— originally published in Honcho Magazine - August, 1991 issue —

The fucking alarm clock clanged in my ear, putting an end to a great dream I'd been having. In it, I was wrestling with this really hot looking dude, the two of us buck naked, rolling back and forth on the floor, fighting for control. We were both grunting and straining, our bodies slick with sweat, our big hard clicks mashed tight between our bellies. I'd be on top one minute, then his hard body would strain and buck and he'd flip me onto the bottom. I wasn't even sure what the fuck we were wrestling about, but just dreaming about it made me so frigging horny I couldn't stand it.

Whatever the hell we were struggling for, the damned alarm broke the spell, leaving me groggy and not too fucking thrilled about the prospect of facing another day at work. I stumbled into the bathroom to take a leak, leaning forward so I could point my big boner at the toilet and not piss on the wall. After I was finished, my cock was still hard and my nuts were in a knot, so I leaned back against the wall for a quick handjob. Grabbing my meat in my left hand and my hairy ballsac with the right, I quickly swung into a nice rhythm. I sucked my tongue till I got a big wad of spit ready, and lobbed it down onto the head of my pecker.

When I glanced at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help thinking that I looked pretty wild and wooly. My hair was standing up every which way and the stubble on my cheeks and chin made me look like I hadn't washed my face in days. One nice thing about a handjob — you don't have to worry about winning any beauty contests. My body didn't look any the worse for just getting up, though. On my broad chest and tight belly, the fact that the hair was all matted sort of added to the attraction. I flexed my pecs and grinned back at my reflection.

My honker was wide awake by then, the big head popping out of the foreskin every time I slammed my hand down to the base. I started working the tight knot of my balls over with my thumb, pressing the fat, spongy globes as tight as I could stand it. Then I let my cock go for a second so I could scratch my neck and the big veiny club slapped up against my gut, leaving little clear drops of slime hanging in the long dark hairs.

I fisted my dick again and really started going for it, my hand moving up and down so fast it was nothing but a hairy knuckled blur. I could feel the tingling in my gut and on the shaft right behind my knob that tells you you've got about ten seconds to point it where you want it to shoot. I pointed it straight up because I like the feel of my own cum splashing over my belly and also because I like to see how high I can pump it.

My hips shot forward and my shoulders hunched as my cumhole started gaping. I stopped pumping and squeezed tight around the fat base, savoring the final seconds before the flood. My whole body tensed and the first big white drop oozed out, quivering in the slit. Then I howled and blew like a geyser, my first shot pumping up over my left shoulder. I felt it splash against my neck and run down my back, tickling all the way down to my asscrack. The next blast festooned my right tit with a white rope that hung in the dense hairs like cake icing. After that I closed my eyes and pumped till I was dry. It might not turn out to be much of a day, but it was a hell of a way to start it.

In the shower, my thoughts turned back to my wrestling partner. Couldn't be anybody I knew — hell, all the dudes I made it with liked me because I was the big, muscular type. They weren't looking to wrestle — all of them wanted somebody big and dominating who would plow them six ways to Sunday. Don't get me wrong, I got no objection to tunneling up into some dude's backside. But a little variety — in my dreams at least.

Traffic was so bad that I didn't make it to work till five to eight. In the locker room , I stripped out of my jeans and t­shirt and slipped into my coveralls, making it out on the floor without a moment to spare. Ferguson, the foreman, was leaning up against my lathe, giving me cause to glance nervously at the shop clock.

"Morning, Mac," Ferguson said. He was smiling, not frowning, so I started to relax. "I was just getting your new station buddy set up here. Mac, this is Ken Fraser."

Ferguson stepped back and I got my first look at the dude who would be working next to me. Considering I'd been working alone since Jerry Donovan retired the past month, I'd been looking forward to having somebody to shoot the shit with during the course of the day.

Fraser was a tall, solidly-built guy who looked to be about thirty or so. He had flaming red hair and a close­cropped beard of the same color. His eyes were blue and the smile he gave me when we shook hands immediately made me like him.

"Glad to know you, Mac" he said, his voice hearty. "The boss here told me you know everything there is to know about this equipment, so I'll probably be bugging you for help the first couple of weeks."

''Anything I can do, man," I offered, flipping the switch on the lathe. "Once you get a handle on it, ifs a piece of cake. Come on over here and I'll give you a quick rundown on the basics." We stood shoulder to shoulder for the next half hour while I turned out a few pieces. Then he put his hand on my arm, gave me a thumbs-up sign and stepped back over to his own lathe. By noon, he was working it like a champ.

