Oil wrestlers – part 1

Gay erotica, massage, forced arousal, cbt

A teenager decides to make some money naked wrestling.

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Oil wrestlers – part 1

A Range Rover with tinted windows pulled over to the roadside where a young man stood dressed in his jogging bottoms, a T-shirt, sneakers and a hoody. A window rolled down on the passenger side and a man in his late fifties leaned out.

“Franta Maly?”

The teenager approached.

“Yes, that’s me. Radek sent me.”

The man smiled.

“Yes, he’s one of our best recruiters. I’m Otik. So you know what you’re going to be doing yes?”

“Yes, wrestling nude.”

“That’s right. Are you comfortable with that?”

Franta shrugged.

“I don’t know, but it’s money right? How much do you pay again?”

“100k for the shoot.”

“Koruna’s right?” Franta asked with a smirk.

100,000 Czech Korunas was equivalent to 6 weeks’ pay for a skilled worker. Which he wasn’t.

“Of course, of course! So are you interested?”

“Of course, of course,” Franta said with an impish grin, throwing the man’s words back to see if he had a sense of humour.

The man smiled again and turned to the driver.

“We have a cheeky one here Lojza, I think he’ll do great.”

The man opened the back door.

“Get in and we can take you to the studio.”

Franta looked into the back and there was another young guy who looked to be about 18 – the same age as him. The young man smiled.

“Hey, I’m Petr, we’ll be wrestling. Come in!”

He offered a hand. Franta accepted the hand  and climbed into the car. Petr did a single, abrupt shake, then switched his grip so that his fingers formed a hook. It was a slightly macho grip favoured by college boys and those on sports teams. Franta changed his grip to match, his fingers hooking onto Petr’s. Petr did another quick shake, this time pulling to lock their fingers tight. Franta returned the favour, creating a momentary low-key tug of war.

Franta instantly liked the other boy. He closed the car door behind him and the care immediately pulled away.

“Hey Petr, how you doing?”

“Great thanks brother. What about you?”

“Yeah, pretty cool thanks!”


Otik turned in the front seat.

“Petr is one of our stars. He’s been wrestling about two years now.”

“Oh, how old are you?” Franta asked in surprise.


“I didn’t think you were allowed to do porn under 18?”

“Actually, it’s 15, but you need your parents’ permission.”

“Speaking of which, you brought your ID didn’t you Franta?” Otik asked.

Franta pulled his passport out of his pocket and gave it to Otik. The man checked it then returned it.

“Just 18. What a way to celebrate!”

“This is just for the money,” Franta replied.

“Naturally,” Otik said. “So Franta have you ever done any nude modelling before?”

“No, never.”

“What about a nudist camp or beach?”


“So, this is going to be your first time naked in front of anyone else?”

“Well, apart from the school showers, and my mum when I was a kid.”

“Ah, of course. So, do you think you’ll be okay with being nude around another boy? And the cameras?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’ll be weird, but I’ll get over it.”

“That’s the spirit. Professional attitude. I like it. One more question, are you gay?”

“No, definitely not.”

“Never done anything with another boy?”


“Well, you know that you’ll be expected to wank off at the end of the shoot, right?”

“Yeah, Radek told me.”

“And you’ll be expected to wank Petr and let him wank you. Are you sure that won’t be a problem?”

“I’ll do what you tell me to for that sort of money. I don’t have to like it do I?”

“No, of course not. In fact, our subscribers prefer it if you are a little self-conscious. It lets them know that you’re straight.”



30 minutes later, they arrived at the studio. It was at a remote house outside Prague. They parked on a large gravel drive and entered through a side door. Franta could see an outdoor pool and substantial grounds through a large glass window as they passed through a lounge area.

“Nice house!” he commented.

“Thank you. Adult media is a lucrative business. People are always horny.”

Otik lead them through another door and downstairs to a large, well-lit basement area. At one end, there was a small rest area, with a couch and two chairs. In the middle was a computer, an editing desk and several cameras on tripods. The far end was matted and covered in blue plastic tarpaulin.

“Okay, have you ever wrestled or grappled before?” Otik asked.

“Nope, nothing.”

“Okay, that’s good. Models who have wrestled before can get way too aggressive. So, for the first 30 minutes, I want you to remember, the objective is not to win; it’s to put on a show. If you manage to hold Petr down, nobody wants to see him pinned for 10 minutes, so after a few seconds, ease off and let him escape.”

He made air quotes as he said the last word.

“What the audience most wants, is to see two fit, almost naked young men rolling around on the floor, rubbing against each other okay?”


“Great, now why don’t you strip down to your underwear and we can get started.”

Franta quickly stripped, depositing his clothes in the rest area. Then he returned to the side of the mats where Petr and a second man was waiting. He was wearing his best briefs as he had been instructed. They had a wide elasticated waistband, and a tailored pouch.

