The Ecstasy of Defeat

I knew what some people thought of my trip: complete craziness. They wondered why a normal, young guy from Kentucky would fly to Germany to meet a stranger—just to wrestle with him. My girlfriend wondered too, and argued with me about it. But she couldn’t stop me. In my opinion this was a special case, a chance to get down on the mat with an athlete like myself who had a passion for a particular brand of combat, submission wrestling. Yet, on the plane I also began to have some doubts about this adventure. The continuous drone of the jet engines tried to put me to sleep, but in my excitement I could only nod off for a few minutes at a time. My dreams were short and dark, with strange images.

During periods of wakefulness I reviewed in my mind how I had accidentally met Dirk on the internet and then discovered the many similarities between us—our common age of 24, our love of submission wrestling, our identical builds of six feet and one eighty, our wacky sense of humor. Even more amazing was the fact that he and I had both recently started to train for police work—me in Frankfort, Kentucky, and he in Frankfurt, Germany. We began to have phone conversations, and that led him to invite me for a visit.

It wouldn’t cost me anything to stay with Dirk for the week, plus I’d get a chance to see Frankfurt. But the best thing about the plan was our agreement to do some major submission wrestling in pro briefs or jocks. It sounded like a lot of fun—and more big wins for me! I didn’t have to wonder which of us would do the submitting. I could already hear Dirk saying, “I give!” With my strength, my perfect collegiate wrestling record, and my knowledge of submission holds, Dirk would definitely have his hands full.

I kept thinking about a wrestling style that Dirk had talked about. He called it “piss wrestling.” The phrase intrigued me because I’d never heard it before. In broken English he tried to explain it as working on a body-part so thoroughly, wearing a guy down so much, that he submits by pissing in his jock. That, he said, would be the ultimate proof of defeat—the loss of one’s fluid. It reminded me of an incident in the high school locker room, where my buddies got me laughing so hard that, much to my embarrassment, I pissed all over my brief. After that they called me “Wet Brett,” which I didn’t appreciate.

When my flight arrived in Frankfurt, Dirk was there to meet me. He looked in even better shape than his photos revealed—great biceps, broad shoulders, and muscular thighs that bulged impressively in the tight, Euro style jeans that he wore. His glasses made him look a little dangerous with their small, round lenses and wire frame. And his very short hair definitely gave him a tough, Germanic appearance, like a skinhead.

We hit it off right away, talking and laughing like brothers who hadn’t seen each other for a long time. His apartment was below ground level in an old stone building near the heart if the city. It had several rooms but I couldn’t see much of them because of the dim lighting. Although tired from the flight, I seemed re-energized after meeting Dirk and having something to eat. We also had several beers, dark German brews that tasted awesomely good.

“You up for a rassle?” he asked.

“Sure-yavohl!” I replied.

He chuckled at my use of rudimentary German and led me into his wrestling room. One tiny lamp did little to illuminate the place. A well-padded mat covered most of the floor. Dark walls of brick contained wrestling photos of various sizes. The wrestlers were all struggling in a variety of submission holds. While I tried to look at them more closely in the dim light, Dirk started to strip beside me. Some of the holds seemed unusual and quite extreme. The guys were in very good shape, though, and appeared to be able to take the punishment.

“You like?” he asked.

“Yeah, pretty wild,” I said, removing my tee shirt. Not taking my eyes away from the photos, I pulled off my gym shoes, then opened my jeans.

Dirk, now naked, pointed to one of his favorite photos. “This guy’s good, much strong,” he said.

I took off my Levi’s and tossed them into a corner. Dirk looked at the front of my white jock and smiled. Then he held up a red, low-rise brief having an especially big pouch.

“You need this one,” he said.

I grinned sheepishly, stripped off my jock and put it on. The brief was soft and stretchy, perfect for my larger-than-average equipment. It hugged my dick and balls and also made them stick out very prominently, much farther than I was used to.

Dirk grinned and jumped into a skimpy black brief. He pulled the waistband away, then let it snap back against his skin. “We see who makes the brief wet first?” he asked.

He was referring to “piss wrestling.” After sitting on the plane for hours, I was glad to get my muscles moving again. “Yeah, let’s go,” I replied.

