THE HIGH TABLE

18:17 Cobra_MC: It’s Saturday night, alone in my hotel, after winning the championship belt, turning all my opponents to dust during this season’s event. Watching TV and getting drunk. My manager booked this cheap hotel for me as it has a private custom gym and wrestling ring in the basement he got made for the wrestlers visiting to travel for such wrestling federation events. The AC is humid and making sounds. Fucking crazy the housekeeping won’t attend. I am watching the match highlights showing me kicking all the asses during the championship. Open Grindr and scroll. Fuck that’s the wrestle Jeramie Hollins who couldn’t make it after a few matches due to an injury else he’d given me a tough time. Leaving him my hotel address and room number.

18:17 Cobra_MC:

18:25 Jeramie_Hollins: I am in the region on a wrestling tour. Working my way with guest spots in promotion after promotion. I was on a pretty good win streak until I injured my knee on a botched move. I had to cancel my next couple of matches and miss out on some decent pay as well. I'm in a motel. Cheap place as well, better than wasting money on a Four Star place. Working out in my hotel room trying to rehab my knee. Pro wrestling on the TV in the background. Feeling a little kinky today, I open up Grindr as well to see who is in the area. Much to my surprise just as I'm watching your match on TV you appear on the app. At first I think I'm being catfished. "You ain't the real Cobra" i respond.

18:47 Cobra_MC: I quickly video call you, a quick flexing session ensues as we confirm identities. I’m straight but need to fuck some asses when my testosterone are over the peak. I give you my hotel address but it’s a fucking rotten place the manager booked me. Flipping through channels as I chat with you on the gay app. Sipping on more whiskey.

18:47 Cobra_MC:

18:48 Jeramie_Hollins:

18:51 Jeramie_Hollins: Never thought I would say the big bad Cobra on grindr. Let alone into guys as well. For me I'm openly bisexual, been known to fuck my opponents post-match as well. The video call confirms that it's the real you. I show you my small motel room on the call. "Your place at least has a gym and a ring. So that automatically trumps my place." I say to you as I flex back and show off my body and vpl in my underwear.

18:57 Cobra_MC: Watching through the highlights where I destroy all the rivals, waiting for you, in my room. The AC steaming up the room.

18:59 Jeramie_Hollins: Eventually make my way over there. Knocking on the door. Wearing white muscle shirt with some orange short workout shorts and sneakers.

19:03 Cobra_MC: Hear the knocks as I bounce out of my bed and open the door, watching your lean muscled but shorter and stouter frame blocking the whole door. Instant boner as I step aside giving you way offering a handshake. Looking like a tramp and hooker in your shorts and sneakers as I snort a chuckle

19:04 Jeramie_Hollins: I figure if this doesn't work out I can always go back to working out. And if it does work out the clothes won't stay on anyways. You are even bigger and sexier in person than what I've seen on TV. Of course I don't tell you that directly. Shaking your hand with a firm grip I step inside your room, not quite sure what to expect next.

19:07 Cobra_MC: I hug your muscled frame and drape my big muscular arm over your shoulder guiding you in, as you get comfortable on the couch and me on the adjacent one. As the TV suddenly announces me the winner, I grin, I flex up a massive double flashing a cocky grin and tease you back “without you it was an easy one. But next time I’m gonna take your championship belt” as I laugh and chug on some raw vodka rubbing your thigh and patting your hard chest

19:11 Jeramie_Hollins: "You wouldn't have had a chance we me man. Even with a bum leg." I say to you as I pat my knee which is covered by a compression therapy sleeve. I grab a hold of a bottle of vodka and chug some as well. I pull my top off leaving myself shirtless as I sit on the sofa as well. Making my pectorals bounce as you bring your hand to cross my chest. My cock hardened underneath my shorts.

19:19 Jeramie_Hollins:

19:22 Cobra_MC: I see your wide set barrel chest with thick corded lats as you take your shirt off baring the glistening pumped wide chest with massive pecs and defined peclines. I take my tank of showing off my black hairy pumped up chest. Flexing up a massive bicep popping the peak. “Time for you to take more rest in the twilight of your career little man” cockily adjusting my raging boner. Chug on more whiskey as put it down and go for the vodka. “I am THE title now, sir. My reign has begun after this one-sided championship I won with zero losses” I slam the remote on the AC frustrated and it stutters making sounds.

19:26 Jeramie_Hollins: "Twighlight? I'm fucking 22 buh." I laugh but also a little insulted as I lay a big chop across your thick hairy chest "that belt there's eventually going around my waist and big bronze cock" I say with a massive amount of confidence as my own thick starts to poke above the waistband of my shorts. I grab the bottle from you and take another chug.

19:27 Cobra_MC: You slam a stinnging chop across my pecs as I bounce them but that sting feels so good bro. I open my jeans button and unzip, reclining back on the couch, spreading my thighs open, hands locked behind my head, my dark hair armpits reeking filling up the room of tobacco, sweat, testosterone and whiskey. “It’s no secret I bounce all the losers of this season on my cock in this hotel room.” Pointing at the bed

19:31 Jeramie_Hollins: "And its no secret that pound all the losers backstage or my hotel room as well. So I guess we have that in common. I stand up and flex my arms. Showing off my lean, cut body. My shorts come off as my 10-inch cock flops out and hits my ass and bounces back down with my big balls bouncing between my legs. My body sweating from the lack of AC in your room. Musk in testosterone also emanating off of my body. Walking over to the whiskey bottle as I take a swing of that down my throat.

20:01 Cobra_MC: You cock flops out as I push out of the couch and slap your cheeks jiggling them with a tease. flex up a massive double behind you in the mirror in front of us as I strip to my wrestling gear and boots and head down to the ring, climb up, checking the ropes as I lean over them taking my corner, the ring creaks under our weights

20:01 Cobra_MC:

22:21 Jeramie_Hollins: Stripping out of my shorts I took my cock back into my trunks as I show off my orange and black pro wrestling gear. Adjusting the compression sleeve on my leg. I also slip on some pro wrestling boots and kneepads. Pull on some arm bands as well and follow you to the ring in the basement. Grabbing onto the ropes to stretch out my back and muscles. Bouncing back-and-forth on my toes in my corner, adjusting my hard cock and my trunks once again.

22:21 Jeramie_Hollins:

22:23 Cobra_MC: Watch your small show entering the ring like those several small time wrestling punks as I wait patiently in my corner. Then as you settle, I push out shrugging my arms, cracking my neck moving to the center hopping tow to toe, crouching into a stance, getting ready, as I slap my thighs and arms challenging you out to step up

22:25 Jeramie_Hollins: I’ve beaten big guys like you before, so you don’t scare me as you try to intimidate me with your muscle and size. Stepping out of the corner towards the center of the ring, I cracked my knuckles and neck. Bringing my arms up as I get into a slightly low stance as well. I start to circle you as an inch closer and closer with you. I start to circle you as a inch closer and closer with you. And then shoot in for a classic tie up. However, right before our arms connect I grab your left arm and twist and duck under and pull it behind you into a hammer lock.

22:42 Cobra_MC: Your hands are quicker than that bum knee, I'll give you that. The hammerlock bites in, wrist wrenched up between my lats, shoulder burning, but I don't give you a sound. I widen my base, feel you hanging off that arm like a kid off a branch, then I drive backward, boots hammering the canvas, and ram you spine-first into the turnbuckles. Once. Twice. The ring shudders and your grip pops loose. I spin free rolling the shoulder out, and before you catch a breath I snag your neck and crank you down into a side headlock, knuckles grinding over your ear, walking you in a slow circle around my ring. "Cute trick, kid. Tricks don't take belts." I squeeze tighter, sweat pouring off the both of us in this steam-bath of a basement.

22:54 Jeramie_Hollins: As I crank up on your arm, my goal is to put a lot of leverage on your shoulder and arm. But you use your boot strength and size against me as you drive me into the corner and use your body to hammer back into me. Forcing that exercise against me. The brain shaking with each slamming into my body. I have to let go of you as I try to recover. However, you immediately grab my head in a headlock. The force, severe sweaty body, arms cranking into my head and skull. The deep smell of your musk getting my cock, more excited well also fueling me in this fight. My hands, reaching around to your belly and back, trying to push you off. That isn’t doing anything. However, confident in my strength I do wrap my arms around your waist as I take my shoulder into your back. I lower my hips down and squat and then lift you up and immediately go to angle Plex you to the canvas.