"What do ya say to a beer?" I asked when we had shut her down for the day. "Some of the boys meet over at the Top Hat for a few brews after shift."

"Sounds great to me," he agreed, covering his tools with an oiled rag. "This place is really a sweat pit, ain't it?"

"Yeah. I always say that we'd be a hell of a lot better off if the ventilation was as windy as the management."

Ken laughed at that, shaking his head as we walked back to the locker room. I popped the lock on my locker, peeled out of my sweaty coveralls and grabbed a towel. The showers were crowded, forty guys jockeying for about twelve shower nozzles. But I got in line and leaned against the wall, waiting for my turn.

The guys on my shift were a motley crew, ranging in age from twenty to sixty-four years old. Fat, tall, short, built, skinny — they all mingled unselfconsciously in the showers. When the new man walked in, I gave him the once-over. Any way you checked his frame, he was one humpy dude. Several of the guys at the plant were in good shape because the work was hard and it involved a lot of heavy lifting. But Ken's body wasn't just good, it was great.

He had the kind of build you really have to work at to maintain. I figure he weighed about two-twenty and it was all packed into the right places. His broad chest and wide shoulders were heavy with muscle, and his arms were thick. His belly was flat as a board, and looked damn nearly as hard. He also had a terrific butt, and I'm a real expert in that area. Smooth and pale, it swelled out full and lush below his narrow waist, cutting back sharply into his thighs. From the way his ass moved as he walked across the floor, you could tell there wasn't an ounce of fat on it.

Ken caught my eye and threaded his way through the press of bodies in the shower room till he stood at my side. "Hell of a day, Mac," he grinned, slipping under the water jet next to me as Pete Dugan finished up and left. "I can already taste that beer."

"I know exactly what you mean," I nodded, bending down to wash my legs and feet, then copping a quick glance at Ken's equipment. His root was a beaut — long, thick and hooded, it looked like it could do some serious damage when it was pumped up and ready to go to bat. His balls were fat, sagging heavily in their fuzzy pouch. I catalogued this info and stood back up to continue our conversation.

"We probably better just grab a quick one so you can get home to the wife and kids," he said as we made our way out of the shower and back to the lockers.

"Not me," I replied, shaking my head. "I never found a woman who

held my interest long enough to get me to the altar." It was my standard reply to questions concerning my sex life and it was true as far as it went. Several men had caught my attention in the past, but never a gal. I had a couple of lady friends who came with me to big events at the plant, like the Christmas party. Not that I have a problem with being gay. But hell, I work in a factory out south of town and most folks wouldn't take too kindly to me bringing a fuck buddy along to meet their wives and kids. Besides, I like my life as it is and I ain't out to rock any boats in particular.

"Alright," Ken grinned, "a free man like myself. That means we can have all the damn beer we want. Right?"

"Right!" I poked him one on the arm and opened my locker. Hitting his arm was like hitting a brick wall-no give at any level. Fucker felt like he was made out of concrete, only he moved nicer, if you catch my drift.

The Top Hat was crowded, but we managed to wedge in near the service bar and get a couple of beers. I introduced Ken to some of the guys and we all stood around shooting the shit for a while. When the place started clearing out around six o'clock, Ken suggested we get some beer and steaks at the grocery store and he'd fix dinner.

"I make a mean steak, as long as you like 'em rare," he chuckled when we walked into his apartment. He'd only moved in over the weekend and the place was still piled with boxes. I helped him clear a space in the kitchen for the table and we moved it in, along with a couple of chairs.

"After the divorce, I ended up with all the shit in the basement;' he told me during dinner. "Nothing matches. But with the alimony payments, I don't figure I'll be going out and buying new stuff. Here's to being out on your own," he said, raising his beer bottle to me.

''I'll drink to that." I tapped my bottle against his and drained it. I'd had about four brews by this time, and I was starting to feel pretty loose. I gotta admit, this Ken guy really turned my crank. He was real easy to talk to and I thought I read more than just friendly interest in his straightforward gaze. Heaven knows I was ready for anything, but his next question caught me totally off guard.

"You ever get into wrestling?" he asked right out of the blue.

"Nothing serious. Just horsing around, getting a little bit of exercise."

"Last time I wrestled was with Jimmy Childers, and that was back in high school. We were fighting over this girl we both wanted to go out with. I won, but the girl decided to go out with Jimmy anyway." What I neglected to tell him was that I fantasized about wrestling some nights when I jerked off and how horny I got, just thinking about it.

"You sure as hell have the build for it," he observed, his face flushing slightly. "What do ya say we give it a try?"

