*** JENNINGS CHALLENGES SUPERKID ***

Here’s another one of the fights that marked me as SuperKid.

It also led to my first kiss from Remington.

After I tell this story, I promise not to talk about myself all the time. Other dudes also have stories.

For example, on the Sunday morning after Processing Week in Boot Camp, Remington and The Cowboy told us about fights with their fathers.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

On the Friday evening of Processing Week, me and Jennings went at it.

After a day filled with physical fitness tests and obstacle courses, a lot of us were sexually charged.

It was already dark outside, almost time for “lights out.”

The Drill Instructors had left our unit alone in the barracks.

Most of us were sitting around in our white government-issue Fruit-of-the-Loom jockey shorts.

The barracks wreaked with the sweaty smell of nervous young men in close quarters.

A few dudes, like me and Remington and Mr.Che, were doing the obsessive-compulsive thing, making sure our boots and buckles were polished for inspection on the following morning.

None of us wanted to fail inspection.

The Drill Instructors would later say that we were well-motivated recruits, but the truth was simpler. We didn’t want the full attention of shouting Drill Instructors (D.I.’s) who came into the barracks armed with a battery of verbal abuse for the slightest oversight.

Some dudes had already broken under the snarling assault of the D.I.’s.

From the moment we got off the bus at the Recruit Depot, the D.I.’s yelled conflicting commands that put us recruits in no-win scenarios.

Some dudes cried.

Some of them were lying on their bunks feeling homesick and miserable, certain that they had made a horrible mistake in joining the Marines.

Another group of dudes wasn’t homesick at all. This group enjoyed the prospect of life in the Marine Corps. Most of them were muscular and tough-looking. They looked like they were ready to parade around the room, showing off the big bulges in their white jockey shorts.

These muscle-dudes were armwrestling at a table in the front of the barracks.

They bragged about their toughness.

They snickered at the “cry-babies.”

Among the show-off muscledudes were Mark Lowry, Brad Johnson, and Howie Jennings.

I sat on my bunk, polished my boots, and pretended to mind my own business while keeping a watchful eye on the muscular jocks. I had noticed several of them sizing me up after my earlier fight in the medic ward with Brad Johnson.

Remington and Mr. Che sat across from me.

Martinez and Steadman were play-wrestling on the floor nearby. The Latino and The Cowboy were locked together in a cockfight to see whose erection was stronger. My money was on the bow-legged cowboy to win, because the Latino was more likely to shoot his load first.

As I carefully inspected my boots, one of the muscle-dude arm-wrestlers shouted in my direction, “Hey, SuperKid, you think you can take Jennings?”

Hearing the challenge from the muscle-dudes, Martinez and Steadman stopped fooling around and stood to their knees with their ears cocked. The Latino and The Cowboy were sweating and breathing hard. They tucked themselves together and straightened their jockey shorts. Martinez made a playful swipe at Steadman’s bulging crotch package.

I glanced toward the group of muscle-dudes and cocked an eyebrow as I answered, “Does Jennings think he can take me?”

Some of them chortled, “cocky fucker.”

Standing up beside me, The Cowboy said to the muscle-dudes, “The Kid can take your champ.”

Lowry snorted. “Nobody can beat Howie.”

Jennings had easily put down a few of the muscle-bound recruits. An obvious specimen of steroid beef, he was proudly flexing his pumped biceps for the admiring group of grunts in his corner.

I put my boots down and made a muscle.

Although I’ve never taken steroids, like I said before, I have good genetic material. When I pump my biceps, I can make the muscles bunch up into peaks like boulders on top of boulders.

Remington says that I have muscles on my muscles, macho and hard. During the physical tests, some of the recruits began teasing me with the nickname “SuperKid.” It was the nickname that I would carry through Boot Camp.

As I made a fist and curled my arm into a bristling bulge of brawny bicep, I smiled brazenly toward Jennings and said, “The Cowboy is right. SuperKid can easily take Steroid-breath.”

Jennings’ adam’s-apple bobbed in his thick neck as he swallowed hard and glared at me. His eyes flickered toward the colossal crotch package in my white jockey shorts. He fingered his wedding band.

The beefy bulge in his briefs swelled up.

The muscle-bound steroid-user had an ego the size of Jupiter.

“Cocky punk,” Jennings snarled. “I can make your fat mouth wrap around my big dick any day of the week.”