23:02 Cobra_MC: Your arms cinch my waist and your hips drop, and I know it half a heartbeat too late. The world tips. You pop up and haul me over, and the canvas explodes under my shoulders, the boom slapping off the concrete walls, breath knocked clean out of me. Headlock's gone. The ceiling lights swim. You crash down beside me, and for a second there's nothing in that basement but two big bodies sucking air and the busted AC rattling through the floor above. I roll to a hip, push off one fist, chest heaving, and spit to the side. First time anyone's put my shoulders on this canvas all season. Then I catch it, that little flicker in your bad wheel when you squatted all this bulk up, and I file it away. "Strong little bastard," I rumble, climbing back to my full height, cracking my neck, and I start walking you down.

17:29 Jeramie_Hollins: I do what very few people seem to have done this season. That’s actually put up a fight against you. Showing off my strength as I lift you up. Something quick and easy so I don’t put added pressure to my knee. The sleeve also helps keep my knee in place. Lifting up your big hairy body and slamming you on the homemade ring. Granted the move does take a bit out of me as I lay next to you. My cock struggling to get out of my trunks as I look at the ceiling and focus on breathing. Slowly, at the same time as you, I start to make my way up to my feet. Sweat rolling off my body in this humid basement. The clock canvas soaking in our sweat, the air tainted by our musk.”Stronger than I look.” I respond to you as I walk across from you. With my hands up, I shoot in making you hopefully, believe that I want to tie up with you. Instead, I duck your arms and run behind you as I shoot off the ropes. Running back at you as you turn it around, hoping to hit you with a missile dropkick to the chest or head.

17:57 Cobra_MC: You shoot in and I bite on it, arms coming up to lock horns, but you're already gone, ducking under, the ropes singing behind me. I turn straight into both your boots. Even with my forearms dragged up in time the dropkick detonates off my chest, hammering me back three, four stumbling steps until the top rope catches my spine. I hang there a beat, one fist knotted in the rope, the other arm clamped over my sternum, growling through my teeth while the sting spreads. Then I see you flat on the canvas from your own landing. I shove off the ropes and storm forward, grunting, one big boot stepping right over your body, hit the far side, and rebound with all my weight rolling downhill. "Stay down there," I snarl, bicep flexed tall over my head as I leave my feet and drop the elbow at your chest.

 

18:02 Jeramie_Hollins: Moving too fast for you as you turn around and catch the brunt of my boots from the dropkick. Sending your big body stumbling back into the ropes as I land clean onto the canvas. on my belly looking up at the ceiling as I start to hear you run over to me. Turning over just in time to see you rebound off the ropes. Then you try to drop down with that big elbow. I roll out of the way, letting your elbow smash into the canvas. Rolling up to my feet I stand next to your body and drive my boot down into your sternum, the same spot where my boots hit from the dropkick earlier. After the big stomp, I take him and jump up as I tuck and flip and deliver a moon salt aimed at your body as you lie on your back.

18:06 Cobra_MC: Your boot piles down into the same crater the dropkick dug and I fold around it, a hoarse bark ripping out of me, both hands flying to my chest. Through watering eyes I catch you springing up beside me, tucking, your flipping body blotting out the ceiling lights. Raw instinct hauls me sideways. 

You crash through empty air, chest slapping canvas where I just was, and I hear that braced knee of yours crack flat against the boards under all your weight, sleeve or no sleeve. I come up ugly, one arm still clamped over my sternum, but I come up first. My free hand hooks your ankle before you can crawl, dragging you on your belly to center ring, your fingers raking sweat-slick canvas. "High risk, junior. Wrong guy to try it on." I raise my boot high over the back of that bad knee and drive it down into the mat. BAMMMM

18:13 Jeramie_Hollins: FUCK! I tried to go high risk too early, you see me jump into the air with that standing moon salt. Enough hang time gives you the opportunity to roll away as I drop belly and face first into the canvas. Kicking my legs after the impact feeling my knee, take a little bit of the head as well. You are already on your feet before I can push myself up, grabbing onto my leg, pulling me away from the ropes as I try to use my free light to kick you off. But it’s no use as you lift my bad leg up and drive it down, knee first into the canvas. I let out a howling scream as I immediately jerk my body and reach for my leg as I hold it into a knee and fetal position. My face, wincing in pain and agony, trying to roll away from you and over to the ropes in an attempt to get up. 

18:14 Cobra_MC: I stalk you from behind and just as you reach the ropes, I grab your ankle and drag you back to the center and twist you leg sharply to get you on your back. Reaching down I grab the other leg and snatch both your ankles and hoist your legs high, spreading them wide open. My boot comes down hard aiming to stomp the lowest abs and grind the heel just above the base of your cock.

18:15 Cobra_MC:

18:15 Cobra_MC: Once the pressure is locked in I cross one leg over the other and drop into the figure four, my signature move called the "Pahalwan Lockdown" clamping tight around your thighs and forcing everything upward into the grind. “Scream for it.”

18:15 Cobra_MC:

18:21 Jeramie_Hollins: Reaching for the ropes to stand up when you grab my legs again and pull me back to the center, taken away any chance I have of a rope break. Opening my legs wide as my big cock pushes to my left inside of my trunks. Throbbing and leaking, even more so after that boot to my lower abs. My body jackknives up after the stomp, leading you into that figure for. Unable to fight it as you lock it in tight. I know that this is one of your signature moves and I’m in serious trouble. I let out a definite yell. I hope this house is soundproof, I briefly think to myself. Reaching forward to try and push your legs off me, something to relieve the pressure. No referee here to ask me if I give up.

18:30 Cobra_MC: I feel you try to fight the pain while the figure four grinds your knees. I push down on my palms lifting my hip up adding brutal pressure into the leglock. “Scream. Stay right here under this weight, buddy. Let the room fill up”

18:34 Jeramie_Hollins: You lift your body up to add more pressure. I fall back to my back as I cover my face and scream pain is brutal, but I’m too stubborn to submit to this. I’ve got to do something. I start to roll back-and-forth side to side, picking up momentum with each tree. Trying to get that to translate to your body as I attempt to reverse the hold and put us both on our bellies, but put your leg in a compromise position.

18:40 Cobra_MC: Your rolls come in waves, each swing wrenching my knees over with you, and when we slap onto our bellies the hold bites backward into my own legs. A grunt rips out of me, fire shooting up both shins. But you handed me the spin. I plant a forearm and heave with your own momentum, dragging the knot of us through one more half turn, canvas scorching my shoulder, till we land flat on our backs again, your leg still laced through mine and the pressure snapping back my way. Then I go up. Palms slap the mat beside my ears and I bridge, spine bowing into a high arch, hips climbing, hauling your scissored legs into the air with me, the figure four stretching out into a figure eight, every pound of torque funneling straight down into that braced knee. My battered chest howls at the stretch and I don't care. "Season's over for that wheel, kid," I growl upside down, sweat rolling off my chin to the canvas.

18:41 Cobra_MC:

18:44 Jeramie_Hollins: Reversal works as I get a moment where I am putting the pressure on you in your legs. However, you reverse me out of that and return us back into the same position on our backs. As we do so I try to pull myself apart from me to unlike the legs. But you’ve got the lock on tight and then you put the next step of your move into play. Going into that bridge as my legs become near impossible to move. Yelling as loud as I can in pain. My knee feels like it’s gonna separate. My upper body trying to push and pull towards the ropes in an effort to try and drag us both and get the rope break. Trying to hold on as long as I can, but the pain is too much and I don’t see any other way out of this hold. One last desperate attempt, I set up an attempt to give a big claw to your cock and balls in this position.

18:51 Cobra_MC: The rope's still a mile off and I can feel that knee of yours starting to give, one more crank and this thing's over. Then your arm shoots up through the tangle of us and your claw clamps down hard between my legs. Everything above my hips just quits. The bridge caves in, my spine slaps the canvas, arch and torque and all of it gone in one white bolt of agony that folds me up. A strangled roar rips out of me, hands tearing loose from your legs and diving down to cover myself, knees curling as the whole lock unravels around you. I roll onto a shoulder, cheek grinding into the soaked canvas, groaning through my teeth. "You dirty... son of a..." The rest dies in a wheeze. Somewhere beside me you could be dragging yourself free of my legs, and the only reason you're getting away with it is that I can't move yet.

18:54 Jeramie_Hollins: I’ve heard rumors about how big you are. Even comparable to my size between the legs. I can see it through the outline of your trunks and I can feel it now that my hand is gripping your big manhood. Working that claw in tight and deep. Not letting go I even give it a nice twist as well. Your man had so big that I’m surprised your trunks are still able to hold it in. Just as mine are barely able to hold mine as well. I watch as your legs finally release off of mind. Breathe in a deep sigh of relief as the pain starts to subside except for the one in my knee. I’ve now got a throbbing pain, which makes it difficult for me to put weight on it, I already know this. I keep my hand around your manhood and start to push off of it as I push myself up. Putting more weight into my good leg as I also pull you up with me.

