Facesitting seats and sitters

North Star:

Absolute chaos at the Eagle again, packed to the limit – nothing new for the popular Fight Night Bar that promises an electrifying spectacle where someone would inevitably end up either Knocked Out or Fucked Down and Submitted.

I’ve been working at this shit hole for months now – at least the paycheck is decent, especially when I get called-up for fight action. Tonight, however, I'm tending behind the bar pouring beer for the horned-up patrons. The tips flow my way … there is literally a line-up waiting for my service while customers ignore the other staff. I know exactly how to play this game — I feel the intense stares as guys lock onto me, my 5'8" frame packed with 260 pounds of pure, rippling muscle. It's impossible not to be captivated, especially when I'm clad in nothing but a ridiculous snug stringer that barely contains the sheer mass of my colossal pecs, my bulging package accentuates tight black posing trunks. They perfectly showcase my flawless quads and a breathtakingly sculpted ass… all irresistible and demanding attention.

“Damn” I mumble as the lineup grows … “Relax ladies I will be right with you” – I hand off a drink and turn back to the line … Next!

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I was looking for a relaxing start to my well-earned weekend. For most people this would mean something like Netflix & Chill, but I have my own way to wind down. Whenever I'm not standing inside the ring, I like to hang out in one of my favorite sex clubs---to be honest, this is a pretty kinky one. Guys fight and fuck while others watching and drinking beer. It's called The Eagle. And that's where I was looking to find some peace tonight.

"EY! It's been 10 minutes now since I placed my order! What's the problem?" I shout over the bar, straight into your direction. Yes, I can get mad pretty easily if you let me wait. But I recognize this bartender. I've seen you getting wrecked pretty bad and DAMN that muscle daddy went down hard---I think you even wore something similar, equally skimpy---we all know you're a show off, nothing more.

"You still haven't recovered yet?!" I shout, trying to get your attention and hopefully my drink very soon!

North Star:

Distracted for a moment as the crowd's screams reach a crescendo, I find myself captivated by the two massive grizzlies going at it hard in the ring. The smaller, waving his hand in submission while the other absolutely pulverises his ass – wishing I could watch, but instead I’ve got a belligerent customer bitching about his wait time. “Ya Ya – your fucking panties in a twist dude?” I bark. You send a taunt my way … purely poking fun at my last big loss in the ring.

Somewhat pissed, I look up making eye contact, thinking God Damn we got a looker. I’m guessing this handsome dude is at least 6’ and probably 200+ pounds of chiseled lean muscle, rocking a cap and black muscle shirt – teasing with a bit of nip slip no less.

Grumbling “I may have lost a fight or two, but you need to show a little respect pintsize” I push the beer towards you with a deliberate motion – “now move on punk.” Yet you remain, your gaze fixed on me showing only confidence as you stare me down with a cocky grin.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I'm not surprised at all that you reacted right away. From what I've seen of you so far, you're pretty confident, and I can imagine that loss is still bothering you. Perfect for me to mess with you a little more. I don’t answer at first, just smirking in your direction. I catch the glass with one hand as you slide it across the counter.

"I thought you had more in you, to be honest. You big guys are usually so tough, aren’t you?" Still trying to keep your attention, I pull a dollar bill out of my pocket and slap it flat on the bar, the guys around me shrug---

"The beer tastes like piss---"

North Star:

Fuck that smirk …
Everyone can sense my brewing tantrum, evident in the way my muscular arms are tightly crossed over my chest. My eyes intensely fixated on you, radiating a heat that sears through the air between us, leaving no doubt there’s trouble.

I take a deep breath … your mouth doesn’t stop moving. Endless shit talk spews – no less accusing me of being weak. I know better … I turn away - it's then you slap a – single down on the counter mocking the beer. I swivel back meeting your stare which suggests that you’re not retreating. The drunkard beside you stands with eyes fixated on me - eagerly awaiting my response.

My arms shootout...leaning over the counter I seize your tee shirt with a fierce grip, yanking your shirt ripping the fabric as I haul your sorry ass halfway across the counter. Your legs flail awkwardly while suspended in the air. I hold you in place, looking directly into your eyes – shouting … “If you don’t leave now Pintsize I’m gonna drag your ass to the ring and pummel you from corner to corner asshole!”...

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I can see it in your face---my words hit you deep. And that's exactly what I want. I can feel the other guys at the bar staring, some of them looking a little shocked at what’s going down. The big guy, getting humiliated by a guest. But man, this is just too much fun---especially since most people here probably still remember your last embarrassing loss.

You're getting closer now, and from the looks of it, you're about to lose it. You reach over the bar, grab a fistful of my shirt, and yank me towards you. And yeah, for a split second, I’m impressed by your strength---but I don’t let it show. My feet aren’t even touching the ground anymore, but I hold my gaze, locking eyes with you as you try to intimidate me.

Then I smirk and say, "Go ahead, you puffed-up bastard. I’d be more than happy to let all that hot air out of you---"

North Star:

Dumbfounded, I glare back at you … this fucking prick doesn’t even flinch … staring back at me totally daring me, mocking my size and authority. “Puffed-up? Hot Air?” Your taunt is sending me over the edge.

The last fight finishes, every gaze zeros in on us … “YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT – I’m going to pound you into dust!” bellowing completely unhinged. I shake you until your tee is in tatters – you begin sliding back along the bar when I grab the back of your head, smashing your skull into the counter with a deafening “Crash”. The loud thud heard around the bar as you slump back in a heap. The bar crowd roars “North! North!”

One step back I leap forward like a tank sized Olympian clearing the bar, crashing beside you like a freight train. Snatching you up I slam you down hard on the counter leaving you sprawled out. “Thanks for the goddamn bill Pintsize!” I bark, unleashing a barrage of brutal punches across your chest until you crumble collapsing to the floor…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Oh yeah, I can feel the blood boiling in your veins, and yeah, I know I can be a real asshole sometimes—but that’s just my competitive side kicking in. Like a teenager who can’t control their emotions. And I LOVE it!

But obviously, I pushed it a little too far, because next thing I know, you yank me even harder over the bar, and my shirt TEARS, revealing my ripped lean body. The guys in the bar flinch as you suddenly snap---before I even process it, I’m hitting the floor, landing hard on my back. The crowd closes in around me as you storm out from behind the counter.

You grab me, haul me up, and slam my face against the bar---"UGGHHH!"---but you don’t even give me a chance to slump down. Nope. Instead, you pick me up and slam me right onto the counter before your fists start flying at my chest. "Ugh--ugh--ugh--ugh!" I can’t keep up with what’s happening---it’s all too damn fast, and before I know it, I’m crashing back to the floor under your rage-fueled beatdown.

I cough, my head spinning a little, but there it is again---the hormone problem. I reach for that beer glass that landed right beside me, glare up at you and spit, "I said puffed-up BASTARD!" I yell and throw the beer mug right into your direction.

North Star:

Glaring down at you, looking wrecked and defeated, my chiseled chest swelling with pride at the chaos I've caused. That insolent mouth of yours calling me a “puffed-up BASTARD,” ignites a firestorm of fury. Your pathetic attempts with spit and a beer mug fall short. “Fucker!” I roar, stepping forward, my fist clenched, eager to grind you into nothingness.

“NORTH TAKE IT TO THE RING … NOW!” thunders my boss’s voice over the speakers.

I’m tossed a MIC … “Let’s make this official, huh?” I growl at you. Glaring down menacingly – “What’s your damn name, Bitch?” – you shout back, Hunter! Roaring into the MIC, “One last brutal match – Fucked to Submission… at 5’8 and 260 pounds of Muscled Perfection - NORTH VS – the pitiful punk challenger at 6’ 200ish pounds - Hunter!”

I throw the MIC back to my manager,  the crowd erupts chanting “North, North”. Yanking you up from the floor, I coil my massive bicep around your neck in a crushing headlock and drag your sorry ass towards the ring. As we reach ringside, I unleash two vicious punches into your forehead, feeling a satisfying crunch beneath my fists, then shove your dazed body into the ring with a forceful push.

I spring onto the ring apron, peeling off my stringer and flinging it over my shoulder into the ring. The crowd's eyes are glued on me – I begin to transition from one pose to another, flaunting my colossal quads and the swell of my massive chest, delts, and sharply defined biceps. My tiny poser clings tightly, practically lost between the curves of my ass. These fuckers can't get enough of the spectacle…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I’m not scared of you, and that beer mug attack? That was more of a protest than anything actually meant to hurt you. But the way you’re standing over me, all arrogant and puffed up, you’re like a red flag waving right in front of a bull.

Still, your surprise attack knocked the wind out of me, and yeah---the momentum is definitely in your favor. I see you coming closer when suddenly, the ring announcer’s voice booms through the arena.

'What the hell?'

Okay, I wanted to piss you off, but I didn’t expect things to blow up this fast. And I definitely didn’t think it would turn into an official match. But now? I don’t have a choice as you play the announcer for this fight.

You drag me up from the floor, locking me in a damn tight headlock as you pull me toward the ring. I stumble behind you, my hands pressing against your hips, trying to shove you off---but of course, you’ve got the upper hand.

Your fist smashes into my skull before you finally roll me into the ring. I stop dead in the center, arms shaking as I push myself up onto all fours. My vision’s a little blurry, but I catch you in the corner of my eye---too busy flexing for your drooling fans.

I slowly rise to my feet, glaring at you. "So you wanna make this official, huh?" I mutter under my breath.

You’re so caught up in your own hype, you don’t even notice as I pull down my gym shorts---revealing my signature gear underneath. The same outfit I always wear when I step into this ring. A fucking skimpy poser, my bulge is heavy as always, just like the fans love it. And they know m 9" dong is a fucking weapon–--

I can see some guys focus on me---their face is telling more than a thousand words---yes, the Hunter is raging---I'm huffing and puffing, stumbling towards you from behind, my package bouncing around, my posers struggling to hold it all back, my hand with a tight grip on my shorts---"EY BITCH! I THOUGHT YOU WANNA FIGHT!!!" I heard the rules you wanted and oh boy you're going to regret it---I sling my shorts around your neck, letting the fabrics cut right into your throat as I PULL back, yanking you over the top rope, stretching your thick muscle body before I PULL and PULL and PULL---my lean muscles pump up as I'm looking to yank your meaty muscles into the ring!

North Star:

Basking in the glory of my unmatched magnificence. These men are totally absorbed, lost in the spectacle of my monstrous size as I flex moving pose to pose showing off thick muscle bellies all eager to see me utterly obliterate this Hunter dude.

The focus shifts away from me as I hear you bellow, "BITCH! I THOUGHT YOU WANNA FIGHT!" My arms drop from the Double Biceps pose, but before I can react, you whip what feels like a pair of shorts around my neck, wrenching my head back and exposing my torso as though I'm a trophy on display. "NO WAY BITCH – NOT HAPPENING YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" I shout defiantly.

“HUNTER CAUGHT THE BIG MAN WITH HIS SHORTS!! GUYS WE ARE IN FOR A ROUGH BATTLE TONIGHT!!”

The chokehold tightens around my throat, fabric biting into my skin, clawing desperately at your iron grip, trying to free my oxygen starved head. You wrench me back, my spine arched over the top rope, while my powerful legs kick wildly in the air, struggling to find the canvas beneath. Resisting your relentless pulls until my arms flail uselessly, swinging at my sides as my vision starts to fade. Inch by inch, you yank me into the ring, my body jerked mercilessly.
Suddenly, I'm jolted back to reality as I crash with a thud onto the canvas, my wide back absorbing the brunt of the fall, air forced from my lungs leaving me coughing and groaning in a foggy haze. I lay there for a moment, disoriented, before letting out a string of curses as I begin to crawl forward, trying to create space between us…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Oh, so you really thought you could just drag me into this ring and do whatever the hell you want with me? You’ve lost your damn mind. But fine---let’s settle this right here. You already laid out the rules, and I promise you, you’re gonna regret that.

I’m right behind you as you crawl towards the ropes. I puff my chest, mocking you in front of the guys as I strut after you---"‘Where you think you’re going, phat ass?" I’m fired up now---you’ve pushed me way past my limit. I grab a fistful of your hair and yank you back onto your feet. For a second, we just stare each other down. And then I take off, dragging you with me, and SLAM your head straight into the ring post---just a little payback for your earlier cheap shots.

I watch as you stumble back from the impact, dazed. The guys outside are fired up, all eyes locked on us. But I’m not done. I chase you down again, grab your head, trying to drive you into the next corner just the same.

North Star:

Crawling inch by inch towards the ropes, my voice rough and gravelly "You got lucky, Hunter…"

Your “Fat Ass” taunt booms over me as you shout for all to hear, before I can react your hand snatches a fist full of my hair yanking me up to my feet. I stumble back a few steps, my knees almost buckling under me. Dazed, shocked, shaking my head I just stare at you blankly, swaying back and forth.

You hurl yourself forward yanking me with you, my thunder thighs pounding the canvas trying to match your pace. My head launched into the ring post, like scoring a fucking field goal my head slams into the post. “ARGH…” I scream out as my head ricochets off the post. Stunned, disoriented I groan and stagger back, fists raised, each swing a desperate, wild miss, effortlessly evaded by you. Again, you grip the back of my neck and drive me into the opposite post. The ring post shakes, ropes jumping from the impact. My head snaps back, spit flies everywhere, my brain scrambled. I awkwardly twist and stumble away sliding along the top rope desperate to regroup.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought---you look more dangerous than you actually are. And from the looks of it, this is turning into one hell of an embarrassment for you. But hey, you wanted to go all in.

