By justoneguy

Anthony practically carried Sarah into his apartment bedroom as she clung to his muscled back, scratching his skin gently through his cotton A-shirt. He dropped her on the bed playfully, and fell bodily on top of her, killing her neck as she stretched and writhed under him. “Oh baby,” she moaned in a womanly squeal as her hands rubbed up his neck to his rub in the bristles of his hair. His sucking mouth found a bit of loose flesh on her neck and tongued it to a bright hickey. He lowered his head to her breasts and began to suck her naked tits.

As her head lay back on the bed, her hands grasping at the hungry bull pawing at and kissing her, her groin pulsed in ecstasy. This stud was such a lover, so different than Jeremy had been. He had been a sweet enough boy, and had seemed so strange and mysterious to her during those early years, when they were students wondering the halls. They had kissed shyly and explored each other with the tenderness of youths unsure of their own touch. She remembered the shock of discovery when she first saw and touched his manhood—fleshy parts so different from anything she had imagined, yet so right and so human.

But then came Anthony, he soldier and her stallion. She had met him just before he left for basic training, and his eyes had flashed with desire for her. At first, she felt like she was a target or a thing in his eyes, a prey to be hunted and won. She resented it and thought him a beast. But slowly, after he left for training, when his hungry gaze was far away, she found that she pined for him, for that uncontrolled beast, stronger than she, hot with desire. She found that, when she touched herself or was touched by Jeremy, she thought of him and imagined his strong body over her. Jeremy had been a tough enough fellow in their school days. But to her eyes he seemed rather boyish to her after a time. Or rather, he seemed a boy playing at being a tough man, with his sagging pants and his thin beginnings of a mustache he grew on his 18th birthday. His shoulders suddenly seemed less broad to her, his stand less tall.

And when Anthony returned from basic, transferred now to live at the base only a few miles from town, it didn’t take long for him to find her again. He was leaner than he had been, his body honed and perfected under conditions few women could endure. There was not baby fat in his face. His hair was shaved military style. His bearing and stature seemed full of pride and confidence. And his big blue eyes were just as hungry for her. And she relented.

She felt his hardness through his pants, and grasped at the caged flesh that was pulsing with eagerness to get to her. Anthony lay on top of her and she pulled and tugged at his fatigues, releasing the pole of flesh that her body earned for. The first time she held that flesh, tentatively put the flared wide helmet head to her tongue, she knew for a fact that her future was with him, not Jeremy.

Jeremy had been a competent lover—at least for the task of early discovery. He had been sweet and gentle. And she had explored many pleasures with him. Given time and experience, she had no doubt that he would make a serviceable husband, and beget many children with his plum balls. But when she held Anthony’s personal flesh for the first time and felt its power, she knew that he was a natural lover. She could take all of Jeremy in her mouth. With Anthony, she took only his head.

And she felt that head at her entrance. Her body shivered with anticipation. It was a feeling of desire mixed with dread. Her insides were about to receive her man. As her soldier lowered and rocked his strong hips, she felt his flared helmet part her lips and stretch into her body. She arched her back and moaned into his ear. She felt her body filled and touched so deeply inside, so deeply. As his pelvis rested on her clitoris, and his mighty balls on her rear, she felt herself orgasm at once. And he hadn’t even started fucking her. “Ohhhhhh Gooooooddddd,” she groaned as she clung to his back. The mighty bull above her grunted in reply and began his humping.

* * *

Jeremy prepared for the bout as best he could. He practiced and lifted weights with Tommy. Of course, the match would take place soon, so he really didn’t have any time to add weight or muscle. But Tommy advised that the physical work alone would make his mind more prepared. He was in good spirits, laughing and joking with is friend, who constantly encouraged him. It helped that school was over. He was away from the taunts and giggles he had endured. As the days passed, and the date for the bout grew closer, he really didn’t feel much worry about it. Of course, it was a very big deal. There was, after all, a chance that the result would be his emasculation. But it was a remote chance. Few were actually castrated during a Bout anymore—unless there was adultery involved. But he was starting to feel independent of Sarah as his confidence grew. He had after all made her orgasm with his penis, so what did it matter if others called him Chipmunk for his size? And after all, his own behavior was pretty base, he now saw in retrospect. Sarah’s insult to him was perhaps justified. (The pictures, of course, were not.) What was important to him was to prove himself as a fighter—to stand in the ring with Anthony and show her and her friends that he deserves their respect. He didn’t even have to win, so long as he lost with dignity.