We locked up, collar-and-elbow, in the center of the mat. But I broke away almost immediately and grabbed Dirk’s right leg. I pulled it out from under him, then twisted the leg severely. The pain of the twist made the guy roll onto his stomach. At that point it was easy to wrench the leg backward and get Dirk in a single-leg crab. I widened my stance and forced the leg further back, making the wrestler groan.

I gripped the powerful thigh. “Yeah!” I said, elated that I had maneuvered it into a useless position so quickly and thoroughly. I slapped the hard muscle, re-gripped it and began to pull back farther. Dirk had a very flexible body, so I needed to put an extreme bend on the leg before he showed any sign of weakness. But finally I heard in his painful grunts a submissive tone. I rocked the leg back and forth, each time wrenching it more severely.

“Ah! I give!” he shouted at last.

I pulled back farther. “Say it again!” I insisted.

“I give! I give!” yelled Dirk.

He got up slowly, definitely feeling the effects of the crab. His face had a surprised look, as if he had underestimated me. I seized his right arm and jerked it downward roughly. He cried out in pain. I quickly followed that with a sudden backward pull, locking the arm in a tight hammerlock. I wrapped my other arm around the dude’s neck and pulled him to the mat with it. Then I coiled my legs around his waist and dug into him violently. Dirk yelped as I simultaneously cranked up the hammerlock, the strangle-hold and the body scissors. His free arm flew up and tried to grasp the air. Then it dove to my thigh. He made a feeble attempt to pull it off him. But soon he was tapping it to announce his submission.

When I released Dirk, he had a new expression his face: revenge. I let the wrestler get to his feet, but charged into him with lightning speed. Unfortunately, the guy’s right hand moved quickly also and his fingers caught me in the neck as I charged. A stabbing pain stopped me in my tracks. It felt like he had jammed a needle halfway through my neck. I grabbed his hand, but I was strangely powerless to remove it. He had me in some kind of Asian nerve hold. I dropped to my knees.

Dirk smiled as he watched me struggle against the debilitating grip. He pushed me backward until my shoulders reached the mat. Straddling me, the wrestler applied more pressure. My eyes opened wide in terror as the pain increased and my breathing became restricted.

“I give!” I gasped. “Please…I give!”

After the guy freed my neck, I quickly grasped it with a hand. Gulping air as fast as I could, I rose to my feet slowly. I noticed that my dick had hardened a lot, but I didn’t have the time to think about that. Noting my extreme agony, Dirk walked up to me and put his hands on my arms in a gesture of good sportsmanship. When I managed a slight grin, the guy suddenly raised a knee and rammed it into my gut.

I staggered and fell forward, grasping his waist for support. “You dirty bastard!” I gasped.

He lifted me off the mat and drove my gut down onto his outstretched thigh as he dropped onto one knee. I held my aching abs and collapsed to the mat.

Dirk waited until I gradually pushed myself up. Then he hoisted me into the air again—higher this time—and sent my gut down across his thigh for a second time. Groaning in pain, I crashed to the mat. Dirk rolled me onto my back. He looked at my heaving, aching gut and grinned triumphantly. In an attempt to sit up, I raised my head off the mat. But my opponent forced it back down using only a few fingers of one hand. I found myself unable to stop the guy when he next planted his ass on my chest.

Sitting with his back toward my face and his folded legs on either side of me, he laid a hand on my gut. “You ready for it?”

Still a little dazed, I didn’t answer. Suddenly intense pain ripped into my gut. The guy had seized my abs and dug his fingers in deep.

“Ahhh!” I gasped, immediately clutching his body.

I had never felt so much pain. This shocked me, because I have well-developed abs. Yet they were no match for Dirk’s claw. The guy had found a vulnerable spot and intended to capitalize on it. I yelled in anguish as his fingers reached further into me.

But that wasn’t all. A moment or two later, Dirk slammed his other hand onto my gut and forced the fingers in as far as he could. That claw produced even more pain than the other hand, maybe because he had placed it lower. I took it as long as I could, then shouted out a submission.

Dirk continued to work on my abs with both hands, showing no sign of releasing the claws. I pounded his back with my fists, but the blows had little power or effectiveness. My arms grew weaker, until finally they fell to the mat. I lay there no longer able to defend myself, allowing the hunky wrestler to go on torturing my gut. This was a new experience for me—not only because of the pain, but also because of my helplessness.

Suddenly a flash lit up the room. Then another. I began to be aware of someone else’s presence. The third flash illuminated a guy at my waist, partially blocked by Dirk’s body, holding a camera. He was muscular and, like Dirk, wore only a black brief.

