The Factory Reading Room

My dear friend and teammate Rafael Figueroa 1 joined Team Factory just shortly after we founded it and was instrumental in getting it off the ground. His multiple championships on the underground sex fighting circuit help establish us as a force to be reckoned with in the New York City circuit. He is a Brazilian Gracie black belt and helped set up our jiu jitsu seminars and create a tradition of jiu jitsu excellence in our training curriculum. He comes to me now as the head of recruiting to request that I do the recruitment interviews and fights for his two boys myself. I told him of course I would have someone take good care of his boys. We just successfully recruited Joel Green and Rahim Ali’s boys a couple years ago. Sam Rojas and Mike Anderson tell me excellent things about Marcos and Dominic. Rafa says they are excellent fighters, and will be excellent team members, but he fears their youthful dreams, very early success, and perhaps their sense of privilege from being the sons of a champion, may make integrating into the team difficult. “They both need a firm brushing back. They can both beat Sam or Mike on any given day, but they have been these insular brothers and I don’t think a close loss to one of your second years is gonna cut it. They are both already that good.” I look at Rafa and have no reason to doubt his judgment. I think for a second, then ask, which of the two makes it easier to get the second. Marco. He is highly athletic and already very skilled, but he has had some recent anger issues and, like Dominic says, he thinks he is unstoppable. Unstoppable huh? Have him schedule a recruitment workout with the office for mid-morning in my private mat room and gym. Rafa, I got you on this one. I will make sure Marco and Dominic have successful careers here.

Papa tells me both Dominic and I are going to be recruited by Andre Jordan himself. I have two reactions. One is “What is my father up to, with Jordan doing this low level work.” The other is an immediate erotic spasm throughout my body with a desire to dominate and fuck him, the latter clouding my judgment. I wonder if Papa would care if I fucked him? Papa says to call his office and make an appointment any weekday at 11 am for a recruitment interview. I do just that and the next thing I know I am on the subway in my t-shirt and my gym shorts, roomy enough to hide this enormous snake in my shorts. I know both Sam and Mike were recruited 2 years ago and are doing well, they were both trained like I was, by sex fighting champions for fathers. In my head I am already on the team and really making a name for myself starting by being recruited by Andre Jordan himself. I’m taking the elevator up to the fifth floor, called “The Bunkhouse,” and get directed to Andre’s private mat room and gym. They tell me to go right in, he is in the shower. They close the door behind me and I am standing in a big wrestling mat room; chair and couch in this corner, office desk and chair in this corner. It feels very casual and professional and like a gym lived in by a wrestler. The other side leads to the big back of the space with a private mat room with padded walls, gym and a large private shower. I see Andre’s sweaty rash guard and shorts on the floor, but I feel intrusive and go back and take a seat on the couch. The thought of him naked in that shower is making me crazy.

I am running late to my meeting with Rafa's boy. The jiu jiu seminar this morning was very lively and fun. Me, my fight shorts and rash guard are soaked in sweat. I must have rolled with half the class. I guess everyone was feeling cocky and taking their shots and I loved it. I love that they know they can take a shot at me and there will be no repercussions. I want them to be good natured, to show high quality sportsmanship, but I also want them randy and takin’ shots at the king. I jump in the shower and half way through hear him come in. I yell at him but I know he can't hear me. I jump out as fast as I can, dry off and quickly pull on some fight shorts and pad barefoot on the flooring made of resolite mats back into the office. I find you sitting on the couch and welcome you back to my private gym. I lay on a mat and stretch, having just rolled, you choose the weight bench. “It’s very nice to meet you, Marco. I hear excellent things about you.”

I look up from the couch and there you are in person. Damn you’re even better looking in person, plus there is this sort of magnetic thing about him, an energy field. Whatever it is it definitely making my cock harder. I follow him to his private gym, checking out his huge quads and ass, his wide tapered “V” lats and shoulders. The muscles just shimmer all over his body. He is so ripped. I watch him stretch out on his back on the mat as I sit more cautiously on the weight bench in the gym now. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mister Jordan.”