The day for the Bout arrived. And the two friends arrived at the school gym. It was a common place for bouts, given that every town had one. Jeremy had been careful not to tell his parents or family members about the fight for fear they would try to stop him, or worse attend the match. But many in the town were aware of it. He arrived in his blue singlet early, so he wouldn’t have to change in front of his opponent. He was careful to push his penis in such a way so as to keep it from being visible in his garb. That was the last thing he needed.

The 3 judges, big hulks of men in black pants and shirts, were already there as well. They had placed the large mats out on the gym floor at the far side, near the right bleachers. As well as the victory rail in front of the stands. Tommy and Jeremy walked the length of the mate and studied it. Neither of them had attended a bout before, so every detail peeked their curiosity. The mate had a large red dot in the middle, and a red ring out several feet from the center. This was the standard wrestling area. Outside this, still more feet from the red ring, was a blue ring. This was the ultimate ring. To be forced out of it was to forfeit your manhood. It was a simple fight. To be pinned was to lose. To be forced out of the red ring was to lose. But to be forced out of the blue ring was to lose your balls, if your opponent cared to take them. Getting from the red ring to the blue ring was a difficult feat, since one had to be dragged out by the opponent. Once out of the red ring, the dominant fighter must release the other, at which time he can either lay on his back with his legs spread in a sign of surrender, or he can jump up and prepare to fight again. If he rises, then the match continues, and the one forced out of the blue ring cancels his balls. In this way, for the match to truly be a test of manhood, both opponents must agree, one by pulled the other out of the red ring, the other by agreeing to continue the fight.

Anthony arrived with a group of army buddies from the base. The group of seven young soldiers certainly outnumbered Jeremy’s support from Tommy. But they didn’t have long to think about it. As the hour for the Bout drew closer, the stands began to fill up with people. Many knew one or the other of the fighters. People from school, teachers, more soldiers from the base who came to support their unit. Others were just folks from off the street who were bored and wanted some entertainment. Bouts were especially popular with college age men, since the test of manhood and the desperation of it all matched their own inner struggle. It was rather like going to a boxing match and dreaming of being a winner in the ring, but knowing that their own skill and courage kept them from actually going for it.

Anthony had come to the Bout dressed in his army fatigues. So he went down to the locker room to change, leaving Jeremy alone on the match floor. While he was gone, Sarah arrived at the event. Her friend Cathy walked with her, dressed like an infernal slut. But Sarah was her neat, sexy self. A casual attractiveness that didn’t try to be desirable, it just was. She simply was. Tommy saw her first and pointed her out to Jeremy. Her eyes met his, but she noted that Jeremy’s eyes no longer followed her with the puppy longing that they once did. He just half smiled at her and nodded her way. It was a kindly gesture. And then he looked away. But her eyes stayed on him. Seeing him, standing there in his blue singlet, the colors of their High School, his shoulders broad, the suit clinging to his lean body, she felt a sense of nostalgia. She saw the poke in the front of his singlet, the bump in his groin that was the head of his penis pushing into the tight fabric. She didn’t lust for it, but she did remember it fondly. Why had she made that mean joke? A moment of weakness? He had been very cruel to her. And she prided herself on her patience up to that point. Why hadn’t he just gotten over her, been a man about it? More than anything, she wished that they could just be friends again.