18:58 Cobra_MC: Your claw stays locked around my cock twisting deeper as you shove off it and haul yourself upright on that good leg. The pull drags me halfway up with you every ounce of that grip sending fresh fire through my groin. I grit my teeth and lunge both hands aiming straight for your wrist and forearm trying to peel that hold off my package while I force my boots under me howling in pain as I get to a knee, face pressing into your sweating abs, groaning and huffing, the searing pain of your fingertips curling into the sensitive area around my package

19:02 Cobra_MC:

19:04 Jeramie_Hollins: Your big brutish body slightly cooperating with me. No referee around to disqualify or yell at me. “Protect yourself at all times, am I right?” I say with a sarcastic tone as I continue to pull you up. Feeling your face, pressing up against my sweat, covered abs. Feeling your breath every time you exhale, knowing for a while that you are breathing in my musk. And a quick but the size of move as you get up to one knee I grab a hold of your head with my right arm as I lace the arm around the neck. And then drop back violently to smash your head into the floor with a DDT.

19:08 Cobra_MC: You peel me up off the canvas and I hang there, legs barely under me, cheek mashed against your dripping abs, still half folded around the fire you left in my groin, one hand pawing weak at your wrist. Your smart mouth buzzes somewhere above me and I can't find one word to answer it with. I get a knee planted, trying to gather my big frame under me, and that's when your arm laces around my neck and cinches tight. The floor vanishes. You drop back hard and my skull spikes into the canvas, the boom rolling off the basement walls, and everything behind my eyes goes white. I flatten out on my back, arms flopped wide, one boot twitching, ceiling lights smearing into soup. 

Pure animal instinct takes over where my brain quit, lolling my dead weight over, dragging me by inches until I spill under the bottom rope and drop in a heap on the concrete. I end up slumped against the ring apron, head hanging between my shoulders, spit swinging off my lip, growling something even I don't understand.

20:52 Jeramie_Hollins: The size of your head and body make the impact that much louder. Again, hopefully this house is soundproof, otherwise the neighbors will have a hard time explaining this to the cops LOL. Back to the match at hand I watch as you roll yourself out of the ring. I know that I can't let you recover for a single second. As you swamp against the ring apron I come up behind you and lock my legs around your neck. Thighs cutting off the blood circulation to your head as I squeeze as tight as I can. Pulling up on the ropes with my hands I start to elevate myself more and more slowly putting on more and more pressure with the help of gravity. Then I push off swing my body to create some momentum. Loosening up the legs a little bit in an attempt to use a huricurana and throw you went to the basement wall.

21:00 Cobra_MC: Your thighs scissor shut around my neck and the basement starts draining of its color. I'm stuck there, skull trapped between two slabs of muscle, clawing at the ropes, at your legs, at nothing, mouth hanging open, tongue thick and useless, ugly wet noises coming out of me that don't sound like mine. You haul yourself higher up the ropes and drag my head with you, my boots scraping for the concrete, all my weight hanging off my own neck. Then your legs slacken and the blood slams back into my skull in one hot dizzy flood that nearly finishes what the choke started. You swing. And a drowning animal grabs whatever's moving. My arms clamp around your thighs mid-flight, my base plants out of pure dumb instinct, and your own momentum whips you around me instead of me around you, and I ride it forward, spiking you spine-first into the basement wall with the last thing my legs have. The room booms. Dust sifts off the ceiling. We collapse together in a tangle at the base of the wall and I spill out flat on my back beside you, arms flung wide, chest heaving like a bellows, sweat pooling under me on the concrete, eyes wandering loose across the pipes overhead, a long low groan leaking out of me while the basement keeps slowly turning.

21:06 Jeramie_Hollins: I wish there was a camera right now to capture how hot I look as I pull my body up the ropes. My six pack along with every other cut muscle on my bronze body is on display as I use my upper body strength to pull not only myself but you up as well. Nearly choking you out before I go for the hurricurana attempt. I should have held on to the neck a bit longer. By luck or instinct you shift the momentum just enough that instead of releasing you into the wall I get released instead. A big thump can be heard as soon as my back hits the wall and I fall to the floor on to my face and belly. Sweating onto the concrete floor. A real man's man type ring. This ain't no training ring, no mats on the outside to help cushion the fall. 

Can feel my bulge throbbing against the concrete floor as I look over at you. Coughing a bit after the impact as I see you recovering as well. Slowly I start to move as I start to army crawl across the floor over to your hairy sweat covered body.

22:19 Cobra_MC: The concrete swims under me before anything else comes back. My boots scrape, heels dragging, this big body squirming against the cold floor, sweat spreading out beneath me in a puddle. Everything arrives in pieces: the rattle of the busted AC somewhere upstairs, the copper taste at the back of my raw throat, my neck still burning in two hot bands where your thighs had it. I get an elbow under me, then a palm flat on the concrete, and lever my dead weight up sideways, leaning hard onto that locked arm, the room tilting along with me. My other hand finds my knee and grips it, just to hold onto something solid, every breath dragging over the deep bruise sitting in my chest. Then the pounding starts, way down inside my skull, each heartbeat swinging a hammer off the inside of the bone, and that hand leaves my knee to clamp over my head, fingers digging into soaked hair, eyes screwed shut. I can't hear you. Can't place you anywhere in this basement over the roar filling my own ears. But something stubborn under all that hurt keeps my spine from folding, keeps me propped up on that one planted arm, riding out the spins, waiting for my head to hand the room back.

22:21 Cobra_MC:

22:32 Jeramie_Hollins: My knee is on fire and my back is in just as much pain. Breathing heavily and fighting through the pain as much as I can. Every match against a big guy like you, especially a champion, is always going to be a hard test. Watching you get to the ring apron as you are still dealing with the concussive force that was the DDT. I'm not even quite sure if you know exactly where I am.

22:47 Jeramie_Hollins: Clearing my head as my vision starts to focus up a little bit more. I can see you sitting on the floor. And not the apron. Rubbing my eyes once more. I see you looking around trying to figure out where I am. I try to be as quiet as possible as I try to move to a blind spot. I move to the farthest wall but still in line with you. Slowly pulling myself up getting up one leg at a time. Putting pressure on my bad leg but still able to functionally move it. Hoping that you don't notice me in time. I start running/hobbling over towards you. As I do so I keep the weight on my good leg and lift up my bad leg and try to drive my boot across your face.

22:53 Cobra_MC: The roar in my ears has only just started thinning when the concrete under my palm carries something new, a fast uneven thudding coming up on my blind side. My head swings toward it and only gets halfway. Orange and black floods the corner of my eye and then the sole of your boot cracks across my cheekbone, snapping my skull the rest of the way around for me. The arm holding me up shears out. I go over sideways, temple bouncing off the bare floor, rolled loose across the concrete like something dumped off a truck, and end up face down with one arm pinned under my own chest. The basement drops far away. Copper floods thick over my tongue, a hot line crawling off my split lip and pooling under my cheek. Somewhere miles overhead the busted AC keeps rattling. Then my fingers scrape the concrete. Curl. Scrape again. The big body starts trying to gather itself on nothing but muscle memory, one knee dragging in an inch, shoulder trembling under weight it can't hold yet, breath sawing wet and ragged through my teeth, stubborn meat refusing to hear how hurt it is.

23:02 Jeramie_Hollins: Just my luck my DDT from earlier really has done a number on you. As soon as my boot connects with your hard head I can feel an instant jolt in my weak leg. After the connection I immediately go to the apron of the ring and hold myself up. Once again putting up my weight on my leg and my elbow as I lean over the dirty apron. Looking down at you and your big body as you struggle to get back up. Formulating a plan inside of my head as I reached out and start to stroke the shaft of my outlined bulge. Right now I don't think I can lift you, I think as I try to shake out my bad leg. But I do have another idea in mind. Limping over to you as I leave a trail of sweat, on the concrete, wherever I go. I bend over and grab a hold of your Trunks and your hair as I pull your massive body up to your feet. I think I have you beaten down enough to continue to beat you down some more. This move is going to hurt if I can pull it off. I wrap my arm around your head and your arm around my head. Reaching out with my right hand as I grab your trunks. I take a big deep breath and yell out as I lift up on your Trunks and body and as quick as I can. If successful I tried to perform a snap suplex. The goal is to land your back and spine against the edge of the apron. 