“Grand, this is Vasek. He’s operating the cameras. Now step onto the mats. You’re going to warm up first. Just follow Petr’s lead.”


Petr walked onto the mats and Franta followed him.

“Okay, let’s just stretch a bit first,” Petr said. “Do this.”

He pulled one arm across his body with the other, loosening his shoulder, and Franta copied his movement. Over the next fifteen minutes, they went through an array of exercises to loosen their joints and warm up their muscles.

As they stretched, Vasek set up the cameras and got them rolling, then picked up a Steadicam and started walking around them filming.


Otik said, “Great, you’re warm enough. Let’s get down to it. Remember Franta, you’re not here to win. You’re here to look sexy. You’re going to try to throw Petr to the mat, but not too roughly. You can trip or takedown or whatever. Once one of you is down, the other one is going to try to hold him down. Let’s say no longer than 20 seconds attempting any pin, then you either move away and reset, or you allow Petr to escape. Clear?”

“Yup! Franta said with a smile.

He turned to Petr and they fist bumped cordially, then Petr adopted a crouched pose with his hands up and out in front of him, ready to grapple for position. Franta copied him.

“Off you go then,” Otik said.

Franta moved closer to Petr and they interlocked their fingers. Keeping low, they both twisted and turned, trying to push the other’s arms to the side. Franta suddenly let go with his right hand and moved in close, wrapping his arm around Petr’s waist. He turned away, trying to throw Petr over his hip. Petr tried to step around, but Franta stuck out a leg and Petr fell to the floor. Franta followed him down, and lay sidewards across Petr, wrapping his arm around the other boy’s neck. Petr struggled for a while before Franta loosened his hold, allowing him to slide out.


They continued in the same vein for the next 15 minutes, then they took a break, and walked to the side of the mats to take a drink from the water bottles that Otik had provided.

He looked at them. Their underwear had dark sweat rings around the waist, leg holes and in a line where the cracks of their bottoms ran.

“Good, you’re both nice and warm. You’re going to carry on wrestling, but this time, Petr, you are going to pull Franta’s pants off. Franta, keep wrestling. Don’t try to keep your pants on. When they’re gone, you’re going to pull Petr’s off as you fight, then you throw your briefs to the side and keep wrestling okay?”

Franta gave him a big bright-eyed puppy-dog smile of acknowledgement. Otik liked the boy. He hadn’t worked out if the boy was genuinely straight or simply closeted yet, but he was certainly keen. There was one thing he was certain of however; that he’d have the kid on his knees, taking it in both ends,  on camera within six months.


The boys walked back onto the mat and started wrestling again. Almost immediately they ended up on the ground rolling around.

Petr was obviously quite skilled at it. Franta quickly came to realise that any time he wanted to, the other boy could easily dominate him. But Petr was playing along with the game, allowing Franta his own opportunity to look good. At this stage, all that Franta brought to the fight was youthful enthusiasm and strength, but he was matched on the latter pound-for-pound by Petr.

Franta would move into a position, mostly from behind, wrap his arms around Petr and try to manhandle the other teen into a submission position. Sometimes Petr would allow him to succeed, and other times he would wriggle out, turning to face him, or breaking his grip.

After one such reversal, Franta found himself in Petr’s lap as the boy heaved him off the mat, then a hand was at the side of his briefs and before he could react, they were sliding down his thighs and his penis was bouncing free.

He knew from the start, that he was going to be getting nude, but it still caught him off-guard when it happened, especially as his body was facing the camera at the time. Instinctively, he reached to cover himself, but as he did so, Petr arched his hips beneath him forcing Franta’s now naked groin upwards. Franta blushed, and he felt an irrational wave of annoyance that Petr had exposed him to the world. He was determined to take his revenge, and in a squealing, grunting surge of effort, he turned back to his opponent, and quickly manoeuvred him into a position where Franta could tug at HIS underwear. Petr put up a token resistance, but soon enough he had also been divested of his briefs. Now both boys were fully naked. Franta glanced at Petr’s penis and was relieved to see that it was about the same size as his own; a three-inch tube of meat with a tight foreskin on the end.

The boys wrestled for a further ten minutes before taking another water break.

“Great job lads,” Otik encouraged. “Now you’re going to get oiled up. Use this bottle of baby oil. Rub it into the chest and arms, and pay special attention to each other’s dicks. Spend at least five or even ten seconds, and don’t forget the balls. Then a quick rub into the thighs, turn, do the back, and again, nice and thorough on the backside, and be sure to rub it well down into the crack. Petr, you oil Franta first.”


Franta felt considerable trepidation when he heard what Otik expected from them. He was well-aware that their wrestling antics were intended to be viewed by gay men, and that didn’t particularly bother him; he was flattered if anything; but the level of intimacy that the man had just articulated was far beyond his expectations. He swallowed down his antipathy, and watched as Petr poured baby oil onto his hand.


