The Factory Reading Room

Bronson and I have been hooking up at nights while living and training together with our teammates at the Factory. We met at the twice a week mixed martial arts seminar. Both having wrestling, Brazilian jiu jitsu and boxing backgrounds, we stood out and did well amongst our peers, but locked in on each other for some on going private action. We would fight for forced fucks or stakes. We couldn’t believe how intensely aroused we were beating the fuck out of each other. Then we discovered we were into the same muscle punishment and worship kink. We would have routine ab punching wars and would often worship each other’s abs at night in bed, laying side by side, punching each other’s abs hard, feeling how big our cock shafts swell. We would redden each other’s abs until our dicks were diamond hard and throbbing, then suddenly switch to piggish, flip fucking. Ours was a very fighter brother bond, hot as fuck, fun as hell, but not held too tightly. One night we were talking about fist fighting. Guys on both our socials were asking to see actual fist fights. We thought the idea was hot as fuck. Team Factory PR was more than happy to rig us up cameras on the fifth floor roof top deck in the grassy area in the Garden. We were slowly jerking each other when we devised a sexy fight scenario. A knockout gets an immediate fucking. Round one lasts until the first knockdown or if he takes a knee. Loser has to suck cock. Round two lasts until KO or a second knock down. Loser has to suck cock. Round three only ends with a KO and stakes.

We have been living off this scenario for months. We were jerking each other while imagining fighting. Once we had our plans we were in each other's ears with shit talk scenarios day and night, while training together and when we were fucking each other. As sex fighters, we both knew that sucking out a load if we lost a round would seriously weaken the other, but if this strategy was formulated in our heads, we kept it to ourselves.Then there was the fight itself. Ridiculous! And, finally, we watch it on playback from Factory Streaming Services (FSS) and jerk ourselves silly. We posted links to our fight so that our Onlyfans subscribers could have a reduced rate access to the fight on FSS and we filled our Instagram pages with many hot screen grabs from the video. Our subscriber rates went through the roof.

We both are wearing faded blue jeans and a tight Team Factory t-shirt. We kick off our asics as we step barefoot into the garden. The rooftop grass bends under my feet as I step into range, fists bare, shoulders loose. I jab your chest—hard—and feel the dense resistance under cotton. Solid. I love that about you. I jab again, then step in with a left hook to the body, my knuckles popping off your ribs. My forearms already buzz. “Mikey is fucking built. That always makes it fun to kick his ass,” I think to myself. “You’re in my space now,boy!” I say, circling left. My dick raging hard and feeling agro in my jeans.

I tighten my abs and let the punches land, flexing just enough to let you feel the bounce. Your knuckles sting, but they don’t move me. I slip your next shot and drive a short right into your side, then another into your chest, feeling your pectoral contract under impact. Thick. Strong. Beasty Frame. “You’re gonna have to dig deeper than that,” I growl. My cock throbs with every punch I throw.

I crowd you, shoulder pressing into your sternum, and rip an uppercut inside. Your head snaps back a fraction. Enough. I follow with a knee to your thigh—hard muscle on hard muscle—then a high kick that slaps your guard. My shirt clings to my back now, breath already heavy. “I’m setting the pace. He’s reacting. Excellent,” I assess.

I catch the kick on my forearm and counter with a hook to your body, then another, digging into your abs. You brace instantly, core locking down like steel. I grin. “Brawny takes pride in that midsection. Good,” I say to myself. I throw a right upstairs, then step in close, chest to chest, letting you feel my weight and balance. “This is what real strength feels like, B. You got to catch up, BOY!” I say as I feel the power of my muscle cock flexing too.

We trade inside—short hooks, compact punches—knuckles thudding into muscle and bone. My fists sting, my ribs ache, and I’m smiling through it. I slip your right and fire back with everything I have, my fist landing clean on your jaw. You drop to one knee. My chest floods with heat. Alpha moment.

“Stay there,” I say, looming over you. I pull my shirt off over my head revealing my muscle packed body and ripped mid-section. I unbutton my jeans, shove them down off my hips, and take out my thick, hard cock. “Yeah. Come on. I knocked your bitch ass down. You have to suck the winner of round one’s cock.”