23:06 Cobra_MC: Fingers knot into my hair and the back of my trunks and the floor lets go of me. I come up in pieces, legs unfolding under a ton of dead weight, blood stringing off my split lip, the basement tilting one way and then the other. Your arm cinches down around my head and mine slings over your neck on the way up, no plan in it, just meat grabbing hold of whatever's close. Then your hand fists into my waistband, your chest swells against mine with one big breath, and something old and animal fires off way down beneath all the fog. You yell. You heave. And my leg is already moving, boot stamping down, calf hooking hard behind yours, every pound of me sinking through my hips like an anchor. The lift dies at my heels. We grind to a standstill there on the concrete, arm strapped around neck both ways, foreheads jammed together, sweat sheeting off the pair of us, your bad knee juddering, my skull still hammering, both bodies shaking with the strain and neither one moving an inch.

23:11 Jeramie_Hollins: I pull so hard on your trunks that I feel like I might rip something. I definitely expose and ass cheek of yours giving you half a wedgie. He stopped my Lyft by wrapping your leg around my calf of my good leg. Crossing out of frustration. The humidity in this basement is off the charts now. The air is damp and heavy. Filled almost entirely of our musk now. Staining the concrete and the floor with our sweat. Both of us have landed some big moves on each other. This is a true champion match. I try to shake your leg off of mine. Taking my right hand off of your trunks I dig two right upper cuts into your abs. Firing both shots back to back as hard as I can. I then move my hand back to your trunks and attempt the same snap suplex maneuver.

23:44 Cobra_MC: Your right hand tears off my waistband and hammers twice into my gut, two short uppercuts stacked into the same slab of muscle, and both land clean. The air barks out of me in two wet grunts, belly caving around your knuckles, bile climbing my raw throat. But the leg hook stays. Whatever else is failing in this body, that calf stays welded behind yours, heel dug into the concrete, hips sunk low. Then your hand dives back into my trunks and hauls, and the fabric saws up into me, one cheek already hanging bare to the humid air, the material biting deep into the crack and dragging hard against everything your claw ruined earlier. Pain detonates low and mean, a sick electric line ripping from my battered groin up through my lower belly and wrapping around my tailbone, eyes flooding, a strangled noise grinding out of me straight into the sweat of your armpit where my face is jammed. You swell up and heave. I go down instead of up. My arm cinches tighter around your neck, cranking your head deeper under my armpit, and I pour it all through that grip, every soaked pound of me bearing down through your bent neck, and your lift dies at my knees again. We stand there locked and shaking, my breath sawing fast and ragged against your ribs, blood off my split lip smearing your side, your bad knee trembling under you, two ruined bodies leaning on each other's necks in the middle of this steaming basement and neither one giving an inch.

01:22 Jeramie_Hollins: I was hoping that two of my punches would be enough to make you surrender that calf. But despite my best effort, the calf stays. What follows is not a quick Supplex but instead and even harder wedgy. The material of your trunks getting stretched as they grind against your manhood and up your crack. The material of your trucks constricting your balls, even more and grinding against your tight hairy hole and taint. Saliva mixed with your blood leaking from your mouth and dripping along the sides of my sweating body. We may as well be covered in oil with the amount of sweat that is pouring between us. My leg is buckling under the pressure from the lack of stability in my knee. I’m now using my leg and predominantly you to hold myself up. With a primal roar, I yell out into you. No distinguished words, just the gutter all sounds of a man, a warrior, not willing to give up. I removed my right hand from your trunks. This time, my right hand. My arm rises up, and I drive to clubbing forearms into your back and spine. One hits followed by a pause, followed by a second hit. I take a deep breath after the second hit. I attempt now to unhook both your arms with your head still under my pit. I’ll take you to the floor one way or another. Even if I have to go down with you. This time I attempt to lift slightly and drop back into a paradigm shift if I can’t lift you, I hope at least to drive your head into the floor.

01:42 Cobra_MC: The first forearm booms down across my back like a bat off a truck hood. I feel it in my teeth, blood and spit spraying out of me against your slick ribs, knees dipping an inch, and the calf hook holds. A pause, your chest heaving against my cheek, your breath dragging, and then the second one lands closer to the spine, a hot iron bar flaring up between my shoulder blades, my arm spasming around your neck. But you're swinging a hundred and ninety pounds of exhausted man off one good leg into two hundred and eighty two pounds of back. They dent me. They don't drop me. Underneath it all the wedgie keeps sawing, trunks strangling everything your claw already ruined, sick low fire grinding through my hips with every shift of us. Then your fingers peel my forearm off your neck, slick with our sweat, and start threading it under your arm, hunting the hook, and I feel your hips load backward through your whole body. The oldest alarm a wrestler owns starts screaming. You drop. My arm rips free before the second hook ever closes and both of them dive around your waist instead, and I go down through you, all of me, sandbagging into the fall. Your back meets concrete first with my full weight detonating through your chest, the air blasting out of you against my ear, and my own forehead cracks off the floor past your shoulder, white light splashing behind my eyes. We end in a wreck, me sprawled across you like a felled tree, blood off my lip pattering onto your heaving body, both of us ruined and neither of us done.

01:53 Jeramie_Hollins: Each club to your back sends sweat into the air. Like hitting a surface that has been hit with rain. Your sweat splashing across my body in the area around us. It’s not enough to weaken your body, though as soon as I bring both arms under your arms and start to drop you bring your arms around my body. Immediately regretting that decision two seconds before we hit the floor. My back hits the floor hard. Back of my head hitting as well. Your giant hairy body on top of mine. I do hear the impact of your head to the floor at the same time my body and back hits as well gasping for air. My body gets the wind knocked out of me. Eyes fluttering from the impact. Adult pain fills my entire chest cavity as I struggled to breathe. Nearly knocked out as the entire place turned into a bright blur. My body spasming as I take short, restricted breaths. All I can focus on Wright right now is trying to stay awake and try to keep breathing. Focusing up at the ceiling, rafters and pipes. Trying to focus on something through this blurry mess. It’s only a minute later that I realize that your bulge is on top of mine. My bulge throbbing, but unable to do anything. My body refuses to quit as yours. But all I can think about is breathing..

01:59 Cobra_MC: For a long stretch of that basement floor there's nothing. Just the white flash draining down to grey static, my ears ringing one flat note, my split forehead pulsing where it kissed the concrete past your shoulder. My face stays mashed into your chest because lifting it isn't on the menu yet. I can feel you under me, the little broken jerks of your ribs trying to pull air with two hundred and eighty two pounds parked on top of them, your body spasming in small waves against mine, both of us glued together in one sheet of sweat while the pipes tick overhead and the busted AC rattles somewhere up through the ceiling. My own breath comes back first, slow and dragging, tasting of blood and concrete dust. Fingers twitch. A palm finds the floor. The other one plants flat on your heaving sternum, right on the damage, and I push off you like you're furniture, peeling my carcass up out of the pool we've made until I'm swaying on one knee beside you, head hanging, a line of red swinging off my brow and dotting your chest. Through the blur I watch you flutter and gulp, that stubborn young body refusing to go out. "Tough..." is all I get out, hoarse, half a breath, before the rest dies. Then my fist closes slow in your soaked hair, and I start dragging your dead weight up off the concrete with me.

02:08 Jeramie_Hollins: 280 pounds of hairy, sweat, sweaty muscle on top of me, making it harder for me to regain a normal rhythm of breathing. All I can do is lay there and try and focus on breathing. My right hand, reaching up as a weekly grab your hairy ass and try to push you off as you start to recover. Little by little you get up off of me. The weight coming off of my chest. The weight replaced by drops of blood dripping from your face onto my body. My eyes still unable to focus as I look up at your blurry body your hand on my sternum forces a weak groan from my body as I weakly try to bring my hands up to your wrist to try and push off. then the feeling of your big hand, gripping onto my hair, sends a new pain through my body, dragging me up as my body tries to continue to recover oxygen. Unable to resist, slowly getting back up. First to my hands and knees I’m able to start coughing. A good sign of my lungs were returning to normal. Then my good leg followed by my bad leg. As soon as I put strength on that bad leg I stumble and grip your wrist holding my hair.

