Pook and Pete
by Great Dane
1 Apr 2024 733 readers Score 9.9 (11 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt
Chapter 4
The Final Chapter
The remainder of the evening was blissfully uneventful. Since Friday night, we had had four rounds of mind-blowing sex, with each of us in the dominant role for one of them, and both of us using that opportunity to deny the other. We had dinner, watched TV, and went to bed where Pook immediately assumed the position. Since he hadn’t allowed me to cum earlier, I had to fall asleep rock hard with him pressed against my body. He smugly fell asleep nuzzled into me, knowing he had gotten the best of me. Plus, tomorrow was a special 7AM CrossFit class for the Labor Day holiday so we needed to be well rested and ready to go. And there would be the added attraction of us attending for the first time as a couple. Ben, Bear, and Jack had been at the party and saw me put my arm around Pook affectionally. We didn’t make a formal announcement, but it was apparent we had a “thing.”
Although I had designated last Friday night as our sexual competition, I knew today, Monday, would be equally competitive. And I had a plan, both for the actual CrossFit competition, as well as one of my own.
The alarm went off early, we had a light breakfast of fruit and water and headed to the box (box is the term CrossFit uses for gym). Most everyone was there by the time we arrived, so the two of us arriving together was a bit of a head-turner. Ben, Bear, and Jack knew exactly what was going on and exchanged knowing glances, but the others looked at us a little puzzled. That’s ok, I thought. We’ll let this unfold naturally.
It wasn’t lost on me that we were back where all this had started. This was the same CrossFit box where Pook and I had flirted continuously which snowballed into the relationship that exploded (along with our cocks) Friday night. I looked around the box as we prepared for our workout, soaking it in. Everything was the same. Everything was different.
Labor Day is a special “Hero” WOD (workout-of-the-day). On most national holidays, CrossFit boxes around the country do the same workout, often named after a fallen war hero to honor them. Today’s workout was appropriately named Nutts after Lt. Richard Nutall, killed in Afghanistan. The workout was a 20-miniute AMRAP (as many rounds as possible in 20 minutes) of 30 box jumps, 20 push presses (pressing 115# over your head 20 times) and 30 pull-ups. As are all Hero WODs, this was a rough one. Pook and I were evenly matched on the box jumps and his youthful strength gave him the clear edge on the push presses. But pull-ups are my specialty, so I had the advantage there. This would be an intense competition, each of us with our individual strengths; both of us fiercely competitive. And what had transpired over the weekend only magnified each of our individual drives to compete. And win.
After we completed the warmup, we each ripped off our shirts and the countdown clock began: 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1.
Pook’s and my workout stations were side-by-side and we each had an official “counter.” Typically, CrossFitters are expected to self-count their reps and report them accurately. Hero workouts are so intense that having someone else count your reps frees up energy for the athlete to do nothing but concentrate on their performance.
As expected, we finished the first round of 30 box jumps at precisely the same time. I knew I’d fall behind on the push presses and would need to make it up with the pull-ups. I was only at 15 push-presses when Pook finished his round of 20. But when I finished and moved into the 30 pull-ups, I caught up with him and we finished the first round of the workout at exactly the same time. Round 2 was slower for both of us, but identical in performance. We tied the box jumps, he won the push presses, and I caught up on pull-ups to tie the round.
This competition would come down to pure stamina. My strategy was clear: Stay with him in box jumps, don’t fall too far behind in push presses, and make it up in pull-ups. We kept at it. Fierce. Aggressive. Even savage. We were both out to win. Coming in second is for wimps. Each round was slower than the one before, but I kept up.
The clock now showed five minutes remaining. We were starting our 7th round. Again, we tied on box jumps and he pulled ahead on the push presses. The clock was down to two minutes remaining and I had to catch up on push presses and beat him on pull-ups. He was already on his third pull-up by the time I finished the push presses. There was :30 on the clock for me to catch up to his three and beat him. I leapt up to the bar, got pullup 1,2, and 3 and dropped to the floor. He was now at 4. Back up to the bar with :05 left on the clock, I got to 4 and we both did our 5th. With :02 left on the clock, he finished his 6th pull-up and I dug deep and crammed in my 6th and 7th. The buzzer went off and we both dropped from the bar into sweaty heaps.
I HAD WON!!! I was completely exhausted and had beaten him by 1 rep. I was too tired to think, too tired to even savor the victory. After several minutes of recovery, we were finally able to scrape ourselves off the floor and instinctively walked over to the other for a congratulatory hug. We were both covered in sweat, but the hug was long and genuinely affectionate. Pook was proud of his Daddy.
What drove my performance? Had Pook’s mentorship over the months improved my conditioning? Was it the fact that I was wearing my sexiest jockstrap under my shorts and went shirtless, which always seems to elevate my testosterone? Was it my compelling need to outperform my boy? Who knows? But the feeling was exhilarating.
