textfiles/sex/EROTICA/B/brawling.txt

BRAWLING BIKERS - By Hank "The Hammer" Trout

I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT THE DAY OF THE BIKE EVENTS would find me sullen
and pissed off and ready to kick the shit out of someone.  I mean, I'd
gone on this run for six years in a row, and this was the first year I
wouldn't be able to ride in the bike events -- like a fucking fool, I'd
let Chuck, the guy who usually rides as my buddy, borrow the bike just the
week before to go visit his folks in D.C.  On the way back, he's been run
off the freeway by some asshole trucker, had lost control of the bike on
the shoulder, and bounced it along the guardrails for about two hundred
feet.  Fortunately, Chuck was in pretty good condition, considering --
he'd gotten away from the bike before it started tumbling and flopping
down the road -- and he'd be in perfect shape before too long.  But not
the bike.  Hell, you don't see too many mint-condition Moto Guzis like
mine any more - - and now, it looked unlikely that mine would ever see the
road again.
 
So there I was, wandering around the campsite, mentally kicking my own ass
for letting the bike out for even a second with anyone but me driving it,
wanting to stomp the living jesus out of Chuck for making me miss the bike
events but at the same time knowing that it wasn't really his fault -- I
mean, my Moto Guzi was just no match for an oil tanker truck doing about
80 down the freeway.  I was leaning on the corner of one of the cabins and
I'd just butted out a joint and stuffed the roach down into the pocket of
my leather pants when this stocky blond dude walked out the side door and
headed my way.

"Hey, man," he began as he got nearer, "what are you all bent out of shape
about?"

I cringed.  "Bad choice of words there, pal," I said as I pictured my bike
doing its tumbling act down the highway.  Looking the guy over, I
recognized him from other runs over the last couple years.  I reached into
my pocket for the half-smoked joint, relit it, introduced myself -- his
name was Frank -- and told him about my bike as we shared the roach.

"That's the shits, man," he said after I'd told him why I was standing
there talking with him instead of out riding with my other buddies.  "I
know -- the guy I was supposed to ride with just dumped his Nighthawk last
weekend."

I turned and started throwing short little punches into the side of the
cabin, picturing that prick in the oil truck every time the hard wood
stung my knuckles.  "So here we are," I muttered, "a biker and a buddy on
a run with no fucking bike!"  I punched the wall harder, cracking open a
little cut on my middle knuckle.

"Well, it ain't the end of the world, you know.  Whattya say we go out in
the woods and fuck?"  My newfound buddy grinned and rubbed his big hand on
the bulge in my leather-clad crotch.

"I'd rather go out in the woods and fight," I said as I straightened up,
"but I don't suppose you'd be interested."

"Oh, I don't know," Frank said, squeezing my cock and balls harder.  "If
that's the way you want it -- I don't mind kicking an ass before I fuck
it!"  With that, the dude's hand jerked away from my crotch, folded into a
fist, and slammed into my hard hairy pec, surprising the shit out of me
and jolting my right shoulder back a few inches.

"Careful, boy," I snarled at Frank as I grabbed his right wrist and held
his arm tensed and flexed between our two chests; "I don't think you want
to tangle with me right now, not the way I feel.  I'm likely to forget
we're buddies and just whale the piss out of ya."

Frank grabbed the top of my leather pants and my belt bucked in his big
left hand and pulled me toward him, our hardening crotches banging
together, our faces just inches apart, his bright blue eyes gleaming, full
of challenge.

"No, you're more likely to get whipped and pissed all over -- but, hey!
if you're afraid --"  Frank let go of my belt buckle and jerked his right
hand out of my grasp.

I stepped back from the man and looked him over for a few seconds.
Although Frank was younger and a little shorter than me, at about 5'9" he
looked to be carrying about 175 powerfully solid pounds on him.  His
sleeveless white t-shirt stretched tight over a broad, thick chest that
tapered down to a taut, trim waist.  Two inch-wide leather bands squeezed
into that crease between the man's shoulders and his large, firm biceps.
His skintight chaps hugged his strong thick thighs, the opening in the
front framing the ample cock and balls straining against his well worn
jeans.  Frank certainly looked like the kind of stocky, powerful little
stud who could give me a good battle -- and a good long fuck after I
whipped his ass.  My cock stiffened and prodded it's way down the leg of
my leather pants as I got more and more interested in taking him out in
the woods somewhere and tearing into him.