02:11 Cobra_MC: Your coughs travel up my arm in little jolts while I stand swaying over you, fist buried in your soaked hair, blood crawling down through my eyebrow and off the end of my nose. Your hands clamp my wrist, weak, more holding on than fighting it, and I let them stay, because truth is I'm using you to hold myself up just as much. Then you load that bad leg and I feel it happen, the stutter, the little collapse shivering up through your scalp into my knuckles. That wheel of yours is running on fumes. Something cold wakes up behind all the pounding in my skull. I turn us in two dragging steps through the sweat pool and sling you spine-first against the ring, the hard lip of the apron biting into your lower back, my free hand splaying across your collarbones to pin you there against my ring. Then I rear the other arm back past my shoulder, all of it, lat and shoulder and two hundred and eighty pounds of ugly intent, and the windup drags fire through the crater in my own chest and I swing anyway. The chop cracks across your wet pecs like a gunshot going off in this concrete box, sweat spraying sideways, a red handprint blooming instantly over your heart. "Owed you that one from the couch," I rasp through my split lip, and I rear the arm back again.

02:23 Jeramie_Hollins: Slowly, I’m starting to feel when I strength come back to me. The deeper breaths, I get with each cycle of air the more my body starts to recover. Not a single punch or slam has been thrown for these several minutes. I do wonder how much time has passed. If we had a referee present, would we have been counted out by now? As you pull me up to my feet I stumble even more. The feeling of the ring apron on my back is a welcome feeling surprisingly. I’m able to put my elbows down on the apron and take the weight off of both of my legs. A pain of the apron in my spine after the slang is second to the pain. I’m still experiencing with my back and lungs. Unfortunately, that first pain gets exacerbated with that hand across my chest. One of the loudest and hardest chops I’ve ever experienced. I don’t know if it’s from your skill, the sweat between us, or the sheer size difference, or the fact that we are in an enclosed tight space like this. 

Someone might just think that a gunshot went off. For me, it may as well have as my arms immediately go to my chest. My eyes open wide as I try to scream, but I don’t have the breath for it. I immediately roll over and bend over the apron. My face in the canvas as I reach for the ropes. Trying to stretch and open my lungs to force them to receive air back again my body barely standing up as I use the ring to hold me up.

02:30 Cobra_MC: You're draped over that apron clawing for the ropes when my hand dives into the back of your trunks. My fist twists deep into the waistband and hauls straight up, and the material saws into your crack, cinching everything below the belt in one brutal line, your hips jerking, spine arching off the apron with a choked airless sound, boots scraping up onto their toes. I keep it cranked like a handle. My other paw clamps the back of your sweaty neck and I heave, all of me groaning through the lift, and sling you up over the lip and rolling under the bottom rope, your body tumbling across the soaked canvas in a spray of sweat before flopping flat. The effort nearly folds me in half. I hang on the apron a moment, head down, blood dripping off my nose onto the edge, the crater in my chest howling, then climb hand over hand up the ropes and drag my boots through, the homemade ring creaking under every pound of me. Three steps is all my legs have left anyway. I let myself go down next to you, canvas booming one more time, flat on my back with an arm flopped over my own heaving chest, my sawed-up trunks still biting where you left them. The hard hanging light burns straight down into my face and I just let it. Two wrecked bodies side by side in the puddle we've wrung out of each other, blood ticking off my temple, our breathing loud and ragged in the concrete quiet, almost in rhythm. Somewhere upstairs the dead AC rattles. Neither of us moves. Not yet.

02:39 Jeramie_Hollins: Forced breathing coming from my lungs and my mouth. Sweat dripping like a leaking faucet onto the canvas beneath me. My hands slowly regaining strength as I grip the rope harder and harder. Now you want me to feel the same pain that you’ve been suffering as you grab my trunks. Pulling them so hard I can hear some stitching tear. Material jams into my crack up against my tight hole. My cock nearly being pushed out of the material as it stretches back. The front of the material dragon between my legs, pulling my balls with it your hand on the back of my neck as you lift me up. My feet kicking, and looking for the ground beneath me that has suddenly disappeared your strength being showcased as you tossed me, my full body onto the apron, rolling underneath the ropes as I roll to the center. On my belly as my hands are up by my head my bronze ass completely exposed with that massive wedgy. Breathing and breathing and breathing. Wheezing can be heard from my lungs. Not sure what you have planned for me next, I see you enter the ring only to lose balance and fall next to me. Staring over at your bearded face as you stare up at the ceiling. It’s a week but desperate attempt. But I slowly army crawl over to you. I place my head up on your chest with my hands on your shoulders. Collecting enough breath to speak simple words. “1…a longer pause than normal….2….”

02:47 Cobra_MC: Your cheek comes down right on the crater in my chest and even that little weight lands like a cinder block on the bruise. Your hands find my shoulders. Then I feel it more than hear it, your voice buzzing up through my sternum, one wheezed word. One. The hanging light burns red through my closed lids, blood pooling warm in the shell of my ear, my heart slamming up against your face while both of us wheeze in the concrete quiet. The pause stretches out forever. Then it comes buzzing through the bone again. Two. And something answers that has nothing to do with thinking. Years of canvas, ten thousand kickouts drilled so deep into this carcass that it fires before the brain gets a vote. My right arm detonates off the mat, shoulder heaving, hips twisting, and your light frame goes skidding off me through the sweat slick, flopping onto the canvas beside me. The effort turns me inside out. I roll with it onto my belly, forearm bracing under me, and hang there shaking, head down, blood stringing off my lip to the mat, dragging air in like a man surfacing from deep water.

15:35 Jeramie_Hollins: As I lay my head there on your hairy and sweaty chest, I was hoping for a little bit of a miracle. But like the best pro wrestling matches it ain't over yet. Like you I am trained to kick out until it becomes instinct. Your massive body reacting so hard that you push me off and on to my back. I can feel the heat radiating from your body. You can smell my heavy Musk invading your nose. Our sweat mutually pulling next to each other into the canvas of this ring. Staring up at the ceiling completely exhausted and getting annoyed by the sound of that broken AC that I can now hear through the floorboards above. This is what I trained to be, this is what it means to be a warrior in the ring. The ability to power through massive obstacles and extremely adversity. There may be no audience and there may be no belts on the line. But a man's Pride and Alpha status is just as important.

22:58 Cobra_MC: The crawl to the ropes takes everything I've got left and I make it look like a choice anyway. Palm, knee, palm, dragging this ruined carcass through our sweat, blood dotting a trail behind me across the canvas. My hand closes around the bottom rope and I climb it like a ladder, bottom strand, middle, top, arms shaking, boots sliding twice before they bite, until I'm hanging half draped over the top rope in my corner, chest heaving against it, letting it hold what my legs can't. The busted AC rattles through the floorboards above us and for once I don't hate the sound. It means the world upstairs still exists. My belt's lying up there on a hotel bed next to an empty bottle, and I won it without breathing hard. Nobody all season made me bleed. Nobody made me kick out. Twenty-two years old, one working leg, no crowd, no ref, no purse, and you've pushed me further than that whole roster of dust put together. I turn my head and spit red through the ropes onto the concrete, then look down at you stretched out on the canvas, trunks wrecked, that handprint still glowing over your heart, sucking wind and still not done. Pride. That's the only thing on the line in this basement, and it weighs more than any belt I ever strapped on. "Best match of my season, kid," I rasp, peeling myself off the ropes to stand swaying on my own two feet, blood crawling down through my beard, "and nobody's ever gonna see it but us." I roll my neck till it cracks, and start walking back toward you on legs that barely answer.

23:05 Jeramie_Hollins: In my head I mean yelling at myself to get up. Watching your big body slowly recover and climb up the ropes until you are in the corner. Both of us are locked eyes with one another. My mind mentally wants to fight. But my body is getting broke into the point that I can't fight anymore in this match. After we lock eyes, you standing in the corner complementing me. A small prize from an accomplished veteran like yourself. My hands grip the sweat soaked canvas of this ring as I slowly try to push up and set up. My chest is on fire as I sit up and look down at the handprint on my chest. Every muscle in my body is aching and screaming for oxygen. Still slightly dazed as I try to push myself over onto all fours. My bronze ass still on display from that wedgie. My man had barely contained in my trunks at this point. Every muscle in my body is flexed showcased as if I went on some sort of extreme diet. Struggling to get to my feet before you get to me.

23:13 Cobra_MC: My legs barely answer but they answer enough. You're pushing up off all fours, one boot found, halfway to standing, when I get there and snatch you the rest of the way by the head. My arm loops your skull and cinches down, hauling you into the vice, your ear mashed against my ribs, and I walk us in a slow ugly stagger to dead center, away from the ropes, away from the corners, nothing out here for either of us but each other. Then I go to work. Forearm sawing back and forth across your temple. Knuckles boring into your skull in slow mean circles like I'm trying to open a stuck jar. Cranking your neck one way till it stops, then wringing it back the other, your whole frame twisting under me trying to follow the torque. My weight sinks down through the hold, half offense, half because these ruined legs need somewhere to park two hundred and eighty pounds, and you bow lower and lower carrying the both of us, your hands slapping at my forearm, clawing my hip, sliding off everything through the sweat. Every squeeze costs me too, the crater in my chest flaring with each crank, my breath sawing loud over your bent back, blood off my chin ticking down into your soaked hair. "Right back where we started, kid," I rasp against the top of your skull, and my knuckles dig in deeper, grinding bone on bone under the hanging light, wearing you down the old way, the slow way, one turn of the jar at a time.

