Ambroise

It was fun remembering the old times as I drove to my high school classreunion that golden September afternoon. I was looking forward to seeing old chums again after all these years. Well, it hadn’t been all that long! Only ten years. But long enough for a certain nostalgia to have developed to cast a burnished, somewhat perfected remembrance of it all.

Among the special events the first night were a swim meet and a wrestling match. I was looking forward to both for perhaps different reasons than the majority of returning alumni. For me, the thought of all those hunky young bodies exposed in active exertion was a powerful turn-on. Truth be told I was also anticipating seeing my old coaches again—Coaches Neal Baer and John Ambroise. I wasn’t disappointed at either event! Coach Baer’s swim team exceeded my fondest expectations with their bulging speedos straining with the sheer bulk of healthy young genitals. No jock straps here to interfere with displaying every nuance of tubular cocks and packaged young balls. I could even discern which were circumcised! I took the opportunity to shake hands with Coach Baer after the meet. He hadn’t changed a bit: dressed in the tightest of gym shorts and tee shirt, he still cut quite a figure. I saw no indication of a jock strap on him either. I wanted now, just as I had wanted then, to reach out and grasp that provocative bulge between his powerfully built thighs. But it was on to the wrestling match…

There were to be five major events on the docket. Each one turned out to be better than the last! Wrestling had been my favorite sport in high school. It afforded the most intimate contact short of actual sexual relations, which in those days were impossible with other guys. But oh, the temptations and the fantasies! I sat there spellbound at the sight of the writhing, sinuous bodies clad only in their singlets, with their genitals moving between their legs as they thrashed in combat. I was rewarded with the sight of several rather obvious grabs to the crotch which set a throbbing erection between my legs that threatened to tear the buttons of my jeans. Time flew by and the matches were over. I now had the opportunity to have a word with Coach Ambroise. He recognized me straight off, and I him, although he had filled out considerably. He had always been a rather stocky man, but now had developed a considerable gut. But he was still a sturdy, handsome son of a bitch with powerful legs and arms. I imagined he could hold his own with any of the young studs on his team. My eyes went unconsciously to his crotch. That had always been the crowning glory of his physique. I had caught him once or twice in the showers after gym and his endowment was awesome. Even soft, his fat pecker stood out almost straight from his groin. He was uncircumcised; a flap of skin almost covered the thick shiny head of his cock. But it was his balls that commanded admiration and respect: A pair of huge knockers that were barely contained in his hanging sac, threatening to burst forth from their container. Oh, the fantasies I had had about Mr. Ambroise!

While I lusted after him, I also hated the bastard. When it came down to it, he was an unprincipled, son of a bitch. In practice matches he would slyly demonstrate how to unobtrusively get a guy by the balls or deliver a hidden blow to the crotch when the ref wasn’t looking. He took a special delight in demonstrating to me one on one how to surreptitiously get a guy where it hurts. Maybe because I was the smallest on the team and needed an extra edge. But I think it was really that he recognized a certain secret attraction between us and was mocking me out. He knew I couldn’t retaliate or even feel that provocative bulge in his gym sweats. He also took secret delight in the fact that without a jock, his huge genitals rolled and swung between his legs showing their outline perfectly against the sweats!

I finally walked up to him and made small talk until we were alone. I saw his eyes drop to my crotch and take in my semi hard-on snaking down my leg. I did likewise; his endowment hadn’t decreased a bit. He broke the ice: “I see you’re still in great shape. How ‘bout a couple of wrestling holds for old times after the rest of the alums leave?” Trying to conceal my excitement, I responded, “Sure. Sounds great, but I haven’t any gear.” “No sweat, just strip down to the ol’ briefs, nothing fancy.” And so it was that we found ourselves on the same old mat we used so long ago.