I strut around the ring while you drag yourself along the ropes. "What’s wrong? Feeling dizzy, you roided bitch?" I smirk at the crowd, and I can see now---they’ve completely surrounded the ring. Guess they wanna see this beatdown up close.

I turn back to you, and my grin twists into something nastier. Then I bolt toward you, coming up from behind. One foot on the middle rope---I launch myself right over you, bringing my leg down hard across the back of your neck, slamming you into the top rope under my weight---and most important---my phat bulge grinding into your neck. My hands grip the rope tight as I start bouncing, pressing you down even harder and choking you with my full weight---

"How’s that feeling? I’m guessing THIS size difference wasn’t part of your plan, huh?"

North Star:

My head finally clearing, steading myself on the ropes when I hear your voice from behind, instinctively I throw my left elbow back in defence, like some freakish gymnast you launch yourself over me. One of your legs slamming down hard across my neck, the other hanging off my barn door back. Your full weight grinds my neck into the top cable choking me, “Fuck Y…” then only gags and gurgles come from my mouth as you start bouncing, your full weight robbing me of breath, slowly choking this mass of muscle out.

I gawk out at the crowd encircling the ring, utterly stunned by the turn of events. The majority of these inebriated idiots, chanting "Hunter" fueling my anger.

Gripping the rope with determination, my hands spread apart bracing me from your erratic movements. Your unpredictable bouncing offers moments where your weight seems to vanish.
I flex my powerful thighs, driving upward explosively, while my arms send the top rope whipping downward. Expecting you to topple forward,  instead your grip slackens, you rock backward. Seizing the opportunity, I surge to my full height, my arms snapping around each of your legs. You find yourself locked into a vice-like piggyback hold, perched on my thick unyielding shoulders.

I can feel you teetering above me – The crowd totally absorbed - all eyes on me as my huge muscles bulge and flex controlling you. Their energy feeding my adrenaline – I Shout “Let’s rearrange this fuckers face!”

Adjusting my grip, I set you up for a wicked Face Bust…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

The guys at the bar are loving this. I can see it in their eyes AND their crotches as I outmaneuver you with ease. In this ring, I call the shots, and trust me---you’re gonna feel that firsthand tonight.

I keep bouncing, listening to you struggle with the ropes---coughing and gagging while my cock is growing against your bull neck---But just as I think I’ve got you completely under control---you remind me why I shouldn’t underestimate you.

With a powerful push, you plant your feet and lift me up over your shoulders, locking me in tight with those strong arms as you carry me back toward the ring. I try to kick my legs, but you’ve got me locked in too good---I can barely move them. My arms, though? Still got some freedom. And I need to get out of this before you put me in real trouble.

So I do the only thing I can---I slam my elbow backward, aiming straight for your head, hoping to break free before you can do any real damage.

North Star:

Your weight shifts forward, and I start to lose my footing. Suddenly, your elbow rockets back, smashing into my skull with a resounding thud. A sharp pain radiates through my head, and I know this isn't going to end well. Desperate, I lung forward, clutching your legs with all my power. The crowd gasps as I hurl you forward, sending you awkwardly tumbling down to the canvas, your face meeting the mat with a thump. I collapse back onto my ass, the searing pain in my head relentless.

“BOOOOOM!!! NORTH STAR’S STRENGTH IS UNMATCHED IN THIS RING!!! THE HUNTER MIGHT BE IN FOR A HUGE UPSET!!”

Rising to my feet I step to your side, I drive my boot into your upper back driving you into the canvas, I gaze out at the crowd, defiant with my arms raised, muscle rippling I flaunt a cocky biceps flex for the ungrateful crowd.

Giving you minimal recovery time, I take a little hop, and with all my muscular weight behind me I launch a punishing elbow drop towards your mid back…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I’ve kinda maneuvered myself into a bad spot here, and even though my elbow smacks into your head, it’s not enough to break free. And then---I feel you setting up your next move.

Shit.

But I’m ready. My reflexes are still sharp, and I brace myself. You lean forward, throwing me over your head, but I instinctively bring my arms up like a shield, ready for impact---

BOOOOM!

The entire ring shakes as you slam me down with a brutal Facebuster. But the damage is way less than you think. Not that I’m about to let you know that. I twist and writhe on the mat, selling it just enough---yeah, my arms sting a little, but I know how to take a hit.

Then, out of the corner of my eye---I see your shadow. You’re setting up your next move, right beside me. You leap---

And I roll out of the way at the last second, letting your elbow smash straight into the mat with full force. The ring shakes again, and before you can even process what just happened---I’m already moving.

I lunge at you, grabbing onto your wrestling gear and yanking with everything I’ve got, wedging your phat muscle ass with your skimpy poser and flossing your hole HARD! "Damn bitch---you're fucking SLOW!"

My free hand snatches a fistful of your hair as I drag you up with me. And as long as that pain keeps you stunned, I’m not letting up. I charge forward, dragging you with me towards the ring post. And then---BAM!---I drive you headfirst into the turnbuckle with full force. "TAKE THAT, YOU ROIDED BASTARD!"

North Star:

That ass is still jiggling as I drop towards you, my arm locked – bicep bulging, elbow high ensuring maximal pain. in a flash you're gone, slipping to the side - I careen into the canvas, my elbow absorbing the brutal blow. “UFFFF” air bursts from my chest as I sprawl face down, moaning, writhing in agony, rocking side to side as the searing pain surges through my arm.

Rolling away from you, I barely manage to turn onto my side when your hand grabs hold of my posers. "Fuck..." I hear the audience laughing as you give a hard yank—forcing the strap deep between my massive glutes, squashing my ball sack while my trembling ass arches up higher with each tug.

Your hand reaches down, grabs my hair and yanks me to my knees. For the first time, I’m confronted with the sight of your enormous, unbelievably massive pouch, fabric stretched as your junk swings back and forth.

It’s a moment you drive me forward, flossed ass crack, a swath of my hair powering my thick muscle towards the ring post, CLAAAANNNG! Like a pathetic excuse for a three-point field goal my dome slams into the post, ricocheting off in an instant, vision blurred, brain rattled, feeling a dribble of blood running down my forehead, recoiling from the pole, teetering back and forth until turning towards you, legs splayed wide, I raise my arms in an attempt to keep you at bay…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

The entire ring shakes as your bulging body slams into the post. Your head takes a nasty hit too---at least, that’s what it looks like as you groan and slowly turn back toward me, struggling. You’re bleeding a little. And is that some drool?

But hey, if I remember correctly, rules were never really your thing, were they?

I plant my hands on my hips, watching as you weakly try to wave me off. "Are you done already? Come on, we’re just getting started---" I flash a wicked grin and rush at you. My pecs on yours, I press you against the post, climbing onto the middle rope. Suddenly my heavy bulge is dangling right in front of your face---my dong is so hard, pushing against the fabrics and the outlines of my thick helmet are clearly visible. My body pins you into the corner as I let my fists rain down on you.

Your head snaps to the side. I want you dizzy. I want you stupid. And after a few solid shots, I pause---leaning in, flexing a double bicep right for the crowd.

"WELL? ANYONE ELSE WANNA PLACE THEIR BETS?" My ego is in full overdrive now. I push my hips forward, pressing my thick pumping shaft against your mouth, smothering you up and down to make sure you get the full length of my meat---I don’t just want to beat you in this ring---I want to get inside your head. Deep inside.

North Star:

I can barely see straight, barely breathe, and through the blur you stand there with a shit-eating grin. I wave you off desperately, needing to regroup. You plant your hands on your hips before exploding forward, your rock-hard pecs smash into mine, you slam my thick frame back against the post.

You climb to the middle rope, your legs straddling my body like the cocky little bastard you are. I stare up helplessly, eyes level with your massive pouch as it swings in front of my face. Cock and balls bulge out, stretching the thin fabric of your trunks obscenely. You know the show you're putting on.

You grab a swath of my hair, yanking me forward … "TWACK." Your other fist crashes into my temple like a sledgehammer – “Fuck you, HUNTER...” I roar defiantly. I try to shake it off, but "TWACK" – another relentless punch follows, snapping my head violently to the side as a low moan is wrenched from my throat. Again "TWACK" – chin jerks uncontrollably, sending a spray of spittle arching over my shoulder. My thick arms dangle uselessly over the ropes. One last punch has my head hanging in a slack-jaw daze, drool dripping from my mouth, the world spinning around me as I slowly slump forward, my hands reach for your quads for support, my head drops forward onto your musky pouch as you pump your thick shaft across my face smothering me in your manhood.

I muster all my energy as your shaft continues to slide obscenely across my face. I force myself to focus and, with a grunt, wrap my arms around your waist. You pause for a moment my biceps clamp down like a vice. “You piece of shit...” I scream as I stagger out from the corner, dragging you with me. You punch down on my back, trying to loosen my grip, but I keep going, then lunging forward. I drop you in an atomic drop over my knee. Your body buckles around my leg as you roar in pain, groin split open on my rock-hard quad.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Oh yeah. I’ve got this inflated dumbass trapped in the corner, and judging by that dazed look in your eyes, you’re feeling really dizzy right now. Perfect. You’ve earned this extra dose of humiliation, and I’m gonna savor every second of it.

And from the looks of it---the guys around the ring are loving it too. Barely anyone’s left at the bar anymore. They’re packed in tight, like the free beer being handed out from the ring. Pretty sure I’m making a lot of new fans tonight.

But I get too caught up in my own showboating and grinding my thick junk into your bitchface---so much so, that I don’t notice you recovering faster than I expected.

Before I can react, you grab my legs and lock me in, pinning me against you. I try to shove you away, but you’ve got too much power---And just a few steps later---BOOM!

You drop me into a brutal Atomic Drop, crushing my bull balls on your steel quad. "ARRRGGGHHHH!"

I yell out as the ring shakes beneath me, my body bouncing off the mat like a damn ragdoll---before I collapse, squirming in pain. Pain shoots through me. For a moment, I’m paralyzed.

North Star:

Savoring the sight of you clutching your crotch. You bounce pathetically and drop to the canvas, your hands cradling your junk. You roll to your back, and I bound up my eyes wild. I yank down your posers, they snap loose , that fucking 9” tube steak flops out hard smacking against your abs…

I step over you, scoop up your leg between my crotch, my arm locking you in tight, split wide in this spladle hold. Your fuck hole on display for the world, your schlong swaying back and forth while you squirm. I lick two fingers, smirk at you and start punching into your hole…”Stretch this boy out” I holler to the crazed crowd all on their feet watching you get fingered. Fuck, they’re eating it up…

“NORTH IS GOING STRAIGHT FOR HUNTER’S PUSSY!!! HE’S DEFINITELY ON A MISSION TONIGHT!!”

Rob Hunter-Kane:

And just a second later---you’re standing over me and STRIP my speedos off me, my 9" schlong SLAPS against my abs, leaving a trail of pre, so thick and sticky it's practically stretching into strings.

"Shit!"

I can’t move fast enough. Before I know it, you’ve hooked me up in a Spladle---my legs spread WIDE as the crowd gasps, watching you go all in with my smooth asshole on full display. You shove your fingers into my canal, stretching me in this humiliating hold and putting on a show for the guys.

I can’t believe what’s happening. But that sharp, burning pain is starting to shift---turning into ice-cold rage.

I grit my teeth, my vision narrowing. And then---out of the corner of my eye---I see my wrestling trunks, just a few inches away. Not far at all. I stretch my arm out while you’re still too busy putting on your little display. My fingers grasp the sweaty fabric---

And then

WHIP!

I snap my musky speedos around your neck like a leash, my other hand catching the cloth before I YANK back with everything I’ve got---choking you with my gear, my dong bouncing around---"COME ON YOU FUCKING MEATHEAD---TROUBLE TO BREATH???"

North Star:

What a fucking show, the crowd absolutely howling as they watch me work you over. My fingers pound deeper and deeper into your tight hole, loosening you up into the bottom bitch you are. My dick full mast,rock hard as I grind my hips into you, totally lost in the moment. Your hole tightens and clenches around my fingers, no way you can keep me from stretching your cunt out.“Yeah!” I roar, feeling like I own Hunter. You grunt through grit teeth, in pain, rage, maybe in denial, but I know you can’t do a damn thing. Your 9-inch fuck tool is bobs back and forth, in lust and shame while I finger fuck you raw. Every ounce of your pride and status is being stripped away as I beat you down.

I don’t see you reaching for your trunks. I don’t notice until it’s too late. I’m totally focused on your abuse when you jerk forward, before I can counter you wrap your trunks around my neck and yank back.

