By o1si

Well, there wasn't much to expect. We made small talk, I'm not exactly sure what we talked about, but whatever it was, when my name was called, I stood up, dropped my sweats and jacket and sauntered over to my ring, confident in my ability, confident in my body. Although I lost the feeling didn't leave. I was sure I wrestled to the best of my ability. It was a close match: closer than I would have expected, now that I think about it.

By the time I walked back to the bench, the next match was called. I smiled at Shane. It was almost like he hadn't left. I'm not sure if he even wrestled today.

"Good match, man," he bellowed. I blushed, tilted my head in acknowledgement. He smiled. I sat down, on the opposite side of the bench and began pulling my sweats back on. The caress of the warm nylon was reassuring. I don't think I've ever been so sore in my life. Every muscle was on fire, every muscle burned with the exertion. It felt weird, yet good at the same time. The blood was flowing through my body, almost visibly the veins pulsed feeding the oxygen starved tissue. The muscles throbbed with each beat, even my dick throbbed noticeably, once or twice.

"Oh no," I thought to myself. My heart sank. How long had I had that boner? What the heck... This is so embarrassing... I closed my eyes, hoping that no one was watching. Maybe everyone was busy watching everyone else. Yeah. Nobody saw me. No body said anything. Yeah.

When I opened my eyes I noticed Shane had pulled himself next to me. "What's the matter, Craig?"

For a stranger, he sure was taking an awful lot of interest in me. I began to feel calm once again. I felt compelled to speak to him. I made my confession and he broke into a laugh that probably shook the rafters. I started to blush, not sure why I should feel embarrassed, just knowing that I was.

"What's the big deal? It happens to everyone, man," he said, reassuringly. He pulled his sweats tight against his huge thigh, clearly outlining the thick, stubby tube of flesh jutting form his groin. "There's nothing to be worried about. It happens to me all the time; it don't mean nothing." He smiled, reassuringly. "Its not like it matters what they think about it, anyway, man. Especially when you got what you have." I could feel the muscles in my back loosen, so I sat up straight, basking in Shane's aura. My dick hadn't stopped its beating.

I could feel the head pulsing, red, hot, askew, pressed tightly against my pelvis by the singlet and briefs. Each throb would pull my cock away form my groin, testing the elasticity and absorptive qualities of the cotton/lycra combo. I don't think I've ever been so aware of my throbbing member and not been embarrassed about it. There I was, sitting proudly in Shane's bright countenance; there it was, standing proudly in my own warmth.

He knew exactly what to say. He said nothing. We just sat there, and he let me think through my own self-consciousness. He was right: and not just about wrestling. There was no reason for me to be so embarrassed, to be so self-conscious.

His name got called, so he stood up to meet his match. Off came his jacket and down dropped his sweats. What an amazing sight that was. His soft, solid muscles glistened with a light sweat. Each bulge and curve was prominent and distinct. His fat-padded muscles bounced and flexed with their exaggerated size. His shadow passed over me, I shuddered and, as he stepped away, felt his warmth leave to follow Shane.

He walked to his ring, smiling. His opponent greeted him, smiled, and offered his hand. That kid should have been scared, he should have been terrified, but he wasn't. It confounded me. I was cold and sore once again. I was not quite sure what to make of it, nor what to make of Shane. I collapsed back into a small ball of nylon-covered flesh.

When I looked up, Shane's match was over and the gym had emptied. I knew my mom would be waiting at home for me so I knew I better hurry up. I had no clue how long I'd been here, just sitting, just thinking. I sat up, slightly embarrassed for being so late. I can't believe no one came and got me. I gathered my stuff, my duffle bag and shoes and trotted off to the locker room. •

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