As we stripped down I saw again that ultra manhood between Ambroise’s legs. Although a few more pounds than before, he was still the epitome of hard masculinity—a solid piece of muscle and beef with powerful arms and legs from years of wrestling and physical activity in the gym. His butt was still tight with firm melon-shaped cheeks. But oh, that poundage between his legs! His nylon pouch briefs were stretched to their maximum desperately trying to contain the two huge ballocks and snaked tubular prick. I was down to my briefs, too and if I do say so, not in too bad a shape either. My pouched jewels, while not comparable to his giant gonads, stuck out provocatively. “How ‘bout we make it interesting,” he laughed. No holds barred, OK?” It was just what I wanted to hear! We crouched into position and the match began.

We both knew just what was on each other’s mind. It didn’t take but a minute for him to make the first move. I felt a shiver as I felt his hand slipping up my leg and then a shock as his big hand tried to encompass my pouch. A quick twist and I escaped with my genitals intact, but in the process he tore a hole in my briefs allowing a portion of my left testicle to protrude. Now that the first move had been taken, I went for HIS genitals. He was lying face down spread-eagled on the mat and I reached between his legs, up his thighs, and went for the prize, my fingers crushing his sac of balls. He roared in agony and surprise and twisted free. Face to face we went for each other. He reached for my crotch and forced a finger into the hole of my briefs and tore the pouch open. My tender balls flopped out and he was on them in an instant. I about went mad from the pain radiating from my groin, but in desperation I reached down for his mighty balls protected by his silken briefs. I scratched desperately and pulled them from his heaving waist. Down they slipped until his genitals were completely liberated in all their mighty glory. Now we grappled in earnest, each trying to gain a deadly advantage over the other. All vestiges of a fair fight were gone. Our sole purpose was the get the other by the nuts. Although he didn’t realize it, MY goal was to take the match to its deadly conclusion and actually rip his fuckin’ balls off—castrate the son of a bitch. We grappled and tore at each other. Both briefs were ripped away, allowing our pendulous balls to swing and flop wildly. Several times his ham fist attacked my vulnerable genitals and I though I was gone for sure, but I gave as well as I got and was rewarded by the feel of his warm, throbbing testicless in my grasping fingers. Gradually the tempo and the force of the action increased. Until both of us were attacking with undisguised lust. Finally he got me down on the mat and crouched over me with his back to me and proceeded to punch and grab my nuts. As the force increased I screamed and violently tried to wriggle from under him, but he was too heavy. And then I realized that I was staring directly at his crotch. His huge manhood was to be his undoing. Both his dong and swinging sperm cups hung there in splendor below his butt before my eyes. This was IT!

I brought up both hands between his spread legs, sliding them up his sweat-slicked thighs until they reached his swinging sac. My eyes glittered. The testicles were awesome. They swung like two huge lemons, completely filling the stretched sac. Truly, I had never seen such gigantic genitals in my life. The bastard was teasing me just as he had a decade ago when I was an inexperienced young prick. Well, I wasn’t NOW! He was going to pay for all his demeaning tricks and temptations, and pay dearly. He didn’t realize it yet, but he was going to forfeit his balls. In spite of my own agony, I took a firm hold and started to squeeze and twist. Harder and harder! He dropped his hands and started to scream. I squeezed harder. Now with both hands. The sac constricted as he tried to draw his testicles back into his groin. No way! I dug in and pulled the fuckers as hard as I could. I was doing real damage to his huge but delicate manhood. Suddenly he realized I was out to nut him and began to struggle like a mad man. It was no use; I had him where I had always wanted him. With every muscle in my hands I crushed him. He was going out of his mind with agony and horror as they began to give way. His beautiful genitals surrendered: Veins stood out on his hairy sac as the testicles threatened to collapse. The delicate cords and sperm tubes began to snap one by one. And then his castration began. First the left and then the right testicle popped and I experienced the thrill of feeling his genitals turned to mush in my fist. White sperm gushed from the head of his rapidly deflating cock. A final vicious twist separated his sac from his groin and the contest was over.