“That’s Dieter,” volunteered Dirk. “He photographs my victories.”

Another flash split the darkness, documenting Dirk’s claws and my prone body. Now I felt even more humiliated: no doubt the photos would go up on Dirk’s wall with all his other conquests—and show up on the internet as well. The embarrassment stung me as much as the double claw.

But soon I had a new humiliation. Because one of Dirk’s hands was so low on my gut, it sometimes brushed against my dick as he worked the hold. Unfortunately, the contact caused enough stimulation to begin the hardening process. Despite my mental efforts to stop it, the stiffening escalated. I felt my dick eagerly push into the brief, enjoying the sensation of sliding against the soft, stretchy fabric.

“Shit, no more!” I shouted, wincing from the pain of the double claw, and from the embarrassment of having my erection grow while the two guys watched it. I put my hands on Dirk’s sides to throw him off me, but failed.

“Yah, yah,” said Dirk, wrestling my gut with renewed enthusiasm.

Dieter took another photo. My cock started to feel really good, so I knew it had reached its full length, ten thick inches. The extremely stretched-out brief still held the whole thing, thank goodness. But the rising pleasure in my rod bothered me. I could feel the pole struggling to push itself upward, despite the brief’s presence, as if it wanted to shoot off.

I rejected that notion. The idea of having an orgasm in a situation like this was too fantastic for me to accept. Yet the pleasure kept building. Within a short time I knew the truth: my cock was heading toward an orgasm.

“No! No!” I yelled—confused, embarrassed and desperate for Dirk to release me.

The camera flashed once more, and this time I suspected that Dieter was not taking a close-up of the claw hold, but rather of my huge cock as it bulged under the taut brief.

“Yah, now you will give to me,” said Dirk.

I felt my balls stiffening. There was no use fighting the pleasure now. It had become too powerful. It was going to get me. But how could a gut squeeze make me cum? Finally I realized that although the pain in my abs lingered, Dirk had ended the claw holds—something else was causing the pleasure. I looked at the guy’s right arm. It moved back and forth slowly, nearly motionlessly: Dirk was lightly rubbing my cock through the brief I wore! The smooth, clingy fabric made the stroking easy for him and the pleasure intense for me. It felt like he was working on my rod naked and oiled.

“No, no! Stop, man!” I said. “Stop…stop…”

But the urge to shoot had become more insistent than any of my objections. Grunts of satisfaction soon took the place of speech. A strange numbness gripped my body, blocking out every sensation except the intense pleasure in my cock. I could feel the brief’s tightness around my pole, hugging it on all sides like a condom, ready for me to fill with sperm.

“Yah, good,” said Dirk, obviously pleased with his hold and my cock’s reactions to it.

What the hell was he doing to my rod? He wasn’t jacking or sucking it, yet the pleasure was overwhelming, at the point of being out of control.

“You like jizz wrestling?” he asked.

The phrase stunned me. Was that what Dirk had meant by “piss wrestling?” Or had he actually said the word “jizz” when describing it? Could I have misunderstood him? But I couldn’t think about it, I could only gasp and groan. My cock craved to ejaculate, but didn’t. Had the wrestler found some super-sensitive part of my rod that I didn’t know existed? How could that be? I began to perspire as Dirk continued to pleasure my swollen tool. The feeling went way beyond anything I had ever experienced or fantasized about.

Dirk said something to his buddy and Dieter got down real close to my cockhead with his camera. At that moment I had a tremendous desire to shoot, but still couldn’t. Was I afraid of letting loose in front of the guys? Or could it be that I wanted to show off my giant cock to them a while longer? It IS a muscle, after all, and I love flexing my muscles for people, especially for guys who don’t have as many as I do.

Whether I wanted it to or not, that’s what my rod was doing—flexing for the two spectators. Except that Dirk was somehow making it flex. Over and over. And killing me with pleasure every time that happened. The spasm-like flexes became stronger and more frequent. The wrestler finally made my cock freeze in a single, sustained flex that brought a scream from the depths of my gut. Dieter exclaimed something in German and began snapping photos.

My balls tightened. I could feel my swollen tool straining for release from the on-going flex. A prickly, almost painful pleasure suddenly attacked my cum hole. I couldn’t stand it.

“Ah! Fuck!” I yelled. “I’m gonna cum!”