He propped his hefty arm on the table in a challenge for me. The massive bicep of his right arm tensed into a mountain of hard flesh as he dared me to arm-wrestle him. He said contemptuously, “Put up or shut up, SuperStud.”

Accompanied by my pal Remington, I joined the group and took my position opposite Jennings.

Martinez, Steadman, and Mr. Che followed us and stood in my corner for moral support.

Jennings tried to stare me down and gruffly sneered. “I been wantin’ to whip your smart ass since the first night, Stud-Boy.”

On his left hand, his little finger toyed with the wedding band on his ring finger.

I stared into his eyes and answered, “You may lick my ass, but you can’t whip it.”

The other muscle-dudes rubbed their crotches and bubbled with glee. “Whip him, Jennings. Show him who’s King Cock. Make him suck your dick.”

The Cowboy took my side and returned their taunt in his long Texas drawl. “The only sucking going on is gonna be Jennings sucking wind as he tries to take the Kid’s muscle.”

Martinez nodded and added, “Jennings’ arm will be sucking against the table.”

“Whoa,” Lowry sneered. “Big talk from the cock-sucking team.”

The Cowboy fingered his crotch and said to Lowry, “I’ve got something bigger than talk for your sweet Pussy Lips, King Cocksucker.”

Lowry faked a move toward The Cowboy.

Instead of retreating from the big bully, Steadman cocked his hips in a stance to take the jock down.

“Come on, Pussy-Lips,” Steadman said. “Go for it.”

Lowry backed down for the moment. “Later, Shit-kicker. Me and You.”

“Anytime,” Steadman said.

As Lowry and Steadman postured, the inscrutable Mr. Che stood silently watching the vintage display of American bravado and machismo. The Asian was thinking that Lowry looked stronger but The Cowboy looked more resolute. Secretly, Mr Che, along with Martinez, wanted to see The Cowboy kick Lowry’s ass from one end of Boot Camp to the other.

For his part, Remington wanted to see two fights. He wanted to see Steadman whip Lowry. He also wanted to see me whip Jennings.

Remington stood next to the table with his arms folded across his chest. He was smiling like the cat with creme. His long cockshaft pressed hard against his jockey shorts.

I propped my elbow on the table and locked hands with Jennings.

The battle of biceps began.

Our eyes remained locked together. The other dudes watched carefully as the sinews in our arms and shoulders tightened.

Jennings’ enormous arm muscle pumped into action as he tried for an early advantage. The blood vessels in his forearm bulged through his bronze skin as he displayed his strength against my arm.

Jennings swelled his mighty muscles. The muscle-dude had extraordinary development in his arms and shoulders.

When he pumped his massive muscles, the bulge in his briefs got bigger.

I felt the raw energy coursing through his hand as he applied his bicep power. I figured he was strong enough to take down a thorough-bred stallion.

My wrist moved sideways.

Jennings smiled. His eyes shone with dominant manhood. He smirked proudly, “You’re going down, pantywaist.”

The muscle-dude’s arm flexed harder and pressured against me.

As the young he-man powered my arm to the side, I resisted.

The muscles in my forearm knotted together like a rope under pressure. My bicep bunched into its granite peak position.

The sexually charged muscle-dude wasn’t even straining. I felt sweat forming on my upper lip.

Jennings applied more power. His erection stood up against his cotton briefs like it was fighting to escape.

The muscle-dudes began to root for their champion to beat me.

“Come on, Jennings!” Brad Johnson cheered. “Put some Super-Man-Whip on the cocky little Super-Stud!”

The cheering of the muscle-dudes grew louder. “SuperMan! SuperMan! SuperMan!”

Amid the cheering, Jennings seemed to grow stronger. His cock was getting harder and turning upright. As he watched me struggling to take his strength, he was feeling like a he-man.

Lowry hollered above the din. “You got the Kid, Howie! Put him down for the count!”

Though our small corner was outnumbered by the shouting muscle-dudes, The Latino and The Cowboy shook their fists and yelled in my behalf. “Arch your shoulder! Muscle him with the Twin Peaks!”

Needless to say, I genuinely valued their support in the midst of all the intimidating muscle-dudes.

The catcalls over my contest of strength with Jennings drew the attention of other recruits in the barracks. Everybody began to take an interest in the battle of bulging biceps.

From the corner of my eye, I could see different dudes looking at the protruding pouch in my jockey shorts. They were comparing the size of my penis package with the size of Jennings’ package.