Even sitting on a weight bench you are imposing for your age. Thick. Dense. Athletic. Born with the perfect genetics you are both stunningly handsome and beautifully proportioned. You look strong. You carry yourself very well. I really want to fuck you so I know you are putting out alpha vibes. “See, right there, you called me mister. I shouldn’t be doing recruitment interviews because of the power differential. That might scare some recruits.”

Marco: “I’m not scared of you, mister Jordan.” I say looking you straight in the eyes.

Andre: I get up from the mat and stand firmly squared off towards you. “Call me Andre, or Dre.”

Marco: I stand up from the bench and pull off my shirt so I can stand chest to chest squared off with you, inches apart, feeling the heat of our bodies in the air. “I’m not scared of you Andre.”

Andre: I feel the heat of your breath as you get in my face. See your bulge throbbing huge. You’re sexy as fuck, but I can’t set straight out to fuck Rafa’s boy. “Oh you think you can be pushing in on my grill like that?”

Marco: I push my pec pads into your pec pads and give a hump from the hips, bulge to bulge. “Guess I am already, so yeah must be.”

Andre: “This fucking punk, “ and “Damn he’s sexy” fly through my mind at the same time. “Why do you feel you can get away with being this cocky?” I look at him at him good humoredly.

Marco: “I was raised by a sex fighting champion and trained by no less than 3 champion sex fighting fathers. I can beat Mike and Sam and they are two years ahead of me in your program.”

Andre: “Sam just lost his fight, Mike won barely, both were trained by champion sex fighters. You think it’s going to be easier for you?” Now my dick is getting very hard.

Marco: “My conditioning is better than theirs. I’ve trained cross discipline my whole life. My father is a Gracie jiu jitsu black belt from Brazil. My honorary father Rahim is a Golden Globes Champion boxer and my other honorary father Joel was a two time all American state champion wrestler and so was I.” I’m flexing physically and emotionally, just bringing the temperature up in the room. “So, yeah, I think I got a leg up.”

Andre: “Great, well, we can dispense with the rest of the interview and proceed to the sex fight. I think we agreed to a Freestyle Wrestling Sex fight?” I say and grab my shorts and slide them down my legs, kicking them aside so I stand naked and horn boned before you.

 Marco: I slide off my shorts to reveal my very hard cock as well. I stand close to you, letting our cock shafts nudge each other a bit. “Yes, a Freestyle Wrestling Sex fight.” I follow you into your larger mat room area looking at your champion ass.

You stand in the center of my private mat room with your shoulders squared and chin slightly elevated, breathing through your nose like the air belongs to you. The overhead lights strike your physique cleanly, illuminating the dense contours of your musculature—thick deltoids rounded like armor, a broad chest that rises and falls with youthful confidence, thighs dense and full beneath your waist, and a powerful looking sex fighter cock, hard and pointing at me aggressively like a missile. You are built like a fighter who has never been broken. But I can already see the inefficiencies hidden beneath the surface. The slight over-engagement in your shoulders. The unnecessary tension in your neck. The wasted energy. I circle you slowly, my bare feet gliding silently across the mat, conserving everything. My breathing stays calm and steady, my nervous system quiet. My eyes stay fixed on you, studying, measuring.

“You ready?” I ask.

 You grin at me, that grin of someone who has never been denied.

“I’ve been ready my whole life.”

I nod once as my rock hard cock throbs, and we step into range. Our hands rise simultaneously, fingers open, elbows tight. The moment stretches, suspended. Then we make contact.