"Afraid?  Of you?"  I couldn't help chuckling at the dude.  "Let's go."

Frank turned on his heels without a word and we headed for the dense woods
that surrounded the run campsite.  In less than give minutes, we'd found
the perfect spot -- a flat, almost square clearing in the woods, maybe
twelve feet square, the ground carpeted with early Autumn's fallen leaves.

"This'll do, right?"  I asked when we reached the clearing.

"This'll do just fine," Frank blurted out as he pulled his t- shirt out of
the waist of his jeans.  He grabbed the tail of his short and peeled it up
over that big barreled chest, his arms swelling and bulging with the
motion.  He shucked the shirt off to the side and stood there, legs
spread, the morning sun pouring down on his light skin and highlighting
the sparse blond hair that spread over his pecs.  I too pulled off my
shirt and tossed it aside, feeling the sun's warmth on my hairy chest and
back.

"Just one fall, right?  And anything goes, I take it?"  Frank asked as we
walked toward one another in the middle of the clearing.  "Boy, if I'm
fighting for my ass, you'd better fucking believe it's 'anything goes.'"

"You know," Frank chuckled as we neared one another, "this is probably
going to be more fun than riding on the back of a fucking Nighthawk after
all!"

"That just depends on how much you like to get fucked after you lose a
fight, boy!"

At that, Frank and I started circling each other in the middle of the
clearing, looking for an opening to grab the other, searching for an
advantage waiting to be grabbed.  From Frank's widespread, crouching
stance, from his approach with one hand open ready to grab and the other
hand clenched ready to strike, I figured he's maybe had as much wrestling
and fighting experience as I'd had, and I was glad.

After circling and feinting for a few moments, we pounced on one another
and tied up, our left hands cupping the back of the other's neck, our
rights on the other's bent elbow, digging our boots into the dirt for
leverage as we muscled and strained against each other.  With a quickness
that surprised me, Frank shot his right arm under my left, turned into me,
and hurled me over his hip onto my ass on the leaf-covered ground.  Frank
lunged to grab hold of me, but I rolled out of his reach, turned, and rose
to my feet to meet him again.  We pounced and tied up again instantly and
again Frank tried to hip-toss me to the ground, but something about being
upended like that made me flash on images of my bike flipping down the
highway, and a lot of the rage I'd felt all day took over me.  This time
as he turned into me, I grabbed a handful of his hair with my left hand
and jerked his head back, breaking his momentum; at the same time, I slung
my knee up and slammed it into the pit of his gut, knocking a lot of the
wind out of him and doubling him over in front of me.

As Frank doubled over in front of me, I drew my left arm back as far as I
could and drove a real haymaker into his right jaw just under his ear.
Frank spun around from the force of the punch and dropped to one knee
before me, shaking his head to clear it out.  Almost immediately I felt
sorry for having slugged him so far -- after all, I had no fight with this
man, I knew I was just unleashing other angers.  I heaved a big sigh as I
watched Frank clearing his head, dropped my fists to my sides, and walked
up behind Frank and put a hand on his big left shoulder.

"Hey, dude," I began, "why don't we forget this.  I mean, I don't have --"

Before I could get the words out, Frank snapped his head up and glared at
me and swung his right elbow back as hard as he could, driving it deep
into my gut.  The elbow caught me completely off- guard.  I dropped to one
knee beside Frank on the dirt, clutching both hands to my gut.  As soon as
I dropped to the ground, Frank swung back and threw a hard right hook into
my jaw that toppled me over on my back in the leaves and dirt.

Frank rose to his feet and came toward me.  He reached down, grabbed my
head in both his big beefy hands, and lifted me upright.  As I rose up in
front of him, he snapped his leather- clad thigh up into my chest,
knocking me staggering back several feet from him.  As my head cleared I
saw Frank assume a boxer's stance, both fists raised before him, ready to
pounce and fight.  Stunned but angry,  I raised my own fists and
approached the stocky little stud.  We began circling again.