Though Jennings was fully erect, my boner was bigger, a fact that Remington did not overlook.

Amidst all the clamor and hullabaloo of those shouting muscle-dudes, I heard Remington’s voice as he exclaimed, “Go get him, SuperDick!”

Though I valued the support of The Latino and The Cowboy, it was Remington’s cheer that put the icing on the cake.

The sound of Remington’s voice aroused my sex glands. I felt my system gushing with testosterone. I pumped my muscles.

As I flexed my upper body muscles and fought Jennings’ bicep power, the bulky cockshaft in my white briefs stood upright and pushed out of the elastic waistband. Like a wooden club, it positioned itself at attention and rose up against my stomach toward my chest.

When my enormous erection loomed out of my waistband, the sight drew hoots and shouts from the recruits.

Filled with male sexual energy, my arm pushed Jennings’ arm to an even position.

The steroid body-builder strained to force my arm back down. Sweat formed on his brow.

In a moment of truth, Jennings suddenly broke eye contact and glanced toward my crotch.

When he saw the power of my erect penis, the steroid-popper’s potency pooped out. To quote a line from Black Hawk Down, Jennings “lost the initiative.” He should never have allowed himself to break eye contact.

I could see the muscles in his thick neck forming into tight bunches. He was struggling to force my wrist sideways.

I made the steroid-muscleman struggle harder.

I exerted more power and my bicep formed higher up into its twin peak position, one large well-rounded mound of granite, topped by a pointed vertex boulder.

Jennings’ crotch package receded perceptibly inside his underwear. Something in his loins didn’t like the course of events.

Remington leaned toward me and whispered in my ear. “You got Steriod-Man on the run.”

Remington’s voice in the heat of the moment was like a starburst of dynamic sexual energy. I felt myself endowed with a rush of awesome potency.

Jennings’ grimaced. He felt his big arm yielding to my bicep strength.

“Fuck,” he said.

The muscle-dude recruits cheered for Jennings to pour on the pressure, but my arm was stronger.

“Fight!” Lowry was hollering. “Use your he-man curl!”

Jennings fought back.

He tried to curl his arm as he strained to hold me.

His mighty muscles swelled, but his crotch package was shrinking.

His bulging biceps were gigantic, but he didn’t have the stamina for a prolonged battle with the SuperKid wrestler.

Drops of sweat were falling from his chin.

His arm shook. His face turned red. The steroid muscle-dude knew that I was going to beat him.

He groaned as his arm dropped submissively under my strength.

I pinned Jennings’ hand to the table.

The Cowboy let out a victorious whoop, “SuperKid muscles down the Champ!”

“Son of a bitch,” Jennings said.

The muscle-dudes were suddenly disgusted with their champ.

“Stupid fucker,” Lowry said, turning against his friend. “You let the Kid whip your tail.”

Brad Johnson added accusingly. “He made you look like a weakling.”

While the muscle-dudes were ridiculing their champion, Jennings’ penis got softer and he cast his eyes to the floor in shame.

I stood up from the table and tucked my big boner back into my briefs. The heavy hunk of muscular manflesh resisted, but I managed to get my erect penis shoved inside the elastic band.

Remington, Martinez, and Steadman congratulated me while the muscle-dudes stood a respectful distance from me.

I overheard some of the musclebound recruits talking about me.

“Fucker’s hard as a rock,” Brad Johnson said. “Did you see that cannonball bicep?”

Nodding, his twin Norman Johnson added, “I’ve never seen a dude’s dick turn as rigid as that either.”

Their eyes glanced deferentially at the erect cockshaft in my jockey shorts.

Jennings suddenly stood up and kicked the table in frustration. The steroid-popper’s shame had shifted to rage. His pride was wounded. He needed to do something to win back the favor of his peers.

Jennings glared at me.

“I can whip you in a cockfight,” he said angrily. He tugged on his penis to make the point.

Lowry nodded enthusiastically.

The Johnson twins looked at each other and grinned.

“Cockfight!” Lowry shouted.

Most of the recruits thought that this idea was the best yet.

The whole unit gathered around as Jennings pulled off his briefs and massaged his penis into hardness.

“Come on, SuperKid,” he challenged. “Fight me cock to cock.”

Jennings removed his wedding band and handed it to Brad Johnson for safe-keeping. He gave Brad a solemn warning, “If you ever tell my wife or kids about this, I’ll cut your balls off.”