This is not fucking happening! Gasping for each breath as you pull me in tighter, choking me relentlessly. Your damp trunks are biting into my throat, wrapping my neck, pulling me in. My massive torso is spread out over you as you draw me back towards you, my body on full display as I struggle, hands flailing wildly, grabbing at the sweat-soaked fabric tearing into me. You’re totally outclassing me. “GET OFF ME YOU FUCKING BITCH!” I holler, my voice raspy and desperate. “FACE ME LIKE A MAN, PUSSY BOY!” My head turning red, my skin dripping with sweat as you work me tighter. "YOU CAN’T BREAK THROUGH THIS BIG ASS FUCKING NECK LOSER!” I yell again, but my voice is breaking as I spit out the words. You’ve got me…My freaky arms are swinging aimlessly through the air, my rage turning into frozen panic. My thick arms falling to my sides lifeless, I stare out blankly, my eyes only seeing my relaxed muscle gut and your huge fuck stick as I fade. Drool runs down my chin, my eyes roll back, darkness looms...

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Exactly what I thought. This musclehead runs out of gas faster than a popped balloon. I steady myself, now that my legs are free again. Hell, at this point, you could say I’ve got three legs---and all three are pumped as hell, veins popping like roadmaps. You really should take a look.

The crowd is losing their minds as I slip out from under you and push myself up onto my knees. The pain is still there, but with all this adrenaline pumping? It barely even matters. I shove myself to my feet and YANK you up with me, dragging your musclebound ass like a sack of meat.

"GET OVER HERE, BASTARD! I’m gonna let the air outta that thick-ass bull neck of yours!" My voice is full of fire---and finally, I’ve got you where I want you.

Right in the ropes.

I grab a fistful of your hair and let go of the speedos---then I plant your neck right onto the middle rope, your face tilted up, staring at the lights.

(Oh damn, you’re already half out of it.)

"So… in the mood for a wild ride?" Not that I expect an answer. I step over the ropes immediately, locking your head between my legs in a brutal scissor hold, my fully hard schlong hovering over your face. My hands grip the top rope, and then—

I bounce.

Hard.

Putting every ounce of force into riding you into oblivion as my dong hammers down on your face again and AGAIN!

North Star:

My big muscle gut gasps out the last bit of air as I sink into darkness, Eyes roll back into my head, your choke riding me out of consciousness. I lose track of everything but the ticking of your fuck tool…

It seems like ages until I feel my skull bumping along the canvas. I can hear the crowd in a blurred uproar
My neck feeling lassoed … tighter and tighter as my carcass is jerked unwillingly forward, skull bouncing off the canvas, over and over…

My eyes finally open wide – I’m staring up at the stage lights.

It happens fast. I’m laid over the second rope, your big legs clamped around my neck in a merciless scissors hold. “Fuck you, Hunter!” I can barely get the words out, mumbling weakly, your 9-inch fuck tool flops down on my face. The crowd’s laughter echoes around the bar, I can feel them watching me, all of them watching as your sheer size pins my head to the rope. I stagger out a half-breath – “Don’t, please!” – but you ride me like a fucking bull, my whole body jerking helplessly as you bounce. “AAHHH FUCK!” I scream out again and again, my voice cracking as my neck burns and grinds into the rope. Your enormous 9-inch sausage bitch slaps my face relentlessly…SPLATT, SPLATT echo’s the bar, beating me like I’m cheap meat.

The crowd is in absolute hysterics as they watch the spectacle, my body bouncing and jiggling as you work me. It never stops. You keep riding, riding, riding, whole chunks of time disappearing. I swear I go out again, lights flicking off and on, every second like a hammer blow pounding into my skull. My neck is on fire. I can barely breathe. I’m back on the brink, every choke riding me closer and closer …

Rob Hunter-Kane:

You're a JOKE! Big mouth, but absolutely nothing to back it up. And now you’re already regretting it---begging me to stop the humiliation.

Too bad. You picked the wrong opponent. I’m making bank tonight---more in tips than you’ll make with your stale-ass beer.

I smirk as I watch your eyes struggle to focus, darting around like they’re trying to lock onto something, anything. But with all this pure man scent in the air, mixed with a tight-ass headscissor cutting off your oxygen there's not much you can do.

"HEY BOYS! LOOKS LIKE YOUR COCKTAIL PUSSY IS HAVING A LITTLE TROUBLE OVER HERE!" I shout to the crowd before finally dismounting you like a bull rider. But I’m not done. I snatch your arms and hook them over the middle rope, making sure you stay nice and propped up---then SNAP! I let the top rope whip down over your arms, trapping you in place.

I grab a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up. "Before you go night-night, I got a few souvenirs for you---" I growl low in my throat before slamming my knee straight into your overinflated pecs. My fat throbbing cock swinging from side to side, slapping your pecs and leaving trails of pre---

Again.

And again.

I’m gonna tenderize these big, pumped-up muscles---piece by piece.

North Star:

That lean 200# of muscle taking its full effect on me with every bounce. I’m babbling incoherently as you ride me up and down on the ropes, your thick legs controlling each breath, my eyes glazed over staring out blankly, mouth hanging open as your huge Dong slaps across my face.

I barely hear your Cocktail Pussy taunt ringing out around me. I’m almost out again, my airway is clamped, those big legs keep right on squeezing, and then it happens---you finally dismount me like some cowboy that’s broke a bull. Fucking hell, my muscle gut gasps for air as the pressure lifts from my neck, body sucking in air, with your dismount I start to slip sideways, sliding slowly off the 2nd rope like a big 260# sack of meat.

In a flash, you are on me grabbing each arm, tearing my massive arms back, hooking them over the middle rope. My neck whips forward as the top rope comes down fast, lashing and securing me tight. I’m bound up like a fucking beast, my body locked unable to move.

I sag back into the ropes, every muscle bulging, I shake my head for some god damned clarity … even though I can barely fucking move. “Fucker you are going down – No way you gonna beat me” I growl out weakly. I’m soaked, my gut heaving, sucking for air. “I’ll…get…you…”

I can barely hold my head up, you grab a swath of my hair, forcing my lolling head up. I hear you growl out a taunt - every word seared into my brain. You don’t give me time to react. You spring to life, your knee bolts up and slams into my chest like some choreographed assault. Your knees piston into my chest. Your big fuck tool flops up, the splatter of pre-cum over my pecs and reaching to my fucking chin.

You’re a fucking machine as you pound on me, I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I’m bulging and red, my chest slowly giving in to the relentless assault. I can feel it breaking under the pressure until even the densest slabs of muscle start to quiver, then fucking jiggle as the muscle finally gives.

My eyes blank and empty, mouth hanging open and drooling for mercy…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Haha! You are such a loser! I’m loving this---watching you hang there in the ropes, completely helpless. And the guys around the ring? Shocked!

Shocked that this lean, young bastard is absolutely wrecking the puffed-up muscle bitch. And with every hit, you sink deeper into the ropes. You did not see this humiliation coming, did you? Damn, how embarrassing this night is turning out for you.

I flash a wicked grin and grab your jaw, pressing my body against yours, pinning you against the ropes so you don’t slump down to the mat. My rock hard schlong grinding against your roid gut, your bricks massaging my cum vein---

"Since you’re such a shitty bartender, I got a new job for you---"

I growl it right in your face before stepping up onto the middle rope. One leg to your right. One leg to your left. And my third leg is parked right on your face. My slit gapes open and spits out some pre---right on your forehead---

"Now---make sure I’m nice and oiled up!" I bark and then RAM my throbbing steel pole right into your mouth, looking to make you gag with the first thrust, letting my balls pound your chin like fucking church bells---and then, choke you on my 9" meat---

North Star:

Tenderized by your knee, I slump forward. Grabbing my jaw, your big fucker grin fills my view. You're pressed against me, your 9" fuck pole grinding into my gut, showing your damn control.

You step up onto the middle rope, legs straddling me. I’m left squirming against you as that huge fuck stick of yours bobs in front of my face, nothing but monstrous. You let it hang there like bait, slit gaped open, belching up wads of precum greasing my forehead and cheek. 

That “Make sure I’m nice and oiled up!” fucking seals my fate, I practically feel you laugh at how helpless I am, pinned by the ropes and dripping in your fucking pre already. I try to fight back but can’t even finish my words.

“No… F…”

Before I get there, you stuff my mouth with something a lot thicker than words - that sausage punching at the back of my throat. You don’t ease into it. That 9” schlong the whole mass rammed down my throat, cum tanks slapping at my chin has me gagging in one thrust, my chest and shoulders bucking as I struggle to take it. I’m so close to puking.

My face goes red, hard and fast. Slobber spews out of my mouth, both sides. I can hardly see, nose smashed up against your pubes, completely buried in them. You pin me deep and merciless while I gag uncontrollably...

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I throw my head back with a deep, satisfied groan---pure relief on my end. You, though? Yeah, your sounds don’t exactly scream “having a good time.” More like you're just now realizing you’re in serious trouble. And spoiler alert: I’ve got zero plans to let up.

"Time to raise the stakes!" I growl right in your face as your eyes start to glass over, spit running down your cheek. Why? Because there’s just no room left in that filthy mug of yours anymore as my thick 9" meat is filling you up completely.

"How’s that taste, you puffed-up muscle jobber?" This---this right here---is what I live for. A few minutes ago, you couldn’t shut up. And now? You couldn’t tap out even if you wanted to. Choked up on my dong---completely mine.

"YO, SOMEONE BETTER START LOOKIN’ FOR A NEW BARTENDER! THIS ONE’S GONNA BE ON SICK LEAVE FOR WEEKS!" I shout to the crowd, feeding off the chaos, their cheers mixing with your muffled groans. I’ve got your head locked in tight, and I start driving my hips forward, over and over, hammering the point home---literally. I make you feel every single inch of my cock as I RAM it down your throat, fucking your muscle head like my new favorite flashlight toy. My heavy balls slamming into your chin like church bells, letting your saliva spray around with each thrust.

North Star:

The Ropes squeaking loud, high-pitched and nonstop as you plow into my face with that huge dong. The crowd is eating this shit up, going apeshit as you drill my throat. I’m just some muscle whore, working a glory hole, hanging there completely helpless as you pound me into dust. My eyes flutter white, my face lit up bright red as I choke. Neck and chest veins explode as your dick pummels my throat.

Your taunts come fast and furious, breaking through the chaos like gunshots. Degrading insults that give you even more power, turning me into your personal fucking fleshlight. My mouth is frothing with spit, the thick globs splattering your huge dong. I don’t know how much more I can take. You keep thrusting, relentless, using my weakness to fuel the pace. My head bounces off the ropes with every drive of your slick pole, ricocheting back and forth in a brutal rhythm. My gut churns, the pressure ramping from my mouth down to my stomach. I feel it coming, your massive dong swelling to fill every inch, speared so deep My gut wretches sending a huge flood of slime splattering over your cock, and down my chin.

You keep me pinned like I’m your bitch. I can’t get away, can’t move an inch, can’t do shit about it. I keep taking your cock, it’s relentless. I can’t stop your fucking monster of a tool. I can’t stop it from slamming to the back of my throat. Not even for a second. You just keep pounding me, not giving me a break, not letting up. You’re fucking merciless, My breaths coming in ragged gasps, saliva and tears stream down my face. This is nothing more than a pathetic spectacle, It’s brutal, and I can hardly breathe, gagging and helpless. I can’t even hold my head up. I don’t know how much longer I can last---this fucking punk is showing me up in front of everyone, working me like a cheap trinket for all to see.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I’d say this isn’t exactly how you thought your day was gonna go when you dragged your ass to work, huh? Bet you figured you’d cruise through a chill shift, watch a few fights from behind the bar. And now? You’re in one. And---unfortunately for you---it’s not looking too great on your end. You're gagging, choking, spitting, drooling as my fat schlong drills down your throat.

Yeah, you’re a strong guy, sure. But so far I’ve been outmaneuvering you left and right, making a full-blown bitch out of you. And we’re nowhere near done.

I balance on the top rope, arms raised high---then I hit a double bicep, giving the crowd exactly what they came for. The lean guy’s playing with the bodybuilder tonight. But then---My body tenses---I suddenly have to grip the top rope to keep my balance from slipping. My face twists---here---it---comes---

My balls churn hard and I release a huge load deep inside your guts, my thrusts are uncontrolled now---my body shivers and stiffens as I shoot my hot man juice into your filthy mouth---"Ughhh---FUUUUCCKKKK----swallow THAT bitch!"

North Star:

My body has no room to move, caught up tight in this tangled mess. This---Jesus---this is fucking brutal. You have me completely worked, I’m totally pinned, helpless, dangling like a puppet as you drill my throat with that monstrous schlong. Precum and spit pours out of me coating your mighty dong as it pistons in and out. My face a soaking disaster, slobber streaming down as you keep fucking pounding away.

The ropes squeak, high-pitched and nonstop, matching the brutal rhythm as you plow into my face, balls deep, without mercy. You keep hammering, keep squeezing out every ounce of humiliation. Going harder every damn second. "Ughhh---FUUUUCCKKKK----swallow THAT bitch!" I hear you and so does the rest of the bar, the crowd going insane knowing you completely own me, seeing you coat the inside of my mouth with a massive load that I have no choice but to take.

I feel you tense up, your fucking dong swelling —- gagging as hot jizz explodes down my throat in an intense rush, thick and endless. I’m drowned in sticky juice before I can even gasp for air, choking on cum, slimy, steamy, so much I can’t keep it all down. It pours back up, plasters my face as you keep shooting. Completely flooding me in a sick fucking avalanche. My stomach distended, drowning on your massive load, while the rest of me drips with the mess I can’t swallow.

