I Came During Wrestling Tryouts

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

I never planned on joining the wrestling team. I just figured girls liked wrestlers. Something about big dudes getting sweaty and pummeling each other, muscles colliding, and being good with your body seemed like a pantie dropper. I just wanted to be a pussy magnet and get my dick wet before my reputation as a dude with no game became fixed and permanent. I was just going to show up, try out, look athletic enough to get noticed, and take a few selfies during the process for instagram. Instead, I walked into one of the weirdest, most confusing afternoons of my life.

I wasn’t completely without assets to begin with. I was average height for my age, but I compared myself to other guys, and I definitely had better than average muscle tone, at least by the definition and “cum gutters” and stuff like that. I had been going to the gym a couple times a week for a year or so, and my arms and core and legs were good. I had done a decent amount of “looksmaxing” and even had been unironically on a mewing grind multiple times, getting facial definition. Still, I hadn’t really ever been able to talk to a girl and actually turn it into a thing. I would get nervous and kind of just blow it.

When I walked into tryouts, the gym smelled like rubber mats and man sweat. A few guys were already stretching, some joking around, some doing impressive gymnastics style warmups like enhanced cartwheels and flips. I was intimidated already, and wondering if I should have even shown up to this. Sam was there too. 

He and I had known each other since middle school. He wasn’t exactly a friend, but he was always around similar social circles to me, same parties, group hangs, whatever. I was honestly a bit intimidated by him in general. He was tall and strong. I shouldn’t have been surprised that he would be interested in trying out for wrestling too. I think the reason we never really got close was that he had a sort of charisma that attracted girls, and made guys jealous. He would look at me like he was sizing me up, and I would freeze a little bit and not know what to say. He wasn’t exactly too cool for me, just on another wavelength, like he had a secret guidebook to life that I hadn’t read yet.

When he saw me, he smirked. “Didn’t know you wrestled, man.”

“I don’t,” I said. “Trying something new.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’ll love it.”

The coach had us pair up to spar. I didn’t expect to get matched with Sam due to our size difference, but he called it out before anyone else could. 

“I got him,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder like he had been looking forward to sparring with me.

We took direction from the coach as he watched us all carefully, starting slow, crouched low, circling each other. Our first set was doing “takedowns”. My heart was hammering, not just from nerves. His hands were on me before I knew what was happening. One second I was standing, the next I was face down, flat on the mat with his weight pressing down on top of me. I tried to push up, but he shifted, holding me down easily. His arm wrapped around my chest, my face mashed into the mat. Every breath smelled like male sweat and shame. My whole body was tense, my brain a blur of panic, and then there was something else, something that felt kind of good. I was being held, slightly scared, controlled by another male, and I was feeling a nervous tingle from my belly button to the base of my balls.

“Relax,” he muttered. “You’re too stiff. Don’t be such a silly little boy.”

Instant. Throbbing. Erection.

I started to freak out. My brain was repeating the phrase, Please don’t be gay. Please don’t be gay. Please don’t be gay.

I don’t think he realized how his words sounded. He adjusted his grip, his thigh sliding between mine, his chest against my back, his knee pressing upward into my taint and balls. I froze. My pulse spiked and I felt my boner throbbing painfully against my shorts. I wanted to disappear, but I didn’t want to draw attention.

Sam noticed. Of course he did. “Bro,” he whispered, laughing quietly. “You seriously got a boner right now?”

I couldn’t speak. My face burned.

“It happens, man. Nerves,” he said, still smirking

“Happens all the time… maybe.” He shifted his weight again, pressing me harder into the mat, but also covering me enough that no one else in the room would see my big problem downstairs. He was protecting me from embarrassment. His grip on my hips was intense, and his meaty crotch pressed into my ass. I realized he must have been carrying plenty of weight down there, adding to his confidence and not making my shame in the moment any easier. Something was clicking in me and my struggle against him turned more into a series of movements aimed at feeling more of him with the back of me. There was nothing separating our bodies except millimeters of thin athletic clothing. I still didn’t even have control over my body, Sam running the show as I pretended to push back against his holds.

His breath was hot on my ear as he pushed me further into submission, grinding his hips into me, wrapping a leg and controlling my body and arms. “But you better not—”

He didn’t finish the sentence before it happened. My whole body jolted. My butt cheeks tensed, and I knew he felt it. I was throbbing in my crotch, and I could feel it pulsing all the way to my taint and ass, which he could clearly sense with his body, whether he wanted to feel it or not. I didn’t even have the bandwidth to feel bad for him, as I was experiencing the weirdest orgasm of my life, a horrifying mix of pleasure and public shame. He pulled back fast, disgust and shock mixing on his face.