As Jennings fired up his erection, he said to the muscle-dudes, “I’ll show the smart-ass SuperStud who is King of the Cockwrestlers.”

Jennings faced me in front of the crowd, waved his erection in my direction, and said, “Come on, Booooy. Let’s fight.”

With everybody in the barracks watching, my boner betrayed me. The colossal cockshaft jumped out of my jockey shorts. My rigid SuperKid penis reared up for a fight with the steroid-cock.

Everybody knew that Jennings liked to parade around the barracks showing off his potent genital package.

Jennings had been a football player. Not only was his potency intimidating among his peers in high school, his erect penis could also easily crush the fight out of most of the young recruits in our squad.

I removed my jockey shorts, giving my SuperCock the freedom to stand at attention.

Once again, I overheard a conversation between the Johnson twins.

Brad said to his brother, “How does the guy make it so rigid?”

Norman responded, “It’s a fucking wrestler’s cock. Those bastards are always hard and horny.”

Which is true.

It also helped that Remington was standing there like a Gunslinger with his prominent pecker poking out at me.

Surrounded by a squad of Marine recruits, Jennings and I stood poised for a contest of male genital dominance.

As the other dudes in the barracks watched, we locked our genitalia together and squeezed each other’s cocks.

The muscle-dudes cheered for Jennings to crush me.

Lowry shouted to Jennings. “Put your He-man Whip on the SuperStud!”

Another dude hollered. “Hump him down! Crush his cock!”

Brad Johnson yelled, “Rub him! Rub his thick cockhead!”

On the other side, Remington and some of my pals cheered for me to crush Jennings.

Remington creatively shouted, “He’s got shriveled steroid balls. Show him the power of testosterone testicles!” Martinez and The Cowboy laughed, even though everybody knows that steroids really will make your balls shrink.

The Cowboy chimed in. “Make him shoot his itty-bitty wad.”

I whipped my big dick against Jennings’ steroid penis.

Locked in mutual bear hugs, we rubbed our genitals hard together.

Jennings sneered into my ear. “You’ll never put me down.”

The muscle-dude was confident that his shorter, stubbier erection could beat my lengthy erection into a flabby, weaker position.

As Jennings grinded himself against me, he bragged, “I’ve whipped big dick boys before. In a cockfight, you can’t keep that long dong erect.”

I felt Jennings’ powerful crotch package rubbing tightly against mine. His hard boner slid up and down the length of my cockshaft.

Jennings arched his muscular ass and pumped against me as he said, “Your big cock is no match for my steroid power, PussyKid. You can’t take my football dick-punch.”

Using a manuever common among football players in the locker room, Jennings pumped his dick against my erect penis by humping his sturdy haunches as hard as he could. In effect, he was basically thrusting his rigid cock against my erection.

The steroid jock wanted to prove his manhood.

Jennings rubbed my big penis hard and said, “You’re a fucking Pussy-dick. I’ll force you to admit that I’m the dominant male.”

His erect dick continued to punch against my long dong as he bucked his musclebutt and jabbed our dicks together with stroke after stroke of humping power.

I tightened my butt muscles and grinded my bigger, heavier dick against Jennings’ genital package.

He felt the awesome hardness of my long erection. I could see his face squinching as he strained to take my brutal cock-squeeze.

I rubbed his dick to his balls and he winced.

“What’s the matter, steroid-breath?” I taunted. “Has the Pussy-Dick got your big football erection?”

I rubbed his genitals harder.

The other dudes gathered closer and watched as I grinded Jennings steroid-penis with my muscular erection.

“Crush him!” The Cowboy yelled. “Crush his fucking jock cock.”

Jennings grimaced under my cock-rub. My big dick punched his steroid-dick against his balls.

Lowry hollered at Jennings. “Don’t let a wrestler’s dick do that to a football jock! Fight! Fight for your honor!”

Jennings spread his legs and arched his butt as he tried to fight back.

I felt him pumping his ass and jutting his genitals forward against mine. His genital package pulsed with jock power.

Our hard penises grinded together. His jock cock struggled to fight out of my cock squeeze.

The muscle-dudes shouted for Jennings to hump me down.

“Pump your butt!” Lowry shouted. “Hump your hips!”

Jennings pumped and humped with vicious thrusts of his football haunches.

I hugged him tight to reduce the effect of his powerful pumping buttocks.

Johnson hollered to Jennings. “Hump! Hump your package!”

Jennings humped his big crotch. He pumped fast and furious.