The other boy approached and started to rub it into Franta’s chest, then his arms. Petr’s hands started to work their way down his torso, down along his light treasure trail towards his groin. Then he stopped just above Franta’s pubes and poured more oil on his palm. He resumed rubbing the oil, starting at the top of Franta’s thighs and working down away from his genitals. For a moment, Franta hoped that Petr was going to disobey Otik, then the boy looked him in the eye, raised his eyebrows  and gave him a cheeky grin.

Then he gripped Franta’s penis in his oiled fist and started to work the oil into it, although “work the oil in” was not an entirely accurate description. Within the first second, Franta’s penis was well-oiled, everything after that was nothing more than barely-disguised masturbation. Franta looked down at the fist moving over his cock and tensed his lips into a tight oval. His eyes widened self-consciously. This was not what he had expected. The friction as Petr rubbed the oil produced a pleasant warmth, but Franta didn’t want it to feel pleasant. He could feel his penis responding, but he fought against it, tensing his stomach and pulling up his balls towards his body.

Petr glanced up at Franta’s face, his playful smirk broadening. He could feel the meat in his hand swelling slowly. He released it and gripped the testicles that Franta had sucked up towards his body, tugging them back downwards in his oiled hand, and rolling them lightly in his fist. Franta was relieved that the attention on his penis had ended. Having his balls massaged still felt nice, but it was not boner-inducing nice.

“Turn around,” Petr said with a smirk.

Franta complied, and Petr rubbed the oil into his back. When it came to his bottom, Petr once again took his time, slowly massaging each of the globes of Franta’s butt-cheeks. Then he turned his flattened hand sidewards and rubbed it between the cheeks. Franta was starting to relax; this was less intimate than wanking his cock. Then he felt the tip of an oily index finger at his hole. It pushed inside to the first knuckle joint and Franta tensed in shock. He looked over his shoulder wearing an expression of alarm. Yet again, Petr smirked back at him.



Petr handed Franta the bottle.

“Now you do me.”

Franta accepted the bottle and copied Petr’s example, oiling torso, arms and thighs saving the genitals till last. Unlike his partner, he had no interest in prolonging the penis-oiling stage. He oiled his fist then wrapped it around Petr’s cock. It felt strange to have another boy’s cock in his hand. It was not something he’d ever expected to experience, but he couldn’t help but feel a certain curiosity, making comparisons with his own penis. They were almost identical in size and appearance.

He massaged it for the five-second minimum that Otik had said would be acceptable, before moving onto Petr’s balls. They also felt exactly like his own. They were so similar that they could almost be twins. Franta noted that Petr’s dick no longer hung straight down between his legs. Instead, he had the start of a semi, and it protruded at a downwards-facing 45-degree angle.

When he had oiled Petr’s balls, Petr turned and Franta did the rear. He considered delivering his own revenger “finger shocker” but the thought of getting shit on his finger stopped him.


Glistening with oil, the two teenagers faced each other for the third round of wrestling. They adopted their previous starting position, then clashed like two titans in an ancient Greek sculpture, each grasping at the other’s upper arms and leaning forwards to use their weight. However, what neither had reckoned on, was how much difference the oil would make. Their feet slid away from each other, and the A shape of their initial combined posture quickly flattened to a pyramid, then a straight as they slowly slid laughing to their faces.

Franta was the first to react, releasing Petr and jumping onto the other boy’s back, facing head-to-head, with his chest pressing down between Petr’s shoulders. It was a position that had no strength, and Petr quickly slid out from beneath. They continued grappling for several minutes, but their slick bodies slid off each other, exactly as Otik intended.


He originally got the idea after watching oil wrestling on youtube. It was the national sport of Turkey, but in that sport, the wrestlers were not naked, and their thick leather shorts gave the opponent something to grip onto. Otik was happier with his version. Watching two naked, horny, teenagers sliding around, rubbing their slippery bodies together for half an hour was enough to make any gay man horny.


Franta and Petr reset in a face-to-face clinch ready to go at it again. Franta glanced down then gave Petr a smirk.

“You’ve got a boner,” he said.

Petr’s hard five-inch erection jutted out from his groin.

He grinned back.

“Yeah, this is horny don’t you think?”

“Kinda,” Franta admitted. “Little bit. Not THAT horny.”

“Whatever. We’ll see.”

“Okay guys,” Otik interjected. “Might as well go to the next round. Now you’re allowed to grab the other guy’s dick or slap his ass as well. One point for a slap, two for a 5 second dick grab, three for a submission.”

Franta knew that they would be masturbating together, and he suspected things were gonna get more sexual first. Dick grabbing was not entirely to his liking, but the oil wrestling had already lowered his inhibitions and now he was feeling playful and silly.