He whisper-yelled just quiet enough that others wouldn’t hear. “Dude. You better not have just fucking cum!”

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me. My hands went to my shorts, trying to adjust myself quickly, but there was a huge wet stain, and an unmistakable boner in my pants. The aroma of cum hit my nose and I could see on his face that he smelled it too. I muttered, “No, I didn’t.”

He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t say anything else. The coach called time and told us to switch partners. Sam got up, gave me a weird look, then shrugged like he’d already decided not to think about it again.

I was standing there, sort of frozen in shame, and just snuck away to the locker room. I didn’t have a change of clothes, since I had come straight from home. I didn’t want to walk home like that, and tried to wipe them clear of the wet spot, with no success. I just added some water to my shorts to try and make it look like sweat, and ended up re-joining the group. My shame was slightly ameliorated by the condition of some of the other guys. While I doubt any of them had ejaculated in the course of the takedowns session, some of them were near crying from their own experience in shame, their bodies drenched in sweat, clothes sticking to their skin. I felt a little better and told myself, Maybe this won’t be so bad. The coach didn’t seem to notice that I had been gone, and I just jumped into the line of guys as they had begun doing pushups.

By the time tryouts ended, I was drenched in sweat and was still carrying some anxiety and shame about what happened with Sam. But underneath all that, something new was alive in me. A weird curiosity. I still had no idea what made me cum like that, or if it was just a random hormonal surge that would never happen again. Truthfully, I was in denial that I had loved what Sam was doing to me, and that it was better than any fantasy I had ever had about a girl. I had a craving to feel it again. The control he exerted over me, the strength, the closeness, the smell of him as he used me like a tool for his domination.

In the locker room, everyone stripped down and headed for the showers. Sam was joking with a couple of the older guys, acting like nothing happened. I followed, quiet, trying not to stare. But I did. Everyone’s body was different, stronger, leaner. I compared myself without meaning to. I even looked at their dicks. It was just a bunch of flaccid dudes showering casually, but I still felt like there was something to prove while standing around naked and showering together. Sam caught my eye once and just grinned, continuing to chat with the guys he had apparently made friends with during the tryouts. I was praying to the god from my childhood that he wasn’t telling them about what happened with me.

Once the guys had mostly cleaned themselves, it started to turn somewhat chaotic. With no supervision, and the amped up testosterone of a bunch of wrestlers and hopeful athletes, the guys started laughing and shoving each other, tossing soap and even starting a game of “grandpa’s pubes” where they made bunches of white soap bubbles and put them around their dicks. 

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind in a fake chokehold. I flinched, ready to react, until I realized it was Sam. After everything that had happened earlier, I just froze, wondering if he was going to kick my ass. But he already realized before I did that liked the feeling of being dominated, and while he did take control of my body, he was actually being gentle. I could barely see his face from the angle I was in, but I could sense a bit of a smirk. His body made full contact with the back of mine, and his meaty dick was pushing against my left butt cheek. The guys around were laughing, and I just pretended to lightly struggle.

He messed with me a bit further, tightening his grip just enough to make my pulse jump, when he noticed me starting to get hard. He just paused for a second and then let me go. We sort of smiled at each other, like we both knew but didn’t need to say anything, and then went our separate ways like nothing happened.

When everyone finally cleared out, I changed slowly, trying to calm down. My head was spinning, replaying what had happened with Sam. He had looked right at me before walking off, like he understood everything that just went down but didn’t want to talk about it either. I sat on the bench for a while, pretending to tie my shoes while the locker room echoed empty. I didn’t know what to do with any of it. Part of me wanted to text him. Another part wanted to delete the whole afternoon from existence.

By the time I stepped outside, the air hit my face cool and sharp, and my buddy Ryan was waiting for me by the bike rack. We started walking, our sneakers crunching over the gravel. He shoved me lightly. “So, how were tryouts?”

I laughed once, lowly. “You don’t even want to know.”

“Yeah, I do.”

I hesitated, then decided to just tell him most of the truth. “It was… weird. I kinda got paired with that guy Sam M, and he, uh, man-handled me. Like, really tossed me around.”

Ryan snorted. “What, he like kicked your ass?”

“Worse. I got hard. During it.”

He stopped walking for a second, staring at me. “You serious?”

“Yeah, dude.” I rubbed my neck, trying not to look at him. “And it got worse. I literally jizzed in my pants when he pinned me down." I felt my face turning red.

“Oh my god,” he said, squinting. He was speechless for a minute, before he finally went on. “Bro, that’s what gay is.”

I kicked a rock down the sidewalk. “I don’t give a shit if it is,” I said. “I just fucking hope to god I make the team now.”