Our genitals began to sweat. His slick cockshaft pumped and rubbed against my long penis.

I squeezed him tight into my potent erection. I was still too hard, too erect for him to hump down.

The young he-man winced and struggled.

“Give it up, Jennings,” I demanded.

“Admit that I’m the dominant male.”

Jennings refused to submit to me.

He fought back with his crotch muscle. I felt his steroid muscles flexing and getting harder.

Our groins rubbed together and battled for dominance. He flexed his package up a bit.

He pumped.

His massive steroid muscles were turning blood-red from exertion.

I tightened my ass muscles and grinded him, punishing him for resisting my dick.

My enormous erection stroked his swollen cockhead.

Jennings winced and fell across my shoulder.

“Fucking muscle-dick,” he grunted.

“Give it up, Jennings,” I demanded.

Jennings refused to submit.

As the steriod muscle-dude slumped in my arms, the shouting of the recruits grew louder.

In the noise, I could heard Lowry and the Johnson brothers hollering for Jennings to fight while Martinez and The Cowboy hollered for me to pour on the pressure.

Jennings arched his muscular butt again and started fighting back.

I could feel him pumping his butt up and down, back and forth, as he grinded his football-jock against my big dick.

The muscle-dude still had some fight in his groin. His pride was at stake.

Jennings steroid penis wrestled up against my testosterone dick. Our cocks rubbed together with the fury of two young men in combat mode. We were cockrub warriors beyond the simple potency of puberty.

We punched and squeezed each other’s genitalia.

I felt Jennings breaking out of my cock-squeeze.

Jennings felt himself breaking the crusher-hold and it gave him more confidence.

“Fight him, Jennings,” Lowry called out. “Fight him with your jock manhood.”

I felt Jennings pumping up his steroid muscles. His dick swelled responsively.

Jennings’ potent penis powered up against my rigid dick and he exuded his manhood over me.

His powerful body seemed to grow with a consuming passion for dominance.

Fast and furious, Jennings started bucking his genital package against my crotch.

I felt his young steroid manhood as Jennings’ body filled with he-man testosterone power.

My testosterone dick struggled to hold his steroid penis under control.

Jennings knew that he was fighting out of my genital crush.

He taunted me. “Your ass is mine, SuperKid. You can’t take my steroid cockmuscle.”

Jennings kept pumping his hips and wrestling my crotch until my penis began to yield to his potent manhood.

Jennings smiled confidently as his penis began to put some whip on my groin area. The muscular Marine recruit was ready to get revenge with his finishing hold.

He pumped and thrust his jock cock against my long erection.

I felt him rubbing my big dick into a compliant position.

The football jock’s smaller erection was pumping my big dick down.

He began to brag. “You’ll never get out of my pussy-whip.”

Jennings cockmuscle rubbed harder and harder against my cockmuscle.

He boasted, “My pussy-whip can force you to shoot your load, SuperPunk. Then, I’ll turn you into a droopy-dick slave-boy.”

On the edge of the circle watching the cockfight, Remington was growing alarmed as Jennings applied his steroid male potency to my crotch.

The football jock spread his haunches around me, enveloping my crotch area and smashing his erect genital package against my big dick.

Grimacing, I fought back.

I pumped my muscles and wrestled him cock to cock.

Our dicks rubbed and punched together.

My enormous cockshaft pushed his penis into an even position.

We wrestled cock to cock, faster now.

With accelerated speed, our genitals punched and rubbed together.

We humped and pumped against each other’s powerful boners.

I knew that I had to fight his manhood or get whipped.

After all, I was starting to feel aroused by his manly agression.

I arched, pushing my erection up.

Our humping picked up more speed and accelerated even faster.

I increased the throttle.

My hips humped harder.

Jennings grunted.

His muscle-butt was having trouble going the distance in a strenous battle of butt-pumps.

(I have a theory about this, though you may disagree. My theory says that, since heterosexual males are accustomed to passive female sexual objects, the so-called straight male is unprepared for the resistance of competitive male cockwrestlers.)

I hooked my feet around Jennings’ ankles and tripped him to the floor of the barracks.

As we dropped, he rolled on top.

He smiled down at me as he smashed the weight of his lower body against me.

He punched his genitals against mine.

He bragged. “I’m on top now, SuperKid Pussy. You’ll never take me.”

The muscle-dude pumped his hips and grinded my crotch area like a he-man bodybuilder.

He was giving me a damn good fight, for a breeder.

