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It was a cool, November late afternoon. I was attending the state university on a wrestling scholarship which I earned by winning the state championship. I could not have done it without the help of my coach, Dave. Dave spent many hours, after school, pushing me and challenging me, and teaching me the fine art of inflicting pain. I always admired Dave, and often thought about how much I really cared for him and wanted to tell him so, but I was afraid. During, my Thanksgiving break, I decided to go back to my old high school and "check in" with Coach.

I went to the gym, but he was not there. But when I entered the weight room, there he was. Coach was on the bench pressing a 200 lb weight. He still had his firm body, and tanned skin and lean figure that I remembered. He stood about 5'8" and weighed 150 lbs. He was short by most estimates, but under his lack of stature was a body of steel and a heart of a lion. I just stood there for a few seconds, watching him lift. The redness of his face, the sweat rolling off of his body, and Coach's muscles and veins exploding from a hard work out got me hot.  I noticed that my third leg was getting even harder.

Coach completed his rep, and put the barbell back. He started to sit up, and saw me.

"Ted," he yelled with delight, "How the hell are you?"

He came over to me and gave me a nice hug. I responded by hugging him back, just as hard. It reminded me of the embrace we shared after the finals in the state wrestling tournament. Feeling his hot, sweaty, firm body against mine started me fantasizing about wrestling this stud, and having my way with him. The hug lasted maybe 30 seconds , but it seemed like an eternity. We finally pulled back and started chatting.

After about half an hour, I bolstered up the courage to tell coach why I really came. I felt my palms getting sweaty and a lump developing in my throat.

I said "Coach, I just wanted to really thank you for all of your help and support. I could have never received that scholarship without you, and I wish there was some way I could repay you."

To my surprise coach responded, "Well, Ted, there is one way."

My curiosity was peaked. "Just ask coach, and you got it." I said.

Coach responded, "Wrestle me Ted."

I could hardly believe my ears, this was a dream come true!

I said, "Sure, Coach, when?"

Coach said, "How about right now?"

I told him that I did not have any gear with me, and he responded that we were both men and we could wrestle in our underwear or naked. I suddenly had a sharp pain between my legs as my manhood saluted Coach for his suggestion.

We went into the mat room and slowly disrobed. Coach stood in front of me with only his birthday suit on as I did likewise. We gave each other the once over, and saw we each had an erection of equal magnitude.

Coach said to me, "Let's see how well you learned, and make this a memorable match."

"Fine coach, what do you have in mind?"

"Let's have a submission match to see which one of us is the better athlete."

I agreed, and raised the kitty.

"How about we have a no holds barred match, anything goes. We can do whatever we want, as hard as we want, and for as long as we want."

Coach got a cocky smirk on his face. He told me that he would have it no other way. He asked if I was man enough. I told him to look between my legs and see if I was man enough. I told him no NCAA rules, a good old fashion street fight. Coach consented. He told me that he knew more wrestling and fighting techniques than I will ever know. Our juices were flowing.

"Enough talking, let's get it on!," I said.

We both circled around on the mat, taking in the scenery - the sweat stained mat, the aroma of sweat from young hard bodies, the drab color of the paint on the walls, and the opponent looking straight into the others eyes. We met for the first time in the middle of the mat in a classic scholastic tie up. Our hands were batting the others' away. Coach successfully got a single leg drive. I instinctively rolled to my stomach. He tried to cinch in a half. He got it , and turned me over. Now his massive body was across my chest making a perfect cross.

Then I placed a headlock on Coach right around his ears. This caused greater pressure to his inner ear. Coach decided to headlock me too. There we were, our heads pressed against each other in a mutual test of endurance and pain taking. We each felt the other's face bones, shift and compress from the pressure. The headlocks continued for about five minutes.

Coach then released one of his hands and pulled my hair. I told him that was not fair, but he reminded me that I was the one who wanted a street fight. I responded in kind and pulled his hair. It became a test of endurance.

We kept rolling all over the mat, one had the advantage momentarily and then lost it to a reciprocated hold. We rolled around like a couple of tumble weeds, one arm keeping the mutual headlock and the other hand pulling the others' hair. Coach asked me if I had enough yet. I responded no, and told him not to forget the rules.

With that, I took my fist and pounded him in his six pack. Coach grimaced with pain, and let out a gasp. I looked at his face which showed pain mixed with pleasure. After several minutes of pummeling his abs, I placed my thick tree trunks legs around his waist and SQUEEZED! I kept squeezing and squeezing until my thigh muscles looked like bands of steel. I then proceeded to keep the scissors on Coach and wormed behind him. Then I applied a sleeper along with the scissors. Between the two moves, Coach had a hard time breathing. His eyes glazed over. I felt both a sense of pain and pride. Pain in causing my idol to suffer, and pleasure in my ability to do so.

With his arms frantically waving, Coach managed a handful of hair, and rammed the back of his head into my head. After several attempts, he broke the sleeper and scissors holds. I was dazed, and Coach seized the opportunity. He managed a switch behind. He then did a waist cinch takedown. Coach proceeded to pull my arms straight back. The pain increased. To add more agony, he placed his knee in the middle of my back and got me in a variation of the surfboard. My eyes were bugging out with pain. It became evident that Coach's strategy was to focus on my back.

Then Coach picked me up and slammed my back over his bent knee. I was arched like a bow.

He said, "OK muscle boy, this is where you learn a new art of wrestling called ball crushing."

Coach kept me bent over his knee, his right arm on my head forcing it backwards. With his left hand, coach grabbed my balls, and started squeezing.

Coach wanted to know if I had enough. I screamed "NO!!". He kept this up for another five minutes, asking me every so often if I gave. Every time I said no, he squeezed harder. Finally, I could not take the pain any more.

I said, "Coach, you are the Master, I give!". With that he quickly let go of my body and gently rolled me off of his knee. There we were, both beaten, sore and tired.

"Ted, you learned well. Thank you for the match."

We then passionately kissed and wrestled, with our tongues for about half an hour. I told him that our match did not have to be a one-time event.

"How about a rematch tomorrow - same time, place, and rules, IF you are man enough?", I said.

"Sure", Coach responded.

For the remainder of my college break, we wrestled every single night. Each of us won and lost our share, but we always enjoyed a long hot match. Evidently, we BOTH were man enough.

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