"What the hell." I stood up from behind the table and stretched. If this dude wanted to wrestle, then we'd wrestle. Even if it didn't develop into anything other than a little roll and tumble, it would be fun. And, on the other hand — hell, you never know.

The living room was empty except for the some weights over in the corner and a pile of mats under the windows. "Help me with these, would you?" Ken asked, motioning to the stack of mats. "Like I .said, I got the stuff in the basement-I was just lucky I kept my exercise gear down there." We spread the mats out. Then Ken kicked off his shoes, pulled off his socks and started unbuttoning his pants. "Any objections to wrestling in the buff?" he asked, peeling out of his shirt and tossing it aside.

"Not at all," I nodded, unbuckling my belt. I liked what I saw and I knew for a fact I'd like it even better when I got my hands on it. His skin was pale and freckled, stretched taut over his strong torso. His nipples were as pink as his lips, damn near as big as half dollars, the meaty points in the center already popped up tight and hard.

As Ken peeled out of his pants, I got another look at his cock and balls. I could have sworn that his dick looked bigger than it had in the showers at work! His bush was as red as the hair on his head, gleaming like copper wires in the overhead light. When he was naked, he stretched, snapping every muscle out into eye-popping detail. Oh, yeah, I wanted to wrestle him alright, no doubts in my mind at all.

I tossed my jeans aside and stood opposite him, my arms hanging loosely at my sides He was giving me the once­over as well, and he seemed to like what he was seeing. Then all of a sudden Ken crouched down and started circling, his blue eyes watching my every move.

I came at him fast, catching him off guard. I grabbed him around the waist, lifted him off the mat and dropped him hard on his butt. Then Ken grunted and looked up at me. "Nice move, man," he gasped, quickly jumping to his feet.

We locked arms and circled, keeping our feet far enough back to avoid losing our balance. It looked like a stand-off till he changed stance all of a sudden, pivoted, grabbed my arm and flipped me over his shoulder. I hit the mat like a ton of bricks and he was on top of me in a second, struggling to pin me. I liked the heat of him as he sprawled out on top of me, his balls bouncing off of mine. I hooked my heels behind his knee and flipped him over onto his back, pouncing on him before he could even move. Then I straddled him and pinned his arms above his head.

"Gotcha!" Ken grunted back at me. All of a sudden his legs shot between my arms and my sides and he flipped me over onto my back. Then he rolled me up onto my shoulders, my butt in the air, legs flailing. "Better think again, man."

I struggled and writhed, but he had me good, his entire weight pressing down on my shoulders. I got my legs wrapped around his chest, but it was no use. My thighs were no match for the wall of muscle surrounding his rib cage. I was pinned, fair and square.

"Now that I've got you where I want you, what do you think I'm going to do?"

"Huh?" I grunted, curiously looking up at him.

I'm gonna fuck your hairy butt up one side of this mat and down the other," Ken warned as I started trying to fight my way free of his hold. "Hey, Mac, I know you're turned on. I got eyes, man. I doubt if that big pecker of yours is all puffed up just because you lost the match."

I looked up and, sure enough, my root was stretched out to its full length, hanging down over my face like a stalactite in a cave. I knew I was hot for this guy. But I'd been so busy fighting, I hadn't even noticed that I'd popped a rod. I started to say something. But his tongue plugged into my asshole about then and I forgot all about talking.

I couldn't remember the last time a dude had rimmed me. I was so used to being top man that I'd forgotten how good it felt to just lie back and let another man work you over. It was obviously what Ken wanted, and I couldn't think of any objections.

"Hot butt," he groaned, coming up for air. "Nothing turns me on like a real man's tight, hairy asshole. You are prime, Mac." Ken released his hold on my arms and started checking out the fur on my chest and belly. His long fingers tangled in the dense growth as he stroked my pecs, teasing my nipples with the calluses on his thumbs. I reached around and got me a handful of cock and balls. His prick felt like a steel bar, the veins bulging out full and tight. I started jacking him with one hand, weighing his nuts in the palm of the other.

Ken's tongue was driving me fucking wild, rooting around in my crack, teasing my balls, then jamming back in and squirming around in my tingling chute. He was going heavy on the tit work as well.

"Get up on your hands and knees," Ken ordered, releasing me all of a sudden.

I scrambled around, head down, butt in the air, wagging my tail at him like a happy dog. He nuzzled my fuck­hole again a couple of times, then pulled my cheeks wide apart, popped a wad of spit on the bull's-eye and rubbed it around with his thumb. Ken poked me a few times, then his thumb slipped up into me. I bucked back, pushing eagerly against his hand, ready for whatever he wanted to do.

