Date: Fri, 12 Aug 2005 06:58:18 +0000
From: hippocrene2003@hotmail.com
Subject: Wrestling for Relief, Part One

	The following is essentially a true account from my university
days, partly from what I remember and partly from what I remember being
told by good friends who are still good friends today.

*

	I moved into our fraternity house my sophomore year, and that was when and
where  I started to learn that I was not so different from a lot of other
"straight" guys. My roommate was a junior named Dave, one of the premier
house jocks. He had a build similar to mine -- only better defined:   no huge
chest or arms, but a torso plated with ripped musculature. His stomach was
deeply chiseled, and he had the sturdy legs of a sprinter -- which he was. He
had lettered his first two years in both track and football and was a
starter this fall. For a phys.ed. major he was a fair student and had a good
sense of humor. We got along great right from the start, and being a better
student I was more than willing to help with his homework whenever he asked.
Dave seldom wore a shirt or shoes in our room, even in the winter, and early
on I learned to be at ease in the presence of his male sexiness. The first
time I complimented him on his build he obliged me with an extemporaneous
muscle show, then made me peel down and flex for him.  We would sometimes do
gorilla poses for each other, punch, grapple, jab, all the buddy stuff I
used to enjoy with kids back home. During evening study hours, whenever he'd
look over and smile,  I'd get an instant hardon. There were other athletic
types in the house with exceptional physiques, but I was convinced that my
roommate topped the chart.

	Early on I became aware  that Dave would never excel in academics, because
he lacked the gift of sustained concentration. After maybe an hour and a
half at the books he'd pull on a shirt, switch off his desk light and
disappear. Since I had never seen him light a cigarette, I knew that this
wasn't a smoke break. I'd just go on studying, and later he'd come back into
the room, maybe study for a little while, then after hitting the showers
he'd undress and retire upstairs to the big dorm. If I asked him where he'd
been, he'd say "Just shootin' the shit."

	Then one night when he came back from one of his long study breaks I
noticed that he had a big rip down the side of his t-shirt. "Christ," I
said, "you get into some kind of an argument?" He just grinned, pulled off
the mangled "t" and wrapped it around my neck like he was going to choke me
with it. When I stood up and resisted we locked up and crash-landed on  the
couch, only I ended up on the bottom.

	 "Get off me, asshole," said I, "Phew, you're all sweaty!"

	 "That's man-smell, punk. The proud aroma of a jungle tiger."

   	 I was really enjoying this, and when he turned and started to stand I
threw my own choke-hold on him and pulled him back onto the couch and
wrapped my legs firmly around his waist. I was no track star, but my
scissors coaxed a loud groan out of him and he wheezed, "I give, asswipe."

	 "Are you gonna tell me what you've been doing or do you want me to break
your neck?"  I poked his rib with my free hand. Then we both started to
laugh, and when I let go he just relaxed and collapsed back against me.
"Tell me!" I demanded.  God, I wanted to shove my tongue into his ear, but I
suppressed the urge.

	"Man," he said,  I can't keep studying all fucking night the way you can.
After just so much reading  I'm all tense and need to go out and blow off
some steam."

	 "Yeah? And what kind of steam blowing makes you  so goddamn sweaty? You
can't go tracking down pussy this time of night, Studly."

	He sat there for a minute, and then squeezed my thigh. "You really want to
know?" I locked my mighty arm around his neck again. "Yeah, I'm curious, you
stupid jock. Roommates are supposed to share with each other. Aren't you my
bro, bro?" He tried a head butt against my neck, and I noticed that even his
hair and his shoulders were soaked.
"C'mon, tell me.".

	"I usually go visit for awhile with Danny."