They started to grapple and he immediately reached for Petr’s penis. Petr twisted out of the way effortlessly, and countered with his own attempted grab. Franta caught his arm and twisted away as well.

They continued, back and forth, trying and mostly failing. The oil made it easy to twist and slide on the slippery tarp-covered matting, but almost impossible in conjunction with the oil, to apply any leverage.

Franta gripped Petr’s hard penis, and Petr slapped his hand away, turning to lay on top of his opponent, before returning the favour. Franta tried to push Petr’s hand away but Petr increased the pressure and used his other hand, gripping the inside of Franta’s elbow to prevent him pulling his penis free. He squeezed as hard as he could. It was not painful – at least, not how squeezed nuts would have been, but nevertheless, Franta squealed and slapped at the ground repeatedly in submission before it could become more uncomfortable. Petr released him and they reset again.

Watching them “fight” was like watching two slippery fish on a dock, flapping around and struggling.

Kneeling again, Franta leaned forwards and wrapped both arms behind Petr’s neck and pulled the other boy close. Petr’s dick was still a hard, shiny pole between them, pointing in Franta’s direction.

Franta fell backwards pulling Petr on top of him and wrapping his legs around the other boy’s waist to hold him close. Laying chest to chest, he lowered his right hand and gave his friend four light, cheeky slaps on the behind, laughing puckishly as he did so. Petr laughed as well, and pushed Franta’s remaining arm easily from around his neck.

Although Franta’s legs were wrapped around him, ankles crossed behind his back, thanks to the oil, it was impossible for him to hold the position, and Petr pushed Franta’s legs down to the floor then slipped through and straddled his opponent, kneeling on either side of his body. He wrapped his own legs around Franta’s, tucking his feet behind Franta’s knees, then he lay down chest-to-chest on top. He wrapped his arms under Franta’s armpits, and even with the slipperiness of the oil, it was very hard now for Franta to escape. He twisted and squirmed, bucking his hips, and trying to turn out. He suddenly became aware that their dicks were smooshed together; Petr’s boner, and his own floppy cock. Except it wasn’t completely floppy. The massage and the wrestling had given him a distinct semi, and now, with Petr’s slippery dick rubbing up against his own, he felt a full boner growing.

“Don’t think about it, don’t think about it!” he thought to himself, but the more he tried not to think about his penis, the harder it grew.

“Now’s who’s got a boner?” a grinning Petr whispered in his ear.

Franta redoubled his efforts to escape, but now he was certain that Petr was deliberately grinding their groins together.

“Dude!” he whispered back, but Petr ignored his objection and continued grinding their boners together for ten seconds. Vasek crouched and zoomed between their legs so that an appreciative audience could see that they were now both hard.


Petr continued to grind his groin against Franta’s until he could tell that the other boy was hard as stone, then, he finally gave up his position and allowed Franta out from underneath and moved away so that they could reset again. Franta looked at him with an expression between embarrassment, betrayal and annoyance.

They gripped each other’s shoulders ready to grapple again, but now Franta’s boner was so high, the head almost touched his belly. Petr looked down at it.

“Nice boner!” he said with grin again.

Franta didn’t need to look at himself to know how hard his dick was. He could feel his balls tight and his dick straining. His cheeks coloured.

“Ha ha,” he said with no humour in his voice.

Petr jiggled his eyebrows up and down in a playful gesture, smirking as he did so. Franta knew the boy had got him good.

“Nice boners,” Otik said, “score is nine three to Petr. Tell you what, let’s make it interesting. 5 points if you can make the other boy cum. 10 if you can make him cum twice. Automatic win for three times.”

Petr stared at him. This was getting a lot more sexual than he had expected. He didn’t exactly object: he knew that he should have requested a more detailed clarification of what they would be doing before they began. Now that the cameras were rolling, it was too late to complain. He was certain that Petr would never be able to make him cum in any case. But then, he would never have thought that he’d have gotten a boner wrestling with another boy either. Well, probably never. He admitted to himself that his dick had a mind of its own, but he still felt comfortable that Petr would be unlikely to even be able to HOLD his dick long enough to jack him off, much less make him cum…


Two minutes later, Franta lay on his side, his back to his opponent, his limbs entangled in Petr’s as the playful boy jacked his fiercely hard erection. Franta struggled like a dolphin caught in a net, but nothing he did could get him free. Petr seemed to somehow have too many arms, using the ground to trap one of Franta’s out of play, and then locking them both behind his back with a single arm. Even Petr’s legs were entangled around and between Franta’s.

Petr’s hard cock was pressed between the cheeks of Franta’s bottom, and he thrust his pelvis  forwards, forcing Franta’s hips out. With his free hand, Petr gripped his boner and pounded it mercilessly.