You don’t slow for a damn second, still thrusting wild and full of force, riding out every shiver of your release. My head rocks back and forth helplessly. My jaw slack, you pull out with a slick pop, leaving a huge, greasy trail of your load…I cough it up in thick streams, slug after slug of cum dripping down my neck and thick chest.

My dignity is in the same fucking state: wrecked, pummeled. I’m out of breath, dripping, gagging, feeling fucking defeated.

You pause, sensing the slightest moment of mercy, I dig my heels into the canvas and arch my back pressing into the ropes. It’s now or fucking never. The top rope wobbles and then slips from my shoulders---a single second of freedom freeing my arms. I’m a sweaty, humiliated wreck, but I’m not done yet.

I hear you growl,but I’ve got my opening. You’re off balance, not expecting it, and I’m desperate as hell--- My arms shoot out, wrapping around your waist, I squeeze, lunge forward holding you for an agonizing moment, and then I drop down low, using your weight to finish the job. You crash onto my knee with a brutal reverse atomic drop…collapsing to the canvas in a fucking heap, balls squashed — I watch you shake and writhe. You thought you had me wrecked, but now? Look where you are - down, hurting, holding yourself like the last juicy slut on earth. But it’s far from over. Not by a mile.

The crowd explodes with endless screams! I hear the whole bar shouting, jacked-off on the sudden switch. This is what they paid to see. Not some lean punk showing off. They want a real match and I’m gonna give it to them…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

This is my moment. I can feel it. This night turns out to be the highlight of my weekend. Well---actually the highlight of the year. When I step into the ring then I am doing it to dominate. This is my element. And you're nothing more than some jobber meat, I knew it when I saw you. So I am going to treat you like it. You're gurgling down my jizz and half of it starts dripping down my dick, then running over my thighs, mixed with your saliva---"You're making a mess---bastard---" But just when I finished my sentence your arms suddenly wrap around my body. My face looks stunned---"Wha---what the---" This guy is still fighting---I wave my arms around to not lose balance, but then you charge forward---and BOOOM, slamming my heavy loaded balls on your muscle quads---

"ARRGGHHH!" I flop back on the mats, my hands immediately grab my junk, my cock still sensitive, just like my bull nuts---I squirm in pain as I hear the crowd gasping, no one expected this sudden comeback---but while I am still processing what happened and trying to nurse the pain shooting through my whole body, I desperately try to escape towards the ropes---realizing this fight isn't over as fast as I expected---

North Star:

The taste of your fucking cum…still leaves a foul taste, my gut loaded with your gizz. I ain’t done.

You didn’t think I had it in me, did you? But here I am, one step behind you, ready to pounce as you slowly crawl towards the ropes, desperate, like a fucking wounded animal. I can’t help but notice that hot ass, that lean muscle flexing as you inch forward. Just as you reach out for the ropes, I tug my bulge, stepping over you and showing the crowd who’s in charge. I plant my ass on your lower back, crushing you to the canvas. Then drag each of those arms over my knees. My hands wrap around your neck, hauling you up into a brutal camel clutch, jerking your head up higher. You moan, squirm, trying to buck me off, but I’m too damn heavy---I have you pinned right where I want you. I’m not letting you off, not after how you just played me. I grind into your lower back, my dick swells against your back, pushing out from my posers, slicking you with precum. “You ain’t welcome in this bar Hunter! I’m gonna drag you through hell and back.” I shout.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Everything’s a blur. My balls are screaming, lungs barely pulling in breath. The mat beneath me feels like it’s melting into my skin---sweat, heat, pain---it’s all one now. I almost had the ropes---almost.

Then I feel you mount me, ass on my lower back, locking in that camel clutch, and my spine arches like it’s about to snap in half. "ARRGGHH!" I grit my teeth as my chin’s yanked high, eyes staring up into the blinding lights of the bar ring. The crowd’s roaring like animals, and I know---I know they’re not here for mercy.

My body twists, bucks, refuses to break, but you’re too damn heavy. I can feel every ounce of you grinding into my back, your rock hard bulge---dominating me, soaking in the spotlight while I’m laid bare in front of everyone. And your words---those taunts---they cut deeper than the hold.

But I don’t tap. Hell no. Not yet.

North Star:

I tug back even more, letting the whole damn bar see you on display. You squirm and fight against the hold, I know you're not giving up easily. I pull my hands from your chin letting your head hang, then push your arms from my quads letting you flop to the canvas before standing up.

You thought I’m done with you? Your ass is mine tonight. Thought you had me beat, limp and wrecked? Think again. "Get ready for round two, bitch!" I flex over your crumpled body, making sure the crowd sees me owning this match. You’re fucked, you’re finished, and you’re about to learn a lesson you won’t forget. You’re gonna pay for that shit you pulled earlier.

Reaching down I grab your left wrist, yanking it high you’re forced to your knees. I pull you in tight, then start to smash my knee into your head repeatedly, 1,2,3,4… exploding across your face, again, again, and again, your fucking skull snapping back and forth. Spit sprays from your mouth, you’re overwhelmed. I yell out “Where’s my tip fucker?”.

The crowd goes wild watching you getting busted up bad, screaming louder every time I drill you.

Finally stopping, you teeter and slump against me. Sweat and spit drip from your face and chest, you hang from my grip, lifeless, barely able to hold yourself up. Light as a fucking feather. I pull you the rest of the way off the canvas and back you into the ropes. You can barely hold yourself upright. I whip you across the ring. You sink deep into the opposite ropes and stagger on the rebound as I charge forward and leap---you can’t escape it now! Aiming my shoulder at your abs, arms out wide aiming to grab you in a bone-shattering tackle…coming at you like a freight train!…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Then the pressure disappears, and I collapse face-first onto the canvas like a rag doll, the relief mixing with dread. You’re not done. Not by a long shot. Your hand clamps around my wrist---iron-tight---and suddenly I’m yanked up to my knees. My arms are limp, head swaying, and then BAM!

A knee collides with my skull. Then another. And another. A rapid-fire assault---my brain rattling like dice in a cup. Spit flies from my mouth, blood maybe too. My jaw snaps sideways. I lose track of the count. The crowd’s a blur of noise and color, screaming with lust.

“Where’s my tip, fucker?” The words echo inside my skull, and I almost laugh---but it comes out a wet groan. My body’s hanging from your grip like it’s not even mine anymore. Dead weight. You back me into the ropes like I’m your personal punching bag, and then you throw me. Everything slows. I bounce off the ropes, vision swimming, legs barely holding. And there you are. Charging. A beast. No, a damn juggernaut. Shoulder lowered. Arms wide.

BOOOOOOM! The whole ring shakes as you flatten me under your heavy body, l'm laid out as the air is driven out of me---what the fuck happened?

North Star:

My arm crashes into your chest with bone-crushing force snapping you backwards, practically cartwheeling your whole body across the damn ring. The crowd erupts in wild surprise, everyone losing their shit as you collapse to the mat. The sound is deafening. I watch your limp ass sprawl out beneath me. The impact rattles the boards, and you lay there wrecked, stunned. Fuck yes. I’m in charge…I’m gonna fucking destroy you…This night belongs to North Star.

I drag you to the corner, my cock tenting out like a trophy, every fucking eye on me. "Payback loser!" I shout as I bounce your head off the corner pad. 1. You slump down, but I yank you back for more. 2. You thought you’d humiliated me, but now you know your place. 3. Found my fucktoy. I yank your beaten head back forcing you to stare at the crowd. Everyone knows what’s coming next. Everyone’s screaming for it. Your fat pole slimed with cum and my slobber, bouncing side to side for all to fixate on…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

The moment your arm crashes into my chest, it’s like someone dropped a steel beam across my ribs. My feet leave the ground---no, I’m flung backward like a damn ragdoll, flipping midair, limbs flailing. I don’t even hit the mat---I detonate on it. Canvas slaps hard against my back, my lungs seize, and everything rings like I’m underwater.

The crowd explodes around us, but I can’t even hear them right. It’s all just thunder in my skull. I barely know where I am before you’re on me again. Hands dragging my limp body toward the corner like you’re tossing trash to the curb. My head bounces off the turnbuckle once, twice---"UGGHHH UGHHHHH!"---by the third time, I’m seeing stars.

Then---I can feel your hand on my waistband just before you strip me off my gear---my thick throbbing schlong swinging around, fucking intimidating in its size and veins popping out from the pump—

North Star:

My hand springs forward, lightning fast, latching onto a handful of your low hangers. You howl, squeezing them tight, dragging you up to your tippy toes in agony as the whole bar explodes in fucking disbelief. "Hunter, you’re just another jobber getting owned by the real Star,” I shout. Your mouth open, eyes wide, a goddamn mess. With my other hand, I clamp down on your neck, choking you out, heaving you up into a massive gorilla press. The crowd is going wild watching my mass of muscle work you. One hand crushing your balls, the other strangling you, you’re a fucking rag doll. I feel your body buck and kick, desperate, but you ain’t going nowhere. My arms bulge as I press you higher, You’re on display, held high above my head as I parade you, corner to corner, my swollen cock leading the charge. You thought you had me beat? You thought wrong. The crowd's stunned. They're fucking eating this up, and I’m loving every second of it…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

You grab my heavy bull balls and it’s like lightning shoots up my spine. "AARRRGGHHH!!!" I scream---raw, primal. Legs kicking, muscles twitching in panic. My entire body convulses as you lift me by my soul, every nerve screaming for release. I can’t even think---I’m just riding the pain.

Then you choke me---your grip around my neck tight like iron cable---and suddenly I’m airborne again. My legs dangle, useless. The crowd’s losing their damn minds as you gorilla press me like I weigh nothing. You’re parading me around like a trophy kill, every step pounding my pride into the dirt.

I twist. I jerk. I fight. But your arms are locked like steel girders. My cock just oozing pre, dripping down on the mats across the ring---

North Star:

I fucking need some adoration from this jackass crowd. Your sad predicament provides the moment. Your soul is crushed, your body limp and sweat-soaked in my arms as I parade you around like a prized kill. "Get used to it, bitch!" I shout. You’re mine now. Your semi hard dong waving back and forth like a raised white flag. The sight moving the crowd into a fucking frenzy.

I start doing reps with your carcass, hoisting you up like it’s nothing, showing my strength, letting them see you surrendered. The crowd is crazed, total
disbelief. Screaming, howling like beasts, loving the way I’m manhandling you without even breaking a sweat. I pump you up into the air, back down---one, two, three times---a goddamn spectacle. "Watch this!" I yell.

The last rep I hold you high, dangling like you’re weightless. Then release my grip. You crash to the canvas hard making the ring quake. 

Rob Hunter-Kane:

My body’s limp in your grip, my face red and dripping sweat, my chest heaving just trying to suck in air. The crowd’s screaming like maniacs as you parade me around, showing me off like a trophy, with my rock hard 9“ dong waving around like a flag---

I hear your voice---you're fucking RAGING! Every pump of your arms drives the point home---one, two, three times you hoist me up like I'm nothing but a rag doll---and then the CRASH against the mat makes my body spasm!

I groan, twitching, brain foggy, everything inside me telling me to stay down---but I’m burning with rage, and I ball my fist, pounding it into the mats slowly—-

North Star:

I turn to find you splayed out, groaning, occasionally twitching…

I’m giving this crowd a fucking show. I do a few laps around the ring, strutting with your mess of a body still fresh in everyone’s mind. I flex over and over, muscles pumped and swollen, like iron. I kiss my biceps and throw my arms up, daring anyone not to admire my mass. I’m all smirks and arrogance, letting every asshole know who’s owning the night. I’ve got you right where I want you. Just a wannabe who thought he could step up to me…

Finally I turn back, and there you are, up on your knees. Can’t believe you’re already off the mat but you’re sure as hell looking shaky. Teetering back and forth…

I strip my posers off like they’re fucking nothing - tossing them into the crowd, my cock springs up hard. I stomp over to you, from behind I bend over, shoving my hand in your mouth, stretching your lips, gagging you with my fingers as I yank your dizzy ass back on your knees, forcing you to fight for air. Your 9" flagpole bobbing on display as you arch back, helpless. I drop my ass down, smothering your face. Your mouth is wide open, chin wet from the slime of my ball sack. Your arms pinned, legs kicking, my full weight riding your face, owning you. My left hand grabs that fuck stick and starts pounding it into submission. I’m totally owning you…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

My body’s limp in your grip, my face red and dripping sweat, my chest heaving just trying to suck in air. The crowd’s screaming like maniacs as you parade me around, showing me off like a trophy, with my rock hard 9“ dong waving around like a flag---

I hear your voice---you're fucking RAGING! Every pump of your arms drives the point home---one, two, three times you hoist me up like I'm nothing but a rag doll---and then the CRASH against the mat makes my body spasm!

I groan, twitching, brain foggy, everything inside me telling me to stay down---but something burns underneath the pain. Anger.
 Pride.
 Refusal.

You strut around, flexing like you own this bar, drinking in the crowd’s cheering, while I force myself to push one hand to the mat.
bThen the other.
 My body feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but I will not let you have this ending without a fight.

