving in behind. He grabs the wrist of his opponent's bad arm and opposite ankle while planting his feet on Winchester's back. He pulls back hard on the bow and arrow, straining the shoulder and back.

The big Brit whimpers as he's tortured in the hold. His beefy body is stretched out beautifully, but painfully. Winchester is helpless to pull free, but he can hold out, which he does. It's a fun move, but it's not going to get Hawkeye the win. The American realizes it. He slams his feet into the thick back as he lets go. THUD! The impact sends Winchester rolling onto his stomach.

Hawkeye is quick to mount his beefy opponent, locking on a hammerlock. He wrenches the wrist up the back and is rewarded with more grunting. The American's big cock is pressed into the bubble butt as Winchester writhes in the hold. Hawkeye adjusts with the beefy hunk's shifting, resulting in him dry humping that fat Brit butt as he called it.

The sexual nature of the hold catches both guys off guard. Hawkeye eases up on the hold, losing focus for the first time, while Winchester goes with it, gyrating to effectively dry hump himself with the American's monster cock. Both guys moan, but Winchester reacts first. He powers out of the hammerlock then rises, toppling Hawkeye off him.

As both guys rise, the huge tents in their briefs tell you the story. I see a wet spot on the front of Winchester's brief. Hawkeye's one turn from a wardrobe malfunction with his oversized manhood threatening to pop out with one wrong turn. They circle, but it's obvious the big beefcake is captivated by the ripped stud's thick and long cock.

Hawkeye takes advantage of Winchester's lust, moving in fast. He goes low, grabbing a leg and lifting high and fast. The bigger stud topples backwards, landing hard on his back. WHAM! The chiseled hunk tries to roll them into a crab, but Winchester uses his arms and powerful legs to kick free and send Hawkeye forward onto his stomach. The guys spin around fast.

Winchester tries to take control before they get to their feet. From his knees, he dives in fast and low, beating Hawkeye to the punch. It's fast, but careless. The American is ready, grabbing on another front facelock and head smash into the mat. CRACK! It's only a foot, but it still stuns Winchester enough to give Hawkeye clear control.

The ripped American slides his legs under Winchester's bulk, locking on a controlling body scissors. With the Brit's head controlled under Hawkeye's bicep and his body controlled by the chiseled legs, the dominant stud uses his free arm to find Winchester's wrist. The stunned stud's sore arm is easily manipulated into another hammerlock up his back.

Thanks to the pain, Winchester regains focus, but it's way too late. He's completely helpless. He tries to use his legs and free arm to press up, but it just trains his neck and rising with Hawkeye clamped on isn't going to be easy. Not that it matters. Hawkeye pulls on the arm hard, sending shockwaves of pain into the big Brit's body. It's more than enough to turn resistance into resignation.

Winchester furiously taps while admitting, "UNCLE! I GIVE!"

Hawkeye untangles himself. Once free, Winchester collapses onto the mat, sweaty and exhausted. It's like he's been run over by Mack truck, only more painful. I check on him again, but he says he wants to keep going. Hawkeye smirks and nods at me, breaking from his stoic, determination for the first time.

Fall 3

When they get ready to resume, Hawkeye is back to his poker face, eying his opponent for an opening. Winchester notices. He counters the intensity with a smile, "I hope I'm not boring you, mate. I really do know how to wrestle, but you're quite different from the other Yanks with whom I've grappled. They've been rather playful. You're being quite serious about all this."

Hawkeye rises out of his crouch, "Why compete if you aren't trying to win?"

Winchester replies by nodding and bending forward. Hawkeye matches him and the two studs circle. The chiseled American lunges in and out. The big Brit backs up in response, adopting a defensive posture again. Hawkeye dictates the pace and movement again, but suddenly Winchester bursts forth, just charging at full speed.

Hawkeye's eyes go wide as the big beefcake barrels into him, using his weight and power advantage to drive him backwards. The ripped stud is forced into the opposite wall, WHAM! Winchester uses his big body to splash on top of Hawkeye, crushing him. SPLAT! The big hunk reaches under Hawkeye's arm then flips him off the wall, hip tossing him onto his ass. PLOP!

Winchester moves in, but the chiseled stud rolls with the flip, smoothly spinning on his into a crouch. Hawkeye springs up at the bigger hunk, going for a tackling takedown, but Winchester anticipates correctly, spinning with the charge and sending the ripped American back into the wall. CRASH! Hawkeye bounces off into his opponent's arms.