As we circled, we both noticed out the corner of our eyes that there were
a couple of barechested guys standing near the edge of the clearing,
watching us, one hold a bottle of Jack Daniels at his side, the other with
his dick out, spitting on it and stroking it to its full length and
hardness.  Looks like we've got an audience, I thought as I turned my
attention back to Frank.  I noticed Frank grinning as we circled,
apparently pleased to have other dudes watching us fight.

So fight we did.  Standing basically toe-to-toe, the two of us sparred,
flicking jabs at the other's chin and cheeks, both of us landing
occasionally but neither doing any damage beyond snapping the other's head
back a little.  Suddenly, with a speed that surprised me, Frank threw two
sharp left jabs that both connected squarely on my chin, staggering me
back a few feet.  As I retreated, Frank charged me like a bull, driving
his shoulder into my chest and snapping his arms around my waist.  As he
ran into me and clamped his arms around me, he hoisted me off my feet and
rammed me backward into a tree at the edge of the clearing.  As I
connected with the tree, I felt the sharp-edge bark cutting into my back,
and a loud groan shot out of me.

Holding me immobile against the tree for several seconds, Frank began
slamming punches into my gut and chest, alternating lefts and rights, each
blow grinding me into the tree bark again, doing damage both front and
back.  I tried to push Frank away from me, but the bullishly strong little
fucker just bore in harder, head down, his shoulder pressing me into the
tree, jackhammering ten or twelve punches into my chest and ribs and gut,
knocking more and more of the wind out of me.  Desperate to get away from
the fucker, I grabbed a handful of his short blond hair and jerked his
head up and back away from my chest.  At such short range, I knew I had
just one shot, so I drew back my right as far as I could and plowed my
knuckles into his forehead right above his eyebrow.

The punch staggered Frank and he retreated a couple steps from me.  I drew
back again and threw a right hook into the side of his jaw that backed him
up farther, but I was too weakened from his attack to my chest and gut to
follow up with much else right then.  I bent over slightly, putting my
hands on my knees to rest for a moment while Frank too tried to recoup a
moment, both of us sucking in short, raspy breaths.

At the other side of the clearing our two spectators had been joined by
several more guys, about ten in all, all but one of them now standing with
their hard cocks out at attention, glistening with spit as the dudes
pulled and stroked them.  The guy who had carried along the bottle of J.D.
walked out to the middle of the clearing, yelled "Hey, how 'bout a shot,"
and motioned for Frank and me to join him there.  We both straightened up
and met him there.  He handed the bottle of Jack Daniels to Frank, who
uncapped it, upended it, and sucked in a long gulp of the bourbon.  He
lowered the bottle, grimaced a bit, and handed it to me.  I did the same,
letting a mouthful of the dark liquid pour down my throat, burning as it
did but certainly clearing the pain out of my chest and gut.  I capped the
bottle and handed it back to its owner.  And then, without a word, Frank
and I raised our fists and met toe-to-toe again in the middle of the
clearing.

Again we sparred for a few moments, when Frank decided to charge me again,
head lowered, swinging lefts and rights.  As he neared me, I sidestepped
him, turned, and hammered a hard right into his kidney.  The shot stopped
him in this tracks and made him howl and arch his back in pain.  I grabbed
his left arm and twisted it up his back in a hammerlock, wrenching his
hand up between his shoulder blades.  With his hand thus immobilized and
out of my way, I continued throwing hard rights into his kidney, three or
four more of them, each one of them knocking a loud, low grunt out of the
tough little fucker.  Locking his left wrist in my left hand and keeping
the hammerlock in place, I slipped under Frank's right arm and came up in
front of him.  I threw my right arm around his waist and added a bearhug
to the hammerlock, jerked the stocky blond hard in against my chest, and
dug my arms in under his ribcage, directly into the area I'd just softened
up with the kidney punches.  Frank nearly howled with the pain as I
clamped the bearhug on tighter and tighter, our big chests crushed
together, our bulging crotches slamming together each time I jerked on the
bearhug.