I get up onto my knees, vision blurred---but stubborn as hell. You stomp over, and before I can react, you JAM your damn fingers into my mouth, stretching my lips, gagging me, yanking me back rough! I choke and gag against it, my head swimming, the humiliation pouring over me worse than the beating.

And then---your full weight drops on my face. Your sweaty asscrack engulfs my nose and mouth as your thick glutes chew on my head—---Arms pinned, breathing ripped away like it’s nothing---only your ripe musk is invading my brain.

My chest heaves, panic setting in---this is NOT how my night ends. Focus!---Use what you’ve got! But then you go for the kill—your hand grabs my fat schlong tight---I feel your strong hand wrapping around my veiny shaft---and this pounding is not going to be gentle at all---you start beating my meat with full power, the wet slapping sounds echo through the arena as my massive cock is spitting pre into all directions---and all I can do is huffing in your musky asshole---my balls are churning---and my cum slit starts gaping wide!

North Star:

My glutes are wrapped around your face like saran wrap.
Each pump of your meat matches my grinding rhythm on your face. I'm relentless, milking your pole with savage strokes, feeling it pulse and throb in my grip. The crowd's howling like animals now...

"That's right, fucking leak for me," I growl, squeezing tighter, working that fuck stick harder...

Your hips jerking involuntarily. Every muscle in your body tenses, fighting the inevitable. I can feel it building—your resistance crumbling with each vicious stroke...

Your muffled groans vibrate against my ass, I speed up, my grip viselike, palm slick with your precum. I feel your face contorting against my ass, your muffled screams intensifying as your balls draw up tight. Your cock's practically weeping now, shaft pulsing, head swollen purple. Your hips jerk upward, your whole body convulsing, slit gaped wide…

Rob Hunter:

This is not what I expected to happen---this is fucking NOT what I planned---I didn't think this slutty bartender got so much fight in him---but here I am, buried under your sweaty muscle ass, and leaking right into your hand as you power pump my fat 9" cock.

I know you want to humiliate me after what I did to you, and I have to admit, it works---the noises of the crowd are muffled as your massive glutes chew on my whole face but I can hear them cheering for you, encouraging you to milk my heavy nuts---fuck---this cannot happen---but it does---

Your hole locked with my lips, my muscles stiffen and then I suddenly BUST my load straight into the air, rope after rope shoots up and rains down on the mats and my abs---the crowd is freaking out---you're so fucking satisfied with this---and I am laid out with my arms and legs twitching from the orgasm---my head in a daze---you press that thick musky ass down, grinding my head into the mats—-

North Star:

The crowd's lost their fucking minds, howling and chanting as I dominate you completely…

I rock back on your face, riding it like I'm taking a victory lap, going for the ultimate crushing blow. Each bounce on your face squeezes your resistance further. Each pump of your shaft pushes you closer to the edge. Your last bit of defiance shot to pieces, you're about to break. I release your 9" of swollen fuck meat and it just throbs in the air, ready to blow. It's belching out volleys of precum, your fucking nuts so tight, practically crammed up into your pelvis. Your whole body surrendering to the inevitable. This is it...

Then you unload, its fucking endless, a cannon, each throb from your bull balls sending a huge stream of jizz landing and puddling at least one or two feet away on the canvas. Each splatter a wad of defeat…

I slide off your face but not before grinding my ass one last time, making sure you get a lasting whiff of musk, making sure you know this is exactly where you belong. I push you upright and forward, sending you face first into the massive pool of jizz you shot. I stand, watching you gasp and sputter like the defeated bitch you are, stepping behind you, one more assault on your pride, I press my boot to your head like I'm stomping out a cigarette, forcing your face into the cum puddle. I raise my arms with a biceps flex, my arms pumped and peaked - the audience eating it up watching me shame you…

I haul you up from the canvas, your fucking dong still semi hard bouncing and dripping. "Get ready for more punishment, bitch!" I yell ...

I whip you into the turnbuckle and barrel in shoulder low ready to end this...

Rob Hunter-Kane:

You get up and yank me with you—-"Ugh---ugh---fu---" I grunt, not really aware what is going on but then you PUSH my face down into the puddle of cum, my mouth scoops up that thick juice, your sweaty foot on the back of my head, forcing me to rub that jizz into the mats, my mouth drooling, eyes watering---and the rage is BOILING!!!

You lift me off the mats---my legs are wobbly and I am trying to steady myself before you WHIP me into the corner---THUD!---my back hits the turnbuckle, arms over the top ropes---and you immediately charge towards me---I need to do something or you're going to squash me---and just before you drive your shoulder into my guts I PULL myself to the side and let you CRASH against the steel post with a loud CLANG!

North Star:

This fucking 260 pounds of freight train is derailed, my shoulder low and tucked aimed squarely at your abs, you shift to the side sending me crashing into the steel post. Pain explodes through my body, my momentum stops dead. Stunned, breathless, disbelief rushing through my veins. I bounce awkwardly from the post and drop sprawled out, vulnerable, exposed, my muscles twitching involuntarily.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I hold myself on the top rope, my body slightly bend forward as I am gasping for air, and getting back my focus---My face reddens as I watch you going down, that bloated muscle meat crumbling in pain and I am right behind you---fucking MAD!!! And without any hesitation I grab the top ropes with both hands as I mount over and STOMP STOMP STOMP my heel into your body, hitting whatever I can---"I'LL SEND YOU TO RETIREMENT YOU OLD FUCK!!!"

North Star:

I'm down, sprawled on the canvas like some rookie bitch. The first STOMP catches me right across the chest—"NNGH!"—driving the air from my lungs in a violent rush. The second lands on my muscle gut, sinking in despite all that muscle. By the third, I'm curling up, desperately trying to protect myself as your heels rain down mercilessly…

"FUCK! STOP—ARGH!" The words tear from my throat, but you're beyond reason now. I can see it in your eyes—that wild, unhinged look. I reach out and manage to grab your ankle on the next stomp , twisting hard I attempt to topple you sideways…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I’m in a full rage now, each stomp fueled by every hit you’ve given me tonight, every second I was under you, humiliated. It's too late now. You are going to pay for that---and I see the panic, the shock that this is happening, that I’m turning the tide.

You clutch my ankle and twist---but I plant my other foot and hold my balance, staggering only for a second. The crowd gasps, waiting for me to fall---but I don’t. Instead, I rip my leg free with a snarl, shaking you off like dead weight. You’re trying to rise, but you’re slow and broken. "What's wrong bitch? You look like a sack of dead meat!" I step back from the corner, letting you drop there in a slump---my rock hard cock swings from side to side---you milked me, yes---but this cock won't bend down that easily---

Your back hits the bottom turnbuckle---you’re seated, arms limp over the middle ropes, chest rising, face dazed. Right where I want you.

The crowd senses it---they know what’s coming. I hit the opposite corner---FLEX my veiny cock: "EAT THIS ONE YOU ROIDED BITCH!!!" And then I charge. All fury. I leap---legs spread---and SLAM down into you with a brutal, cum-drenched Bronco Buster, hips and thighs crashing into your chest, and my 9" sticky schlong SLAPS your face hard! WHAM. WHAM. WHAM. I ride it out, bouncing on your bulging muscle body, the ring shaking with every slam. The crowd is going absolutely crazy.

"YOU WANTED WAR?? YOU GOT IT JOBBER!!"

North Star:

I’m spread out like a conquered territory, my muscle gut glowing red with your heel print.

You’re making me pay now, dragging things out. I can see it in your eyes, that crazed look as you make me suffer. I almost take control, stunned, my hand grasps at nothing, you rip your boot from my grip. My muscle gut heaving for air, arms reaching out wildly, I can’t get my footing. I’m kicked back and my huge frame crumples into the corner, slumped against the post. Twitching, spent, destroyed meat now in a stare down with your rock hard fuckstick.

I’m desperate for air as you mount me with that savage bronco buster. Your filthy cock smacks my face repeatedly, each wet slap leaving trails of cum across my cheeks and lips. The crowd's roaring like animals, loving my humiliation. "FUCK—OFF—" I choke out between impacts, my head snapping back and forth as you ride me mercilessly. Each bounce drives me deeper into the corner, your sweaty thighs squeezing my head, your balls brushing my chin.

Your thighs like a vise, trapping me in this humiliating position. My huge arms flail uselessly at my sides, trying to push you off—but you're relentless, grinding harder, bouncing faster like I’m some cheap circus ride.

With a desperate surge, I reach up, grabbing your waist, summoning whatever strength I've got left. You're mid-bounce when I HEAVE forward, using the turnbuckle for leverage, launching you off me with a wild surge of power. 

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I throw my head back with a wicked grin, dripping sweat, thighs flexing around your face like a trap. "Keep talking, bitch---I'll have your filthy mouth stuffed soon---"

But then---something shifts. Your arms stop flailing---and suddenly lock around my waist. I feel you beneath me---suddenly pushing. “UGHHHH!” Too late.

BOOM! You heave with everything you’ve got, and I go flying---legs kicking, spine twisting in midair---before I crash flat on my back in the center of the ring. 

North Star:

You fly back, arms flailing as you crash to the canvas, that cocky swagger wiped from your face.

I lunge forward, catching you before you can recover. I haul you up by your hair, your body limp from the unexpected counter. With a grunt, I hoist you over my shoulder, your fat cock dangling against my back, your face pressed against my ass. Each step a struggle, I’m staggering, sweaty, my distended gut sucking in air as I parade you around the ring…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Before I can even blink, you’re on me again---A massive, sweaty shadow crashing down as your hand yanks a fistful of my hair, dragging me up roughly, no ceremony---just rage.

You hoist me up over your shoulder with a guttural grunt, my chest sliding over your soaked back, face buried awkwardly against your phat musky ass as you stagger toward the center. I huff in your scent and my cock PUMPS against your back---arms flailing as I slap your thick tree trunk legs and push against your hard buttocks---trying to slip off you but you got a tight grip on my body---

"Hmmpppfff---fu---fuck----"

North Star:

I'm parading your ass around, showing everyone who's really in charge of this fucking ring. Each step has your dick rubbing against my back leaving a slick trail of your shame. You're still hard—fucking pathetic. The more you struggle, the tighter my grip gets on your waist. Your arms flail helplessly, slapping against my thick quads and glutes. 

"Not so tough now, are you bitch?" I growl, spinning around so everyone can see your hot face stuffed into my big ass - giving the crowd a full view of how wrecked you are, a fucking trophy. I bounce you on my shoulder deliberately, making sure you feel every ounce of my 260 pounds of steel-hard muscle.

I swing you around, spinning in a circle, before I rock backwards and SLAM you down with a brainbuster that rocks the entire ring. Your body crumples on impact, arms and legs splayed out across the canvas like roadkill.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Your manly musk is deep inside my nose now as I my face dangles against your sweaty ass---I am trying to slip off somehow but your strong grip is keeping me in place---and my round glutes on full display for the crowd---

"NORTH IS DOMINATING THE HUNTER WITH HIS INCREDIBLE STRENGTH!!! THESE MUSCLES AREN'T JUST FOR SHOW!!!"

I slap my hands against your massive quads but it's futile---after showing off my body to the crowd you suddenly adjust my position---we're center ring---and then you drop back and SLAM my body on the mats with full form, your weight partially lands on top of me and I BOUNCE from the canvas until I am laid out in the middle of the ring----"UFFFFFFFF!"

I gasp deep, my chest is heaving, sweat running down my forehead---my muscles spasm for a moment as I hear the guys around the ring going wild—

North Star:

I’m up and heading back towards you. "That's what happens when you fuck with the wrong bartender!" I roar, my voice carrying over the chaos. I circle you like a predator, letting everyone see what's left of the cocky bastard who thought he could own me...

My slick dick pops up rigid slapping my abs. Stepping over your limp frame, straddling your chest. My massive thighs frame your face, I flex my biceps, showing the crowd exactly who owns this ring tonight. Then dropping to my knees crushing the air from your lungs. Your eyes bulge as I grab both your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand. My throbbing cock against your face, I grind my hips forward and smear my sticky juice over your lips…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I blink my eyes, my vision is blurry, I only see your massive frame towering over me. You drop on my body, planting your massive ass on my pecs and your sweaty junk is planted right on my face---your ball musk invading me immediately, keeping me musk-drunk and I start to shake under you---"HMMPPFFF PPFFF FUUUUU---" I grunt into your sack, legs kicking desperately---I taste your pre on my lips and I start to panic---my body starts bucking, trying to push you off me but I can't lift your heavy muscles from this position---

North Star:

Your hands are trapped above your head, my iron grip like a vise. You buck and thrash beneath me, but I'm too fucking heavy, too determined. I grind my hips forward, dragging my slick cock across your lips, marking you with my pre and scent.

I squeeze your wrists tighter above your head. Reach back with my free hand, my grip slides pumping your fat shaft, jerking cum from your giant dong with each yank. "Look at this fucking pole—still standing at attention while I wreck you. You're loving this, aren't you?"

I let my cum-covered hand slip from your dick, leaving it throbbing, pre dribbling down the shaft, desperate for my attention. You're fucking helpless. Too humiliated to admit how much you love it. I switch my grip and fishhook your cheek, your mouth stretched wide, a gaping display for all the guys cheering on your destruction. "Open wide, jobber," I growl, pressing my cockhead against your lips. "Time to learn what real domination feels like."