He seemed to get off on finger fucking me, slipping first one, then two, then finally three fingers up my hole, stirring them around. Every time he'd knuckle my knob, I'd buck and groan, clamping my assring down tight around his fingers.

"You're wanting a dick up that pretty brown hole, aren't you, Mac?" he murmured, twitching his fingers up inside of me till I thought I'd come unglued.

"Fuck me, goddammit!" I growled, reaching between my legs and grabbing him by the balls. "Cram that big redheaded pole up into me and ride my ass raw."

"That's how you like it, Mac?" he asked, his voice hoarse and tight.

"Yeah. I like it hard and deep and rough. And I want it to last all fucking night long. Now get your motherfucking cock up my ass and pump it, buddy!" My voice rose to a wail as he popped his fingers out and got ready to feed me cock as fast as I could take it. His hands were clamped tight around my waist and his fat knob was pounding my ring, demanding immediate entry. I kept it clamped tight for a few seconds, teasing him. Then my hole dilated and he slid for home.

I grunted when his balls bounced off of mine, his bush tickling my asscrack. Fuck, his meat felt great, buried deep in my steamy gut. I could feel it throbbing as I slowly started moving my hips, squeezing tight around the base with my cock-grabber. After I sucked in my belly and bucked back against him a couple of times, Ken leaned forward and kissed me between the shoulder blades, his beard sending shivers up my spine.

"You ready?" he whispered softly in my ear. I jacked his dick with a couple of strokes of my asshole, backing off till just the fat head was still inside of me, then slamming back as hard as I could, damn near knocking him off balance. "I figure that means 'yes,'" he chuckled. "Let's ride!"

The dude fucked as good as he looked. He started out slow and nice, stirring his cock around, pounding my knob and making me sweat. He was draped on top of me, his hands busy with my tits and cock. I braced my arms out in front of me as he started pummeling me harder and faster, slamming into my butthole like a pile driver. I was getting rushes like crazy, starting in my toes and running up through my body. First they'd rack through me, then explode in my gut, making me moan and whimper. The two of us fucked real good together, moving like a well-honed machine.

"Roll over on your side, man," Ken growled, pushing me down on my belly, then pulling out so I could follow his instructions. He scissored my legs, pressing my thigh up against my chest, and baring my hole. A moment later he drove it back in, this new angle of attack giving me about another inch to deal with. When I looked up at him, I noticed that his head was thrown back and his eyes were half closed as he pumped in and out, his belly rippling like a washboard.

Impulsively, I reached up and grabbed the thick points of his tits, pulling hard on them. His eyes flew open and he gave me a silly, shit-eating grin, then grabbed a handful of my belly hair and used it to hold on as he continued to pump my asshole.

He had me six ways to Sunday before he was though with me. I was on my side, my back, my belly — you name it. At one point he pulled me to my feet and cock-walked me around the room , slapping my belly and biting my neck as he kept humping away, driving me out of my fucking mind with lust. No wonder my prick was pointing straight up in the air, squirting honey every time he poked me!

Towards the end, he spiked me deep and tight while I was on my back. Then he grabbed me by the shoulders and picked me up, carrying me around the room a couple of laps, hanging off his cock. I'm a big guy and he was hauling me around like I was a feather. It was odd, but it was a hell of a turn-on.

We went for the grand finale in a classic position-me on the floor on my back, knees pinned to my ears, Ken braced on hands and toes, riding my ass down the final stretch. I was fucking vibrating, I was so ready and he wasn't far behind me. I could feel his meat flexing and throbbing deep inside of me, the big knob on the end getting bigger with every stroke. Our balls were pounding together, every contact curling my toes.

I'm gonna cum, buddy," he groaned, leaning down and plugging his tongue deep in my mouth. That fucking capped it for me. I started shooting like a geyser, my hot cream splattering up on our necks and chests and pooling on our bellies. Ken was shuddering and shaking, his breath a series of panting sobs as he let loose as well, flooding my butt with liquid heat.

He pumped me till I thought the friction was going to set me on fire. My asshole was burning, raw from the unaccustomed workout, but reluctant to lose its new tenant. That was alright though, because Ken collapsed on top of me, not acting like he was planning on going anywhere.

For a long time we just lay there, exchanging long, slow, tongue-twisting kisses that soon had my blood pressure soaring toward the danger point. I stroked his beard, then let my finger slowly slip across his massive pecs. When I made contact with his tit, he bucked and his prick started going hard again. From the looks of things, I gathered the impression that round two was about to begin!

THE     END