My mouth opened wide as the pleasure pricked my cum hole without mercy. At last, in a burst of unspeakable ecstasy, cum exploded from the hole. My head flew up from the mat and stayed in that position while I pumped everything I had into the brief. The orgasm didn’t quit after the first ten or so squirts. The juice kept coming, and Dirk kept caressing my cock with his steady, light strokes. The longer I ejaculated, the more I screamed and writhed.

I think I may have even blacked out momentarily from the length and intensity of the explosions. At last my head dropped to the mat and Dirk crawled off me. While Dieter looked on, Dirk removed the wet brief, being careful not to lose any of the cum inside it.

“Very good, ya!” said Dirk as he and Dieter examined the extraordinarily soaked brief. They showed it to me.

“You can make very much!” smiled Dirk.

I didn’t say anything or try to move. I remained on my back, feeling as though the massive orgasm still had me in its grasp. I stared hypnotically at my long pole. It hovered above my gut in perpetual hardness, still loaded with a pleasure that seemed wild,
untamable. The juice hole tingled so much that it made the whole rod kick upward every few seconds, then eject a gob of cum onto my chest. Dirk watched it for a while, stroking his own rod through his brief. At last he got up and walked to a dark corner of the room. Dieter came closer and whispered in my ear. His English wasn’t as good as Dirk’s, but I got the message.

“Dirk will do it more. He cums you more times, wenn you don’t stop him.”

I understood the warning and knew I had to get to my feet. I slowly rose to my hands and knees, but then felt a hand take hold of my balls from behind. I stopped, not daring to move.

“It’s OK,” said Dirk. “I just feel you.”

He did feel my nuts—for a long time.

“I think I’ve had enough for tonight, man,” I said. “I have to get some rest.”

He didn’t let go. “Very big and stiff,” he said, ignoring my statement. “Stiff with juice I think.”

I looked up at Dieter, whose eyes repeated his message: ‘he’ll make you cum again unless you stop him.’ I had to try something, but what could I do with Dirk’s fingers around my balls?

“OK, only a short wrestle for now,” said Dirk.

I didn’t want to provoke the guy, so I agreed. Several moments passed and he hadn’t let go of my nuts yet. So, trying to act cool about it, I said with a quizzical smile, “Are you gonna wrestle my nuts or me?”

Dirk fondled them a little while longer, then replied: “Both!”

He immediately coiled his legs around one of mine, seized my other leg and pulled me over onto my back with it. I grabbed my thighs, but I was too late: Dirk already had me in a banana split. I still don’t know how he could have done it so quickly; the guy sure has some muscles.

I cringed as he slowly widened the split. Although the pain became bad real quick, I tried to handle it. Dieter moved between my legs with his camera. “Bereit,” he said to Dirk, focusing the lens on my aching crotch.

The wrestler forced my thighs apart just one inch more, but that inch made me cry out in pain. “Ah! No more! No farther!” I shrieked. I heard Dieter start snapping photos of my crotch and my agonized face.

Dirk kept the thighs locked in that position, fortunately not spreading them further. He seemed content to simply maintain the grueling hold, and did so minute-after-minute. When he didn’t ask for a submission, I gave him one. But the guy didn’t release me. I yelled the submission louder. Dieter continued taking close-up shots, while Dirk held my thighs steady in the painful eagle-spread.

“I submit!” I repeated once more. “Christ—you’re killin’ me! What are you waiting for?”

“You know, man,” he said. “More of your stuff.”

My cum? God, the guy was gay was gay for sure, I thought. Had I traveled all the way to Germany just to meet a queer? The thought made my stomach weak.

Dieter checked out my cock, fingering it in different places, like he was looking for something. Afterward he said something in German to Dirk, who smiled in response.

“I can’t shoot again—it’s too soon!” I winced, hoping to play along with their game and also buy some time.

“You’re balls are ready,” said Dirk. Suddenly one of his hands clamped onto my nutsack.

“Ah! Fuck!” I yelled in protest. “Stop!”

More flashes of light came from Dieter’s camera as his buddy’s fingers began to dig into my big balls. I begged Dirk to let go, but he continued squeezing. Did he think he could make me shoot that way? If so, he was crazy.