You feel solid the instant my hand touches your neck. Your trapezius is thick and unyielding beneath my grip, your skin warm, your posture rooted like something grown into the earth. Still, I feel my strength immediately. My collar tie clamps down hard, my forearm pressing across the back of your neck as I pull and steer you. “You feel that?” I say, forcing your posture down. “That’s championship muscle.” Your hand slides inside my tie and strips it away effortlessly, your fingers precise, economical. You don’t fight the pressure. You redirect it. You circle calmly, your feet barely whispering against the mat. I circle with you, refusing to give ground, my chest expanded, my muscles primed. I lower my level suddenly and explode forward, driving into a clean double leg takedown. My penetration step hits deep, my shoulder smashing into your hips as my arms lock behind both thighs. My glutes fire, my quadriceps surge, my entire posterior chain engaging as I drive forward, ready to bulldoze through you, but your hips vanish. They drop violently downward, your legs shooting back into a perfect sprawl. Your pelvis crashes into the back of my shoulders like a falling anvil, compressing my spine and halting my forward momentum instantly. Your chest folds over my upper back, heavy and suffocating, while your forearm wedges across my face, forcing my head sideways. Your weight is unreal. You’re not even straining, you’re resting!

Andre: Your shot is explosive. Your mechanics are fundamentally sound. Your penetration step is deep, and your grip strength is excellent. But you leave space between your hips and mine, and that space belongs to me. My hips slam down into you, transferring my full bodyweight through your shoulders and into the mat. My legs extend fully behind me, maximizing leverage. My chest compresses your upper back, and my forearm cross-faces you, turning your head and breaking your alignment. Your drive stops completely. Your legs keep firing for a moment, but there is nowhere for the force to go. I feel your muscles straining beneath me, powerful but inefficient. Burning fuel too quickly. I circle off deliberately, releasing pressure, allowing you to recover. I stand upright again, composed, my breathing unchanged. I gesture calmly. My cock stands hard and confident. “Again.”

You just stopped my best shot without effort, and that fact ignites something in me. But I refuse to show hesitation. I circle again, my breathing slightly heavier now, though I mask it behind confidence. “You got lucky,” I say. You don’t answer. You just watch me. I snap your head down hard and immediately transition to your right leg, clamping onto a single leg with both arms wrapped tight behind your knee. My shoulder drives into your thigh, my grip locking like steel. I lift your leg off the mat, elevating it high, balancing you on one foot. I turn sharply, trying to run the pipe, forcing rotation, expecting collapse, but FUCK, your balance is perfect. Your hands settle calmly onto my shoulders. Your hips rotate subtly. Your trapped leg suddenly slips free, snapping back to the mat with precision. Your hand presses against the back of my head, forcing my posture downward as you circle away again. You are always one step ahead. Always stable. Always calm.

You’re talented. That much is clear. Your entries are real. Your instincts are strong. But your breathing is beginning to accelerate, your rib cage expanding more visibly now, your nervous system climbing higher. I reach and collar tie you again, pulling your head slightly downward, feeling the strength in your neck as you resist. You shove back aggressively, your muscles surging, your pride refusing to yield. I allow it. We circle. Your feet remain active, but your energy output is increasing. Your shoulders rise slightly with each breath. Your eyes burn brighter, emotional energy creeping in. That’s when you make your mistake.

With my alpha energies spiking hard and my cock throbbing even harder for your perfect, muscular, black ass, I decide to end this. I surge forward and lock my arms around your torso in a crushing body lock. My forearms clamp behind your back, my biceps flexing violently, my chest pressing hard against yours. I squeeze with everything I have, feeling my muscles swell and harden. “You’re not stronger than me,” I growl. I lift explosively, driving through my legs and elevating your feet off the mat. Your body rises. Your weight leaves the earth. A sense of victory surges through me. Then your hips shift. Your leg hooks behind mine. Your arm threads across my upper body, controlling my rotation. Your torso twists sharply. Suddenly I’m weightless and the world flips. The mat erupts into my back with catastrophic force. My lungs empty violently as my entire body slams flat, the shockwave rattling through my spine and skull. The sound reverberates through the room.