Now for the second part of the competition…
While cooling down I got Pook off to the side to suggest we hang back after class and get more weightlifting in. I was acutely aware of what he denied me of last night and had every intention of getting what I deserved from him.
Pook thought that was a great idea and since he was one of the coaches at this box, he had a set of keys so we could stay back after the others left and lock up behind us. He told coach that we were hanging back to continue to work out and after a few minutes the place was cleared. Since it was Labor Day, that was the only class of the day, so we’d have the place to ourselves for as long as we wanted. Also, it was windowless, so no one could see inside.
We were covered in sweat, but we had recovered and still had the energy to do more.
Not wanting to dive into my plan too quickly, I suggested we start with the bench press. CrossFit is adamant you have a spotter when you bench press so when you get to heavier weights, the spotter is there to pull the bar off your chest if the weight is too heavy. Since the spotter stands right over your eyes as you’re looking up to the bar, it’s unavoidable to look straight into the spotter’s crotch when you lift. And that’s exactly why I started with the bench press. As we were getting the bench and bar ready, I said to Pook, “Boy, I’m still sweating from the workout. I’m going to lose these sweaty gym pants.” Pook grinned from ear-to-ear and replied mockingly, “Yeah, me too. I’m pretty warm myself.”
Now down to my red Nasty Pig jockstrap, I loaded the plates on the bar, slid under it on the bench, and looked up to where Pook was spotting me. As expected, right in my line of sight is his massive sweat-stained pouch. I often used Pook’s near-perfect body as inspiration for my workout performance and this was one of those times. I was staring directly up to and beyond his pouch, up his torso, pecs and strong arms. The sight I was beholding was wildly motivating.
I did three sets, and we reversed roles. Now Pook was stretched out on the bench in his oh-so-sexy PUMP jockstrap, looking straight up into my pouch. He licked his lips, quietly groaned “Oh, Daddy,” and proceeded to easily finish three sets at a heavier weight than I.
It was time to move on to squats. One of the biggest problems squatters have is squatting deep enough, and I’m no exception. One of the tricks to ensure you get low enough is to put something behind you at the height you’re supposed to squat to and squat down to it. If you squat deep enough that your ass touches it, you’ve reached the appropriate depth. “Hey Pook,” I pointed to the floor. “I need you to get under me. I’ll squat to your face to make sure I get deep enough”. I was getting downright depraved.
I did a couple warm up squats with just the barbell to make sure Pook’s face was positioned to receive my ass. He laid on the floor in place, I squatted and easily got the depth I needed. My ass not only reached his face, but just as I got to the lowest position, he extended his tongue and gave my hole a quick lick. This was going to be the most enjoyable squatting I had ever done.
I added weights and did several sets of 5 reps each. Every time I lowered myself to his face, I could feel his warm, wet tongue slide across my hole. And the more weight I added, the longer I’d be down in the squat position.
Naturally I would reciprocate, so Pook loaded up his barbell, I laid under him and gave him the same treatment he had shown me. There was something extra sexy about his hole that morning. The strain and sweat of the workout had created a man-funk that was particularly arousing. And it was making me hungry.
After the bench presses with the erotic view into each other’s jock-strained bulges, and the hole-tickling squats, it was time to move on to the day’s real competition.
I took out four of the large workout mats and placed them in the middle of the box. They’re essentially wrestling mats and the four of them together created a giant wrestling ring, squarely in the middle of the box. I stood in the center of the “ring” and motioned to Pook to join me there. The A/C had been turned off so it was now beginning to get warm. Both still in our jocks, we stood and faced each other in the ring.
“Here’s the deal boy,” I said. “Wrestling match. Winner fucks the loser. Simple as that.”
I couldn’t read his expression. Was this a good thing? Was I setting myself up for inevitable defeat? Of course, I’d love him to fuck me, but with the two of us, it’s all about winning.
Full disclosure, I know NOTHING about wrestling, and I’m pretty sure Pook didn’t know much either. The little I know is from leering at college wrestlers in their tight singlets. So the “wrestling match” was probably just going to come down to pure strength and agility.
“No rules,” I added.
He nodded and we were off.
We both crouched down and faced off circling each other. This scene alone was enough to get me off. Pook and me in a hot gym circling each other in our jockstraps. Jesus!
He leapt at me, but I jumped out of the way too quickly. He tried again and missed. The third time, he caught me on my side, tackled me and put me in a headlock. His left arm was around my neck, his right hand around my torso. He pulled his face directly into mine and stared at me, nose-to-nose. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He had quickly asserted his superiority in the ring.