I grunted as I felt Jennings punch and grind his steroid-penis against my cockshaft.

Lowry shouted to Jennings. “You got him whipped! Pump him down!”

Jennings bore down with a vicious crotch attack.

Johnson cheered. “You’re kicking his ass! Pour on the pressure!” Since my feet were still hooked on Jennings’ ankles, I countered his aggression by locking his legs in a double grapevine.

I anchored my leg muscles against him while he tried to pin me with his arms.

Jennings massive upper body pressed me against the cold concrete floor.

He snickered. “I’m going to show you who is the dominant male. I’m going to make you suck my wife’s toes.”

An idle threat, since he would never be able to explain this scenario to his wife.

Remington hollered in my direction. “Don’t let him beat you! Use your grapevine!”

As Jennings humped his steroid crotch against my big dick, I struggled to fight against his upper body pin.

Like I said earlier, his strength was incredibly impressive.

In combat I would be glad to know that he’s on our side.

Jennings smiled confidently.

“PussyKid,” he said.

“You’re going to beg to suck my dick.”

If that was all he wanted from me, all he had to do was ask.

At this point, if he wanted me to suck his dick, he was going to have to earn it the hard way.

We battled in a contest of strength.

The steroid bodybuilder held me down and rubbed our crotches together.

He combined his weight with his upper body strength to keep me pinned on the floor.

“You’re my pussy,” Jennings said. “You can’t take me.”

Since I had beaten him armwrestling, he was feeling macho as he avenged himself.

His machismo made me want to conquer him.

I felt Jennings’s football crotch punching and grinding against my big dick.

Jennings was enormously potent.

His genitals were filled with football crotch-power and he was sexually charged.

His smaller dick was fully erect and whomping hard against my long dick.

The muscle-bound recruits cheered. “You got the SuperKid! You’re too tough for him!”

Jennings smiled and humped his powerful genital package against me.

I felt him grinding my long dong down, controlling my thick dick with his smaller erect powertool.

Like a tough he-man, he whipped his cock against my cock.

I tightened my grapevine on his legs.

I tensed my leg muscles and stretched his groin muscles.

“You’re no match for my muscles,” Jennings taunted. “Your cock is turning submissive.”

Jennings held me pinned and humped his crotch against me.

I stretched his legs tighter and felt his penis quiver.

When his lower body shuddered under the pressure of my leg split, I shoved my arms up.

Once again, we battled in a contest of strength.

His jaw clinched as he tried to power my arms back to the concrete floor.

I tensed my legs and stretched his groin taut.

He winced under the pressure of my leg muscles. Like I said, straight dudes lack experience when it comes to a he-man cockfight.

His upper body shook as he strained to hold my arms pinned.

Our shoulders and arms battled for supremacy.

Jennings felt my strength dominating his steroid muscles.

He struggled to hold me down, but he couldn’t control my strength.

His eyes widened in amazement as I rolled over on top.

When I gained the dominant position, I pinned his massive arms.

His face bore a stunned expression. The cocky muscle-dude couldn’t believe that I was going to outwrestle him.

I told him the facts of life. “This show is over, and you’re going to beg for mercy.”

My muscular legs stretched his leg muscles in a double grapevine.

My big dick applied a muscleboy crotch-crush to his genitalia.

My heavily muscled erection slammed his smaller dick down and I grinded against him without mercy.

When his shorter stump tried to flex up against my enormous appendage, I whalloped his dick up and down against his balls.

His legs kicked as he bucked his muscular hips and tried to escape.

I held him tightly grapevined and tensed my legs.

Our cocks wrestled.

My long dong whipped his dick against his legs.

His erection shuddered.

It was my turn to dominate.

I held his big arms down to the concrete floor in a schoolboy pin.

Knowing that my erection was making his erection throb, I smirked, “You like it, don’t you?”

As Jennings began to throb, Brad Johnson stood on the sidelines twirling Jennings’ wedding band in his fingers.

Jennings was feeling whipped.

My boner felt the muscledude’s masculine football cock beginning to pulse submissively.

His hips quivered in a rush of male passion.

He felt his penis getting whipped and he begged for mercy.

“Please,” he wimpered. “You’ve got me in a muscleboy crotch-crush.”

I smiled down at him. The muscle-dude’s face was passionately sensual.

I rubbed our cocks together. My big penis was dominating his steroid penis.

He felt himself turning into a pink pussy under my dominant manhood, and he was beginning to like it.