The camera flashes became more numerous. There were so many that they lit up the room enough for me to see the photos on the wall clearly for the first time. Two of them really disturbed me. One showed two naked wrestlers kissing, and the other showed a guy ejaculating as a hand squeezed his cock—Dirk’s hand! That confirmed my worst fear: I was in room with two gay dudes and at their mercy. I became furious—about Dirk being able to dominate me, and about my own stupidity in not figuring out sooner that the guy was a queer.

I struggled violently to get loose. But a sudden downward pull on my nuts convinced me to forget the idea. “Ahhh! That hurts, man!” I yelled, grabbing the guy’s wrists.

“Let go,” he warned, threatening me with a deadly glance.

Hopelessly locked in the crotch split, I had to obey. “OK, OK,” I said, removing my hands.

My long cock jumped a few times for some reason. Unfortunately, Dirk saw it and got a turned-on look in his eyes. He jerked my balls down again. I yelled once more, raising my hands to grab him, but remembering his warning I quickly lowered them. I hated letting him have his way with my nuts, but I had no choice. My pole started to jump again.

After the second big pull, Dirk kept my balls held way down, putting quite a stretch on the sack skin. A look of total control blazed in his eyes as he stared at the two giant ‘nads in his hand.

“I submit! Don’t hurt ‘em, man!” I exclaimed in fear.

I hoped he would break the hold, but that didn’t happen. It got worse. The guy began to squeeze my balls as he held them down. The pressure was gradual, but in a minute or so he had them really gripped hard. The pain made me strike the mat with a fist. Dieter’s camera suddenly lit up my crotch.

“Yah, yah!” whispered the wrestler, obviously enjoying what he was doing.

I hadn’t noticed until now that Dirk was naked. I couldn’t see his dick, but mine twitched in excitement as he worked on my nuts. In fact, so did mine, much to my bewilderment. The camera clicked and flashed again.

“You like submitting to me, yah?” asked Dirk.

“Fuck no, you bastard!” I shouted.

The wrestler persisted. “You like this hold? Pain makes the testicles feel bigger, yah? And sexy?”

“Fuck you, man!” I replied angrily.

Dirk squeezed my ‘nads harder. I cried out in agony, but that did nothing to dissuade him: he kept the squeeze going. I looked in horror at my cock. It suddenly spit out a load of cum.

Dirk grinned and relaxed the bear hug on my balls. “It feels good to give me your cum, yah?”

“No fuckin’ way, you pervert!”

The wrestler put the killer squeeze on again. I screamed once more, not knowing if my ‘nads could withstand the unbelievable pressure. I reached forward to punch Dirk, but Dieter held me down with a hand on my chest. I grabbed his arm, clutching it like a frightened child.

A second load of cum flew from my cock hole. But this time Dirk maintained the ball pressure at full force, undoubtedly expecting another discharge of juice to follow.

“No! Stop it! I give! I give!” I yelled, rocking my head from side to side on my mat.

“You give, yah—you will give more cum!” replied Dirk.

“No!” I cried. “My balls hurt too much!”

I lied. Yes, my balls hurt, but I also felt pleasure—enough of it to shoot again. I couldn’t explain why. My cock was going crazy with excitement. It jerked upward every few seconds, as if spurting invisible cum. Dirk watched the athletic leaps of my cock very closely.

“Tell me you like it,” demanded the skinhead.

“OK, OK, I like it!” I cried, hoping that admission would make him let go. But he kept squeezing.

“You like losing to me yah? Say it!”

“Yes! I like losing to you!” I yelled.

I couldn’t believe that I, the undefeated champ, had spoken those words! But right after saying them, my cock began to do even higher leaps. What was happening to me?

“Tell me to squeeze your balls dry!” ordered Dirk.

“Oh god no!” I begged.

“Tell me!”

Now frantic to end the torture one way or another, I complied. “Squeeze ‘em dry!” I shouted. Dieter looked at his buddy’s hold on my ‘nads. He put his camera on the mat and pressed down on my chest with both hands so I couldn’t move. What was he preparing me for? What was going to happen to my balls? I gazed at Dieter in fear. I saw that, like Dirk, he was now naked. His cock stood straight up, directly over my chest. I’d never seen a guy’s rod up close before. Dieter had a long one, nearly as long as mine. Excited veins bulged out along its sides.

But my unusual fixation on the tool quickly ended. Dirk’s fingers suddenly did something to my balls—something extreme. Intense pain overwhelmed them. My jaw

dropped. I grabbed Dieter’s arms with both hands. The look on Dirk’s face was

unforgettable: he had his teeth clamped together and his lips open, forming a sneer that was scary as hell.