23:13 Cobra_MC:

09:17 Jeramie_Hollins: Underneath the heavy breathing are some labored grunts. Pushing my body to its limit and Beyond as I get one foot under me and gets my feet. I can see you coming as I try to get that last foot under me. But it's not fast enough as you bring your big arm around my head. The instant pressure from your bicep forearm and Knuckles to the various points of my skull is excruciating. They always say that Size Doesn't Matter. However, in this case I would make the argument that it does. The pressure from your head lock would be much harder than the pressure from mine. And I certainly feel it. Pressure being forced against my temple, the annoyingly painful bone on bone contact from her knuckles to my skull. The onagent off again pain as you try to twist my spine from one side to another testing its limits. Trying to give me a free adjustments but not in the good way. Biting my teeth together and groaning out in pain. Any lesser wrestler at this point with tap out. But not me. My hands trying to pull your arm off of me won't do anything. So I take my elbow line it up with your upper abs, as close to your solar plexus as I can get. Then BAM BAM BAM! Three strikes to try and get your 280 lb body off of me and push you off and into the ropes where, just maybe I can hit you with a spinning elbow to your head on the rebound.

10:10 Cobra_MC: The first elbow spikes up under my sternum, an inch below the crater you already dug there, and the whole hold jolts, my knuckles going still in your hair mid-grind. The second finds the exact same spot like you marked it, driving deep into the nerve bundle under all that battered muscle, and my midsection seizes around your arm, a fat wet grunt bursting out over your bent back. The third one detonates. Bile comes boiling up my raw throat and floods my mouth, hot and burning, my arm springing open off your skull on its own, and I'm doubled over and blind when your hands slam into my chest and shove. My boots backpedal without asking me, two steps, three, heels skidding through sweat, and then the ropes catch me across the shoulder blades, stretching way out under two hundred and eighty pounds of ruined man, the whole homemade ring groaning on its bolts. For half a heartbeat I hang cradled in the strands, cheeks bulging, and spit a mouthful of burning yellow through the ropes onto the concrete below. Then physics makes the next call, not me. The ropes snap back and sling all that weight forward, and my dead legs can't check any of it, they're just falling in a straight line, big boots slapping canvas in a stumbling charge I couldn't pull out of if I tried, arms half up, eyes streaming, blood and bile stringing off my chin, the blur of you dead ahead and getting bigger fast.

16:43 Jeramie_Hollins: After successfully striking you and pushing you off of me, I watch you hit the ropes and start to rebound. The timing I think it'll take for you to reach me motivates me to swing that elbow super hard. But my elbow hits nothing but air as I hear big sud with your body collapsing under your own weight as you rebound off the ropes. Nearly stepping on you as I Stumble forward. Bending over as I place my hands on my knees. I look down at your big body. Still breathing heavily, but this may be the most vulnerable I've seen you in. Of all the matches I have seen and studied of yours, I don't know that I've ever seen you this broken. Your blood and bile now adding to the many different fluids that have been spilled in this ring. I have to strike while the iron is hot. I reached down and grab a hold of your arms and grip your hands and wrists. Pulling up on your body as I yell out. Even lifting and pulling you is painful. But I managed to drag you back to the center of the ring. Limping over to you I let my body collapse on top of you. Chest on your back and bulge on your ass. Taking a few seconds to breathe As I lie on top of you. Some slight grinding from my hips below. But I focus on my next move. Sliding my sweaty arms underneath yours. Person my forehead into the back of your head. I start to lift my hips and bring my feet forward and then push off into a handstand and then over into a bridge as I lift your arms up and place your body into a cattle mutilation hold.

22:09 Cobra_MC: Your arms thread under mine, your forehead screws into the back of my skull, and then your weight goes up and away and takes my arms with it. Both of them, hauled back and skyward like you mean to pull them clean out of their sockets, and the world goes white. My pecs stretch across my ribcage like they're being peeled off the bone, biceps drawn out to burning cables, both armpits ripped taut and open to the humid air, and my shoulders creak, actually creak, a wet grinding I can feel in my back teeth. The crater in my chest gets crushed into the mat as everything above it bows backward, and the shout that's been building all night finally tears loose. "GRRAAAGH!" Straight down into the canvas, my face glued to it, the sound blasting back into my own eyes and filling this concrete box wall to wall. My boots start drumming, heels hammering the mat in a mindless tattoo, toes kicking, hips bucking against your bridged weight and moving nothing at all. "AAGH... GAAH... my ARMS..." The words drown in soaked canvas, smearing through the blood and bile under my cheek, my split brow grinding the mat with every jerk. My fingers claw at empty air behind me, these big worthless hands opening and closing on nothing, every pound of muscle I own suddenly stacked on the wrong side of my own shoulders, feeding your hold instead of fighting it. The drumming slows. The shouts keep coming, hoarser, uglier, ripping up out of me one after another, and somewhere underneath all of it the one word that would end this stays locked behind my clenched teeth where it belongs.

23:48 Jeramie_Hollins: It’s a little rough at first. After the flip my leg buckles a little bit, but then stabilizes enough to hold the position. My back and legs bridging as my arms hold onto yours, pulling those muscular tree limbs back. Practically trying to pull them out of their sockets, and everything else connected to them. Yelling out loud as I worked to hold this position and hold you in place my muscular body trying to put the screws of pain to your even muscular body working like a true Wrestler, a potential champion. Working to defeat his opponent trying to get you to see those two little words that could end this match but the more I hold this position, and the more I pull and pull on your arms and back, the less likely it becomes that you will quit. Even with your lack of movement, the kicking of your feet. Even with all of the noises coming from your mouth, none of those noises are those two words that I want to hear.

23:59 Cobra_MC: Somewhere underneath the shrieking in both shoulders the old engine turns over. My roar changes register against the canvas, less pain in it now, more diesel, and my knees start dragging up under my belly one at a time, boots squealing on the wet mat, carving out an inch of space beneath us. My neck curls forward against everything you're pulling, chin grinding toward my chest, forehead screwing down into the soaked canvas until it becomes a fifth limb holding all of this up. Then the arms go to work. Both biceps detonate into flexed cannonballs, 22 inches of them swelling hard against your hooked arms as I drag my fists forward and together underneath me, one grinding centimeter at a time, and I feel it, your clasped fingers starting to slide through all this sweat. Your yell buzzes down through my back. Mine answers up through the mat, a mad elephant blast rolling out of the canvas and filling this concrete box wall to wall, toes biting in, and my hips start climbing. Higher. Higher again, hauling your whole bridged body up with them like a man standing up under a collapsed roof, powering forward inch by stubborn inch, 282 pounds finally all pulling in the same direction. Your bridge crumples somewhere above me, your weight sliding loose to ride my rising back, and then your fingers tear apart. My arms rip free, both shoulders howling in their sockets even in the winning, and I surge up onto my hands and knees with you draped over me, my arms curling forward to pull yours into the mutilating hold now in a reversal

22:49 Jeramie_Hollins: Desperately trying to pull your arms together. In my mind if you won't submit then maybe with dislocated shoulder will do the trick. Pulling and pulling trying to adjust my weight in different angles to increase pressure. But then I feel your body start to come alive. An intensity that I can feel through my back but I haven't felt in several minutes in this fight. I can't see exactly what's going on but I feel your body shifting. I feel movement in your body that leads me to come back. Your arm starts to resist as I can feel myself straining more and more and losing leverage. Your arms go from nearly being pulled out of their sockets to now pulling mine as he start to flex. Our bodies start to move away from the floor as I see the ceiling starts to move closer. WTF! HOW! Breathing and grunting more and more as I slowly lose more leverage. Both of us now in a unified bridge as sweat drips from our bodies and onto the canvas like a bridge in a rainstorm. I start to scream out as you now start to pull my chest open. Front delts and pectorals now start burning. I can't stay in this position, I've lost the hold that I originally put you in. Our arms and hands slippery as hell. I try to push off my boots and flip backwards rolling over your back behind you. If successful I make an attempt to jump and stop both of my boots into your back.