	Danny was the president of our house. One of the perks of that high office
was a study room all to himself. Before it was sold to the fraternity, our
house was a three-story mansion, and what was now the president's room had
been the former master bedroom, complete with a fireplace and an adjoining
bath. Danny was a guy born to be the president of a fraternity. He was good
looking and outgoing, a varsity athlete, prep school background, money
(unlike Dave, whose folks could never have sent him to college without major
scholarship help). He wrestled, played tennis and rowed crew, and was in
pre-law. Quickly my imagination went into gear, picturing Dave walking into
Danny's room. Danny had broad shoulders and was a couple of inches shorter
than Dave. Bigger chest and arms, like a gymnast. Round ass. If you were
into sculpture, you'd probably hire Danny for your model.

	"So you go hang out with our president practically the entire evening while
I grind my way through American lit. How did  you manage to destroy your
shirt?"

	"Him and I like to wrestle. That's how we relieve the mutual tension. We're
a real even match, see? We get down and tangle and life is all cool again.
Man, we fight like we're out to kill one another, and it's the best part of
the whole fucking day."

	My mind was now swimming in images of these tough animals in combat. It was
a humungous turnon. I had to know more.

	 "You want to borrow my  Suzuki again this weekend?" I asked.

	"You know I do, buddy old pal. Like you say, roommates are supposed to
share."

	 "Then you've gotta tell me everything about you and Danny's private fight
nights. Every minute, every hold, every word. Agreed?"

	"You really that interested?"

	"I'm really that interested. Since it's getting late, tonight you can just
cover  how it all got started. Is that agreed?"

	Dave turned his head toward me, and I could tell that he was going to enjoy
telling about it as much as I was hearing about it. "OK."

	His bare back was against my chest, and his legs between mine. I grabbed a
pillow and propped it behind my head. Now it was my turn to perspire, as my
cock slowly expanded inside my shorts. When the back of his head came to
rest on my shoulder, I thought I was going to lose it, but I was determined
not to spoil things with such a great story about to begin. I cleared my
throat and waited.

	"I guess you'd say it began last semester, when some of us were helping
Danny wash his car. He and I had pledged the year before, but I couldn't
afford to live in the house until then and so we hadn't gotten that well
acquainted and had never competed in anything together, which is when you
really get to know whether you like a guy.. During hell week they made all
the pledges put on a smoker down in the basement (This I knew, because that
event happens every year. I was the last member of my pledge class to get
pinned, by the biggest guy in the class, a fact of which I have always been
proud), but the opponent I drew was Ray Stevens."

	"Really? Who won that one?"

	"Are you kidding? Stevens thinks he's Hercules, but I had him on his back
crying "Uncle" while all the other pairs were still on their feet. He was so
pissed off, he wouldn't speak to me for days."

	"Sorry for interrupting. You were washing Danny's car."

	"Right. We were paying him back for rides. Anyway, when it came time to
rinse off the car somebody started getting wild with the hose and we ended
up in a big water fight.  At one point Danny grabbed the hose out of my hand
and jammed it in my shorts. I picked up a sponge full of soapy water and
chased him clear across the rear lawn. We went down and I tried to shove it
down his ass. Then the other guys pig-piled right on top of us and we
switched opponents. Afterwards, when we were going into the house to clean
up, Danny threw his arm around me and said how much fun that was and how we
needed to get together for another round since we hadn't really finished
that one. I told him I was up for it any time, and he slapped me on the
butt."

	"So, did you and he wrestle that night?"

	"Oh, no. I had a part-time job that semester down at the `Y,' and those
nights I wouldn't get back to the house much before midnight. Besides, him
being on the wrestling team I wasn't sure how much I wanted to risk getting
my ass wiped."

	I brought my hands up to his shoulders and slowly massaged the muscles of
his back and neck. "Dave boy, you know you're one tough stud. Stupid, yes,
but craven, never. I can't believe you're afraid of anybody."

	"Hell, I wasn't afraid. Just  proud, I guess. I don't like to lose at
anything. Anyhow, that's how it all began. Do I get the bike Saturday
morning?"

	"My word is my bond. Just remember, whenever you want to borrow it again,
you owe me one more installment." I picked a textbook off the floor and
slammed him on the head. "God to bed, Kong."

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