Winchester lifts Hawkeye's feet off the mat as he turns, slamming the lighter American to the mat. WHAM! The powerful takedown stuns the ripped stud long enough for Winchester to grab a leg. He locks his arms behind the knee, wedging the ankle under his armpit. The big Brit leans back, straining the leg. Hawkeye cries out in the leglock, thrashing on the mat.

Hawkeye bridges to relieve some of the pressure, but it's obvious he's in trouble. Winchester enjoys his first real control by pressing his advantage, leaning back and keeping the pressure on. The chiseled stud holds his bridge, massive bulge up high, before he suddenly whips his good leg out. He catches Winchester on the side of the head. CRACK!

The big Brit loses the hold and both men roll to their side. They rise. Hawkeye tries to go low, but he's a fraction slower. Winchester leaps to the left, dodging the charge. He moves in behind the ripped stud, grabbing him around his lean, rock hard waist. The beefy Brit easily forces the lighter weight stud into a reverse bearhug.

The bigger hunk lifts Hawkeye up, suspending him in the big hold. The ripped stud grunts, but immediately throws an elbow back, aiming for Winchester's head. The big Brit leans, barely avoiding the strike. He switches gears, using the reverse bearhug to turn and slam Hawkeye onto the mat. SPLAT! The smaller stud lands on his front with Winchester crashing down on top of him.

Even a guy as rock hard as Hawkeye is winded by the forceful slam. This gives Winchester time to lock on a rear naked choke. He rolls over, dragging the smaller stud with him. Winchester adds a body scissors and squeezes on the tight submission hold. He tries to tighten the hold, but the chiseled American is a fierce fighter. He blocks with one hand and keeps moving, preventing the big beefcake from securing his hold.

With his free arm, the leaner muscleman drives a series of hard elbows into the inside of his opponent's knee. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! It's enough of a distraction to allow Hawkeye to twist, turning the choke into a weak side headlock. Hawkeye pulls free of the arms, sitting up then raining down fists into Winchester's stomach. THUD! THUD! THUD! Winchester takes the shot then uses his legs to shove Hawkeye away.

The big Brit spins quickly, his stomach red for the abuse. He rubs his stomach and nods, assessing the addition of body blows. They're allowed, but usually reserved for the big matches. Hawkeye obviously considers this a big match and Winchester is finally understanding that. I see his hands instinctively form fists before he relaxes them again.

As they rise and move in, the bigger muscle hunk surprises Hawkeye with a knee lift to his 8-pack abs. THUD! The force of the shot drives the air out of Hawkeye, causing him to bend forward. The big Brit grabs Hawkeye as he falls forward then spins his back into the wall hard. CRASH! The beefier behemoth splashes on top, driving the air from the leaner stud.

Winchester unleashes a quick knee lift to the chiseled midsection. WHOMP! He pushes Hawkeye back up then shoves his forearm across his opponent's handsome face. The powerful Brit unleashes a stiff series of fists into the American's abs. THUD! POW! THUD! Hawkeye absorbs the fists, but even his rock hard abs feel these powerful blows.

Hawkeye tries to use his hands and knees to shove Winchester away, but the bigger muscle hunk isn't easy to move. I can see the rippling muscles of the big Brit's back as he draws his arm back then drives it forward with his entire weight behind it. KAPOW! KAPOW! KAPOW! The American starts to sag against the wall.

Winchester forces Hawkeye forward then reaches over his shoulder and ass. With a tight grip between the American's legs and under his shoulder, the bigger hunk lifts him up then drops him over his knee with a gutbuster. THUD! OOF! Winchester pushes the coughing Hawkeye off his leg, rolling him onto his back. The big Brit dives forward, splashing down while driving his elbow into the tortured 8-pack.

The big Brit spins then pushes his big body up before splashing down on top of Hawkeye again. He powers the winded stud over onto his stomach then reaches under his chin. Winchester pulls Hawkeye's head up, folding him all the way back into a dragon sleeper. The chiseled American's head is trapped under Winchester's armpit, his ass rests on his heels, and his huge bulge is sticking straight out.

Hawkeye moans as his aching abs are stretched, his body bent backwards. The ripped wrestler flails his free right arm, hoping for a distracting head shot, but three hard forearms smashes to his pecs ends that. BAM! BAM! BAM! Winchester adjusts his grip around the suffering stud's right armpit locking his victim in tight.

