December 1st, 2014, 09:01 PM
A Punk in Tights
Hey there, guys
I'm a big fan of erotica - wrestling stories specifically gets my member hard as a stone and leaking pre-cum. I wrote this story recently and hope it delivers you just as much pleasure as it did to me <3
From the first-person perspective of CM Punk
From the peripheral of my vision I could see Edge preparing himself for one final spear.
'Time to take this one home', I thought. As I spun around, the crowd's cheering almost seemed to mute and Edge rushed forward, drilling his shoulder in to my firm stomach and even causing my sweaty sac to bounce around freely in my trunks.
"Damn, Adam," I whispered as his slimy back slid atop me.
"I've always heard you like it a little rougher than the other guys, Phil," he whispered as the ref counted the "three". Adam, clearly exhausted from our 30 minutes of action, continued celebrating in the ring as I crept behind the stage and toward the locker room.
One thing they never told me before ECW began faltering was how political the backstage scene was deep within the WWE - and not your typical money-fueled, power-hungry politics, oh no, these politics were centered around sex. Who could swallow cock the best, who wanted to please more than one superstar at a time, which boys were willing to spend extra hours in the ring and in the sheets - little had to do with our actual in-ring talent. Which I believe is a shame because, let's face it, I'm the best in the world.
Although I may be disappointed that my wrestling abilities won't be what ultimately gets a title around my slender waist, I had always preferred fucking men over women so putting in some extra hours to further my career is no problem.
"Hey, Punk!" I heard a raspy voice call from behind. Kurt Angle, his bald head shimmering under the fluorescent lights and his plump ass bouncing with each enthusiastic step, was jogging toward me with a concerned expression.
"Hey Kurt, what's the hurry?" I replied. And yes, it was genuine curiosity I was displaying. Even though he was the current WWE Champion and everyone was begging to get Kurt's legendary ass propped up on their tongue (in hopes it would lead to a "friendship" and ultimately an opportunity at being a main event superstar), I thought of Kurt as my mentor. My protector of sorts. He appreciated my wrestling talent more than any other person I'd met in the business and, to my pleasant surprise, told me which of the boys were good for a casual romp, who's pleasure would grant me career opportunities, and who would cling on to me if I gave them the time of day (Mark Henry's a prime example if you can believe it!).
"Jericho promised me we would split a hotel room tonight but I think Cena texted him asking to stay the night, and you know how easy it is for Cena to get Jericho on his knees."
"Yeah, I was suspicious when they kept taking showers together but now they're making it obvious."
"Better cut that lovey-dovey shit out or Vince will send one of 'em over to Smackdown," Kurt replied as his veiny hands itched at his cock. His semi-swollen head was clearly outlined as it came to rest atop his bulging sac. Oh how I had fantasized about tracing the circumference of each testicle with my tongue, lathering them with my saliva, leaving small droplets of spit on his trimmed pubic hairs (if he even had any). I had to quickly glance away before my dick stiffened to it's entire 7 and a half inches.
"You ok?" he asked.
"Friggin fantastic," I lied. "So what now, you need a roomie?"
"You don't have plans already?"
"Well, I watch hours of hardcore porn while stuffing my ass full of dildos most nights, so, nope. No plans." Kurt giggled and it brought my crooked grin back.
"Holiday Inn on 22nd Street. Room 1455. I'm gonna head there now and take a shower, so, take your time, Kid." And as he handed me a card key, Kurt winked and began toward the illuminated red "EXIT" sign. Sexy motherfucker.
After the show had gone off the air, Daniel Bryan and I stayed after for a few hours to practice some new submission techniques. Daniel was the type of guy that refused to make any advances unless they were one-hundred percent initiated by the other person. Unfortunately, when we first broke in to the business together, Daniel and I had stereotypical-drunk-mistake sex and it lead to a strain on the friendship we had created.
But now we just practiced together.
I always felt like Daniel wanted to talk about that night or quite possibly even continue on as a "thing", but I wasn't in a position where settling for anyone or anything was acceptable. I had to achieve the dream I had set out for - to become the champion and to have a say in the progression of the company. If I had to sacrifice a potential "romance" for the power, well then, so be it.
I got to Kurt's room around midnight or so, but as I began fumbling in my pockets for the card key, I could hear deep groans coming from the opposite end of the door. Someone was either in severe pain or getting fucked like there was no tomorrow. I prayed it was the latter.
As I burst in the door, five individuals all jumped and stared at me - their faces shifting from fear, to pride, to a sexual thirst. Kurt Angle was completely nude, a hard and meaty ten inches hung down from his waist and was just slightly penetrating the lightly hairy hole of a sweaty Seth Rollins. Seth smiled at me with blonde and black hairs dangling from his mouth. Even though he was being fucked with ferocity, his cock was just as hard as Kurt's.
Hanging just to the right of Seth's face, Hunter's (Triple H) girthy 7 inches was sliding in and out of the brute's own wrinkled hand, his bulky thighs, which I'd fondled myself to since I was a teenager, jiggled with each individual stroke. Just behind Kurt was Cena, ramming in to a nearly unconscious Jericho (the only sign of life being the deafening moans of pleasure bursting from his mouth). The two mountains that made up Cena's ass shifted and contorted with each and every thrust.
"Finally, you're here! Now we can get the show started!" Kurt exclaimed. He was more thrilled than I had ever seen him.
"What show?" I asked, knowing exactly what I wanted to happen next.
"This is your welcoming committee, Punk. Now, take off your clothes." He replied, sliding completely out of Seth and starting toward me.