“Say it again!” shouted Dirk.

I could barely speak through the pain. “Squeeze ‘em dry!” I shrieked.

Whatever hold the wrestler had on my nuts, I was sure it would damage them for good. Dieter patted and massaged my pecs to reassure me, but the squeeze and Dirk’s sneer had me paralyzed with fear.

Without warning, Dieter’s cock exploded above me—without being touched. The sight, and the feel of the guy’s warm cum splashing down on my chest, was amazing to behold. How could the guy become so turned on just by watching me suffer? Yet, that was also happening to me. Whether from the pain or fear, I heard myself saying “squeeze ‘em” over and over to Dirk. As I did, my cock lifted itself high, eager to submit.

“Yah,” said the wrestler. “Give it to me!”

I held tightly to Dieter as pleasure filled my cock. “Yes! Yes!” I cried. “Make me give!”

Dirk didn’t hold back. He pried my thighs open further, then really laid into my balls. At first the pain seemed intolerable, but my pleasure rose higher and it soon surpassed the discomfort. The sneer on Dirk’s face remained, but it now appeared less menacing to me. And his killing hold on my nuts began to actually feel good, kind of sexy. But even more incredible, although he wasn’t touching my cock, he somehow had complete control of it, making the cum tube tingle vigorously all the way down to my ‘nads.

Suddenly my long tool started to jump wildly. “Yes! Get me!” I yelled.

Pleasure gripped my crotch, my balls, my thighs and arms, every muscle of my body. A moment later, cum burst from the cock like Dieter’s had—with no physical stimulation of any kind. I screamed submission after submission as my cock squirted its juice hysterically….

I finally became aware that my orgasm had ended, although I don’t remember exactly when. I then realized that my arms and legs were chained, restraining me in a spread-eagle position. But even if I weren’t tied down, I couldn’t have mustered enough strength to lift my shoulders off the mat. Dirk had demolished me. He sat triumphantly on my outstretched thighs, smirking down at me. After a moment or two, he raised his right hand and formed a fist-with the knuckle of the third finger extending beyond the others so I would notice it. From the nasty expression on his face, I knew he wasn’t finished with me yet. Dirk looked down at my rod. Still thick and hard, it lay defenseless across my heaving gut. The guy nearly salivated at the sight of it. He pointed his fist and knuckle downward.

“No! No!” I yelled, fearing that my cock would be the target.

“This will hurt sometimes,” he said. He drove the knuckle downward, slamming it into my sex muscle.

My head flew upward in an automatic response to the blow. It remained there as Dirk pressed his knuckle deep into the stunned cock. I began gasping loudly. Dieter came in

close and cradled my head in his lap. I could feel his excited cock pulse against the back of my neck as he watched his buddy execute the hold.

“Ahhh! No!” I gasped, feeling the knuckle burrowing into my recently-emptied rod.

Dirk gripped his right wrist with the left hand in order apply even more pressure. He leaned forward, putting his full body weight into the nightmarish move. The knuckle sank deeper and deeper into my cock. I felt it reach my stiff cum-tube and start to push into it.

“Fuck! No! I submit!” I yelled, reacting to both the pain and the intense, post-orgasm pleasure caused by the attack.

Dieter caressed my shoulders and face. He whispered advice in my ear, “Cum.”

“No! No!” I gasped. “I can’t!”

But Dirk seemed to know more about my cock than I did. He had planned his assault well. The knuckle was located about three inches below the tip of my rod—right on a particularly sensitive spot. Then, to punish me further, Dirk started to twist his knuckle back and forth as he pressed down into the inflamed cock. I screamed, not knowing how long I could take it. At that point, my brain suddenly recalled part of an old Tarzan movie I had once seen. A powerful tribesman had gained the upper hand in a fight with Tarzan and began to twist his knuckle against the jungle hunk’s temple to put him out. As Tarzan weakened, he took on a much sexier look to me; I didn’t know why. When he eventually won the fight, I felt sort of disappointed. Had I wanted to see the hunk lose, to see his muscular body defeated?