The American won't give, so the big Brit rises to his knees and leans back, adding even more pressure. Hawkeye grunts in frustration. Winchester squeezes harder, threatening to choke the chiseled stud out. Hawkeye has no choice. He taps the back of Winchester's shoulder, getting free by submitting. Winchester releases his opponent, gently pushing him to the side.

Hawkeye scrambles away, sweating and his abs red. He coughs and shakes his head before rising to his knees. The body blows are still visible, having made an actual impact. However, when he looks up from inspecting his body, I see a glint of excitement on his face. Winchester sees it, too.

The big Brit remarks with a smile, "I see that look. So I was boring you." Hawkeye just shrugs, but his look says it all. Winchester smirks, "Well, as you Yanks say, bring it on, mate."

The two studs rise again, finally on the same page. The break passes in silence, but for the first time, this feels like a competitive match.

Fall 4

The two studs lock up quickly this time, both energized by the twist of the third fall. Fueled by adrenaline, Winchester has an even bigger power advantage. He pulls Hawkeye into a side headlock. The beefy hunk cranks on the hold. When the ripped stud tries to break out with a kidney shot, the big Brit flips him over with a hip toss. WHAM! Winchester lands on top.

As Winchester cranks on the headlock, Hawkeye groans. The ripped stud whips his legs up, catching the bigger stud by surprise. He gets his legs around Winchester's head then pulls, slipping free of the headlock while gaining a head scissors. Hawkeye squeezes hard, but he also grabs Winchester's sore arm, which is towards him.

Hawkeye quickly locks on an armbar and now the head scissors isn't Winchester's big problem. The chiseled American twists hard on the armbar. The smaller stud adds a bicep claw with his oversized hand, causing the bigger hunk to thrash around in pain. Winchester's moans turn to cries as he suffers, his thick arm muscle being cruelly mauled in the hold.

In desperation, Winchester grabs a toe with his free hand and bends. Hawkeye squeals in surprised pain, allowing the big Brit to power free. They both roll away. Winchester checks his arm, shaking it out. Hawkeye tests his toe, making sure it's fine. I tell both medical help is available, but they both shoot me death glares.

As they rise, Hawkeye says, "That was fucking cheap."

Winchester replies, "It was smart, mate."

I chime in, "Guys, guys. It was both."

They stare at me then smile. The lighter tone lasts all of two seconds before they're crouched and swatting hands. They lock up. Hawkeye manages to shift and duck, getting a hold of Winchester's wrist. He twists and spins, tearing at the elbow with a standing armbar. The big Brit curses and moans as his shoulder joint is punished again.

Hawkeye twists, but quickly shifts with an arm drag takedown. The bigger stud flies overhead and lands hard on his back. The chiseled American locks on an armlock then pounds the meaty shoulder with fists. THUD! THUD! THUD! Winchester grunts, but powers up to a seated position with Hawkeye attached to his arm. The ripped stud throws his leg up, driving his knee into the bigger hunk's meaty pec. WHOMP! Winchester flies onto his back.

The chiseled muscle stud takes the injured arm and bends it beside Winchester's head then locks his arms around his opponent's neck. That arm is going nowhere in that punishing armlock. The bigger hunk uses his free hand to punch Hawkeye in the side. POW! At the same time, he bridges up fast and high. The combination throws the lighter stud off.

Hawkeye spins to his knees then moves back in. Winchester sees him coming, kicking out. His foot slams hard into the 8-pack abs. THUD! The ripped stud doubles over on knees, his head hitting the mat. He looks like he might puke, but he holds it together. The big Brit rolls up and onto the American's back, slamming his forearm down hard. WHOMP!

Winchester stands then bends at the knees. He grabs Hawkeye around the waist then lifts. The bigger stud powers the chiseled stud into an upside down reverse bearhug. Winchester bounces Hawkeye in his grip, the smaller stud moaning as he flops around. The big Brit's arm gives out, freeing his opponent. Hawkeye lands in a heap, coughing then breathing in deeply.

The big Brit moves in fast. Hawkeye sees the feet. As Winchester bends forward to drag him up, the ripped stud grabs a leg then trips the beefy hunk down onto his ass. PLOP! Hawkeye goes for a leglock, but Winchester swings his body up. He grabs hold of the chiseled muscleman's head and pulls him forward into a tight head scissors.

Hawkeye moans as his head is crushed in the tight vice. Winchester's legs are thick and powerful. He rolls to the side, dragging the smaller stud onto his side, too. Hawkeye fights hard to escape. Helped by sweat, his head pops free, but Winchester immediately kicks him in the abs again. THUD! The big Brit rolls to his knees then rises, dragging Hawkeye up with him.