I slam my cock down your throat, no mercy, an animal. I moan with victory. You’re violated, eyes bulging, but you can't move me - gasping for air, that panicked look in your eyes gives me a sick thrill. "Suck it deeper!" I spit out, watching you choke.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Ugh---what the fuck is happening here---I'm laid out under this heavy muscle bull and your loaded nuts smother my face, your cum slit oozing pre on my lips and I grunt deep, desperately trying to throw you off but it's getting even worse---your balls smell so intense and my body starts twitching from the sensation---and before I can even think about what happens next you brutally stretch my mouth open with your sticky fingers---I can taste my own salty cum before you PLUNGE your daddy cock into my throat, I GAG immediately as my Adams apple gets pushed out from that intense throat fuck---

"OUR BARTENDER IS ANGRY!!! HE IS FEEDING COCK TO THE HUNTER AND GUYS, IT'S NOT LOOKING GOOD FOR HIM!!" 

North Star:

Your body goes limp as my cock spears into your throat, pinning you to the canvas. "That's it, bitch," I grunt, feeling my own body twitch with every merciless thrust, drowning you in cock. "Take it all, you fucking jobber!" I growl as I thrust again and again, pounding your throat. Your gagging drives me crazy, jamming my cock until I can feel every wet inch buried inside you, until you can't breathe. You’re my fuck toy.

My heavy balls swing, hanging hard against your chin. I make sure you feel them slap with each brutal ram. I am driving this cock through you, pounding like I'm nailing a fucking tent peg down, like I’m staking you to this ring. You're helpless, your body twitching, your breath hot on my shaft as you choke for air. My dick force feeding you massive wads of pre down your throat.

I let the crowd see every second of my trophy, the great Hunter who thought he'd beat me. Now look at you. Helpless. My bitch. My new fuckhole. Taking everything I give you. I moan louder, watching you drown in my juice, riding you harder and faster until I break you. Every thrust stretches your mouth. Every thrust makes me harder…

I cock my head back in pure ecstasy. I ride you like you're nothing. My pre spills down your throat, and my cock swells even harder, like a fucking crowbar stretching your mouth wide. Your face is turning red. My heavy sack slaps harder, heavier, as you gasp. You can't take much more, I can feel it, I can feel you shaking. Everything I give you, you take. Drowning in my juice. You're a fucking toy. My toy. My fuckhole. Your eyes bulge, that panicked look makes me wild, getting me closer…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I choke and gag with each thrust---saliva drooling out at the corner of my mouth and my moans get muffled by your crotch---your heavy nuts slam against my chin as you pound my face into the canvas---and the only thing I can do is take it---

My hands are pinned over my head, your hips slam down to fuck my face even deeper and my legs start thrashing and kicking involuntary---"Ugh--ugh---ugh---PHMMM---Ugh----" Your balls slap me with again and again---and my abs flex as I am desperately try to gasp some air in between---

North Star:

God damn this bitch is fucking talented - taking my full dick, your throat stretched to its limits, milking every inch with desperate hungry gulps. Your body is mine to break. My eyes roll back, your throat grips so fucking tight, so desperate. You’re gasping to breathe. “FUCK!” I groan, hips bucking, I’m running wild with no mercy. I can’t hold back. I'm pounding relentlessly, each thrust deeper than the last, watching your eyes bulge as you struggle beneath me. Your face is a mess - spit, precum, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“AAAGHHH” fuck!” I slam my dick in hard again, then hold my pulsing cock there. Balls deep. My cock head and slit swelling inside you, stretching, like it’s going to explode. Your eyes bulge, you’re my slut to break. “Fuck..Fuck..” I start to Unload, sending torrents of hot cum shooting down your throat, drowning you in seed.

The crowd's roaring around us, their chants driving me harder. This is what they came for - to see the mighty Hunter reduced to nothing but a cum dump.

SWALLOW IT ALL!" I growl, my voice barely human as my orgasm tears through me. My cock pulses violently, pumping load after load down this eager whores throat. No choice but to gulp it down, your Adam's apple bobbing desperately as you try to keep from drowning in seed.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I'm gagging and slurping like a damn bitch and I cannot believe what is happening here---this is NOT was I was looking for tonight but here I am, swallowing your fat dad cock and drooling like crazy---my eyes roll back as I am huffing your scent and your thick shaft is stretching my throat out---and then you unload---and this one is massive! Thick ropes spray down into my stomach without any chance to resist---the crowd can clearly see my Adams apple bulging with every single shot you bust down my throat---

"THAT'S A FULL CUMSHOT DOWN THE HUNTER'S THROAT---NORTH STAR MAKING HIM LOOK LIKE A FUCKTOY!!! BETTER NOT MESS WITH OUR BARTENDERS GUYS!!"

I just can't take this---my head reddens more and more and my body convulses under you---this humiliation fuels me with rage---it is burning inside me and with every word from the announcer I get even more desperate---I am close to the edge after this strong comeback and I need to focus on not passing out from the lack of air---but then you let that dick flop out of my mouth and I start coughing and burping up that cumshot—

North Star:

When I finally pull out, my cock leaves your lips with a wet pop, trailing strings of cum and spit between us. Your mouth hangs open, gasping for air, cum bubbling from your nostrils. I release your wrists, but you're too wrecked to even move them.

Standing, I don’t give you a second to think - “You thought you could own me? You thought I was an easy piece of ass?” I yank your head up like I'm pulling a fucking flag up a pole, using your hair as a handle. My balls drip down on your face as I drag you off the mat, strings of cum and spit, mark you. I want this whole fucking place to see you—wrecked, broken—what's left of a cocky legend who thought he could own me. I'm going to make sure everyone remembers what it looks like when you fuck with the wrong bartender!

You barely make it to your feet before your body gives out, legs collapsing under you, going slack, and you crumble right back to your knees in front of me, like it's the only position you know. You're face to cock, looking up at me with empty, fucked eyes. You’re My toy, My fuckhole. You can't even stand. My load is still dripping from your lips, hot seeing you this way- the great Hunter. Hopeless.

Let’s end this, boys! I shout. I raise my fist high, feeling it throb with anticipation, ready to drive it into that cocky face—ready to take a piece out of your thick skull…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

My eyes are still rolling a little and your massive frame that is towering over me is just blurry---that taste on my tongue is disgusting---I spit on the mats just before you reach down and pull me up on my knees again---your low hangers dangle into my face before you try to pull me up on my feet but I am wobbly as fuck and I drop on my knees against---your fat flagpole right in my face---

No---this cannot end like this---my hands slap against your quads as I am trying to steady myself---looking up at you as you're mocking me---and I see you're moving your arm up, I know you're going to finish me off now if I don't do something. And then I let out a PRIMAL ROAR---take together what I have left and then SLAM my right arm up into your bull balls---you just nutted, and these orbs are sensitive now---so this should bring this muscle bitch DOWN on the mats again before you can land that move---

North Star:

No Clue - Never saw it coming. My victory parade was cut brutally short. I'm bracing to land the knockout blow when your fist slams upward—CRUNCH—right into my freshly drained balls.

"NNNGHAAA—!" The sound that tears from my throat isn't human as your fist connects with my heavy nuts. White-hot pain explodes through my gut, thighs, radiating up into my spine. My knees buckle instantly, legs going numb, I drop like a rock to the canvas clutching my junk.

"FUCK-YOU-" I gasp, doubled over, face contorted in agony. The crowd gasps in collective shock, the momentum shifting yet again. My muscles spasm uncontrollably, my massive frame curling into itself as I rock back and forth. My domination was cut short by one desperate, perfectly aimed punch. My head spins still determined to take the win…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

My uppercut perfectly nails your swollen balls---your scream is filled with pain before you collapse on the mats---your legs just gave in by the amount of pain and watching you squirming in front of me gives me back my confidence---I can do this---no mistakes now---I need to keep this fucker busy---

I know how battered I am after you worked me but I am not done yet---I am fucking RAGING! I slowly push myself up on my feet again---my chest is heaving as I am gasping deep---I need a moment to recover a little, at least enough to fight back again---

I strut around you---my fat 9" cock is swinging from side to side, slapping against my quads as I measure your damage---I can tell how determined you are to win this but so am I---I take a few steps closer and then STOMP STOMP STOMP my foot into your temple, kicking you around on the mats and keep your muscle head dizzy---"COME ON BITCH!!! THIS IS NOT OVER YET!!!" I scream like a predator, no mercy left in me---

And then I reach for your arm and PULL you over on your back---your bulging roid gut pointing to the ceiling---arms laid out---my cock dripping pre on your body before I JUMP up and DRILL my knees right into your biceps, hitting the nerves right there where it hurts---I'm donny destroy you piece by piece tonight.

North Star:

You're already moving, seizing the opportunity, I can barely see through the haze of pain when you nail your fucking boot into my skull.

Once, Twice, Three times - my head whiplashing with each hit. My body jerks out of control, spasming, drooling. My vision is a blur of stars and sweat, my mouth hanging open, spit pooling as you keep pounding my head into the mats. You’re relentlessly driving me down, not letting up for a second, leaving me a wrecked mess on the canvas bordering on the edge of darkness.

You don’t waste a fucking second. You reach for my arm and pull me over on my back, I lay there staring up at your fat dick dripping pre, my musclegut pointed to the ceiling gasping for air, arms limp splayed out.

My biceps explode with pain, nerve endings on fire as your knees pin them to the canvas. "FUCK!" I roar, thrashing underneath you, my body bucking wildly, nerve points exploding - My biceps go numb instantly. Your weight on my arms feels like hot pokers driving into my muscles. I can't lift you off—can't even flex. My pride and joy, these massive guns, trapped beneath your bony knees.

"GET OFF ME!" I snarl, spittle flying from my lips as I arch my back, trying to throw you. But you're locked in, riding my struggles like you're breaking a wild bull...

The crowd's roaring - they can smell blood in the water now.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I hear your painful screams---you're shouting at me I should go off you---as if that will help you now---I dig my knees deep into your nerves, really letting that bulging biceps POP out---your arm starts to spasm from the pain---your body is out of control---and just a moment later I swivel around, drilling one knee down your biceps before I DROP my other knee right on your other biceps---

My ass hovers right over your face, your arms pinned under my knees, and not only that---both arms getting tortured as I almost cut off your nerves inside these pumped arms---and then I PLANT my ass squarely on your face, that will give me another moment to recover a little---and since I got that bloated road gut right in front of me---

"I'LL FUCKING BREAK THAT AB WALL BITCH!!!" I roar through the bar and then start to HAMMER my fists into your gut---again and again---the slapping sounds as my bare knuckles crash into your muscles and flesh echoes through the whole room, driving the air out of your bulging body and force you huff nothing but my ass---the oxygen is cut off bitch---

"THE HUNTER GOT HIM!!! NORTH IS GETTING PUMMELED WITHOUT MERCY!!!"

The announcer screams as I keep on drilling my fists into your roided belly---left, right, left right, left---and as I see your abs reddening from the abuse I RAISE both of my arms high, forming one big fist with my hands and then SLAM a solid ax handle down into your abs---the force making me drop forward, huffing and gasping but full of adrenaline---

Your fat cock swings right in front of my eyes---your sac hanging low between your legs but I reach forward, grab these bull nuts and pull them up, leaning my full weight on your face again---yanking your sack further up---the skin is stretching and I almost hoist your lower body off the mats---my fingers form a circle around your sac, only your orbs peeking out on top---and they are under an immense pressure like this---your sac stretched to the max---and then I raise my other arm, flex a quick biceps pose with one arm while my other hand grabs your meat tight as I YANK you up with all my might—

North Star:

Moaning … “Please Stop” …. My fucking 20+ arms being put through the meat grinder, your knee mashing each tendon. I writhe helplessly under you. Nerves screaming, My arm twitching and spasming wildly.

You spin with one knee dug into my arm, Your ass on my chest suddenly looming over my face with your other knee pinning my opposite arm. Not giving me a fucking break. Then I feel it—your ass. I buckwild under you, trying to get you off, but you just ride me. My world is cock and balls and your taunts. I stare up and see your fat dick swinging above me, still leaking pre like a faucet. You take a seat on my face, your ass smothering me deep. My world narrows to the rank heat of your hole and your crushing weight. My vision going dark, thoughts start slipping away, my mind collapsing under the lack of oxygen and the mad haze of pain. "I’LL FUCKING BREAK THAT AB WALL BITCH!!!" I hear you shouting, distant, like I’m at the end of a tunnel - I just want this to stop for one fucking second.

I’m barely conscious when you hammer both fists into my abs like jackhammers. Knuckles landing left, right, left, right, each strike sinking deeper into my thick muscle belly, my chest heaves for air, each gasp more panicked, more desperate, until all I can breathe is your ass smothering me.

"AARRGGHHHHH!" The sound vibrates against your cheeks as my legs thrash wildly, heels drumming the mat. My stretched sac feels like it's going to tear apart, your grip like a vice around my swollen eggs. Every nerve in my body is on fire—arms numb and useless under your knees, abs burning from your assault, and now my dick and balls are crushed beyond belief.

The agony explodes through my nuts like lightning—My body convulses violently beneath you, back arching off the canvas as a guttural scream tears from my throat, muffled by your ass grinding on my face.

