Avery Flowers is desperate for professional wrestler meat, so when he gets behind the scenes long enough to meet up with the legendary Shane “Mudstomper” Fulton, he’s in for the ride of his life!
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Mudstomper was built like a pro linebacker, but he dressed like a bluegrass hillbilly complete with bare feet like dinner plates, overalls with the legs rolled up and a stick of hay between his teeth. His shoulders were corded-muscle, veiny, his skin taut, his jaw square.
His real name was Shane or something, Avery couldn’t remember. He hadn’t known which wrestler he was going to like until he got here. He loved wrestlers.
And as soon as he saw the picture of Mudstomper, Avery knew what he was going to do.
He pretty much ignored the warmup match between Colonel Bling and Wyatt Wyoming. They were both reasonably sexy, but not enough to wet Avery’s whistle (he was going to try to get their autographs later, as they might be worth money if either one blew up in a couple years). Wyatt Wyoming was a cowboy and a good guy, while Colonel Bling was a heel, like an evil black version of the KFC Colonel. The best moment was when Bling pantomimed humping Wyatt’s face, and Colonel Bling’s sweat-glistening muscles set Avery’s heart aflutter.
As a fervent admirer of the male physique, Avery greatly appreciated the wrestlers and their splendid bodies. Wyatt Wyoming was especially perfect. He could be a competitive bodybuilder, for sure.
He was close enough he could see the line between Bling’s dark brown thigh and his slightly paler, fleshier asscheek. His spandex speedo was crawling up so his ass-flesh was partially visible. He could see the cheeks ripple as he picked up Wyatt Wyoming and slammed him on the ring. Avery could see Bling’s hand rubbing against Wyatt’s cock at one point — accidentally, and only for a second, but still, it made Avery laugh.
Or maybe it wasn’t an accident. Avery liked to think it was real.
Before Avery knew it, it was over. He was so focused on the men he didn’t even notice who won the match. Probably Wyatt Wyoming. If the heel won, the crowd would have booed and gone ape. All Avery heard was ordinary cheering.
And there was Mudstomper. He was the good guy in the match, up against a heel named Killer Green, a tall man with a bizarre green-and-translucent catsuit on. Avery didn’t get that choice at all. It might have been a reference to something Avery wasn’t familiar with. Probably something Japanese and on YouTube.
Mudstomper was the clear crowd favorite. He delivered a monologue of some sort — Avery didn’t listen to a word — just yards from where Avery sat, in the front row, so close Avery smelled Mudstomper’s ball-sweat beneath those overalls. He spoke with a rolling, exaggerated drawl.
“And thaaa’sss why, Killuh Green-uh, that uhhz why… I will destroy ya! I’ll ride you to the state prison like a hohse, I sweah on muh sistah’s grave!” Mudstomper roared and pounded on his giant chest, screaming over the frenzied audience. He gestured with the pitchfork he always carried but for some reason never used on the men he was trying to “destroy” (he had a back story involving a dead sister). Avery was entranced by a pearl of sweat sliding down Mudstomper’s bicep and the greasy blond tangle of hair that Avery wanted to dive into.
The actual match went in a blur of arching muscles, heaving biceps and powerful thighs shaking, tight underwear getting ridden up, visible jockstrap lines and asscheeks that thundered like Zeus. Avery’s belly rumbled, and not because he was hungry.
He wasn’t hungry at all. Say what you will about the professional wrestling crowd, but nobody could accuse them of smelling good. Avery appreciated a man with some funk to his meat, but not the fatties and nerds who predominated in the crowd. A man like Mudstomper, his sweat and his unwashed balls and armpits and all that… That, Avery could appreciate.
Anyway, eventually, Mudstomper won, and those meaty biceps shook, sweat dripping off them, as the ref held his hand up. The crowd went wild. Mudstomper cheered with them. So did Avery.
And then it was over.
The lights came up, and the cheering got even louder, and then it turned oddly aggressive.
The arena was bedlam. Fans shouted and threw empty cans of beer at the ring. People poured out and tried to get onstage, but bouncers pushed them back. Avery was jostled this way and that
Avery, however, made it through because he had a backstage pass. He had connections throughout the entertainment industry, so he could get backstage passes to nearly any event. He found the dressing room labelled “Mudstomper” and knocked on it.
“Howdy, come on in!”