Franta quickly realised that he was wrong in his belief that another boy could not make him cum. The moment he felt Petr start pumping, he felt almost unbearably horny; just like he did when he happened upon a piece of new porn that pressed all his buttons.

There was absolutely nothing Franta could do to extricate his cock from Petr’s rapidly pumping fist. He didn’t want to be seen on video, made to cum so easily, milked like an eager cow, but this was what he had, albeit unwittingly, agreed to. He struggled as though his life depended upon his escape but that only made his balls churn more, and he didn’t think his dick could possibly GET any harder.

He growled with exertion and defiance, then the vocalisation changed into a primal grunt of ecstasy as his seed spattered onto the blue mat. He tried to hold it back; to stop it mid-squirt, but Petr’s fist would not be denied. He grinned as he forced the newcomer to give up his cream. He knew that Franta would likely be annoyed; disgusted even, that he had been made to cum; milked of his male juice. It was thick and sticky. It didn’t fly far; less than a foot before landing gloopily on the mat, but there was a lot of it.

Otik watched with satisfaction. Some boys came like they were pissing, others launched huge watery fountains 5 feet away in geyser-like eruptions. Others still, like Franta, came in thick, but extensive surges, repeatedly erupting like slow-moving lava, as though their balls wanted to drain themselves to empty husks with every pump.

He counted as Franta came; it was something he liked to do. There were seven, eight, NINE pumps of thick, white nut-jelly, and the boy was STILL going.


Petr was superb. He was an excellent wrestler, cute and playful, and the viewers loved him. That was why Otik had paid a lot of money to have him trained by a world-renowned expert in male stimulation. And the boy had learned well. He was a master. No boy could resist his skilful touch. It was simply a matter of how hard they would cum and how many times.

To the untrained eye, it looked as though he was simply jacking his opponent. Indeed, they would not even realise that they had been drained by a master. But there was so much more going on under Petr’s skilful fist. He applied pressure in just the right way, ensured that his victims’ foreskin was fully retracted, allowing his knuckles to rub against the sensitive fraenulum, simultaneously stroking with the pad of his thumb on the glans. And with each stroke, his fingers brushed against the rear of the corona, raising his partner’s arousal level to undeniable heights.


Franta rapidly lost the strength to keep struggling as Petr continued to draw the juice from his balls. His head span at the force and duration of his orgasm. He couldn’t believe he was coming so hard, and it felt like it was going on and on. Stars whirled in front of his eyes as he momentarily blacked out.

Franta could feel Petr’s small log sliding back and forth between the cheeks of his bottom, and he knew that his groin was thrust forwards, perfectly presented to the camera and the viewers.

Petr kept pumping his fist for a full minute before he finally released his opponent. Franta lay, shell-shocked for a few seconds before slowly looking down at the tarpaulin. There was a streaked puddle of jizz on the blue plastic, larger in diameter than a dinner plate.

Had that really come from him? It hardly seemed possible yet his pleasantly aching balls were evidence to the contrary.

He glanced up and Otik was smiling at him. Otik was happy with the performance. The boy was certainly not well hung, although Otik had a huge clientele who would appreciate his more compact dimensions, but the kid had cum like a porn star after 3 months of abstinence. Otik smiled and nodded in approval like Mr Miyagi after the finals.

“That’s five points to Petr.”


Franta didn’t know how to feel. This was not what he had signed up for, and he certainly felt a measure of embarrassment, but he also felt undeniably euphoric in the afterglow of such a monumental orgasm.

Petr rose to his knees.

He said, “Let’s go again.”

“Already?” Franta said in a voice thickened with exhaustion.

Petr grinned at him, and watched as Franta rose slowly to his knees.

“What about that?” Franta asked, gesturing towards the cum puddle. “Shouldn’t we clean it up first?”

“Nah, it’ll be hotter to leave it there. Just be careful not to lay in it,” Otik said.


Three minutes later, Franta was laying face-down on the puddle, his cheek pressed against it, with Petr on top. He was disgusted to the core. Yet as disgusted as he was, he couldn’t help but notice Petr’s penis sliding back and forth between his buttocks again. He was sure that the other boy was deliberately humping his ass-crack.

Petr lifted off him and then Franta felt the head of the boy’s cock pressed against his hole. There was steady pressure, then the slender penis was inside him. He felt the oiled dick sliding in, burying itself. Then he could feel Petr’s pubes and groin pressing against his bottom.

“Ahhh!” he yelled.

Petr started fucking him slowly.

“What’s up?” Petr asked, playing innocent.

“You’re fucking me. Your dick’s in my asshole.”

“My what?” Petr said delaying. “Oh my…” he exclaimed, as though suddenly realising. “Oops sorry.”

But still he didn’t remove his hard penis.

“Take it out, take it out!” Franta screamed at him in a muffled voice, his own cum on the mat caking his hair and the side of his face.