00:54 Cobra_MC: I’ve just gotten my knees under me when your weight vanishes off my back, and half a heartbeat later both knees slam down beside my lower spine into the kidneys like a double sledgehammer blasting a coughed up spurt of blood and bile through my mouth on the canvas smearing my face into it. I flatten out instantly, driven flat with a thud that booms through the damp room, the boards bouncing under us, a strangled bark punched out of me into the canvas. But our arms stay laced, elbows intertwined, that reverse chickenwing still knotted between us, and now we’re stretched chest to back, face to head, legs to legs, one tangled cross of ruined muscle under the light.

00:56 Cobra_MC: I suck in one huge breath through my teeth, blood and sweat bubbling at my lips. Then 282 lbs picks a side. I wrench hard, whole body torquing over, and size does the rest, flipping the both of us in one heaving roll until you’re the one underneath, face down, all of me crushing you into the soaked canvas. You barely get a sound out before my legs kick up and swing over to your far side, and the geometry flips completely, same hold, same knot, except now every screw in it turns my way. Boots plant wide. My back flexes into one broad slab, trapping your head between my shoulder blades, and I drag your elbows together behind you, lace my fingers tight against my own chest, and lock it shut. Then I flex. Both biceps swell into cannonballs and your arms, pecs, and pits stretch toward tearing all at once, skipping every polite stage in between, the kind of stretch that leaves marks a man keeps, your scream buzzing straight up through my spine, grunt after grunt grinding out of me as I ratchet it tighter. I stare up into the blinding halogen glare, bloodshot eyes gleaming, blood in my grin, gleeful as a man opening presents. “Two little words, kid,” I rasp at the light, and pull my clasped fists in one more inch pulling your elbows further back with mine stretching those already creaking joints, sockets, tendons and all the muscles connecting your biceps to pits to pecs

01:31 Cobra_MC: (Doing this sequence in reverse, reverses the hold)

01:31 Cobra_MC:

22:52 Jeramie_Hollins: As you show off your strength lifting up off the ground and avoiding my Submission attempt. Our arms still laced together. Hoping that my endurance can out last years. My body already been pushed to its limit as I struggle to hide against you and your strength and size. When my escape tent fails to work, you take advantage and reverse the whole entirely. Flipping us over that I am now belly down and then the exact same position that you were before. Every muscle from my chest to my rotator muscles in my shoulder are on fire put me in the exact same hole that I put you in, let’s take a step further and move that I regret not doing myself. You now start to turn and crank the move in an endless rotation. Like a drill that digging into wood, you now drill the pain and pressure into my aching body. Every bit of me wants to fight back. Every part of me wants to show you why I deserve to be champion. But the small voice in me to call it quits is getting louder with every rotation of your body into me. Yelling out as I kick my legs, as I try to distract from the pain and maybe try to do something, shift my weight, rotate something to get out of this move.

22:59 Cobra_MC: First I let it all go slack. My clasped fists open a few inches off my chest, elbows sinking, and the tearing stretch drains out of the knot between us while every pound of me stays parked, pinning you flat under the bridge of my back. And I just breathe. Long dragging lungfuls through my bloody mouth, ribs heaving against your trapped arms, heart hammering itself slower, the halogen glare burning down on my upturned face while your stolen gasps come stuttering up through my spine. I could crank this shut right now. Instead something colder settles in behind my bloodshot eyes. "One." My fists snap back into my sternum and I haul, elbows grinding together, boots biting canvas as my hips climb, and the whole knot ratchets closed, your arms dragged past everything they gave up a minute ago, shoulders and pecs and pits stretched wire-tight to the tapping point and held there for one long screaming second. Then I drop it. Elbows down, hips down, weight settling, pin intact, air handed back to you like a loan I mean to collect. I wait through the gasping, feeling life crawl back into your frame. "Two." Higher. The arch climbs taller on planted boots, all 282 lbs hanging through your twisted arms, pulling further than the first, my own ruined shoulders howling along in their sockets, grunt after grunt grinding out of me until, right at the brink, I let it slide loose again. "Three." The worst one. Bridge at full height, spine bowed like a drawn bow, fists crushed to my chest, both biceps flexed to bursting, your body hauled so far open I can feel the tremble of it running up through my back like a plucked cable, and I hold it, and hold it, and then ease down soft as setting a glass on a table. I lie there across you, breathing easy now, blood drying in my beard. "That's one set, kid," I rasp up at the light. "I've got all night."

23:05 Cobra_MC:

23:19 Jeramie_Hollins: The rotation around the body stops, but the move is still there. The cattle mutilation is a move. I’ve gotten many guys to submit to before, you are one of the few that haven’t. But the rotations that you put on me alone pull a lot of the energy out of me. That voice in the back of my head continues to get louder, moreso when you pull my arms back to their breaking point. Every muscle in my body is screaming for a break. My mind is too stubborn to grant it every time you lower my arms you give me that false hope of escaping. Three times you do this to fuck with my head. After the third time I tried to pull a move out of your book as I try to get my knees underneath me and push against your weight. In an effort to get underneath you and bridge, our bodies up. Only in this case, I’m not looking to show off and hold. But instead, bring our bodies up enough that I can rotate and maybe roll my way out of this move. My last ditch effort to try and mount some sort of reversal or comeback. If a camera were locked on my face right now, they would see the pain of a man that’s about to give up, but also the face of a warrior that doesn’t wanna give up.

23:25 Cobra_MC: I feel your knees start dragging in underneath you, the push gathering up through the knot of us, and the honest truth is I've got nothing left to crush it with. Both my arms are cooked from the same hold you fed me first, shoulders grinding loose in their sockets, my bridge running on fumes and spite. So I stop paying for the whole machine. My left hand unclasps and gives your arm back, and I'm already turning, rolling onto my side across your upper back, weight parking sideways over your shoulder blades, and your other arm comes with me, dragged back and clamped deep under my armpit, my lat closing over it, forearm wrapped down across the wrist. Simpler machine now. One arm. One lever. All 282 lbs sitting on the handle. I plant both boots wide, suck one ragged breath, and bridge. My hips climb and the trapped arm gets hauled up and backwards into its own socket, everything from wrist to pit to pec drawn long over the fulcrum of my side, and right before the stretch can turn into a question, I sink back down, all my weight flattening across you again, breath sawing while I let my ruined back recover. Then up again. Higher, the arm wrenched further past where the last rep ended, my own spine paying a toll for every inch of arch, sweat sheeting off me. And down again, on purpose, before it can become anything final. Again. Higher. Down. A brutal lever worked in slow deliberate reps by a man too spent for anything fancier and too mean to hurry. "No quitting in the middle of my set, kid," I rasp up at the halogen glare, blood crusting in my beard. "I'll tell you when we're done."

23:25 Cobra_MC:

23:26 Cobra_MC:

23:35 Jeramie_Hollins: One by one, I painfully managed to get my knees under me. Grunting and breathing heavily as I push against you. Yelling out in pain, but also yelling to push through my metaphorical wall. Trying to prove myself as a champion. Even though I know I’ve gotten farther than all of your previous title shot defenses. However, anything short of holding that title is still loss in my head. Push pushing and push, pushing even though you still have my hands behind my back. I know you’re exhausted as well even all of that big muscle of yours has its limits and I know I’ve done a good amount of damage to you in this match. Just when I think I might have the opportunity to roll an escape, you let go of one arm and force me back down to my belly. Face hits the canvas hard as all of your weight now drives into my back and spine. Your feet planted on the floor just enough to make your massive body somehow feel heavier. And now instead of two arms, you focus on the one. A Fujiwara armbar. Arguably one of the most devastating arm bars in our business. I’ve had a few close calls with this one, but yours by far is the worst. You hear me yell louder than I’ve ever yelled in this match before. My body is too tired to move, too tired to fight back. Yet somehow i know you are toying with me again. And my mind is still too stubborn to quit. I’m making an attempt to take my arm and push up against your body weight in an attempt to roll my body under you and decrease the angle of the arm bar.

23:44 Cobra_MC: Your loudest scream of the night rolls up through the arm into my chest and I ride the lever right to the brink, feeling the socket start to sing under my grip. And then the fight just drains out of you, all that stubborn young muscle going to dead weight across my side, nothing left under me but shaking and breath. I could keep fishing for 2 little words here. But a stubborn mouth can hold out all night, and a pair of shoulders can't. So I ease the arm down out of the stretch, keep it hooked tight, and turn, rolling around beneath you, my free hand diving through to lace your other arm, and I haul. Your spent body comes up and over as I roll, spine bowing across the broad slab of my back like over a barrel, and your shoulders slap down flat onto the soaked canvas, your legs swinging up into the air, boots hanging loose in the halogen glare with sweat raining off them. Both arms stay buried in the knot between us, cinched back under your own stacked weight, and I finish face down beside you, cheek grinding into the mat, crushed chest howling under the load, every pound of the both of us funneled down through your pinned shoulders. My breath saws once, twice. Then my free palm rises and cracks down flat on the boards, the boom rolling through the whole homemade ring and off the concrete walls. "ONE!" Hoarse, ragged, and grinning around the blood. "Watch close, kid," I rasp into the canvas, palm lifting again. "This is how a champion counts to 3."