Avery entered. That was surprisingly easy.
Shane “Mudstomper” Fulton was in there with a medic, who had just finished stitching up a small cut on his shoulder. His opponent’s tooth had broken his skin during one stunt gone slightly awry. A trickle of blood ran down his bicep. Mudstomper was still dressed in his overalls and nothing else, save the length of straw still between his teeth.
“You ain’t the delivery guy,” Mudstomper said. His drawl rang out like a howl, and his dimples beckoned Avery, who came as close as he could, close enough to smell Mudstomper’s sweat — so much better than the smell of those fans out in the crowd — and feel the body heat of his overworked muscles emanating from him.
“No, I’m Avery. Avery Flowers,” Avery said. “I’m a fan.” He held up his backstage pass. “I think we know someone in common though. Your agent is Tommy Ramogen, right? He also represents my friend Suzanne, she’s in Hollywood right now,” Avery said. “She’s a model. Supermodel, technically.” He smiled — he could see Mudstomper’s eyes open wide — Avery had his hook.
“Well, that’s finuh than a pig in its pen, I reckon,” Mudstomper said, his hillbilly accent now in full force — he wanted to impress Avery with his acting and his devotion, presumably.
“Yeah, she’s doing great,” Avery said. He batted his eyes at Mudstomper as the medic patted him on his momentous bicep.
“Is you an actor too, suh?” Mudstomper asked. He chewed on the length of straw in his mouth. On the table beside him sat a jar filled with unchewed lengths of straw. Avery wondered where he got them.
“Oh, no, no, I just collect celebrity autographs,” Avery said. “Do you mind?” He handed over a piece of paper and a pen.
Mudstomper’s autograph was just an X in a rough block-letter shape, as though he was illiterate and struggled even to write one X. He beamed. “Well, if’n ya friend evuh get any kinda parts in Hollywood, you give her mah email address,” he said. He wrote that on a different piece of paper — his handwriting was blockish and very neat — and slid that to Avery. He flexed his bicep as the medic finished up on his wounded shoulder. The medic headed out of the dressing room. When he saw Avery looking at it, he shrugged and said, “You wanna touch it?”
“Hell yeah!” Avery planted his lips right on it, and Mudstomper laughed a deep, nervous baritone barrel laugh. He undid one of the straps of his overalls, so they sagged and revealed one massive pectoral muscle the size of Avery’s head.
“Lemme j’st send a text so Robert don’t bust in here, interruptin’ us wit’ dat pulled pork. You know about Cajun Charlie’s? That place any good?” Mudstomper picked up his cell phone with his free hand, then awkwardly typed out a text with it while Avery passionately licked, sucked and caressed every inch of his other arm.
“No. Cajun Charlie’s sucks, it tastes like an old shoe. Go to Hoppumslaw on the east side,” Avery said. “They have the best pulled pork.”
“Awright, thankee mightily, suh,” Mudstomper muttered. He texted furiously, then put his phone down. He looked over at Avery who had licked his bulging bicep until it shimmered in the fluorescent light of the dressing room. He reached over and locked the door. “I let ya touch mah arms up, suh, if you send that lady-friend of ya’s some good word about me,” he said. He flexed his other arm, and Avery moved to that one. “Tell ‘er to come see me sometimes.”
Avery said. “Do guys pay you to do that a lot?”
Mudstomper blushed. “Boy-howdy, you don’t even know, suh, you don’t even know!” He laughed and slapped his thighs. “You like biceps?”
“I’m just trying to get bigger,” Avery said. “I thought touching someone big might help.”
“You wanna jack my dick? That might help too.”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said. He undid the other strap to his overalls, and they fell to the ground. Mudstomper wore a fine athletic very-modern jockstrap, which was almost funny to see in contrast to the overalls. Avery sucked on Mudstomper’s pecs, which made him roll his eyes and pick his cell phone back up.
After a few moments of Avery licking his chest, Mudstomper remembered to flex his pecs like a stripper. He just grunted as Avery moaned. Then one of Avery’s hands roamed to that overfull jockstrap and pulled his cock out. Mudstomper twitched and grunted.
Avery said with a giggle, “I love your arms.”
“Mah gu’hlfriend don’t like ’em cuz they hairy,” he said. “They’s as hairy as a hedgehog in a hampuh!” He guffawed. “You likin’ it? You onea dem muscle-men, huh?”
