Blogger Reckoning: Part 4 – by Drake

As I anticipated, things take a distinct turn for the worse for me in Drake’s latest chapter in his serial response to my homoerotic wrestling fiction (and our real life encounter in the ring a year and a half ago).  What an imagination this boy has! I have to admit, however, his pluck and passion certainly turn me on. And his writing is scorching hot…


Blogger Reckoning – by Drake Marcos

Part 4

Nothing can drive a man crazier than being denied what he’s worked so hard, so long for. Once you’ve poured your blood, sweat, and tears into something, you expect a return.

It’s no wonder people go postal.

Having just suffered another defeat (although unofficial to my BG win-loss record for it being a private custom) my balls ached. My pride hurt.

But the Cheshire Cat was not finished.

I came into this day, into this ring, with one clear objective in mind: the destruction of Bloggerbitch Bard. It only helped fuel my anger, hatred, and thirst for revenge that he had taunted me throughout the match with Trey. He stacked the deck FOR Trey that denied me a victory. He stroked out my seed that I had been saving for his face… Oh well…

He thought he was hurting me.

He thought wrong.

I wonder if this is the same turnbuckle Drake hung from in our first match…

I sucked down the pain I felt in my balls and wrapped my hand around Bard’s throat and shoved him back into the corner…into the very turnbuckle that I had previously used to fuck up Trey’s pretty face. Our cocks bounced against each other in a sort of perverse sword fight and, almost in sync, our cocks rose to full hardness as I shoved and choked him into the corner. Me from having him in my grasp. Him from…probably the same thing.

My bicep bulged as I squeezed.  I saw his eyes bulge, whether from being impressed by the size I had put on since our last meeting or from the lack of air; I nominate the former. I flashed  that award-winning smile, the very same smile that had led this former-friend-and-fan-turned-mortal-enemy to dub me with the moniker of “The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling.”

I slid my cock alongside his, both of our rods pulsing in the same beat now as our hearts struggled to regulate and keep up with the blood flow that our members were demanding. I brought my grinning visage closer to his face, the head of my cock pressing against the base of his and wrapped my free hand around the back of his neck and then with a grunt and a growl, I lunged back, tossing the shocked blogger to the mat by his throat.

I stood in the corner as he gasped and rolled onto his back, my sweaty, hairy chest heaving as I breathed hard, watching him rub his throat and plant his hands on the canvas to push himself up. I put my foot on his chest and pressed down hard, flattening him. “Stay down!” I snapped.

His cock bobbed visibly, and I chuckled, staring into the stupefied, wide-eyed expression.
“Whassamatter, Bard…cat got your tongue?” I chuckled. “Come on…all that big talk for over a year now and you’re pussying out now?”

Dear God, I used a lot of cat puns…

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he grabbed my ankle and threw it aside. I say he “threw it aside,” but I was getting ready to let him up anyways. I spun on my heel, chuckling as he rose to his knees and I mulekicked him in the abs and danced away to the ropes and turned back to face him as he rolled on the mat, coughing.

“Need to ‘work on your core training’!” I quipped quoting his blog post about me having a weak core.

He rolled over onto all fours, climbing for the ropes and I pounced quickly, landing on his back with my full 165 pounds and dropping him to the mat. I sat perched on his back for a moment before I rose and dragged him to his feet and grabbed his tight referee tee and yanked it up, over his head, trapping his arms above his head, hockey-fight style, and crouched low a bit and fired a series of quick stinging jabs to his exposed upper body. He stumbled backwards and groaned, and I grabbed the tee and planted my foot on his impressive abdomen and shoved forward hard with my leg as I simultaneously pulled the t-shirt free of his struggling body.

The kick propelled him into the ropes, which he rebounded off of and I moved quickly, charging to meet him with a clothesline, which dropped him hard to the mat. Holding his chest and coughing, he rolled over as I circled him and bent down collaring and leashing him with the striped tee. I dragged him to his feet and moved behind him, tightening the choke. I reached around and gave his hard cock a few stinging slaps.

“Looks like someone wore their masochist shoes today,” I sneered watching that hard cock bob as I smacked it around a bit.

I released the choke to prevent him from passing out and spoiling my fun. I threw the tee to the mat and  bent him over backwards in an inverted facelock and dropped to one knee, busting his spine over the point of the opposite knee and stood up and repeated the action. I remained grounded and reached forward, circling his package tightly with my hand, watching the big blogger cock turn red as I squeezed and then releasing it and raising my arm high, I rained a series of forearms down on his pecs as he remained trapped and bent over my knee with his hard cock dancing about.

I could hear him whimpering in pain and shock. I should say blubbering…

I finally released him and stood, circling his writhing form. His pecs were cherry red and he was clutching at them and his upper back at the same time, his swollen cock smearing the mat with precum. I prodded at his body with my foot as I chided him. “Don’t feel so bad, Bard. Everybody gets their comeuppance at my hands at some point. Just ask Ty Alexander how it felt…” I snarled and pushed him onto his side with my foot.

I crouched and grabbed his tight pants, pulling them off of his struggling body, exposing his gray boxer briefs which had come off slightly with his tight black slacks. I whistled, “Blogger got a nice booty…” I sniggered. “But he’s wearing granny panties! I have something that might fix that…” I laughed as I peeled the dingy boxer-briefs off and went ringside to grab a pair of speedos from my bag. I returned to the prostrate blogger, twirling the baby blue speedos he wore in our first encounter and clutching my pink and white trunks in the other.

“Ding, ding, motherfucker!”

I pulled mine on and whipped the blogger in the face with the gear I wanted him to wear so we could retcon our first match.

“Come on bitch, let’s go!!” I roared, finished playing around.

I smirked as I watched him drag himself up in the corner and begin to pull the speedos up his legs. Looking at me warily.

This is going to be fun…. I smirked and raised my fists.

“Ding, ding, motherfucker!”

—— to be continued—–

2 thoughts on “Blogger Reckoning: Part 4 – by Drake

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