23:45 Cobra_MC:

23:55 Jeramie_Hollins: Wait but still struggling to fight against you. I feel you start to loosen up on that arm a little bit more as I see maybe a brief glimpse of hope. That hope is dashed. You know you’re in control and you know that I’m at my breaking point you reach over and grab my other arm even as I try to push up and fight back. The space created by my arm from the push-up attempt gives you the space you need to hook it with your arm. Your big body rolls creating the momentum to roll me and place my shoulders dead on the canvas. My ass forced up into the air as my back is tilted upwards by your body. My big bulge staring me in the face as my feet lay past my head my legs give some weak kicks as you scream out ONE! There is a labored pause as I weakly try to kick out one last time. My body just does not have the strength to move from this position. I can’t even lift my shoulders an inch off the ground or create enough kick out force to push you over. I listen in pain at the deafening silence of the pause between two and three.

00:02 Cobra_MC: Your last kick-out flutters down through the knot of our arms, a couple of weak twitches against 282 lbs of anchor, and then even that dies, leaving nothing on top of me but trembling weight and ragged breath. I let the silence sit. My cheek stays grinding into the soaked canvas, blood pooling warm under my beard, and when I finally talk it's low and hoarse, the words buzzing up through the boards into your pinned shoulders. "Feel that, kid? That little flutter right there? That's the whole tank." A wet chuckle scrapes out of me. "Every punk this season went down in minutes and I never even counted. No ref tonight, so you get it from the champ himself. Slow. Proper. The full ceremony. You earned that much when you made me bleed." Then I quit talking and go back to work. My arm hauls down on your hooked wrist, dragging the knot deeper, cinching your arms tighter beneath your own stacked spine, and my back swells up into you, wedging your shoulders down into the mat like I'm setting fence posts, everything welded flat, not 1 inch of daylight left anywhere in it. I let the pause stretch until it's deafening, until the busted AC rattling through the floorboards is the loudest thing in the world. My free palm rises off the canvas. Hangs there. Then it comes down like a gunshot, the boom rolling wall to wall through this concrete box. "TWO!" And the silence crawls back in after it, thick and humid, my palm lifting one more time, slow, while the whole basement waits.

00:08 Jeramie_Hollins: The flight is completely drained from me. You’ve showcase tonight why you are the champ. But at the same time, I know that I’ve been one of the few if not only wrestlers this season to actually make you work for that belt. This might be the end, but I’m proud of the damage that I’ve inflicted on you. I can walk away from this knowing that I made you bleed where so many others couldn’t. And I think that I’ve impressed you enough to earn an actual shot at that belt once I’m fully recovered. You tighten the arms behind my back as I let out another yell that pops through my teeth. Taking your sweet time with this account to prove a point at this point it may as well be a 10 count at the pace you were counting waiting in agony for that inevitable three as my arms grow numb.

00:13 Cobra_MC: The palm hangs up there in the humid glare, and the whole basement holds its breath with you. Then it comes down soft. No slap. No 3. Just my hand settling flat on the canvas beside your head, and my fingers unlacing the whole knot in one slow, deliberate motion. Your numbed arms slide loose, and I shrug that big back of mine and dump you off me, your stacked body spilling over onto your side on the soaked mat, the pin dying unfinished in the quiet. I peel myself up off my belly one limb at a time, palm, elbow, knee, until I'm kneeling there beside you in the puddle we've wrung out of each other, swaying, chest working like a bellows, huffing and blowing through split lips, sweat sheeting down the hairy slab of my chest, blood crawling out of my brow and through my beard and dripping steady off my chin, dotting the canvas between us. And I'm grinning. Wide and red and getting wider, teeth pink with it, bloodshot eyes gleaming down at you with something that's got nothing decent left in it, catching the halogen light the way a blade catches sun. "3 ends it, kid," I rasp, dragging a forearm slow across my dripping mouth, the grin never so much as flickering. "Who said I was done with you."

00:18 Jeramie_Hollins: Still in pain, but content with the outcome. Barely able to open my eyes as I wait. Wait, wait, and wait some more. But that number three never comes. And instead, you let go of the lace and fold my body over as I crumble to my side. Ever so slowly tried to bring some feeling and blood flow back into my arms as I roll to my back and start to move them. The numbness in my arms feels like doll pins, and needles stabbing into both of them. My body is exhausted and breathing heavily as sweat continues to roll from my body and onto the canvas. I woke up unc a face of pure evil. Showing off that heel side and that reluctance to finish this match just yet. “Fuck you you won.” I say in a weak voice as i try to push you away with my legs.

00:29 Cobra_MC: "You won" is still hanging in the humid air when my hand dives down and finishes the sentence for you. 2 thick fingers hook past your teeth and curl down into the soft floor of your mouth, thumb clamping up under your jaw, and the mandible claw shuts, whatever was coming next dying into wet muffled noise around my knuckles. Your legs shove at my hips, weak glancing kicks, and I don't even grunt at them. I stand up out of the puddle we've made and I bring you with me, hauling you up by the jaw, your boots scrabbling under you until they find canvas, your spine unfolding because the only other option is your jaw coming apart. "You don't call it, kid," I rasp into your face, blood ticking off my chin onto your chest. "I do." Then my free arm spears down between your thighs and drives up, forearm and swelling bicep crushing deep into everything soft up there, and I scoop, dead legs shuddering, every cooked muscle in my back howling as 194 lbs of ruined challenger folds up across my chest like cordwood. I stagger us a step off center, find my balance the way a falling tree finds one last root. My knee rises as I drop, boot planted wide, and I slam you down spine-first across the top of it, the impact booming through the boards and off the concrete walls, your body jackknifing backward over the fulcrum of my knee, claw still buried in your mouth, my other arm still wedged up in your groin, holding you bent there under the hanging light while my grin drips red down onto your face.

00:35 Cobra_MC:

00:36 Cobra_MC:

00:36 Cobra_MC:

02:34 Jeramie_Hollins: You respond back saying that you decide when the match is over. I can’t argue with that logic. Given that there is no referee in the ring. We both know stubborn, successful, bullheaded, Alpha male, wrestlers that we are we abide by a different set of code and rules outside of the official ring. I reached my hand up and tried to push away from you. Try to get myself up to my feet, but I don’t even get up to my hands and knees as I stumble down onto my belly. Your hand comes over it’s to greet my mouth as you hook my jaw. A new set of pain enters my system as you start to pull me up to my feet. My hands reaching out to hold onto your sweaty body to help myself up. My feet and legs having a hard time finding the right balance to stand up until I finally do. My knee is throbbing because I struggle to put weight on it. You soon take that out of my hands as you drive your bicep and arm up between my legs. My big bulge getting greeted by your big bicep peak as I moan out of pain again. Lifting me up into the air like it’s nothing. My body up against your hairy, sweaty chest. Being shown off to an audience of no one before you drive my back across your knee as my spine undulates and arcs into a painful position, your hands still on my mouth while your other hand and arm work, my massive bulge as a throbs beneath it. Both points of pressure has my life shaking. My arms trying to push off the canvas to relieve some of the pressure to no avail. Yelling out for a good minute as I struggle and squirm until finally I reach back and tap your ass repeatedly as I try to say that I give up.

03:37 Cobra_MC: I feel those weak little taps drumming against the thick muscle of my ass while the muffled noise around my knuckles tries to form the word. Surrender sits clear as day under the hanging light. I keep the claw locked another heartbeat just to taste the salt of your spit then my free arm rips free from the crush between your thighs and I heave. Your folded body gets dumped hard off the fulcrum of my knee and spills loose across the soaked canvas in a twitching heap of ruined muscle. I come down right after you both hands already hooking the soaked waistband of those trunks. One brutal yank strips the fabric down past your hips past the thick hanging bulge and all the way down those heavy thighs until the trunks tangle tight around your boots. Your bare ass sits up under the halogen cheeks split hole twitching open in the humid air. I dive face first burying my bloody bearded mouth straight into the cleft tongue spearing deep and wet eating that ass like it already belongs to the champ.

03:43 Cobra_MC:

[To be continued...]