I was whipping the rebellion out of his genital package, turning his steroid dick into a submissive throbbing penis.

“You’re beat,” I said to Jennings. “Admit that I’m the dominant male.”

I whipped him with my legs, tightening my grapevine and rubbing my cock against his masterful groin area.

The steroid jock felt hiimself being sexually and psychologically dominated by the SuperKid muscleboy.

His friends knew that the tide of battle had turned in my favor.

Brad Johnson continued to nervously twirl the wedding band in his fingers and said to Lowry, “Our side loses again.”

Lowry leaned forward and checked Jennings’ withering manhood.

Lowry nodded. “The Kid-Wrestler has got control of his football jock.”

I tormented Jennings’ groin area by tensing and untensing my leg muscles.

His enormously virile football crotch throbbed as I grinded my big dick against him with manly power.

The musclebound champ was losing in front of his friends.

He didn’t stand a chance unless he could get back on top.

I smiled as the steroid bodybuilder winced and struggled.

“Come on, muscleman,” I taunted. “Fight my crotch-power.”

He tried to flex his erect penis up, but I grinded down harder.

He locked with me in another contest of strength.

He was trying to roll over on top. It was his only hope of breaking my crotch-whip.

Remington hollered at me, “Hold him down! He’s losing it! You’ve got his manhood beat!”

I could see the strain in Jennings’ muscular body as he fought to get my arms under control.

As our upper bodies battled, I tensed my legs tight and powered my big crotch against his groin area.

“ARGH!” he grunted as my he-man crotch grinded down on his penis. I felt warm creme oozing from his cockhead.

I smiled confidently. “You can’t take my cockrub.”

I humped my butt up and down, faster than he could counter. I tensed my leg muscles and whipped his legs with my grapevine.

He felt my crotch whipping his crotch into a frenzied passion.

His eyes flickered toward his beaten boner.

He began to lose the contest of strength as I exuded potent manhood over his groin area.

The steroid bodybuilder was no match for my crotch-power.

“No,” he begged as I forced his hands to the concrete and held him pinned. “Please don’t.”

Jennings lay submissively under my combination grapevine and crotch-whip.

His dick throbbed.

His eyelids fluttered.

His friends watched.

The muscle-dude felt compliant.

I was holding his arms pinned to the cold concrete floor.

My nipples now pressed close against his muscular tits.

“You’ve got me whipped,” Jennings said. “I can’t take your potency.”

Knowing that his throbbing erection was ready to shoot a load, I asked him if he wanted to quit the fight.

“Yes,” Jennings said. “I quit.”

I let him up and bounced to my feet, ready for an ambush.

The other muscle-dudes backed away deferentially.

My friend Remington hugged me proudly on the shoulder as he said, “I knew you could beat him.”

Remington gently fingered my stud-cock and whistled, “Macho and Hard.”

Later that night, when I walked into the head to take a leak, Remington followed me.

We were alone.

I felt his arms encircle me from behind.

Since I trusted him, I resisted the instinctive urge of a fighter to smash his gut or his crotch with a bionic elbow.

Instead, I allowed him to wrap his arms around me.

When his arms embraced me, my erection stiffened.

I felt his lips nuzzling my neck with snuffly kisses.

My body suddenly felt warm and flushed.

He turned me to face him.

His brown bedroom eyes gazed softly down toward my mouth and he pulled me close.

My toes tingled.

My heart sort of skipped as he stole a kiss from my lips.

Pitty-pat.

It was like having butterflies in my chest.

My crotch stirred and swelled upright.

When his briefly lingering kiss on the lips was over, Remington’s face suddenly reminded me of a shy school-boy on his first date.

I gently touched my finger to his mouth to give him permission to do it again.

The romantic interlude ended suddenly when The Cowboy walked into the restroom.

Oops.

Me and Remington quickly turned to the urinals.

We tried to pee through our stiff cocks.

Steadman knew intuitively that he had interupted something.

Maybe our erections betrayed us.

“Sorry,” The Cowboy said, turning back toward the exit. “Bad timing.”

Remington and I were too elated to take offense at our friend’s sudden interuption.

In the space of our first kiss, we had both realized a desire that was unspoken but mutual.

We returned to our respective racks, unfulfilled for the moment.

Kissing the Gunslinger added a whole new dimension to my experience of Boot Camp.

I looked forward to the time when we could consummate our kiss.

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode3

Episode 4

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