“It’s really big!” Avery said and blushed. He had both hands on Mudstomper’s cock, stroking it back and forth. It throbbed in his grasp.
Mudstomper looked away from his phone. He eyed Avery. “Why’d you say that like you was surprised?”
“I wasn’t surprised, just excited,” Avery said. “I’m not like a total size queen or anything, but I like it.”
“If your lady-friend is into big dicks, tell her I got one,” Mudstomper said.
“Okay,” Avery said. “But you better show me.” He dropped to his knees and put the tip of Mudstomper’s cock in his mouth. The smell of those sweat-soaked overalls, which still lay by Mudstomper’s feet, filled Avery’s nostrils. Yeah, he thought, he could see how those bushy sweat-soaked armpits would be popular.
But Mudstomper’s fat pale cock was even better. It tasted of pure funky manhood, like his muscles had tasted back when Avery first licked them — not tasting of saliva, but of just plain manhood. His cock tasted like that forever, even after it was soaked in spit, it still tasted like the undiluted manhood of Mudstomper’s muscles.
His cell phone chirped, startling Mudstomper, who was just beginning to really enjoy this as his cock perked up in Avery’s mouth. He looked back at his phone and cursed.
“Shithead. He says there’s a line at Hoppumslaw. No fucking shit, jackass. It’s got a line cuz it’s good. If you always pick the place with no line, you’re always picking the least popular, shittiest place. No wonder I always get crappy pulled pork on the road,” he said as he furiously typed out a response, very quickly this time because he could use both hands. “Idiot. He says the line looks dangerous — is Hoppumslaw full of black people?”
“Probably,” Avery said as he slurped his own spit off Mudstomper’s throbbing shaft.
“Then he’s being racist. Just go in, they won’t rob him. Will they?”
Avery shrugged. “Don’t wear expensive sneakers there,” he said. He kept stroking Mudstomper’s shaft and thwacked it over his face.
“Robert don’t got nothing worth a damn ‘cept that I’m his friend, and they can’t steal that,” Mudstomper said. He leaned back to give Avery better access to his cock. “Hey, where do single chicks go in this town?”
“Hmmm… I don’t know where to find girls. The Big Time Bar maybe, I always see hot chicks vomiting in the alley behind there.”
“Big Time Bar? Got it,” he said. He kept typing to his friend, his phone buzzing every few seconds. Mudstomper completely ignored Avery now, like he had forgotten where his dick was. As he moved, his cocktip shifted around in Avery’s mouth. Avery tried to swallow it deeply, but Mudstomper moved around too much.
Gasping for air, Avery smiled and thwacked his dick over his face. “There’s also Lipsweet. That’s a wrestlers bar. Mostly men, but a buncha singlet-chasing females hang out there too.”
He nodded. His dick was fully erect, throbbing and veiny. Avery licked the length of it, then gargled on Mudstomper’s balls. Precum ran down the shaft. His sac was hairy and hot, and his balls hung low and heavy. He clutched those thighs the size of car tires as he slipped between his legs to kiss Mudstomper’s ass.
There was a knock on the door. Mudstomper scowled and went to it, motioning for Avery to continue. He opened it just a crack.
It was a muscular black man whom Avery didn’t recognize, at least not from the tiny portion of his face he could see. When he heard the man’s voice, however, Avery realized it could only be Colonel Bling, having dropped character. He no longer had the stentorian call of a military dictator — that’s what Colonel Bling was, an American army officer cum military coup leader on a fictional Caribbean island — also, he wore a lot of bling.
The real Colonel Bling did too, or maybe he just hadn’t changed out of his costume yet. The bling jingled and clanked on his chest as he poked his head into the dressing room.
“Whatchoo doin’ in there? We goin’ out. I heard there’s usually females at a bar called Lipsweet, but you gotta dress bettuh than that. But you ain’t gonna fit in lookin’ like Huck Finn, and this nigga don’t spend time with a whiteboy dressed like that. Whiteboy gotta dress proper to be seen wit’ me. I gots a rep to protect.” His eyes roamed down Mudstomper’s naked body, only a sliver of which was visible through the door that was open only a crack. Mudstomper’s asscheeks quivered as Avery’s hands roamed between his legs to stroke his dick off. “You naked in there? You got a female already?”