The grass meets my knuckles as I steady myself. My jaw hums, abs burning, lungs flaring. I breathe once, deep, then push up immediately. “He barely earned that. I’m going to fuck his ass so hard. This is far from over,” I think to myself as I get to my knees in front of you, like we both have a million times before. I reach and grab your jock strap, pulling it down your legs, then moving my mouth to dive head first onto your enormous dick. I yank your pants down more with one hand while using the other to fist your cock, my mouth following up and down. Your raw stink makes my dick throb. My lips remain tight around your thick shaft, bobbing up and down, able to deep throat your big white dick. I spit down on it and then continue sucking up and back on it. You love when I deep throat you, so I grab you by the leg and around the waist and shove your cock all the wall down my throat until tears bleed from my eyes and I begin to gag. Suddenly, I feel your cock throbbing very hard and you push me away. I smile satisfied at you as you backs away.

“You fucker!” Lost myself to the pleasure for a second, felt my legs relaxing. I pull up my jock and jeans. Put myself away as you stand up with a smile. “You have always been a great cock sucker.”

"So have you. One of the best at working my muscle cock,” I say

 We growl and grin at each other, feeling the horny pull of a thousand different encounters. We huddle closer, until we can feel our breath on each other's faces. We just want to feel each other’s heat and trade agro cocky eye fucking. Our alpha energy spikes again and we shove each other backwards. “C’mon, fucker, let’s get this over with so I can fuck your sweet ass!”

The shirt comes off and the cool air hits my skin, rain mist beading on muscle. I see your torso—abs thick and layered, obliques carved deep—and mad respect makes my dick throb even harder. I step in and hammer your body, both fists slamming into your core, loving the solid resistance.“Go ahead,” I say. “Show me how tough you are, cock sucker.”

Your punches thud into my abs, deep and heavy. I brace and take them, flexing just enough to let you feel how solid I am. My fists answer in kind—hooks into your midsection, watching red bloom across your skin. Your abs tighten like iron under my knuckles. He’s proud. So am I. “You’re hitting steel, Bro.”

I change levels, feint low, then dig a hook into your ribs. You exhale sharply. I follow with a straight right to your chest, then another to your abs. My knuckles throb, but I don’t slow. Break his rhythm. “You’re slowing down son,” I say, smiling.

 I answer with volume—left hook to the body, right hook upstairs, then another to your abs. My arms feel heavy now, shoulders burning. I step in and shove you back, reclaiming space. You don’t push me. “You're still standing because I let you,” I say.

I slip his next punch and fire the right cross straight down the line. It lands flush on his chin. I feel the transfer—hips, shoulder, fist—and watch him crash to the grass. “Fuck Yeah.” Perfect! I unbutton my jeans and push them down while fisting my hard cock.

The impact empties my lungs. The sky tilts violently. I roll, push, and stagger up to my knees. My chin throbs, vision pulsing. Alpha gets up. I nod at you. “Nice shot,” I say, keeping it cool for the cameras and watching you strip out of your jeans completely. I reach up and pull your jock down by its straps and start licking your monster white cock even while my bell is still ringing. I focus on the taste of your salty cock sweat, the smell of your raw pubes, the pinch of my neck and shoulder muscles as they move up and down, my mouth finding your wide cock head and gulping it down. My lips close firm around your thick shaft and I open my throat and slowly take you fully in, my nose in your pubes. I grab strong fingers full of your rock hard, yet meaty ass as I slurp up and down your dick. My head is finally starting to clear when I feel your hands on the sides of my head, shoving me away and looking ready to go.

 As I retreat into a loose grappling stance I watch you stand and feel a surge of respect under my dominance. I knocked you down but you got right back up. You sucked my cock with gusto and I know I clocked you good. Your pale sweaty skin makes your muscles look like rippling white marble. We are done with even the jocks as we now stand there in the rain naked with matching XXX large white boners. Our eyes meet and we both know it’s war now. It’s one round each “One-one,” I say. “Now it’s war.”