“Oh yeah,” Petr said again. “Sorry.”

Only after he had apologised the second time, did he remove his penis. Vasek’s camera caught everything in 4K detail.

Petr slipped his hard cock between Franta’s legs at the top of his thighs. His glans prodded at Franta’s swollen nuts.

Then suddenly, he pivoted 180 degrees, locking his legs underneath Franta’s torso, and continuing to prevent him from escaping. As Petr span, Franta at last managed to squirm a little, lifting his upper body so that his face was at least out of his own cum puddle. Now his chest lay on the sticky pool. The liquid was cool beneath him.


Petr jammed his elbows between Franta’s thighs, forcing them apart, then he reached beneath and between the boy’s legs and dragged Franta’s still-hard cock downwards. It did not like being pulled down when it was so hard, and Franta groaned in discomfort. His high-riding balls were displaced backwards and to either side by his cock, and his tight nut-sack was wrinkled into deep grooves across the back of his boner.

Petr started to stroke the back of Franta’s exposed glans, rubbing the two hemispheres and running the oily pad of his index finger across the fraenulum. Yet again, Franta was powerless to prevent his boner from being stroked. How the fuck did this guy know so much about dick stroking? His fingers were driving him crazy. Franta squirmed, desperate to remove his super-sensitive dick head away from Petr’s fingers, but with Petr’s full weight on him, and his dick pulled down between his legs, resting against the mat, he was helpless once again.

Petr rapidly started polished Franta’s glans with the tips of his middle three fingers, moving in rapid strokes from its coronal flare to its tip. Petr could see Franta’s nuts, trapped between his legs, starting to tighten. Franta redoubled his struggles, but to no avail. And then his cock was spitting again, almost as powerfully as the first time, despite its constrained position.

Franta couldn’t believe that Petr had made his balls cough up another load. He only managed to do the double on rare occasions himself, and then only when he’d gone a while without orgasm and he was feeling super horny.

He could feel another puddle spreading between his thighs. How could his balls be producing so much? Frantr was starting to feel like a horse, forced to empty its enormous balls whenever its owner demanded. Except his balls were NOT enormous, and they’d surely ALREADY been emptied?!


Petr continued stroking the ultra-sensitive back of his cock long after the spasms of Franta’s second orgasm had passed; long after it ceased to be pleasurable. Petr was keeping him hard, refusing to allow his cock to recover. The stroking became uncomfortable.

“Ahh ahh!” Franta moaned. “Petr no! No more please!”

Petr chuckled but continued stroking, taking a mischievous pleasure from his opponent’s genital discomfort. Franta had claimed to be straight, but Petr effortlessly forced him to give up his sperm.

“No STOP NOW!” Franta commanded, squirming beneath Petr.

But Petr was unimpressed by his tone. Franta was not calling the shots, nor could he prevent Petr from toying with him. He flicked each of Franta’s balls, hard enough to make the boy yelp, leaving him with a mild ache, but not hard enough to kill his boner. His balls tucked up tighter to the sides of his cock.

“Whaaaat was that Fran – ordering me about?” he said with mock seriousness. “I guess I need to remind you who’s in charge.”

He pushed a slippery finger into Franta’s bottom.

“Ahh fuck, Petr, what are you doing? Come on, play fair!” Franta whined.

“Haven’t you heard Fran, everything is fair in love and war!”

He massaged Franta’s prostate with his finger, and thick fluid leaked from the eye of Franta’s cock.

“Okay, okay, I get it Pete, you win!” Franta said, remembering that he had a way out.

He slapped the mat with his palm and Petr hesitated, considering whether or not to honour the surrender. Then he withdrew his middle finger from Franta’s bottom, wiped it on the cheeks, and climbed off him.


Franta rolled onto his back and, finally freed, his hard cock sprang back up, slapping off his belly. He looked at Petr with amazement, then down at the new puddle his balls had created, then down at his own chest. It was shiny with his own thick jizz.

Franta looked to Otik.

“Can I get a towel or something?”

“Sure. No problem.”

He threw Franta a small bar towel.

“That’s 24 to Petr. At this rate, you’re never going to catch up. Then you’ll have to pay the forfeit.”

“The forfeit? What forfeit?”

Otik grinned.

“I don’t know. We’ll think of something.”

Franta frowned. It sounded ominous.

“Oh, don’t look so nervous. I’ll just get you to suck his dick or something.”

“His… w… w…”

Franta’s lips moved soundlessly for a few seconds.

“I’m not sucking his dick.”

“Just for 30 seconds.”

Franta shook his head emphatically.

“Nope, not doing it.”

“Not for another 3k?”

Franta paused. It was a lot of money.

“How long for?”

“No longer than a minute.”

“And you’ll give me another 3000 korunas?”