With my alpha energies spiking hard and my cock throbbing even harder for your perfect, muscular, black ass, I decide to end this. I surge forward and lock my arms around your torso in a crushing body lock. My forearms clamp behind your back, my biceps flexing violently, my chest pressing hard against yours. I squeeze with everything I have, feeling my muscles swell and harden. “You’re not stronger than me,” I growl. I lift explosively, driving through my legs and elevating your feet off the mat. Your body rises. Your weight leaves the earth. A sense of victory surges through me. Then your hips shift. Your leg hooks behind mine. Your arm threads across my upper body, controlling my rotation. Your torso twists sharply. Suddenly I’m weightless and the world flips. The mat erupts into my back with catastrophic force. My lungs empty violently as my entire body slams flat, the shockwave rattling through my spine and skull. The sound reverberates through the room.

 I can’t breathe.

Your body lock is powerful. Your squeeze is exceptional. But your hips elevate too high, and once your center of gravity floats, it becomes mine. I hook behind your leg and rotate my hips sharply, redirecting your upward force into rotational force. Your own momentum amplifies the throw. I guide you down violently but precisely, ensuring maximum impact while maintaining control. Rafa would kill me if I really hurt you. Your body crashes into the mat. I release you immediately and step back. You lie there, stunned, lungs searching for air. I gesture calmly. “Up, tough guy.”

You let me stand. You’re giving me another chance. My chest heaves harder now. Sweat runs down my torso, dripping from my ribs, and into my curly pubes, but anger drives me forward. I refuse to accept this outcome. I shoot again, more violently now, grabbing both legs and driving with everything left inside me. My muscles contract with fury. You sprawl instantly, but this time you don’t just stop me. You punish me. You spin behind me with terrifying speed, your arm locking around my waist as the arch of your cock shaft slides perfectly into my ass crack. Your legs drive into the mat, your glutes and hamstrings firing as you lift my entire body effortlessly. Then you slam me again. Harder. My back smashes into the mat with crushing force, the impact reverberating through every bone. My vision flashes. My nervous system screams.

You’re unraveling now. Your shots have lost their structure. Your breathing is loud. Your muscles still carry immense power, but the efficiency is gone. I allow you to stand again. You charge forward repeatedly, attempting shot after shot. Each one becomes easier to stop. My sprawls land heavier. My snaps break your posture faster. My control tightens. Your movements slow. Your shoulders sag. Your lungs burn. Finally, you attempt one last desperate shot, your penetration shallow, your force diminished. I stuff it effortlessly. Your body collapses forward onto the mat beneath you.

I stay there. My chest rises and falls violently, sweat pooling beneath my face. My arms tremble. My legs refuse to obey. You stand above me, breathing calmly, completely in control. You’re not tired, not even close. You’re everything I thought I was. Everything I wanted to be. Everything I still have to earn. I feel a bit shaken for the first time in my life and am swimming in a cocktail of unfamiliar emotions.

I look down at you as you lay there lesson learned. You begin to look minorly dysregulated and so I sit gently at your side. “Are you hurt? Scan your body. Any sharp pains? How is your neck, move it slowly.” Just the act of engaging your mind to scan your body regulates you emotionally and your body calms.

As my body breathes in more replenishing air, more energy returns to my body. “I’m okay, Andre. Everything just feels tired and sore.” I work to get up on my elbows, but you push my back down and say, “Marco, brother, just relax. It's over.” “But we didn’t discuss the stakes.” I blurt out.

I lay down on my back right next to you, so we can see our chests rise and fall from our breathing out of the periphery of our eyes. “That wasn’t a sex fight, that was a dressing down, there will be no stakes.” I elbow you and catch your eye and you lighten up a bit. “May I say a few things to you, Marco?” You Nod. “I'm actually really glad you are not afraid of me. I want you to feel safe with me. I’m your teammate, but I am also an advanced member. I have been fighting on the circuit a long time and am well trained and highly conditioned. You are as you think you are; a highly athletic, well conditioned and highly skilled grappler and fighter who one day will be a champion sex fighter. What you forgot to bring today with you alongside your confidence, which is well earned for your level, is your humility and opponent awareness. Never underestimate your opponent or neglect to fully analyze his game before fighting him.”

 “Marco, you’re a member. Congratulations. Wanna take a shower with me? Many of us at Team Factory have ourselves a nice jerk off after training together. Come be my teammate Marco. We can get a closer look at each other as well.”