Tiger - Jayse Version

I created by version of this short wrestling story at least a decade ago. I liked the idea of an erotic dream nestled within the story line. I do think that this story could have been a lot more, but I just couldn't find the inspiration. Perhaps one of you might have a suggestion on how to improve this story...

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Tiger

Based on an original story by an unknown author

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Tim is really excited when he gets home from a long sweaty workout at IronWorks gym and finds a letter and hot picture from a real muscle stud who wants to get together soon for a wrestling match. 

Tim tries hard to concentrate at the gym and work on packing more muscle onto his solid 5'10" tall, 245-pound frame. But today had been one of those days that all the bulging muscles flexing in the gym really distracted him. Today it took all his concentration not to get hard. 

Tim was just finishing his last set of bench presses for the day when he noticed the arrival of Mick, by far the biggest (and most arrogant) stud to work out at the gym. Tim is no stranger to arrogance and had well earned his nickname of 'Tiger' in high school for his gung-ho, balls-to-the-floor, no nonsense attitude, both on and off the wrestling mat. Now only a few years out of high school, Tim finds himself changing, and he’s not sure if he likes or hates the big, arrogant Mick, who had been the only stud during high school in any weight class to succeed in pining "The Tiger." Tim hadn't known Mick that well before starting to work out at the gym, since Mick had been a senior when Tim had transferred to the same school toward the end of his sophomore year. Tim wonders if Mick could have pinned him then if they had been the same age with the same training, even though Mick had outweighed him by at least 40 pounds even then. Increasingly he finds himself wondering if Mick could tame "the Tiger" now… and whether Mick would rather now tame or be tamed by "the Tiger." Tim is sure though that he doesn't want to become part of the pack that follows Mick around and hangs on every word and move of the big, handsome muscle stud as he trains for the open competition at the end of the summer. 

Tim realizes he's still sitting on the bench and better move around before he stiffens up. He sniffs himself and decides he isn't too ripe to skip a shower at the gym and just head home to recuperate from his tough training. He figures he'll change into his Levis at home and head to the Spike to find a man he can interest in giving him a tongue bath instead. Best of all will be finding an arrogant muscle-stud he can convince to be interested in a long sweaty wrestling match. 

Which is why Tim is really excited when he gets home from the long sweaty workout at IronWorks gym and finds the letter and hot picture from a competitive body builder type muscle-stud who "likes to wrestle after gym workouts wearing jocks or gym gear" and wants "to get together soon for some sweaty, man-to-man stripped rasslin/muscle action, winner take all." "Rick," the stud in the picture, stands in a bulging loincloth with a backdrop to suggest a picture of Tarzan in the jungle. Only problem with the picture is that the head had been cropped. Rick…Mick… Tim isn't sure, and though the guy in the letter says his name is Rick, the huge muscles sure do look like Mick’s. The guy wrote in response to Tim's ad in a national Personal Wrestling Ads publication. In his ad Tim wrote that he likes sweaty matches to submission and tests of strength with big muscular guys. Tim showed his confidence in his own strength, speed, and dominance by warning "the bigger they are, the harder they fall."

Tim leans back on his couch and thinks about calling Rick right away as he sits reading his letter. His glances keep returning to the picture that shows so well the definition in the cannonball arms Rick's raising as if he's about to strike a victory pose over a defeated opponent, as if about to demand the loser show his submission and worship by tongue-bathing his deep sweaty pits. It was a pose that Tim knew so well from mastering others with a similar pose. Yeah, this was a man to do battle with. Tim's getting drowsy from his tough workout as he starts to think this might even be a man who could dominate him (at least temporarily) and earn his worship. The way every crevice is set off by the ridges of solid, rippling muscle, reaches out of the picture and grabs Tim by the balls, as does the way the lats flare framing the perfect swells and curves of the pec muscles; Tim doesn't think he'd much mind having his nose squashed into those perfect pits with his face crushed between the bulges of Rick's arms and chest. It would be a real turn on to add his spit to the sweat in those deep pits and between those perfect pecs before turning the table on this stud and shoving his hard prick home to nestle in those perfect, ridged crevasses. As Tim drifts into sleep, he thinks about how he'll have to avoid getting squashed between those huge thighs as he teaches this arrogant Tarzan who rules the jungle.