When I sensed he was relaxing, I pulled out of his grip, jumped away, quickly got to my feet and lunged back at him. This time I got directly behind him put my arms around his neck and crossed my arms tightly. I pulled him down to the floor and wrapped my legs around his, from the outside. Now he was splayed out, on me on his back with his jock covered cock and balls in the air. Although he was on top of me, I had control. I reached down, roughly grabbed his package and gave it a good hard squeeze. He groaned in agony but that was enough for him to pull out from under me and jump back on his feet. I did as well and we were back to where we started, crouched and circling one another.
As he was circling, he slowed down a bit, slid his fingers under the waistband and pulled his jockstrap off. His cock bounced out of it and immediately pointed up to the ceiling. I looked at him quizzically, which prompted him to announce: “Easier to fuck you this way, Daddy.”
Not giving him that satisfaction, I slid mine off as well.
So now you have two hardened, nude athletes, circling each other on a wrestling mat in a hot empty gym. No one is there so every word, every grunt, every moan echoes through the cavernous space. I’ve run out of words to describe the eroticism. Both our cocks were at fully engorged and pointing straight up to the ceiling. With every movement, they’d bob and bounce and slap our stomachs. And being nude, both of us were highly vulnerable. As we were circling, it was hard not to focus on his cock. I knew if I let it distract me, he’d take that opportunity to pounce. And precisely as I’m thinking that he lunges at me and pins me on my back with his asscheeks on my shoulders, legs wrapped around my head and his balls pressing against my mouth. Once again, I am helpless under his strength. Typically, I’d love nothing more than to succumb to him in this position, but this is a competition I intend to win. He lets us both take a breath, but then I slide my hands under his knees and find the strength to flip him backwards and off me. Before he can regain his footing, I lunge at him sideways, forcing my right arm between his legs, and my left arm over his shoulder and behind his back, and clasp my hands behind him. I’ve now got him in a very precarious hold. My right arm is squeezing his balls up into his body and he struggles to relieve the pressure. I’m not trying to hurt him, but I’ve seen this hold before and know it’s a bonafide wrestling move. But his nudity is forcing his balls to take the full brunt of my lock.
I’ve got him, but not in a position to fuck him. What now?
I loosen my grip and that’s all it takes him. Like a bolt of lightning, he slides out from under me, gets behind me and tackles me into the mat, face down. Each of his hands is pressing each of my hands into the mat as hard as he can. Likewise, his legs are pressing into mine and I’m unable to move. Most uncomfortably, my cock is being pressed into the thin mat as well. “Arrrgggghhh…” I scream. “It hurts. Take it easy”, I beg.
Not wanting to hurt me either, he decides to negotiate.
“Ok Daddy, here’s the deal,” he says in a loud, authoritative voice. “I’ve got you pinned. You can continue to fight”, slight pause, “or you can take it like a man,” another slight pause. “Either way, I’m going to fuck you here and now.”
As he was saying this, I could feel him line up the tip of his ultra-hard cock with my hole. When he paused saying the words “fight” and “man,” he emphasized his dominance by giving my hole a generous poke with his cock. Damn he was good.
What do I do? I want to win this, but he’s got me pinned, and the pain of having my cock pressed into the mat is increasing. And it’s not kinky pain—the kind that enhances the sexual experience. It’s real pain—the kind that fucking hurts. And Pook knows it.
“Ok Pook, you win. Take your Daddy,” I tell him. Oh, the irony. I desperately wanted him to fuck me last night but he denied me. Now he can take me however he wants, and I don’t want it. I want to win.
Without replying, he slides up so he’s sitting on my ass and pins my arms behind my back. He holds me there for a moment and replies, “Your win today in the WOD may give you bragging rights Daddy, but I won the wrestling match, so I have fucking rights. I know which I’d rather have.”
“Take your Daddy, Boy. Take me”, begging for the humiliation to be over.
With the copious sweat acting as a lubricant, I could feel his long slender cock enter my hole. Without stopping, it moved up, up, up my shoot until it felt like it was touching my throat. He just sat there on me, my arms pinned behind me, his cock as far up into me as anatomically possible. He then let go of my arms and placed a hand on each shoulder, pressing them into the mat, and said, “Lift your hips, Daddy. That’ll be more comfortable.”
With that, I could arch my back and give my cock some much needed breathing room. I raised my ass in the air so he had better angle and he slowly started to pump. In and out. So slow and rhythmic I almost went into a trance. He was in no hurry. He had worked hard for this and was going to enjoy it. The feeling of his generous, warm cock penetrating me began to eliminate the disappointment of losing. He was pumping with an air of authority that was a new level of sex. He was radiating pure power. Unadulterated virility. And the rate was increasing with every thrust. His thrusting became so commanding, I began to wonder if he was getting close.
Fearing he was, I spoke up, “Pook, you defeated me and you’re taking your prize, but I have one request.”