Winchester shoves Hawkeye into the wall. CRASH! He lifts his knee into the weaken midsection. THUD! As he falls forward, the ripped American reaches out and grabs the beefy hunk's sore arm. He pulls down hard, shocking the injured limb. Winchester pulls away and moves away. He shakes out his arm as the two studs circle again.

As the two wrestlers lock up, Hawkeye shifts and gets another tight hammerlock. He runs Winchester into the wall, shoulder first. CRASH! As the big Brit bounces off, I see his arm is limp. He stumbles right into Hawkeye. The ripped muscle stud locks on a front-facing choke. Winchester starts to struggle, but it looks like a great hold.

Winchester fires a shot into Hawkeye's side. THUD! In response, the smaller stud runs him back against the wall. CRASH! Hawkeye tightens up again, pressing his body into the hold. Their sweaty, pumped bodies are pressed together tightly. The writhing and struggling has their packages slapping, their tenting briefs only growing with every brush.

Hawkeye demands, "Keep fighting. Keep fighting until I put you down!"

Winchester can only gurgle in response, but he does reach around the ripped American for a bearhug. He pulls Hawkeye in tight, squeezing him. The smaller stud moans as his aching core is crushed, but it's a good moan. An orgasmic moan. Fuck, he might be shooting in his briefs. The bearhug accomplishes nothing except amplifying their already hot body contact.

Hawkeye says, "Yeah, squeeze me with all you got! Try to escape, you arrogant fuck. C'mon, you got more than that! Fight!"

I see the American's arm muscles flex. The big Brit's eyes roll back in his head as he releases the bearhug. He desperately fires stuff body shots into Hawkeye's sides. THUD! THUD! THUD! They change nothing. I see the dominant stud grinding their pouches together, now deliberately pressing his much larger manhood on top of his victim's. It's a power move, Hawkeye proving his superiority in another way. Winchester isn't even punching now.

Hawkeye pulls Winchester from the wall. The big Brit stumbles, barely conscious. The American squeezes a little more and it's done. The ripped stud turns and opens his arms, letting the beefy hunk collapse onto the mat. SPLAT! Hawkeye puts his foot on Winchester's head and looks at me. "Wanna count?"

I smile, "Sure." I rise and walk over. I kneel down then grab Winchester's left arm. I lift. PLOP! ONE! I look up at the dominant stud and he gives me a flex. I test again. PLOP! TWO! I admire Hawkeye's chiseled physique before the third and final attempt. PLOP! THREE! I rise and extend a hand, "Congrats."

"It was nothing. He was nothing."

I tilt my head, "Be nice. He came on in the third fall." Hawkeye just shrugs. I say, "I hope this ends whatever feud you have with him. He sure doesn't seem to know you're pissed with him."

Hawkeye shrugs, "Yeah, he was okay, wasn't he? Maybe I overreacted. Maybe. But I'm still taking that fat ass of his."

"Well, don't let me stop you. Have at it, buddy."

The Stakes

Hawkeye wastes no time. He grabs the waistband of Winchester's trunks then peels them off the groggy hunk. The American badass tosses them onto the pile of his own clothes, obviously claiming the Union Jack briefs as some kind of souvenir. Odd, considering how discreet he keeps things, but I know Winchester got under his skin at some point.

The naked Winchester wakes then rolls onto his knees. He works out his shoulder then extends a hand, "Good one, Hawkeye." The American's sculpted muscles seem to tense, but he accepts the handshake. The big Brit asks, "All right, then. I'm all yours. How do you want me?"

Hawkeye seems surprised at how well Winchester is taking things. It's clear this was only personal one way and still is. The handsome loser is quite content, in spite of losing convincingly to the aggressive muscleman. Hawkeye circles the kneeling stud, checking out his prize. Even in dominating, he had to work hard so maybe he needs a moment, too.

The American hunk moves in front. Winchester reaches up and peels down the olive green briefs. Hawkeye's thick cock flops out and the kneeling hunk's eyes light up. The Brit finishes stripping the winner then settles back onto his knees. He stares at the impressive manhood and bites his lip. I smile at the desire on his face. It is a beautiful slab of meat.

Hawkeye grabs Winchester's head then moves his hips to position his cock head on the loser's lips. The kneeling muscleman waits for permission like a good boy. The chiseled winner savors his victory position then slides his cock into the willing mouth. The Brit stays steady, Hawkeye keeping a firm grip. The American begins pumping, building up speed and force.