My legs kick wildly against the canvas as waves of nausea crash over me. Your grip on my sac keeps me trapped, stretched, vulnerable. My vision goes black for a moment, consciousness threatening to slip away…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

Your body is twitching and spasming under me---those bulging muscles out of control---how pathetic, the big guy is so helpless---your screams absorbed by my ass, and your bull balls trapped in my tight grip---I can feel you huffing against my hole, your legs kicking wildly before your body slows down---

"Oh no bitch---you're not going out now---you are going to witness everything I'll do to you---" I growl and let go of our sac---but instead of snapping back, it just drops on the mats, stretched so loose that it's just staying in that sloppy shape---I lean forward and slightly lift my ass off your face---"Hey old man---no one said you can take a nap now---"

I push myself back on my knees right over your head---I slap slap slap your cheek, watching your eyes roll in your head as I'm checking how conscious you are---"Come on---get up---" I grab your thick pumped arms, still red from the torture, my hands hook into your sweaty pits as I DRAG your heavy body backwards to the ropes---It's not that far---and then I let your upper body drop back against the middle rope---

I reach up and grab the top rope, pulling it around your damaged arms and let it SNAP around them---your muscle body hanging there, unguarded, and so fucking helpless---I walk up to you and grab your head with one hand, yanking it back, exposing your meaty pecs---"TIME FOR RETIREMENT YOU OLD FUCK!!!" I shout and then DRIVE my knee into your chest, again and again----pounding you into the ropes with each hit, softening you up more and more---

North Star:

Everything is spinning. I can’t see straight. The only thing keeping me in the present is the wicked sting across my face—your hand comes down, again and again, jarring my jaw, jolting my head, reminding me that I’m not out yet, each strike a cattle prod to my nervous system, goading me, humiliating me in front of a hundred howling animals.

My arms flop uselessly at my side, every nerve wrecked. I can’t remember how to move, but you don’t give me a chance to figure it out anyway. You hook your fingers up under my armpits and DEADLIFT my carcass toward the ropes. My feet drag over the mats, my cock and balls flopping, body smeared with sweat and spit and pre and god knows what else. The crowd’s not even jeering anymore—they’re just laughing, drinking in the spectacle of North Star, their one-time hero, being hauled like a sack of trash.

My back pushed into the ropes, arms locked. I'm strung out for the whole world, my body an anatomy chart of defeat—shoulders shredded, delts torched, biceps nothing but numb throbbing anchors, my pecs heaving under the spotlight of humiliation. My arms dangling useless, chest and abs exposed, defenseless, every muscle twitching with aftershocks.

You grab a fistful of my sweat-soaked hair and yank my head up, twisting my neck so I’m forced to meet your eyes. You lean in close, your breath hot against my cheek, and bellow: “TIME FOR RETIREMENT YOU OLD FUCK!!!” Your voice rattles inside my head like a pipe bomb.

The next instant, your knee arcs up and SLAMS into my chest—your thigh a steel piston. I feel my pecs compress, the wind blasted out of me in a wet, gurgling cough. My entire body jackknifes, but the ropes and your grip hold me locked in place. You repeat the move, again and again—my sternum denting under the barrage. With every blow, my vision splinters, my head involuntarily snapping back, drool and sweat sent flying. My thick chest now sags. The humiliation stings even worse than the pain as I hang defenseless, every muscle twitching, my cock half-hard and leaking, each drip broadcasting disgrace…

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I’m in fucking destroy mode. And I mean that literally. This fight has never just been about domination. Tonight it’s way beyond that---I want to ruin you---you and your dignity---and don’t act like you would’ve shown me any mercy. So guess what? You’re walking outta this ring without a shred of honor.

The crowd is eating it up. No one’s even thinking about their drinks anymore---this is the real show---and they're gonna need a free hand for that. And they’re all just waiting to see how much more humiliation you can take. The big muscle guy---whimpering like a pussy---

I circle you like a fucking lion ready to strike---bloodthirsty and full of adrenaline. My muscles are pumped as hell--- every inch of me coiled and ready. You’re just hanging there now, a sweaty, limp mess. The ropes are the only thing keeping you from hitting the mat---you’re floating in them, completely wrecked. And now you’re drooling? Shit. This is not looking good for you bitch---

I grin and step through the ropes---one leg up, right over your head, just enough to snap you into a loose headscissor. Face front and center for the whole damn crowd to see---right under my damp asscrack---I'm not choking you---I want you to get a good whiff from a real man---"You wanted that ass bitch? Hmm so badly---"

North Star:

Hands point and cameras flash. They want to capture this moment, the exact instant when North Star, the master of muscle, gets reduced to a boneless, mewling strip of beefcake by the leaner, meaner legend. Their hoots and roars drown out the ringing in my ears, and above it I hear the sharp crack of your knee, over and over, turning my body into a demo tape of suffering. .

A moment of reprieve, you step through the ropes---one leg up, right over my head, just enough to snap me into a loose headscissor. Face front and center for the whole damn crowd to see---right under your musky damp asscrack. I get a good whiff, your musk filling my head. Each time you flex, the stink ratchets up, a wave of pure alpha and humiliation. My lungs burn, my vision fades, every sense is loaded with your scent, your sweat, your raw manhood. I am nothing but a hole for your funk. I try to twist and you just clamp the leg tighter, riding my struggles like a bull, using my face as a saddle.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

“You guys better hire a new bartender after tonight!” I shout out to the crowd, loud enough to get a cheer. Then I turn my back to them, lock my other leg around your neck---this time a little tighter. Not even all the way---just enough to keep you stuck right there, helpless, trapped in the ropes like my personal muscle toy. My fat 9" dong swings from side to side---close to your face, eventually slapping your cheeks---you know where this will go. But I want to erase any doubt of who's in charge tonight---

"You’re not going anywhere, and I’m not done with you yet." And with that I SLAM SLAM SLAM my fist into your exposed roid gut---again and again---my cock jumps beside your face with each hit and I let out a grunt, sweat flying around as the crowd hypes me up more and more---

North Star:

The entire room can see how hard I am, how helplessly I’m popping for your punishment, my cock and balls leaking. My head is a blur of agony and need, and the only thing keeping me conscious is the humiliation you pump into me with every flex and taunt.

"You guys better hire a new bartender after tonight!" you shout out to the crowd, loud enough to get a cheer. Then you turn your back to them, lock your other leg around my neck—this time a little tighter. Not even all the way—just enough to keep me stuck right there, helpless, trapped in the ropes like your personal muscle toy. Your fat 9" dong swings from side to side, close to my face, slapping my cheeks, smearing it across my jaw, painting me with your arousal.

And with that you SLAM SLAM SLAM your fist into my exposed roid gut, with each blow, my head snaps back and forth, eyes rolling wild as another fresh jolt rips up my spine. All I can see is your cock, all I can smell is your sweat, all I can hear is the roar of the crowd as you make my body your personal heavy bag. The ropes cut into my arms, holding me up like a trophy for your amusement. My pecs heave, my stomach spasms, and my cock-fucking traitor-drips harder, each slap of your cock on my jaw making my own throb and ooze. The humiliation is driving me insane—every instinct tells me to fight, to break free, but my body is too wrecked, too broken, too shocked by what you’re doing and the crowd’s monstrous approval.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

The place is losing its damn mind. Everyone’s screaming, phones out, drinks spilling. But I’m not hearing any of that. I’m locked on to you. And you’re just now starting to realize---tonight, you’re MINE. You picked the wrong fight, and now you're stuck in a slow, ugly fall you can’t stop.

This fight is about to be decided. You're circling the drain, and the longer this goes, the deeper I drag you down. Every second, you’re becoming less of a threat and more of a toy. And I’m nowhere near finished playing.

You’re fading. I feel it in your breath, ragged and uneven, like your lungs are begging for air that’s just not coming. My thighs clamp around your neck, crushing down like a vice. This is punishment. Humiliation wrapped in muscle.

Your body’s betraying you. All that gym-built bulk is eating oxygen like a wildfire. And you're burning out fast. You sound like a busted engine, sputtering and choking. Those “alpha” muscles of yours are just oversized balloons full of nothing. “What’s the matter, champ? Can’t keep up?”

I smirk---no mercy in it. Just raw cruelty. This is the part I like. Watching the fear settle in. Watching the swagger drain out of your eyes. You dragged me into this ring like you had something to prove. Big mistake. I shift back just enough to set both feet. Then I drive forward---hips snapping in and I PUSH my rock hard cock with that low hanging sack deep into your face, giving you nothing but my rank musk. Your face twists in panic. You’re not fighting anymore---you’re just desperately trying to breathe. And failing.

“Let’s show the crowd what happens when a meathead thinks he’s a monster.” I climb onto the apron, grip your throat tight with both hands, and YANK---stretching you out like a ragdoll. Your chest strains, pecs trembling, and then---THWACK!

North Star:

You don’t just toy with me, you dismantle. Every second I’m locked between your legs is another second the legend North Star gets converted into an airless, twitching, drooling fuck puppet for your entertainment.

My nose is rammed up into the damp, musky line of your pubes, my mouth forced wide by the relentless piston of your cock mashing my lips, suffocating me under its rank, sweaty weight. I try to shift, to twist out from your grip, but every muscle is just dead rubber now. My arms hang limp over the ropes. My head gets jerked up only so you can get a better angle to plant your nuts on my face for the whole room to see.

You climb onto the apron, grip my throat and stretch my now pathetic muscle out. The crowd is a wall of noise behind you-jeering, howling, egging on my destruction. Your forearm comes down. Not once, not twice. You rain them on me, slamming into my chest with sickening wet cracks. My chest caves under the bombardment - once proud pecs sag low. My ribs ache under your relentless assault, nerves lighting up with agony.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

My forearm crashes into your ribcage like a hammer, your rock hard cock jumps and I see precum spitting on your roid gut. You jerk forward, but the ropes hold you up---digging into your pumped arms like barbed wire. Your muscles twitch, veins bulging, muscles flaring with useless effort.

Then I slide in behind you---calm and surgical. My arm coils around your throat like a snake. I flex. Hard! My bicep grinds into your windpipe. Every breath now is a war you're losing.

My mouth is right next to your ear. “Time to sleep, bitch. No one's saving you. And I’m not done ‘til you break.”

North Star:

My body convulses against the ropes, massive frame reduced to helpless spasms. The steel cables dig deeper into my arms with each struggle, cutting circulation to my already tortured biceps. My cock throbs painfully hard against my gut, betraying every ounce of pride I have left.

But there’s no mercy. Your arms snake around from behind, one thick forearm jamming across my windpipe while your other hand cinches tight behind my head. My body jerks and convulses against the ropes, it's useless. My massive frame—all this muscle I've built up over the years—means nothing now. I'm just dead weight hanging there while you choke the life out of me. Spit drools from my mouth as I gasp desperately for air that won't come. Every breath a desperate wheeze. My vision starts to blur, edges going dark as you squeeze tighter. The crowd's roaring fades to a dull buzz in my ears. Your hot breath in my ear sends chills down my spine as those words sink in. "Time to sleep, bitch." The finality of it hits me like a fucking hammer.

"Please..." The word comes out as barely a whisper, my pride finally cracking. My cock throbs against my abs, still hard despite everything—or maybe because of it. The humiliation is complete. The mighty North Star reduced to begging. Panic rockets through me; legs spasm in wild helpless kicks that do nothing but amuse the crowd more...

Rob Hunter-Kane:

My arm’s getting tighter by the second. I’m pressing my bicep right into your windpipe---gotta be humiliating. All that muscle you’re packing is completely useless. I’m leaner, faster, and I’ve got you under control without breaking a sweat. And the crowd loves it. They’re eating it up. I’m gonna walk outta here with more tips tonight than you make in a whole damn year slinging flat beer---

And I can feel you fading, bit by bit. “What’s the matter, big guy? Running outta gas already? All that bulk and your stamina’s a total joke.” I growl it right into your ear, heart pounding, adrenaline rushing through me. Someone behind me gives my bare ass a slap---I brush it off---but I can feel the energy. The crowd’s going nuts, probably drunk off their asses.

I feel your head start to drop, heavy, and then finally---it slumps forward. I hold the sleeper a little longer, grinding my body into your thick back. Letting my fat 9" leaking meat rub against your sweat-soaked skin, oozing pre all over---you reek of sweat. This fight really took it out of you.

But not me---I’ve still got plenty left. I finally let go of the hold. Grab your waist, pull you back so your big ass lands right on the bottom rope. Those hard glutes spread wide, revealing your muscle pussy for everyone as you hang there like a slut, waiting to get fucked stupid---it will happen---but first I slip back into the ring---standing right in front of you---

"Fuck---you are done bitch---" I mumble as I see you exhausted as fuck. But my thick meat standing like the Eiffel Tower---and then I step closer---I SMACK SMACK SMACK that 9" weapon across your face, my precum splattering over your cheeks---"Wakey wakey---you got a job to do!" I place my flared out helmet on your lips, feeling a soft breathing over my cum slit before I PUSH my dong into your throat---"LUBE IT UP BITCH! I'M GONNA STRETCH YOUR PUSSY JUST LIKE I STRETCH YOUR FILTHY THROAT!" I shout and RAM my cock into your throat again and again---Guys are lining up behind you, watching your twat puckering as I fuck your throat without mercy---"Remember that view guys---he won't be this tight when I'm done with him---" I grab the ropes that keep your arms trapped and YANK on them---forcing your head back and forth, spearing it on my meat with every single thrust---

North Star:

My head lolls forward, consciousness slipping away in waves. The sleeper hold drains everything from me—air, strength, fight, dignity. The crowd's roar becomes a distant hum as darkness creeps in. My massive frame goes completely limp, muscles that once intimidated now useless dead weight hanging from the ropes.