Almost out of breath, but sounding concerned, he stopped and asked, “What, Daddy?”
“I want to be looking in your eyes when you cum in me. Would you fuck me on my back, the way I did to you our first night together?”
He leaned down and brought his lips to my ears and whispered, “Yes Daddy. That way you’ll be looking right at me when I breed you.”
With that, he slowly pulled out of me and allowed rolled me to my back, with him still hovering. He then put his arms under my legs and pulled them over his shoulders to give him complete access to his prize. Staring into my eyes, and without uttering a word, he plunged his cock into me with a force that was as powerful as it was unexpected. My cry echoed through the empty gym. It was the kind of pain that you never forget. He shoved it as far into me as was anatomically possible, and just stopped. He continued to gaze into my eyes with an intensity that was nearly demonic. Although he must’ve taken pleasure in spearing me with such force, he didn’t want to hurt me because he waited to start his next set of thrusts until the pain began to subside.
He was pressing my hands against the mat with his hands and his face just inches above mine. Sweat was dripping from his nose onto my face. His torso was beaded with sweat.
With each thrust, he’d launch another raunchy affront…
Thrust: Take my cock, Daddy.”
Thrust: “Take it like a man, you whore.”
Thrust: “I’m stretching my Daddy’s hole.”
Thrust: “I own you, Daddy.”
Thrust: “I’m breeding my Daddy’s pussy.”
Thrust: “Next time it’ll be my friends fucking you while I watch, Daddy.”
Each thrust was more powerful than the one before. My mind was unable to comprehend what was happening to me. Between his demonic stare, the sweat dripping off of his face, his raunchy talk, and his cock pummeling me, I couldn’t take it all in. Finally, he pulled out for what would be the last time. He took a breath, exhaled, and plunged his cock up me with an intensity I’ve honestly never felt before. As he did, his words echoed around the empty gym,
“Take my seed Daddy. Take my seed.”
As he was howling those words, I cried, just as loud, “Fuck me boy. Fuck your Daddy.”
And then he shot his load of hot liquid so far into me I thought I could taste it. I felt his cock contract with a force that felt like he was shooting his entire bloodstream into me. He was out of his mind with rapture.
At the moment he recaptured his presence, and with his cock still pulsing his sweet liquid into me, he grabbed my cock and started stroking. “Cum with me Daddy,” was all he said.
I was so close it only took about two strokes and I shot directly up into our faces. My hot jizz covered our faces and chests as his continued to pulse into my hole. It was everything I wanted last night, but I was getting it now, in an empty, eerily erotic gym.
Imagine this scene as the end of a movie. A long shot taken from above, the camera moving further and further away from the scene. Two athletic lovers, both sweating, both nude, on a wrestling mat in a gym. Exhausted from not one, but two intense competitions.
The first was won by me. I beat my boy in a tough Hero WOD. I only beat him by one rep, but I won.
My boy had won the wrestling match. Equally tough, equally competitive. He won the right to fuck his Daddy.
Now we’re back where this all started. CrossFit 612. Me: Pook’s Daddy. Pook: my boy.
How did all this happen?
Weeks of erotic flirting in CrossFit classes had led to the fateful evening in my apartment just three nights ago. I planned to seduce the young stud and I succeeded beyond my wildest expectations.
It became crystal clear with our first fuck. We were staring into each other’s eyes with an intensity only matched by the last few minutes, and he instinctively screamed, “DADDY”.
I laid awake all that night and pondered the meaning of that. I knew it wasn’t some trivial porn-inspired tripe. I knew it was real. It was real to Pook and it was real to me.
I confronted him when he woke up the next morning. I told him I would be his Daddy or he would take a walk. He wept with gratitude and confessed that that’s what he wanted all along as well.
The rest of the weekend was a blur of sex, brunch, sex, parties, sex, beach, sex, CrossFit, and today, more sex.
It’s ironic that this occurred Labor Day weekend. To me, Labor Day is more like new year’s than New Year’s. The lazy days of summer are over, school is back in session, and everyone gets serious. It’s time to make commitments.
I don’t take this commitment lightly. This Daddy/Boy thing we have isn’t just kink. It’s a commitment to help Pook reach his potential. And I believe Pook is equally committed to helping me live my life to the fullest.
And even though I’m the Daddy in this relationship, Pook proved today that, in many ways, we’re equals. He beat me fair and square in our wrestling match, and he claimed his reward: me.
Wil it last? I hope so. I never saw this coming, so who knows what unexpected turn life can take that I don’t see coming.
But at least for now, I have my boy. And my boy has me.
The End
Send me your thoughts…
One of the greatest gifts you can give a writer is feedback. I encourage you to share your reactions to this story with me, good or bad. It’s how I learn and get better, so I can keep writing. Feedback from you is my fuel. Please reach out with yours to [email protected]