Rain pours now, soaking us. No judges. No saving face. I shoot in, tackle you into the grass, and pull guard as we hit. My legs wrap around your waist—thick, heavy—and I start working immediately, breaking posture with my forearms while throwing short punches to your ribs. Control first. Damage second.

His guard is tight, legs like steel cables around my hips. I posture carefully, hands on his biceps, feeling the strength there. I drop a short punch through the gap, then another, measuring each one. Base. Balance. I try to stand, but he hooks my leg and drags me back down.

I climb my guard higher, calves squeezing your back, forcing your posture down. I punch the body again with short, grinding shots, then angle my hips, threatening a sweep. My arms shake with fatigue, rain dripping off my brow. At a glance I can see our two big white cocks having their own cock fight greeting.

I widen my base, knees digging into wet grass, and frame against your hip. I drive an elbow into your thigh—not to finish, just to make space—then posture enough to rain down punches. Each one lands slower now, heavier. “Yeah boy, you’re tired,” I say, even as my lungs burn.

I shrimp, create an angle, and slide into half guard, trapping one of your legs, forcing our crotches together where our dicks grind roughly. I underhook, come up on my side, and throw punches from below, smashing into your ribs. My forearms feel like lead. It's as if our bodies fight back themselves.

I pummel for position, flatten you out, then free my leg and stand. We rise together—soaked, shaking, stripped buck naked—muscles quivering under exhaustion. I see the damage now: bruised ribs, reddened abs, swelling jaw. Still dangerous.

 I see it on you too—welted torso, labored breath, shoulders sagging. We’re wrecked, but upright. I throw a right cross on instinct, everything left in it.

I have that same instinct and throw mine at the same time, vision narrowing. Both punches land. Both bodies fold. We hit the grass side by side, rain pounding, chests heaving, muscles twitching with spent force. No tap. No KO. Just two alphas who tested everything—and proved neither would bow.

 We lay there on our mutually beaten backs in the rain soaked grass, barely able to move or catch a breath, but we do. The only thing semi-hard on us remains our cocks, and like heat seeking missiles they will still do battle. With effort I roll from my back onto my hip facing your body and throw my shoulder and arm over towards your shoulders.

I catch you moving from my peripheral vision, blurry as it may be, and roll to my hips facing you as well. I throw my shoulders, arm and top leg towards your body, feeling the rain coming down as my cock gets harder again. For a few minutes all we hear are our grunts and moans trying to get close enough to the other to still wage war.

Our sweat, blood and rain soaked bodies slow motion collide straight into each other, chest to chest up on our hips. Our arms wrap around each other’s thick backs and our cocks, hard as rock, grind between us. The pleasure is intense as we cock fight because everything else hurts so bad.

Our muscular asses flex as our hips undulate and grind our cocks skin vs skin, thick, meaty muscle shafts hump as the rest of our otherwise exhausted bodies lay together like wet muscle wreckage. Our faces find each other’s salty necks, then our mouths find each other and the kiss is immediate, nuclear passion, awakening a new level of alpha lust humping between us.

Bronson:  “Mike”

Mike: “Bron”

Bronson:  “Fuck Bro”

Mike: "Traitors Bro.”

Bronson: “Traitors.”

We gave up the fight when we could feel each other's balls rapidly filling with hot lava like cum. The pain of the battle we waged surrounding us, now just making us more horny as our bodies begin to shudder and jerk. Our moans reach a raging pitch as the rain continues to fall.

The ecstatic jerking caused as much pain as pleasure until we both fully erupt like volcanoes, spewing cum into the mess between us, and let our throbbing cocks celebrate the victory that the rest of our bodies lost.

I swear to god the video shows us slumping fast asleep against each other in mutual cum comas, drooling sweat and bleeding, two big shots laying unconscious in the rain. It blew up the Factory Streaming Services.

Mike and I quickly posted two videos of us topping the other in muscle punishing ways, having piggish sex and calling each other our boy, but nothing knocks two sex fighters off the charts when they're shown first knocking each other out and then making each other pass out from ecstatic humping.

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https://mars.chatfighters.com/federations/The_Factory_Reading_Room 

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