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So Tarzan thinks he can give the victory cry after throwing the Tiger to the mat once… A 245-pound Tiger is jungle meat for Tarzan as he slinks up behind the Tiger, wraps his hard, brawny arm around the Tiger's neck, and throws him to the mat. Then Tarzan puts his foot on the Tiger's heaving chest, cocks his immense arms, and bellows the victory cry. 

It's really more of a challenge as the Tiger stirs, teeth barred, snarling at Tarzan. The Tiger's stunned again as Tarzan's 295 pounds of stud muscle drops on him, wrapping powerful 34-inch thighs around the Tiger's 56-inch, hard, heaving chest, thrusting his crotch inches from the Tiger's face. The snarling beast's eyes widen, perhaps in awe, perhaps in fear, perhaps in lust, as Tarzan's manhood begins to swell to awesome size – 9 inches, 10 inches, 11 inches, then to 12 inches. Tiger's snarling starts to quiet as he breathes deeply the jungle odor of Tarzan's thick bush just inches from his face, and the thick tree growing from that bush fascinates him. The Tiger inhales the sweaty musk from Tarzan’s huge, orange-sized nuts, and is overwhelmed for the moment by the raw animal power of the man crushing him into the forest floor. His mouth waters as he tentatively licks at the man's heroic prod. Encouraged by the renewed growth in the super hard meat, the Tiger starts to show Tarzan why he is known as a man-eating Tiger.

This sleek, powerful animal arouses Tarzan's lust. Power surges through Tarzan’s thighs as he tightens his scissors on the Tiger's chest and thrusts his crotch closer to the animal. Tarzan is determined to tame this man-eater by providing the still snarling animal with a feast that only Tarzan's manhood can provide. Sweat pours from Tarzan as his 64-inch chest begins to heave with mixed pleasure and muscle strain; his sweat pours over the Tiger, mingling with the beast's own musk. Tarzan cries out again in triumph as the beast inhales his great manhood to the root.

The heaving Tiger's strength is renewed by the taste of manmeat and the sweaty crotch musk that he is being bathed in. Noticing that Tarzan's hold is starting to weaken as the Jungle Lord thinks the ultimate victory is assured, the Tiger begins to turn in the hold and to maneuver Tarzan onto his back. The overconfident Tarzan responds to the continued feeding of the beast and to the caressing pressure of the beast's big burly arms and hands. Tarzan rolls to his back and momentarily releases the Tiger from the grip of his powerful thighs. The Tiger pounces. The Tiger wraps his thick, powerful thighs around the Jungle Lord's head, scissoring the handsome face between bulging 28-inch thigh muscles, forcing the Jungle Lord to nuzzle the Tiger's furry balls and crotch, deeply inhaling the strong jungle musk. The Tiger releases his jaw lock on the Jungle Lord's manmeat, but not his tight grip spreading Tarzan's incredibly massive thighs, nor his tightening squeeze on the Jungle Lord's head and neck. The Tiger roars his challenge.

As had happened to the Tiger, Tarzan's eyes widen and bulge, perhaps in fear, perhaps in awe, perhaps in lust, as the Tiger's swollen prod rams against Tarzan's awesome chest. The Tiger's hard pride slides between the muscle stud's bulging pecs and seems to find a home there wrapped in solid, pulsing pec muscles. From the feel of it against his heaving, sweaty chest, Tarzan realizes that although the rock-hard gun of this beast might not be quite as long as his own manhood, it was still a tremendously potent weapon at 10 thick inches, and that he would enjoy dueling with the big cock when he got the chance. Tarzan's own manhood had lost none of its potency in this turnabout and he is obviously eager to duel with the beast's hard ram. 

Tarzan quickly wraps his muscle-bulging arms around the beast's rock-hard trim waist in a massive bear hug. Tiger responds by thrusting his ram harder against the stud's chest, and then thrusting his thickly haired crotch and balls harder and harder still against the handsome face. Although still confident of ultimate victory and determined to tame this beast, Tarzan realizes that this is to be truly a match for dominance and to decide the true Lord and Master of this Jungle. The sexual challenges had been made; Tarzan now knew it would take all the advantage he had in his wrestling skills, the extra leverage in his 6'3" frame, and the 50 extra pounds of solid muscle to tame this beast.