The black wrestler — Colonel Bling — tried to open the door, but Mudstomper was prepared and had the door blocked by his body. The knob smacked him in the six-packed belly. Avery scooted to as close to the wall as he could, to be sure Colonel Bling didn’t see any part of his body or his shadow. Avery kept his head moving up and down that magnificent dick though, and it kept throbbing in his mouth. Mudstomper even pumped his hips slowly back and forth, making love to Avery’s throat, ever so slighttly so Colonel Bling didn’t see what he was doing.
“No. I’m just changing, Jackson. I know about Lipsweet, I know — there’s a singlet-chaser who told me she’d meet me there later,” he said. He had to bite back a moan of pleasure as his cock throbbed in Avery’s grasp. Avery licked his mountainous asscheeks.
“Oh. Hey, lemme in, man, you hear about the new safety thing from corporate? We can’t do the flying shoulder smash anymore. Not without a harness. It’s-“
“No, go away, Jackson,” Mudstomper said, scowling. “Just fuck off, I’ll see you at the bar-“
“You don’t gotta be an asshole, man-“
“I’m goddamn naked, and I’m changing my clothes! I don’t want to talk about the new goddamn safety regulations!” Mudstomper said. Then he saw some fans walking by in the hall. Mudstomper added, “I gots to take the purse I won to fix the family tractuh or the bank gonna take our fahm fo’ sho’!” He smiled at the women walking by. “Hey, howdy, how you doin’?”
The women giggled and all talked at once. For a moment Avery thought he was going to lose his man to a bunch of chicks. But it soon became apparent that they were more interested in Colonel Bling, who walked away with a girl on each arm. Their giggles intensified.
“Damn it,” Mudstomper said wistfully. He let the door shut and locked it again. He turned back around. “He gets all the best chicks. Hey, lemme in that ass, okay? You take it up the ass, right?”
“Hell yeah,” Avery said once again. He blushed. He turned around and pulled his own underwear down, revealing a perfectly pale ass.
“I hate that dude, fuckin’ Colonel Bling. He thinks he’s special cuz the girls love him, he’s like the most popular heel for female fans,” Mudstomper said. He had to get on his knees and scoot forward, cock in hand, to meet Avery’s ass. “But that’s hardly even a big deal, girls always love bad boys. That’s what that publicist said. For a good guy, I do really well among women.”
Before Avery could say anything in response, there was a tight pinch and intense pressure in his ass. He opened his mouth and gasped, biting at the air. He sucked in his breath.
“Sorry, do that hurt, hoss?”
“No — No, it’s fine-” Avery’s voice was tense and wavery. He took a deep breath and relaxed his ass.
“You wanna bite on muh arm? It won’t hurt, it’ll slide in gentle as a calf bein’ borned,” he said, drifting into his stage accent briefly. His own Southern accent was mild, and it was much twangy as drawly — he was from northern Nevada. He placed one of his forearms in front of Avery’s face, while using his other meaty paw to keep Avery’s hips up — Mudstomper was so tall he struggled to keep Avery in alignment with his crotch.
His cock slid in easily once he got past that initial resistance, and Avery gnawed on his ropy-muscled forearm. Mudstomper took a deep breath. He had been extremely reluctant to cornhole a man back when he was younger.
It had been so weird back then that he stopped partway through. His friends had to talk him into doing it again — they didn’t understand guys with big cocks took a lot of effort to get hard; it was easy with a girl, but when you had to concentrate to feel aroused at all, getting all thirteen inches of his meat fully erect was difficult.
But not anymore. He’d done it for money, talent-agent connections and even once, he did it for a free first-class upgrade on a flight to Tampa Bay — he thought it should be a law that companies had to upgrade big men like him first, since there was no way he could fit in a coach seat without virtually sitting on his neighbor’s lap. Over the years he’d lost his inhibitions. Now he could easily pretend he was deep in a woman.
It was funny, he thought as he watched Avery squirm beneath him, how much pleasure he could bring someone without really doing anything much himself. He could tell he had found Avery’s prostate. Avery was out of breath, wriggling, undulating, gasping, incomprehensibly begging.