The face fuck gets brutal fast. When Winchester starts gagging, Hawkeye slows down. He speeds up, choking the kneeling beefcake with his dick before slowing up again then slipping his cock free. The dominant winner snarks, "Too much for you? Just like these." He flexes his biceps. All the loser can do is stare up and admire the chiseled muscles.

Hawkeye swings his hips, slapping Winchester across the face. He says, "Since you can't handle what I've got, show me what you got."

Winchester nods. He leans in and starts working the winner's head with his lips. He softly and slowly worships the magnificent manhood, reaching up for the low-hanging balls. My cock is raging as I watch the Brit go to work. He lovingly plays with Hawkeye's rock hard rod and fondles his balls. It's like a master clinic in how to treat a man.

In spite of himself, Hawkeye is loving it. He moans loudly, even gasping as Winchester goes slow and sexy. I see the winner's chiseled muscles tense as he gets a lesson that hard and fast isn't the only way. It doesn't take long before Hawkeye is pulling back, taking control again. He admits, "Not bad. Not bad. But now it's main event time."

I toss Hawkeye a condom as he orders Winchester onto his hands and knees. The Brit eagerly gets in position for the winner. He's a fierce fighter and a versatile lover. Having already worshipped the American's fantastic rod, he can't wait to feel it inside him. With his throbbing organ sheathed, Hawkeye is ready to go. He drops to his knees, ready to take his prize.

Hawkeye slaps the Brit's behind. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He tans the fat Brit butt as he called it, watching it jiggle with a grin. The chiseled hunk works in some lube then grabs hold of Winchester's hips. He plows inside roughly, but the bottom boy moans with pleasure. As Hawkeye begins to pound the big bubble butt, the sound of his pelvis slamming into the smooth white ass cheeks fills the room.

The ripped American rides the loser smoothly, driving his majestic cock in and out. Hawkeye slides out then grabs Winchester's legs. He flips the beautiful Brit over then lifts his legs, forcing the big man up onto his shoulders. Hawkeye steps over and between the legs then gets into position. He squats down, pinning Winchester then pushes his cock down, sliding back inside the loser.

Hawkeye jackhammers his cock into Winchester's ass, thrusting while keeping the loser pinned. He relentlessly pistons in and out. The loser holds on, both of their weight resting on his aching shoulders. Winchester moans and whimpers with pained pleasure as his hole is ravaged by the amazing cock inside him. UNH! UNH! UNH!

The big Brit stares up, taking in the chiseled body pounding him. Sweat drips down on him as the winner works his hole. And not just sweat. Winchester's own uncut cock is hard, pointing at his face and leaking pre-cum. The clear and shiny natural lube runs down to his chest. He's gasping and moaning, lost in the moment.

Hawkeye finally stands and lets Winchester collapse onto his back. The loser looks exhausted, but his cock rises off his abs, hovering in the air with a thin strand of pre-cum running from cock head to stomach. I doubt the American evens notices, too involved in getting revenge for an imagined slight and getting off after a tough win.

The chiseled top uses his foot to lift under Winchester's ass. The beefy Brit understands and rolls with the move, sliding onto his stomach. Hawkeye kicks the thick legs open then kneels beside them. He re-enters the mountainous ass and slowly pulls back then violently thrusts forward. I see his taut butt cheeks tighten as he powers in as deep as he can. Each powerful thrust had Winchester's face contorting as he grunts in response.

Hawkeye picks up speed, but keeps the depth and power. He puts his hands on Winchester's broad back as he ravages the smooth bubble butt, intent on splitting the defeated Brit in half. Hawkeye pumps and pounds until he is the one gasping. When he finally pulls out, he tears off the condom then sprays his load all over the milky white ass cheeks.

The American's load is as big as his manhood, exploding forth and thoroughly coating the loser's fat Brit butt. When he's drained, Hawkeye rises and moves to his clothes. He throws them on then grabs the Union Jack briefs, "You want these back?"

Winchester doesn't even look, "Keep 'em, mate. You earned 'em." Hawkeye looks surprised, but he shoves them in his pocket.

I comment, "Winchester's a pretty good guy, isn't he?"

The winner looks at me with a sneer, but then he nods. He says, "Thanks, it was fun. You guys okay to clean up?"

From the mat, Winchester confirms, "Yeah, no worries. Loser cleans up."