Sarah’s eyes followed Jeremy long after his own had broken from her gaze. He stood talking to Tommy. The two joked together and pointed to people in the crowd. It was clear that Tommy was excited, and he was talking very in a very animated fashion, trying to calm Jeremy’s nervousness. Then, Anthony turned the corner from the locker room and strode confidently onto the mat. He wore the green singlet of an army soldier, with the crest of his unit large on the chest. The soldiers in the crowd cheered as he walked forward, and he gave a little wave to the crowd. There were about 50 people in the stands now, about the same as the average high school basketball game. Bouts were not all that rare in this area, and they usually ended the same, with some aggressive angry guys slamming each other around until one goes down. Nothing more exciting than that. But there was always hope that something interesting would happen. Like any sports event, more likely than not, the expected will happen. But you have to watch often to catch the moments when something rather more happened.

Anthony saw Sarah standing in the front bleachers amongst his army friends. He walked to her and took her hand. He leaned over and kissed her tenderly, her hands on the back of his head. Seeing Anthony, her soldier man, standing there in his singlet, dressed for combat, his muscles wide masculine form displayed for all, Sarah’s spirit melted with love and desire. She couldn’t help noticing the prominent bulge Anthony made in his singlet, and the contrast in power and potency his masculine form carried compared to her slight womanly frame. She felt her panties moisten as his lips locked with hers and his tongue briefly sought the space between her lips. She wished that he could fuck here there, in the gym, that he could feel his desire rise stiff and hard, and feel it push into her. Feel the eager hunger of his thrusting, the wanton abandon on his face as he lost himself in the pleasure of her body. She wished the gym was empty of people and she was filled completely with the masculinity of her soldier boy’s body. She remembered the feeling of the rush of his seed into her womb the night before, as his strong face pinched in an almost pained pleasure and his deep voice grunted out a symphony of strain. God, he was so hot. She thought all this as he held his head in her hands and kissing him tenderly on the mouth.

Jeremy watched them from where he stood on the mat, in his place, ready for it to begin. His face gave no expression. But inside he felt regret. Not jealously, but regret that the story his and Sarah’s story hadn’t ended differently. Cathy, who stood beside her friend amongst the soldiers on the front row, sneered at Jeremy. He ignored her. No doubt she had dressed like a whore—in a red tank top with red lipstick and a short black skirt—because she knew that she would be sitting among horny soldiers. Sarah whispered something in Anthony’s ear. Jeremy thought it was “be careful.” And then they pulled away.

The main judge, the smallest of the three men (but still a man of considerable strength) beckoned Anthony to his position. The other two judges stood at the two corners of the mat closest to the stands. The victory rail was directly between them, right in front of the first row.

With Anthony and Jeremy facing each other in front of the main judge, the crowed roared into applause. It was not a false cheering. Men how participated in a bout were truly respected. It was a sign of courage that not everyone would be willing to undertake. And this particular bout already seemed particularly courageous. Standing together, with the large man dressed in black between, the combatants were easy to compare. Jeremy, 3 years junior than Anthony, stood a whole foot shorter. He seemed firmly built, with compact muscles and a firmness of body. If he weight much more, he would have been stocky. But as it was, he was well proportioned and fit as any average young man, although perhaps a hair on the short side.

Speaking of hair, it was another difference between them. Jeremy’s was still a mop of brown, waving about his eyebrows and over his ears. Anthony’s blondish-brown hair was shaved short, a model of military discipline. His taller body was lean, without an inch of fat. His face also had shed any baby roundness that might have been left over from childhood in boot camp. His cheekbones were prominent; his jaw firm and fixed. From the looks of them, Anthony didn’t seem to weigh terribly much more than Jeremy. (Perhaps 20 pounds or a little more). But his muscles were stretched over a taller frame. And he had the bulky strong look of a young man with a few extra years of filling out into adulthood.