Then Avery threw his head back and kissed Mudstomper on the neck, which Mudstomper gamely allowed until he became worried Avery would leave a hickey that would be obvious when he picked up chicks at the bar later. He gently redirected Avery to kissing and even nibbling on his forearm, while his lower half plowed in and out of Avery’s tight ass.
“Alright, I’m gonna cum in a minute, how you wanna do it?” Mudstomper said. He stopped moving with his dick all the way inside Avery. “What position you want?”
“Can… Uh… Can you… Lay… on your… back? With me… Sitting… facing you…”
“Reverse cowgirl? No way, your cum will get on my chest. Don’t say you’ll aim it, I know that won’t work,” Mudstomper said. Then he muttered, “Okay, for five hundred dollars, you can cum on my chest. If you stiff me, I swear I’ll beat your ass — no, I’ll have Robert beat your ass, he’s skinny and got a face like a warthog’s pussy, you won’t be turned on at all.”
“Okay, I’ll pay-” Avery said between moans of desire. He was on the verge of orgasm already as Mudstomper dropped backwards, almost like a wrestling move, pulling Avery on top of him so he could get on his back with Avery riding him, all without moving his cock out of Avery’s ass. Avery grimaced as a shock of pre-orgasmic pain hit him, and he rotated around to face Mudstomper’s chest.
Mudstomper covered his own face with his arm so he didn’t have to watch Avery cum on him. He’d seen it before. He tried to think about something else while he listened to Avery moan and felt his delicate little fingers caressing Mudstomper’s chest.
He was glad to feel his own orgasm first. If he felt Avery cum first, he might lose his erection. He groaned and his muscles rippled beneath Avery’s grasp as he pistoned his hips upward — he had to admit, the one nice thing about plowing men was that they really knew how to take it without complaint — no girl ever took his entire foot-long dick in there and let him cum inside her.
His nut sprayed into Avery, who cried out, the sound muffled by Mudstomper’s hand which he clasped over his lips. “Shush!” he snapped, glancing towards the door. He heard male voices passing by the dressing room.
Avery could sense the orgasm washing over Mudstomper’s body in the pulsating of his muscles beneath Avery’s grasp. Then, as the last jet of cum hit Avery’s insides and seeped into him, he leaned forward.
He rubbed his dick over Mudstomper’s flat belly and shaved crotch, which brought him to orgasm with Mudstomper’s dick still pressing on his prostate. Cum sprayed across Mudstomper’s broad chest and belly.
“Aaaaah…” Mudstomper grunted and covered his eyes with both hands. The young-me, he thought, would have been terrified at the thought of letting some random dude cum on his chest. Now he just thought of it as a distasteful but important part of the job. “Okay, clean it off, I ain’t openin’ my eyes till you clean it off…”
Avery was sprawled out over his chest, his limp dick rubbing over Mudstomper’s cum-soaked belly. Most of Mudstomper’s load slipped out of Avery’s ass, soaking his cock and his balls, so Mudstomper’s body was covered from the shoulder to the thigh in cum.
Avery giggled again and sighed. He found a box of tissues and thoroughly got all the cum off Mudstomper’s chest. It had run down in rivulets to his side, which Avery sopped up. Then he kissed each of Mudstomper’s nipples. “Okay, you’re clean.”
Mudstomper sat up. He scowled at Avery. “You better pay up. No check,” he said.
“I’ll have to go to the ATM. Do you wanna come with me?” Avery said. “I’ll make it six hundred if you let me play with it in the car. You drive, so I can use both hands.”
“Deal. I’m not getting hard again though, you can just play with it limp,” Mudstomper said. He stood and put his clothes on. “I’ll tell Robert to meet me with the pulled pork. What a fucking moron. He’s probably still waiting in line.”
Avery wiped his own lips off. “Probably. If he’s white and he looks like a jackass, they’ll keep getting in front of him in line,” he said. He patted Mudstomper on the side before he put a plain white shirt on. “Hey, do you like fat chicks?”
“What?”
As they walked out the door, Avery said, “Cuz I know a fat chick who would gladly let you demolish her, she loves muscular guys. I get to watch though.” He paused. “You can wait to see if you get a hotter chick tonight, you don’t have to say yes right now.”
“Okay,” Mudstomper said. He whistled — that meant he’d be guaranteed to at least get laid tonight. That was good, he always felt better about cornholing a man if he got some pussy out of it too.
Avery led him out the door with a smile on his face as well.