With that, Hawkeye leaves, but not before one last perhaps admiring look at his opponent. Whatever happened between them, it looks like Hawkeye is re-thinking his reaction to it. Good, because I'd love to watch a re-match.

Surge Treats a Patient

Hawkeye leaves, but I stay. Winchester rolls onto his stomach then rises to his knees. He stretches out, making sure everything is okay. I smile at him as he shakes his head. The big Brit muses, "Bloody hell."

"I warned you."

"You were right, Surge. Right that he's a tough SOB. And right that it was worth the risk. The beating wasn't fun, but the fuck was brilliant. My god, that cock is incredible. When he jackhammered me? He's a right fucking beast. Do you think he'd be up for a rematch?"

"I'm sure he would. Let's see if you're up for one first, okay?"

I move in and kneel beside the defeated stud. I take his arm and feel it. I move it up and down, testing his mobility. He winces, but there doesn't appear to be any damage beyond soreness. After my examination is done, I let go and slide in closer. I put my hand on his leg and he nods, "Go ahead, mate. Please."

With permission granted, I reach for his rock hard cock, coated in shiny pre-cum. He bites his bottom lip and lets out a sigh as I grab hold. I smile, "Fucking Hawkeye, leaving you with this. Typical straight guy mentality. Once he gets off, he's done."

Winchester reaches his healthy arm behind my head and pulls me in for a kiss. When we break, he says, "You'd never do that to a bloke, would you?"

"Never. Just relax and let me treat this."

Winchester sits back on his ass and rests on his elbows. He opens his legs and I slide between them. I softly jerk his uncut cock and he throws his head back with a moan. I lean forward and engulf the head as I pump the steel shaft of his rod. I suck on his head, flicking my tongue and just enjoying the taste of his manhood.

The handsome young Brit thanks me, playfully telling me to get to work. I suck harder on his head then bob up and down as I squeeze his cock harder. Immediately I get the taste of pre-cum as he begins to leak out his liquid encouragement. As I work his shaft I feel him tense. His breathing gets fast and I hear him gasping. Winchester moans, "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

I'm getting him too worked up. I slide off then slap the rock hard cock. Winchester starts to question me until he sees me pull out a condom. The frustrated look switches to a big smile as I sheathe his dick. Clearly this is more than he expected, but he's all in. I rise then squat down. I grab his shaft and guide it into my ass as I lower myself onto the steel rod.

I groan as the fat head pierces my hole. Winchester steadies me and I take his entire cock. We lock eyes as I adjust. The beautiful Brit has a look of pure joy on his face. I start to bounce on his cock and we begin to breathe in unison with my pace. I love the feeling of his cock inside me, taking it all. I ride him, my own cock is hard, bouncing up and down hypnotically.

Winchester moans, asking me to slow down. I lower down, sitting on his pelvis with his cock embedded inside me. We roll over with me on my shoulders and the big Brit holding my legs aloft. He slides back inside me then pounds my ass hard. I stretch my arms out, bracing against the wall so I get the full force and power of his thick cock.

The slamming force has my cock throbbing, my ass ravaged by his primal thrusting. I look up at him. The handsome hunk's face and chest are bright red and his features contorted. I order him to cum inside me. "Breed me, you big British bull! Fucking breed me!" That's all it takes to get him exploding. Winchester's loud moans fill the room as he shakes and shudders inside me.

I feel the warmth on his cum inside me as it pools inside the latex pouch. Winchester slows down and I feel his cock soften. When he moves to slide back, I stop him. I grab for my dick, but he stops me. We lock eyes as he grabs my meat in his good hand. The big Brit begins to pump me. I feel him swelling back up inside me. I can't take it.

"Oh fuck, I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

Winchester slides out of me then brings his lips down onto my cock head. I gasp as he sucks my load from me, gulping down my hot white cum. I rub his head as he drains me, swallowing my seed. As my cock softens, he keeps going, emptying me until I'm limp in his mouth. When he cleans my head, I writhe from the sensations.

Winchester frees his cock of its latex prison and grabs a towel. We lie together as he wipes down his shaft. After a few minutes of cuddling, the handsome hunk rolls away and rises. I notice he's already hard again. What a machine. I wave my finger, inviting him back. He looks surprised with a hopeful grin on his face.

I say, "Looks like you're having a relapse, soldier. I better give you another treatment. Doctor's orders."

Winchester's grin turns into a broad smile as he returns for another go.

The End