With the hammerlock still secure, I held Frank clamped tight in against me
and threw hard right uppercuts into the pit of his gut.  With this left
arm immobilized behind him and his right hanging useless over my shoulder,
there was no defense against the many punches I sank into his tight belly.
Every time I slammed my fist into that gut, Frank's face contorted in pain
and spit flew out the corners of his mouth as he hissed and grunted.
After the ninth or tenth punch to his gut, Franks' knees started to
weaken, and before long, after just a few more hard-driven fists to his
belly, I was literally holding him up to hit him again.  At one point,
instead of throwing another punch into his gut, I jerked him toward me and
slammed the top of my thigh into his crotch, mashing his cock and balls
into his groin, doubling him over at the waist.  When he bent, I let go of
the hammerlock, doubled my fists together, raised my arms high above my
head, and hammered both fists down into the back of his neck.  Frank
crashed face-first into the leaves and dirt.

I reached down to grab Frank's head and hoist him to his feet, but as I
did, he panted at me, "All right, fucker!  That's enough.  I've had it!"

The next thing I heard were the hoots and yells and clapping of the dudes
who had surrounded us as we fought -- they moved in closer now, circling
the two of us, Frank face-down in the dirt, me straddling his back.

"Anybody got some rope?" I asked as the other guys drew nearer.  One of
them, a big burly fucker with a huge military green canvas duffel bag
slung over his bare shoulder, dropped the bag on the ground and began
rummaging through it, tossing out toys and all kinds of shit as he did.

"Rope -- rubbers -- lube -- tit clamps -- handcuffs -- you name it," he
said as he looked up from the contents of his duffel bag.

"Just the rope -- for now," I said as I scooped up the long length of thin
rope he's pulled out of his bag.  I slung the rope over my shoulder and
reached down to Frank.  With one hand under each armpit, I literally
dragged the man to his feet and over to the tree that he'd rammed me into
earlier.  There, I turned him around and leaned him chest-first up against
the tree.  I tied the rope tight around his left wrist, walked around the
tree, grabbed his other hand and pulled it around to meet his left, and
tied the two together.  All the while, these other dudes crowded around,
dicks in hand, eager to watch me fuck Frank's beaten ass.

"Now, what was that you said earlier about pissing all over me, boy?"

I reached around in front of Frank, between his belly and the tree trunk,
and ripped open the snaps of his chaps.  After I pulled his chaps down his
legs to his knees, I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down too, baring
that smooth white ass to the morning sun and to my cock that I pulled out
of my leather pants, hard as a railroad spike.  I took a couple steps back
from Frank's hard round ass, spread my feet, and let go with a stream of
piss that had been backed up all morning -- splashing the warm yellow
stream first at the small of his back and watching it run down the crack
of that hairless ass, then spraying it across his cheeks and down his
lightly haired thighs and watching it run down those thickly muscled legs
and soaking his jeans.  As I pissed all over his ass and legs, Frank
leaned into the tree, immobilized by the rope around his wrists, the left
side of his face pressed against the tree bark that had cut into my back
earlier, a look of resigned submission on his face as I soaked his ass.

But I wanted to do more with that ass than just wet it down.  As soon as
the last trickle of piss dropped off my dickhead, I retrieved from my back
pocket and opened a pre-lubed sheepskin rubber.  I stretched the rubber
tight over the head of my eager, swollen dick and rolled the sheepskin
tube down the full length of my hard shaft.  I stepped up to Frank, put my
hands on his hips, and pushed him forward into the tree, hearing him grown
as his own hard cock rubbed into the hard rough bark.  "Just keep that
pretty ass spread wide open for me, boy," I said as the covered head of my
dick probed between Frank's cheeks in search of his asshole.  Surrounding
the tree, ten or twelve men stood stroking ten or twelve hard naked cocks,
but the only one that I paid any attention to was the sheepskin-covered
dick protruding from my leather pants and about to enter the asshole of
this tough little blond stud I'd tied to the tree.