When I come to, I'm positioned like meat on display. My ass planted on the bottom rope, cheeks parted for the crowd, legs splayed open, hole exposed to the jeering crowd behind me. I can feel the eyes of these fucking losers boring into my exposed hole, phones out capturing the mighty North Star getting his ass presented for sick pleasure.

The sharp sting of your cock slapping my face brings me back to reality. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. Each hit leaves trails of your precum across my cheeks, marking me like territory.

"No... please! " The words barely escape before you force that thick helmet past my lips. My jaw stretched painfully wide gulping that massive dong down my throat. I gag violently, spit and precum bubbling from my nostrils as you use the ropes to control my head. "MMMPHHH—GAHHHH—" I choke around your shaft, spit flying as you yank the ropes, using them like handles to fuck my throat harder. My vision blurs with tears, not running down my face mixing with your precum. Every thrust is deeper. I hear the crowd behind me whistling, catcalling, their phones capturing every degrading moment. Some drunk bastard reaches out and slaps my exposed ass, making my whole body jerk forward, driving your cock even deeper down my gullet.

"Look at his fucking hole twitching! He wants it badly!" someone shouts, and the crowd erupts in laughter.

I’m not North Star anymore. I’m just a hole. A fucktoy. An object.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I'm so fucking boned right now---9" pure muscle fuck meat drilling into your gaped mouth, forcing your spit and snot to squirt and bubble out of your mouth and nostrils---this fight was brutal---it was rough---and I have to admit it was harder than expected---but having you like this now, gagging on my fat dong was worth every single minute---your twitching muscle pussy exposed to the crowd, people taking pictures of it as your phat ass is spread wide and your hole presented to the crowd---

"YOU WANT ME TO GAPE THAT TWAT??? WANNA SEE THAT MUSCLE SLUT TAKING MY 9" FULLY RAW??" I shout into the crowd and they immediately reply with loud cheering---and it is obvious we're heading for the grand finale---I ignore your begging---you know what's about to come now---you're almost finished, mentally broken, but I got to make a statement tonight after all your arrogant trash talk---

I slowly pull my massive schlong out of your throat, watching the saliva dripping down as my swollen helmet pops out of your filthy mouth. I grab your chin and look straight into your eyes---"You still with us fucker?" I grin as I see you're pretty delirious at this point. Both hands on your head, grabbing you tight---and then I SMASH a brutal headbutt right between your eyes---THWACK!!!

"OOUUUHHHH!!!! NORTH STAR LOOKS BROKEN DOWN!!!! AND THE HUNTER IS SHOWING NO MERCY HERE!!!"

The announcer is on the edge of his seat as the guys inside the bar go crazy---I step through the ropes and stand on the apron, right beside your thick spread glutes---I SMACK them and the sound echoes through the bar. "Let's open that pussy---I bet you wanna give him some nice tips for stepping up against me tonight." I grin and position myself right behind you. The crowd is now getting a good view on my own glutes as I plant my flared cockhead right on your pussy. I feel it twitching. Like a willing slut. And without hesitation I RAM all 9" into your tight canal, stretching those walls without mercy until you're fully adjusted to my size---"UAAHHHH FUCK THAT BITCH IS TIGHT!"

I growl and keep my schlong inside you for a moment, slowly start to thrust---and then I raise both arms and FLEX my ripped back to the crowd, fasten up the pace to pound you---my dong ramming into you hard and deep, my glutes flex with each thrust---"TAKE IT BITCH!!! TAKE IT ALL!!!" I growl as I fuck you like a wild animal---my low hanging balls slapping your taint, dangling between my legs as I pound the shit out of you---Some guys step up and touch my heavy nuts---"Oh fuck---these are so pumped up!" I can hear that guy behind me, and everyone knows that you're in for the breeding of your life.

North Star:

You rip your cock from my throat so fast I gag, snot and spit flinging in thick ropes down my chest, I try to catch a breath—just one clean gasp—but your hands clamp around my skull like a vice and slam me with a headbutt that blacks out the world for a split second. There is a sickening crunch at the bridge of my nose, a spray of blood and salt in my mouth, pain numbing out every other sensation for a moment. My dead-weight arms tangled still in the ropes, ass up and exposed for every phone in the bar to catch it in hi-def.

And then you do it. You ram that 9” of fuck stick inside me, splitting my glutes and pounding your dong so deep I can’t even scream. My voice is gone—just hoarse, desperate gasps. You grab my hips and use me like a fleshlight, every thrust making my abs flex and my chest shudder with the effort of staying conscious. The noises I make aren’t even human. I sob, I grunt, I moan. It’s all music to the crowd.

My body is on fire, ass raw, every nerve ending wide open. I can barely see through the tears and snot and sweat but I can taste the humiliation. I’m nothing now—just a hole, a fucktoy, a slab of meat to be broken for the amusement of the crowd. My body tenses with each slam, the pain and pleasure blending into something I can’t process. All I can do is hang there, open and ruined, while you fuck the last of my pride out of me.

My world shrinks to the heat of your huge schlong and the roar of the mob. I can feel my hole stretching, my guts rearranged, muscle cunt split open, stretched wide and sloppy from your abuse. It drools spit and precum, all mixed together dripping down my taint onto the packed, dirty mat. My cock isn’t even hard, just leaking—humiliated, flaccid, shriveled to nothing as you pound the last shreds of self-worth out of me. My biceps, my pecs, my delts—everything I’ve flexed for years—none of it matters. No one sees the muscles anymore. They see the gape, the used-up pussy. They see a plaything.

My head swims with pain and shame, the cheers blending into a single, deafening noise, the only thing left to do is take it. Take everything you give me, and wait for the end.

“I Give! I Give!”

Rob Hunter-Kane:

„What a pathetic slut---" I growl as I fuck a submission out of you. Your mind is broken, your body is broken, and your pussy is next---that ass is getting more and more loose, your muscle pussy is giving in as my 9“ shaft rips it open without mercy. „Fuck man that hole is so sloppy!“ I yell, my low hangers slapping against your taint with each thrust, dangling like church bells right between my thighs---and then I slow down---long-dicking you with full force. „UGH---FUCK---UGH---HERE---IT---COMES---" I moan every time my swollen helmet punches into your fuck nut, my balls churning a few times and the crowd behind me can experience it first hand as my glutes flex, my quads start twitching and with the next thrust I NUT deep inside you, flooding your stretched out insides with a massive load---„FUUUACCCKKK TAKE IT CUNT---TAKE ALL OF IT!!!“ I shout uncontrollably as rope after rope busts into your muscle twat.

“Oh fuck look how it’s leaking!“ I hear one of these horny guys behind me and immediately feel my hot jizz dripping down my cock---„Trouble holding it inside bitch?“ I lean forward, my cock slides out of your hole just until my flared out cockhead plugs your pussy. My arms wrap around your loaded midsection, I feel your roid gut is bloated as fuck---and then I suddenly SQUEEZE and simultaneously PULL my cock out of that gaped pussy, giving the first row a nice view on those loose pussy lips, gasping in submission and drooling my cum---but only for a second cause since my dong is still hard as fuck I immediately RAM it back in, pulverizing your fuck nut before I YANK it out and let your twat gape even wider---RAM it back in---and YANK it out with a sloppy wet noise---„Oh fuck I could do this all night!“ I growl into your ear before I RAM that schlong into you once again---but this time pulling it out slowly---and then jump back down on the floor—

North Star:

I know it’s over, my head swimming, tears and snot stream down my face, my own cock is dead meat between my legs, too humiliated to even twitch. My ass is white hot, on fire, battered, gaping, devoured by your 9” of dong, prostate pounded with your every thrust, my entire lower body clenches and spasms uncontrollable. You’re not just fucking my hole, your fucking my soul and everyone here knows it.

My hole slackening, sloppier with each stroke, the resistance melting away as you break me open in front of everyone. I feel your cock swell, the first spurt of cum hits like a shotgun, so hot, thick as you pump your seemingly endless load into me, my gut distending, muscle abs forced out, rounded,shameful.

I hang here, arms limp, ass leaking, my whole torso sagging over the middle rope, and there is nothing left in me except the animal urge to survive the next second. My muscles tremble, my hole gapes, and my ego is gone, drowned in the flood of your fucking seed.

You fuck me a couple more times, your fuck stick rock hard, slick with cum it barely even meets resistance. Then you do it-pull out suddenly, leaving my hole fluttering and open, drooling a waterfall of jizz down my thighs, the last drops spattering the mat. I sag forward, hands useless at my sides, and every single eye in the place is glued to the red, ruined ring of my gaping muscle cunt. There’s a moment where nobody says anything. I realize what I am now- just a hole, a punchline, a broken example for every other cocky bastard who thought they could last in the ring with the Hunter.

You jump down to the floor, landing with a heavy thud, and leave me hanging there, ruined and empty. My chest is mashed against the mat, I feel every eye in the bar crawling up my spine to the wreckage of my ass. I try to move, even just to curl up, but there’s nothing left in my arms or legs, and my cock is just this limp, leaking slug of drooling shame. The bar is a blur of phone flashes and hooting, a stadium of jeers calibrated to remind me how thoroughly I was used up and emptied out.

Rob Hunter-Kane:

I stand among my fans, my cock is all wet from your pussy juice but still standing strong---I can feel some hands touching my body as I look up, your ass hanging over the rope, glutes spread wide and that asshole completely ruined. „Get out of that ring bitch, time to leave you some tips---„ I mumble and grab your ankles---with a primal ROAR I YANK you out of the ring and let that muscle meat slam onto the ground---I reach down, grab your neck and pull you with me---at this point you feel like dead weight but my fans supporting me as they kick after your fat ass---„Come on---get up here---„ I grunt as I PULL you up and just let you drop over the bar---your ass exposed---„BE GENEROUS GUYS!“ I shout and grab one of the empty beer bottles on top of the counter---„but make sure that fucker is not losing it---„ I spread your glutes with one hand and then slowly push that bottleneck into your loose pussy, making sure it’s plugged---I give you one last SMACK on that thick ass before I leave for the showers---

North Star:

I look down through the haze of tears and pain, and I see your cock-still hard, still glistening with my own juice and streaks of cum, veined and mean like it’s waiting for a rematch. I can’t believe I ever thought I had a chance against it, against you, It’s like my whole life’s worth of muscle and pride was just a ticket for this exact humiliation.

The next second, I’m airborne-260 pounds of muscle and ego wrenched over the rope and dumped with a bone-cracking slap onto the ground. The breath explodes out of my lungs. You stand over me, almost ceremonial in the way you grab my ankles, thumbs digging into the meat of my calves, lifting my legs up like a dead animal, my ruined hole still dilating and twitching in the open air. I can hear people in the front row betting on how many fists it could take. I want to scream but all that comes out is a gurgling gasp and more spit on the mat.

I’m vaguely aware of your hands on my neck, not choking but steering, locking my jaw between your fingers as you drag me across the floor. It's less like being a person and more like being a carcass, something you get to parade around for a victory lap. Guys in the crowd reach out, slapping my ass, grabbing a handful of pec or cheek, someone even yanks my hair to get a better look at my face. I hear myself grunt with every jostle. I’m a prop now, a party favor.

We reach the bar and you don’t just lay me out, you sprawl me over the bar, gut down, ass up, arms dangling limp beside me, giving everyone a panoramic view of the grand canyon that used to be my asshole. I feel cold wood under my chest, the sticky ring of someone’s old drink gluing my face to the counter. You stand behind me, the crowd surrounds us for the encore. You put one hand on my glute and spread it, your thumb digging deep into the wide-open crack, and with the other hand you grab a bottle, some off-brand beer. I know what’s coming, and it’s like my body has already surrendered to it. My hole doesn’t even flinch as you bring the bottleneck to it, just opens with a sad slurp. You shove the bottle neck inside, slow at first, then jam it in until I can feel the glass touch my battered prostate. The crowd loses their shit, half of them laughing, the other half whipping out their phones to get proof of just how completely I’m wrecked. Someone yells, “Chug it, you bitch!” you grab the bottle and pump it in and out a few times for good measure before letting it sit, cold and humiliating, right where your fat schlong had been.

I can’t even move. My body just hangs limp over the bar, every inch of muscle deadweight, flexed for nothing. I feel the bottle in my guts, the rim grinding against the inside of my ruined ass, and the only thing keeping it from falling out is how loose the hole is, gaping and dribbling cum in slow, sticky glops down the side of the bottle onto the wood below.

You give my ass one last smack, my big glutes jiggling under your palm, and the sound echoes through the bar. I see you grin, cock still up and proud as you turn away and stalk toward the change room leaving me as the main event for the mob.

The End

Published: 2025-08-25, viewed 343 times.