“Sure. In fact, why don’t you just do it now, then we can get it out of the way.”

“You said if I lose?”

“Sure, but you don’t want to lose the money though right?”

Hesitantly, Franta said, “Noooo, I guess not.”

“Attaboy. Might as well get right to it then huh?”

Petr reclined on his elbows and spread his legs a little to give Franta space to get close. Franta turned and looked at him; Petr was grinning. Franta looked down at his dick; it was hard. He leaned forwards and took it reluctantly in his fist.

“30 seconds,” he said.

“A minute,” Otik countered.

Franta shot the man a dirty look, then he lowered his head towards Petr’s penis. Petr gripped his dick by the root and just as Franta was about to close his lips around it, he unsheathed the glans. Franta frowned.

“Always better without the skin,” Petr explained.

Franta swallowed then wrapped his lips around Petr’s glans. He started bobbing his head up and down.

“Mind your teeth,” Petr said.

Franta curled his lips over his teeth and continued.

“Use your tongue,” Otik said.

“Yeah!” Petr agreed.


This was way beyond Franta’s initial boundaries or expectations. He was not happy about it but he needed the money. He stopped bobbing his head and instead started licking Petr’s glans. He could taste mild saltiness and something else; something musty.

“Faster!” Petr said after a while.

Franta moved his head back and looked Otik.

“That’s got to be a minute?”

“Nope, just 30 seconds,” Otik lied.

Petr guided Franta’s head back to his dick.

“Bounce up and down AND use your tongue!”

Franta reluctantly complied. Suddenly he felt something hit the back of his mouth. He realised immediately that Petr was coming. Franta made to lift his head off Petr’s dick, but Petr grabbed the back of his head before he could escape, pumping his hips up and down, face fucking the teenager. Franta started struggling and spluttering as he felt Petr’s cum repeatedly hitting the back of his throat. And now Petr was jamming his penis all the way to the back of Franta’s throat, seeding his stomach directly, and denying him any chance to prevent the spunk from sliding down.

He struggled frantically, but Petr refused to let him free until he was done. 20 seconds of urgent thrusting was enough to empty his nuts. Then, finally, he released the back of Franta’s head. Franta pulled away, disgusted and angry. It felt like he had an entire mouthful of cum; a huge swig worth. He spat it out onto the mat.

Otik smiled. He knew that his customers would enjoy the boy’s response. There were so many porn sites with boys who acted out fake scenarios, but with a little planning, Otik was able to create far more realistic videos and his audience would appreciate Franta’s furious expression as a sign that this was not what he had agreed to.

Franta glowered at Petr but Petr grinned at him.

“You came in my mouth!” Franta snarled.

“Of course,” Franta replied matter-of-factly.

“You didn’t say you were going to do that!” Franta said still spitting Petr’s cum onto the mat.

“Dude, it’s a blowjob, what else did you think I was gonna do?”

“But it was less than a minute!”

“You’re a great dick sucker.”

Petr’s grin widened into a full-blown open-mouth smile with his lips drawn back to show his teeth.

It wasn’t a compliment Franta was happy to receive. He scraped his tongue across his teeth, trying to scour the taste of Petr’s cum from it, but the fluid had gone everywhere and he could not erase it.

He looked to Otik.

“Are we done? Can I get paid now?”

“Course not. You have to wank yet, and you haven’t even finished wrestling. I don’t suppose you’d let Petr fuck you if I gave you another 3k?”

“Nope, no way man. Nobody’s fucking me!” Franta said emphatically.

“But you already had his dick in your asshole. Then you sucked it.”

Franta suddenly realised what the other taste was on Petr’s dick – it was musty ass sweat. He was appalled but also profoundly grateful that he’d gone to the lavatory and showered thoroughly before coming here.

“Nope, no way. Definitely not happening. There’s no amount of money.”

“5k?” Otik said.

Franta hesitated. It was a lot of money for a boy with no skills.

“Still no,” he said, but he was less aggressively emphatic.

Otik could afford to have raised his offer to 10k and he was certain that Franta would accept, but he was confident that the boy would be back in future, so he didn’t want to raise the expectation that 10k on top of his other salary was the going rate for sex on camera. Franta had hesitated in all the right places during their dialogue, and Otik had subverted too many fiercely heterosexual boys; turned too many into cock-loving faggots who now enjoyed nothing better than getting reamed on camera, to lay all his cards out on a first meeting.

“Okay then, last round of wrestling.”


Otik gestured to his bodyguard Lojza to join them. Franta looked at the large man looming over them nervously.

“Okay, in this round, I want you to grab each other’s balls. If you manage to grab them, I want you to squeeze as hard as you can for 30 seconds, or until your partner escapes. No surrenders this time.”

“What?! I’m not doing that. I don’t wanna get my nuts squeezed.”