The head of my dick found Frank's hole and probed its way in, the circle
of muscle between his cheeks clamping down tight on the bulbed head as it
entered, involuntarily trying to keep the rest of the shaft from sliding
into his ass.  I moved my hands from Frank's hips to the sides of the
tree, squeezed hard, pressing my big hairy chest into Frank's back, my
cock farther into his ass, grinding his chest and groin into the tree.  As
he groaned, I figured it was from both the bark grating the flesh on his
chest and the pain of my thick cock climbing up his asshole.  As I felt
nearly all of my dick in his ass, I reached down to its base, made sure
the rubber was still in place, and then started rocking my groin into
Frank's cheeks, sliding my cock up and down inside his ass, feeling that
asshole alternately relax and contract in response to by probing and
pushing.  Frank groaned louder as each thrust from my hips drove his groin
into the tree, but never once did that ass resist the fucking I was giving
it.

I slid my hands up Frank's back and clamped them down on his broad
shoulder muscles to hold him even firmer in place; as I did, Frank pushed
his ass back harder against my groin, opening that ass even more for my
cock.  I rocked harder, shoving that dick deeper into Frank's ass with
each thrust, my hairy groin slamming into Frank's smooth cheeks, my balls
churning and flopping back and forth each time I pounded into Frank.
Frank's groans and mine became louder, mingling with the groans of the men
surrounding us as they too came closer to shooting off loads of cum.

As I felt my balls ready to explode their load into the bulb of the
sheepskin rubber that covered my dick, I tightened my grip on Frank's
shoulder with one hand and with the other started pounding on Frank's
broad smooth back, clapping my open hand down on his shoulder, slapping
the sides of his cheeks as I plowed deeper and faster into that tight ass.
Frank's groans turned to loud, low grunts and his ass thrust back harder
into my groin, driving his widespread ass harder onto my aching cock.  And
then it started -- I felt that familiar rumbling in my thighs and the base
of my cock, felt the covered head of my dick jerking and twitching inside
Frank's ass, felt my balls contracting as they prepared to explode and
release themselves of the load they'd churned up.

I slammed harder into Frank's ass; five, six more times I pounded my groin
into that round hard butt and then one last slam, pulling down on Frank's
shoulders as I did, his ass slamming back onto my cock -- and I came.
Jesus!  did I come!  I threw my arms around Frank's chest and gut and
squeezed him in tight against me as I felt spurt after spurt of cum
shooting up through the shaft of my dick and filling the head of the
rubber at the end of it.  I grabbed Frank's balls and the base of his dick
in one hand and felt him coming too, shooting long white streams of cum
all over the bark of the tree and down into the jeans and chaps around his
knees.  For several moments I stood there holding onto Frank, our sweaty
bodies plastered together, before noticing that all around us several of
the other guys had shot off too, some aiming their loads onto the tree,
others happy to coat some of the leaves that covered the ground around us.
I let go of Frank's cock and balls and slid my hand down to my own dick;
holding onto the end of the rubber at the base of my cock, I slowly eased
back, carefully sliding my dick out of that hard tight ass.

"Someone untie this fucker," I said as I pulled the cum-filled rubber off
my still-hard dick; I tossed the rubber into the woods and crammed my cock
back inside my leather pants.  The guy who'd supplied the rope obliged,
and Frank's arms dropped to his sides.  I pulled his jeans up from around
his knees, then his chaps, and he turned to face me, leaning his back into
the tree.  I saw the scrapes and small cuts on his chest and belly from
the tree bark and almost felt sorry about them until I remembered having
been held up against that tree myself earlier in the morning.

"Let's head back to the cabin and get that chest cleaned up," I said to
Frank.  He nodded; I threw my arm across his shoulder and we started off
across the clearing back to the campsite.

"Uh, you still sorry you can't ride today?" Frank asked as we entered the
woods.

"Yeah, I am," I sort of sighed; then I looked at Frank and grinned a
broad, satisfied grin.  "But then, I think I found something else to ride
for the rest of the day, buddy."

I'd think about the bike later.