The Tiger realizes that even as strong as he is, his arms cannot long hold out against the much larger thigh muscles of his great opponent as Tarzan starts doing crunches to bend the Tiger back and recapture the beast in a punishing head scissors. Tiger finds the feel of the giant man's rippling abs against his own chiseled pecs and nipples to be highly erotic. The movement of Tarzan's great chest also pistons the Tiger's solid cock between the pec mounds and forces the cockhead to smear searing precum against Tarzan's rock-hard pecs and upper abs. Never has the Tiger experienced such muscle punishment; never has he been so turned on at having his great prod punished so pleasurably by such a powerful brute. As the Tiger weakens in his arousal, he realizes that he wants those great thighs to wrap around his head, he wants to bury his nose in that ripe bush as he feels his face crushed against those huge burly man balls.

The Tiger realizes he can have what he wants as he tries to regain control by seeming to yield even faster to the man's strength. As the great thighs force the Tiger's arms back he leans forward and puts his head in the great muscular noose for the chance to inhale the man's enormous furry balls and bathe them in the hot furnace of his mouth.

Tarzan's gasp rumbles through his great chest, as the beast seems destined to swallow the man's great balls whole along with their large, hairy sack. Unexpectedly, Tarzan realizes that he has been outmaneuvered again by this canny beast. He realizes that to continue the crunches that he had been using so successfully (and that he even hoped would lead to sexual submission from the beast), even to complete one more movement would lead to the beast tearing off his balls if he tried to move his crotch away from the beast. Instead he tightens his crunch even further, trying to encase the beast's waist with his chest and arms as if to squeeze the beast's entire groin into the small valley between the man's monster pecs. Tarzan tightens his abs even more as he squeezes his enormous thighs around the Tiger's head, trying to force the beast's head back and bury it in the beast's thick, wide shoulders.

Tarzan's actions also bury his huge prod in the thick, rock-hard chest plates of the beast. Only the thick fur covering the beast's chest is saving Tarzan's cock from being lacerated by the chiseled ridges of the beast's pecs. Tarzan realizes that the Tiger has great control of his pecs and seems to be trying to milk the giant cock with which Tarzan had been ramming him. Tarzan had yielded prematurely to the moment; he recognizes that never before had he met a man-beast like the Tiger who could take Tarzan's punishment and return it as good as he got. Never before had he been in a test of manhood with a man-beast whose muscles, ounce-for-ounce, were so clearly stronger than his own. Tarzan's head is throbbing from the continually applied pressure of the Tiger's scissors hold that seems aimed at adding inches to Tarzan's impressive height by stretching his neck to the breaking point. Tarzan was not used to being kept on his back in such a predicament for so long; never before had such a seemingly small (to Tarzan) sexual prey come even this close to turning the tables on the Jungle Lord. Perhaps here is the beast to whom the Jungle Lord might someday kneel with bowed head and say Master.

As the moments stretch out, both Tarzan and the Tiger realize that the sweet pain of straining, sweaty, grinding, man-muscle-to-man-muscle contact is taking its toll, even as it is bringing them both to new erotic heights. Both make a move at the same moment to break the deadlock and try to achieve dominance and the final submission of the other. As they roll apart and their straining muscles crack in release from long, hard-held holds, both of their cocks erupt in massive spurts as they shoot all over each other. Both of the man-animals experience the heady power of "marking" his opponent with his searing, white-hot spunk. Each man feels that he has marked his opponent as his own…

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Tim wakens with a quaking release as he realizes that he is muttering Mick's name. He had just finished his most erotic dream ever, and his hugely muscular chest and tight belly were covered in a massive mess of cum. As he reaches for the phone, Tim realizes that he hopes the letter writer will turn out to be the big-dicked muscle-head Mick. He hopes that if he cannot fully dominate Mick, that at least Mick might prove as rewarding a challenge as Tarzan had been.