“You agreed to do what I asked you,” Otik said.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were gonna ask that. No way I’m doing that. He’s much better than me at wrestling.”

“You’ve got a choice; you can play with Petr…”

Otik turned to his muscular body guard and ominously said, “Or you can play with Lojza.”

Lojza grinned unpleasantly. Franta’s eyes widened. He was pretty certain that if Lojza grabbed his balls even once, that would be the end of them. He turned back to Petr and the boy grinned at him.

“Okay, ready?” Otik asked, “Let’s start!”

Petr dived at Franta.

“No wai… Oof!”

Franta let out as gasp as Petr hit him in the chest with his shoulder like an American football line-backer making a tackle. Franta flew backwards off his knees, landing on his back.

“No stop!” He screamed in alarm.

Petr was all over him, not even making a pretence at being equal. They were face-to-face, but Franta was in survival mode now. He wrapped his arms and legs around Petr like a koala bear clinging to a eucalyptus tree in a hurricane. His arms passed under Petr’s armpits, and his hands linked behind his opponent’s back in a tight gable grip in an effort to prevent Petr from using his own arms. Franta’s legs wrapped around Petr’s waist, drawing their groins together.

But with the oil all over their bodies, it was an impossible task. Petr squirmed and twisted, quickly creating space between them. Franta immediately pulled them together, then Petr would create another space, then another and another.

Franta peripherally noticed with alarm that Vasek, the cameraman was moving into position by their feet, ready to capture a close up as his nuts were squeezed. The man’s lack of confidence in his ability to deny Petr was disconcerting.

Despite his near-total exhaustion, Franta managed to find more reserves of energy, pulling Petr close again, but this was not Petr ‘s first rodeo. He had conserved his strength, wriggling just enough to encourage Franta to expend his own energy. Then, as he felt Franta’s energy and strength suddenly crash, he wriggled half free, and slid his right hand down between their bodies.

“No!” Franta screamed urgently, as he felt the hand moving downwards.

Petr ignored him. His palm slid across Franta’s now-flaccid genitals. Franta reversed his tactic, pulling his pelvis away from Petr, trying to create as much space between it and Petr’s hand as possible. He felt Petr’s hand exploring his groin, then the fingers closed around his sack, teasing his nuts away from his body. Franta felt them as Petr’s fist closed around them. He whimpered and pleaded.

“Please don’t!”

Petr squeezed, and Franta felt a mild ache in both of his testicles. He frantically twisted and turned, pushing at Petr’s fist before the ache turned into real pain, but his testicles were well-trapped. He knew that the pain was going to be intense. He braced for it even as he continued to struggle.

But it never came. Petr looked him in the face. Their eyes met and Petr’s expression was serious. Franta couldn’t read it. Then a huge smile painted itself and Petr released Franta’s balls.

“Ahhhh, psych!”

He moved away, and Franta scrambled backwards, cupping his testicles. He looked to Otik. He, Vasek and Lojza were all laughing.

“We’re just messing with you Franta.  He wouldn’t really hurt a superstar like you. We’re expecting to see you many more times in the future.”


Petr moved close again, scrambling over on his hands and knees. Franta’s hands tightened over his groin, but Petr was not interested in his nuts. He grinned, his face almost nose to nose with Franta.

“Anyway,” Petr said, “you’re FAR too pretty to hurt.”

He gave Franta an affectionate kiss on the nose, like a grandparent kissing a young child. Franta stared at him, then back at Otik. Franta was thrown by the sudden shift in reality.

“Don’t look so bewildered Franta,” Otik said, “It’s a just a joke for the new boy. I hope it hasn’t upset you TOO badly?”

Franta scanned the faces in the room one after the other, and they all wore good-natured smiles. He grinned sheepishly.

“You got me there. You got me good.”

Lojza roared with laughter. He spoke with a thick Russian accent.

“The boy thought maybe I vas going to sqvosh his nuts!”

He dropped the fake accent, returning to his much softer Czech tone. He smiled.

“I’m just a glorified driver kid. I’m way too out of shape to start rolling around on the mat!”


Petr touched Franta’s tummy gently to draw his attention. Franta looked down at Petr’s hands. The boy gently moved Franta’s hands away from his flaccid penis.

“Let me make it up to you. I’ll give YOU a blowjob.”

“Uhhh, no thanks Petr,” Franta said.

“Even after all we’ve done, you’re still uptight about your sexuality? Come on Franta, don’t be so boring. I’m REALLY good at it.”

“You are?”

Franta had never received what he would consider a good blowjob. A hot mouth and wet lips were enough to get him off, but a GOOD blowjob?

Petr grinned.

“Better than you would believe. Here, let me show you.”

He lowered his head to Franta’s groin and parted his lips.

The second Petr’s mouth touched his penis, Franta knew he’d done the right thing…



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