Easy Breezy Beautiful

People see me in my criss-crossed leather gear, showing moreskin than it covers and the constantly tenting bulge and they get a pretty goodidea of the type of person I am.  I’m a “heel”I claim it, own it and relish it.  At 6’3”250 lbs. of a brick shithouse, I can’t even remember how many jobber slut boishave laid down begging to get a taste of this real man.  However, there was one that was special. 

Lavender when he's frisky

It was nothing new to feel that tingle seeing a fresh faced pretty boy in flashy trunks begging to get his ass kicked, but when this…vision came in the locker room I think I got a taste of what these bitchbois must feel around me, except it wasn’t my ass that was getting hungry.  It was like my dick was watching his every move and screaming to get out of the rubber square cut prison I had it in.  Straining to pound that ample ass barely covered by his bubblegum pink bikini trunks.  Guessing I would say about 5’11around 150 pounds of fitness model muscle practically ordering me to destroy him with every step and flex and ripple. 

I had to have him, and despite suggestions, demands and even bouts of pleading with promoters they wouldn’t give him to me, saying they needed to build up his hype more as a new draw for more crowds before I destroyed their pretty plaything in front of the crowds.  So after failed attempts to get a match booked with him, which I’m sure he heard about it because as the weeks went by he teased and flirted more and more after every visit to the management office-and it was driving me crazy. 

Every time I saw him slipping on some variation of hisalways skimpy and always some shade of pink gear I could feel myself descendinginto what I can only call a feral state of mind.  All but growling as my expression darkenedand I stared at him pointedly-usually zeroing in on that tanned smooth ass, ordistracted by the nearly waist-length wavy blonde hair, that curled just at the endswhen it got wet, like spiraled tendrils just…where was I again?

The Local Hero

Over the weeks a lot of the hired doormats were crying to management that I had been working them too “stiff”-if they had any idea how true that was, but I digress-One day I finally snapped, I had just destroyed this bodybuilder bitch in the last match of the night-a local hero challenge and sent him home horny hurting and a sobbing mess with his disappointed friends-in shock that I had turned their man’s man into a blubbering pig that all but begged me to put my cock in his mouth hogtied and tossed out of my ring like so much muscular laundry.  

Smirk begging to get smacked off

 I had an itch and it was GOING to get scratched that night and nobody was going to do anything to stop me.  I went back into the main lockers looking for Adonis (that being his ring persona, my names for him were more like “CoverGirl”, “Beverly Hills” etc.”)  I saw the night’s choice of gear hanging in his open locker-square cuts that barely covered enough cheek to be called as such, Day-Glo pink with yellow stars all over them.  I stripped out of my gear as it got way too tight for any type of comfort, my cock was in beast mode surging and pulsing in my black spandex jockstrap as I took breaths to calm myself down and refrain from drilling him like an oil well in the showers- this wasn’t going to be pleasant for Little Miss Sunshine…at least not at first-I like my jobber fucks to get a little tenderized first. 

Image(s) are not my property.  All were either collected in my travels through the Web or they belong to Ron Sexton/ Can-Am
and BGEast Inc.