I had buried that scene in my mind until Dirk’s move on my cock. Now it was I who faced the deadly knuckle hold. As the wrestler worked the bone of his finger into my sensitive tube, I pictured myself in the jungle, struggling like Tarzan. But in my fight, I never recover my strength. The hold annihilates me. I lay groaning in pain on the jungle floor, unable to move, muscles glistening in sweat. A young warrior appears and walks up to me. He teases my long cock with the point of his spear until it becomes rock-hard. He presses into it. Instead of pain, I feel only pleasure. He keeps the spear pressed into the cock, making it swell and pulse.

The image hit me powerfully. Did I want to lose to Dirk? Is that what I had always wanted? Dirk’s knuckle torture made my cock throb with an indescribable pleasure that both taxed and aroused me at the same time. My nipples hardened to steel. My ball-skin tightened to leather. Dirk’s twisting fist began to look sexy. Was I going out of my mind?

“Yes! God yes!” I yelled to the wrestler, disbelieving my own words. I wanted more.

Dirk began to grind his knuckle into my sex tube with ferocious power, holding nothing back. I screamed and jerked wildly on the arm chains—not to get away, but to encourage the wrestler to ream my sex muscle even harder. My cock swelled, anxious to release my sperm.

Dirk grinned, ready to take my cum once more. When the explosions came, I thought they would kill me. Instead of having less intensity than the previous orgasms, this one had considerably more. Huge amounts of cum rocketed across my chest, shooting several feet through the air. Dirk continued to grind into the cum tube, ensuring that I kept pumping out my maleness.

The sight made Dieter’s pump switch on once more as well. Clutching me, the guy bent forward and shot load after load onto my neck and shoulders and chest. This was the first time I ever erupted with another guy, and the experience exhilarated me beyond belief. I couldn’t stop shooting. I finally closed my eyes to revel in the sensation of sperm coursing through my rod.

When I opened them, I expected to see Dirk still grinding into my cock, because that’s exactly what I felt. But he wasn’t there. He had moved beside me and was busy hugging and kissing Dieter. I stared in confusion at my freed tool, as an invisible Dirk continued to knuckle it without mercy. Recurring waves of pleasure swept over me. Thoroughly exhausted, I let my head fall back to the mat. Sleep overcame me within seconds.

I awoke to find myself in a soft, comfortable bed, lying on my side. I could see little in the dark room, but I felt Dirk behind, and Dieter in front, facing me. Both were pressed against my body, soothing it with their wonderful, youthful warmth. Dieter had both hands wrapped around my rod—not squeezing, but holding the muscle in a way that made it feel very good, very sexy. I put a hand on his chest and stroked it gently. My fingers encountered wetness—cum. I knew it was mine. Had the ejaculations awakened me? I thought about all the juice that I’d shot since arriving in Germany. What was causing me to have so many orgasms in such a short time? Was it something in the water?

I smiled to myself, because I knew the answer: I loved being with these guys. I loved the touch of a male. It wasn’t merely a new experience. It was an important part of me that I had acknowledged at last.

Dirk moved slightly behind me. It was then that I became conscious of his cock in my ass. It was a new sensation, but instead of trying to pull away, I found myself accepting his cock there. If this was proof of my defeat, I no longer cared. It felt good. I patted his leg with a hand. He responded by giving my butt a couple of friendly thrusts. My cock throbbed in excitement.

Dieter held my pole steady, then captured the top of it in his mouth. I gasped in pleasure as my cock skin grow hotter and tighter with each tingling touch of his tongue.

As if this weren’t enough, soon his fingers surrounded my stiff testicles, admiring their firmness, their heaviness and the huge reservoir of masculinity inside them. I put a leg around Dieter’s body in appreciation. He never released my balls, or my cock, for the rest of the night. If he wanted to prove that he could make me feel as good as his buddy had, he succeeded. The guy had no trouble getting me to shoot him a load of juice whenever he wanted it, which was often. I wondered how much of my cum I he’d take before morning.

It didn’t matter. I was beginning to like the idea of losing, of submitting to another guy. Giving him my body, and my cum, had become a truly fantastic turn-on for me. I owed Dirk and Dieter a lot for this discovery. I decided then and there to lengthen my stay in Germany so I could pay them back. I knew they’d go for it.

I gasped, feeling Dirk’s cock in my ass and Dieter’s tongue edging my cock toward another submission. Both guys snuggled closer. They put their arms around me. Dieter introduced my pole to the back of his throat, while Dirk worked his cock deeper into me....

(end)