But their height and weight was not the only noticeable difference between the two young men who faced each other. Their singlets were tight across their shoulders and chests, and butts, and groins. As much as he tried to hide it, Jeremy’s penis poked out like a button in his singlet—a little blue shadow like a thumb pushing form behind. His balls, which were full and a little above average, were too plump under his body and pushed his soft dick forward into the singlet. Anthony, on the other hand, sported a healthy bulge in his army suit. The deep green fabric slung his sausage toward his right thigh, like a snake under a blanket. The flared rim of his circumcised helmet was as plain a feature in the garment as the army crest on his chest. The entire audience was aware of it, although it was the kind of detail that polite people simply ignored. All young men—and men in general—had masculine organs between their legs. And if they wore a suit like a singlet for sport, it was only natural that their natural assets would show somewhat. And the obvious contrast between the two bulges was also the kind of thing polite society perhaps noted but overlooked. If all men had the same parts in the same places, they were also as different from each other slightly in size and shape. It was natural. And while one young man might display more than another, it was not the sort of thing one should comment on. Young men were sensitive about their bodies, even if they would never admit it. Especially men in their teens and twenties, who haven’t yet settled with a mate and focused on her rather than competing for the affections of women generally against their male peers. And most well brought up adults would go out of their way to ignore such a difference, even if they noted it in their own mind. 99.9% of men’s equipment functioned perfectly well with a woman, especially when they became experienced enough with a single mate to learn the little things that pleased them. It was not the kind of thing a young man like this Jeremy should be made to feel self-conscious about.

That was, in general, how the polite society of adults would have viewed the situation. But the spectators at this bout were not mostly adults of good manners. They were soldiers, still hot with the juice of youth, and high school students, many of whom had been at the party and seen the photos first hand, and knew the background of the Bout. And they were janitors from the school, and bored twenty somethings looking for some afternoon entertainment. And so, when Jeremy and Anthony were directed to bow to one another by the judge, and standing upright again, their bulges pushed out all the more, the reaction was swift.

“CHIPMUNK, CHIPMUNK, CHIPMUNK,” the high school guys in the crowd started chanting amongst the general applause. Jeremy’s cheeks flushed pink. And before he could restrain his instinct, he adjusted the crotch of his singlet, pulling the fabric out and letting it pop back in a slightly less revealing position. But it didn’t conceal anything. His button dick still stuck straight forward, the ridge of his own circumcised mushroom now showing as well.

The soldiers in the crowd hear the chipmunk chant, and saw the younger lad’s reaction to it. They started chanting, in the deeper pitched marching cadence of twenty something soldiers: “SEVEN FIVE TWO, SEVEN FIVE TWO, SEVEN FIVE TWO!” It was the number of Anthony’s unit. And in more ways than one. While Anthony raised his hand to the crowd in thanks, bearing the blondish brown tufts of hair in his pale armpit, Jeremy blushed anew. He had heard through the school scuttlebutt that the soldier that had stolen Sarah’s heart had a seven-inch pole of manhood. His new phobia about his own ‘short comings’ had branded the number in his mind. Seven, the length of Anthony’s ample manhood; Five, the length of his own tool (when he really strained the ruler to the edge); Two, the length in inches that separated the two combatants reach as males. The number of Anthony’s military unit could not have been more appropriate.

But Jeremy didn’t let his spirits sink. He heard a few voices in the crowd, Tommy’s included, that called out his name. And the vast majority of the cheers from the stands came for both the young men, both brave and strong, regardless of how they filled out their singlets. In fact, many in the crowd didn’t even know the subtext of the match. And to them, the dueling bulges were simply a natural point of trivial when two men are dressed in somewhat revealing clothes. Besides, this entire idea was an attempt to bring all those in the crowd to cheers of respect. If some now taunted him, Jeremy knew that it was for the same reason he was standing there. He had lost the respect of his peers and been held up for ridicule. But his real fault had not been the lump between his legs, but his uncontrolled bitterness at Sarah. That is what had put him on the mat that day. And if he made a good show, it would be worth the trouble.

The judge raised his arm, in a gesture that the match was about to begin. Anthony and Jeremy looked at each other, standing straight up, facing each other. Their jaws were set. Jeremy’s eyes were nervous but eager. Anthony’s were firm and fixed. He was going to teach this little punk a lesson here in front of these people. He disrespected both this girlfriend and himself at the party for no good reason. And had the nerve to challenge him to a bout in addition. A few quick tosses and it would be over for the little punk.

The judge jerked his hand to his side. The Bout began.

to be continued…………….