Low-blowing audition (written by BBustingFanboy)

This story was written by our reader BBustingFanboy.  It's an awesome piece of fan fiction starring everybody's favorite wrestler Logan. I hope you like this story as much as I do! As always, your feedback is highly appreciated! :-))

Warning: Can contain traces of cum.

Featured in this story: Logan (click for pictures)

"Man, thanks again for doing this!" I mean it when I say it. Logan's a great guy and everything, but I only asked him as a last minute thing for advice. No way I expected him to actually volunteer.

"Seriously, it's fine. Ashley's away for the whole week, so these babies can afford to take a beating." The blond hunk grins at me and cops his massive bulge.

"That is, if you have what it takes!" The two of us burst out laughing.

I am a new reserve on the wrestling team that Logan captains at Bartlet High. He's an inch taller than me, but I'm thicker built. Which explains why I am slower. We haven't fought each other, but he has great technique and his adonis physique probably makes him the man to beat.

I got no delusions about my skills. But I can sell my moves well, and I ain't a bad looker. Which is why I decided to audition for one of those online wrestling companies that specialise in homoerotic matches. The owner got back to me, saying he liked my tapes. But he commented that they were all high school stuff. He wanted to see something more like what they do.



Which brings me to today. I didn't know who to turn to - being a newbie and a reserve, I don't know the whole team very well. So I decided to ask Logan if he knew anyone who'd be willing to wrestle me in what could be a suggestive, kinky match. Dude saved my ass by saying he'd be up for it himself.

"You sure you're okay with all of this?" I ask again. Logan nods confidently. I'd explained to him that the owner had assured me there'd be no fucking involved. The company didn't do that. But I knew from their tapes that ballbusting and ass play were common features, and I had told Logan bluntly that's what he'd expect. As far as I could tell, it wouldn't be a scripted match, so I'd have to beat Logan myself. (And even if I lost, I could probably audition as a jobber.)

"Don't worry. I'm here to help, honestly." I believe him. If nothing else, the fact that he agreed to do the match without hesitation in a ring wearing shiny wrestling briefs and boots, instead of on the mats with a singlet, means he was okay with the unusualness of it all.

Before I can say thanks for the umpteenth time, the door opens and the owner walks in. He's smartly dressed in a suit but you can tell from the way he walks that this is something he's done before himself. I walk up to him and shake hands.

He smiles at my enthusiasm, but leans in and whispers something. My eyebrows rise and I gesture towards Logan. The owner shakes his head, implying I've got to keep the information to myself and prove my worth without added help. Crap.

As the owner finds a seat, Logan quietly asks if everything's okay. "Yeah, Yeah, everything's fine." I'm lying, but like I said before, I can sell it, and Logan believes me.

At a nod from our guest, we get going. We lock up in a test of strength and we both hold our ground for a while. But Logan knows what he's doing and begins to gradually wear me down. My right knee hits the floor as Logan starts to power me down.

I can see the owner from my position and I can tell he's not pleased. Shit. If this was a fair amateur fight, I wouldn't stand a chance. Luckily for me though, some underhanded tactics are allowed here. And I did warn Logan ahead of time.

With my head at my captain's crotch level, I decide to make use of it, ramming it into his bulge. I instantly feel his grip loosen and hear a grunt. But he hasn't let go, so I do it twice more in succession. I hold on to his hands, so he has no way to cover his mahood apart from crossing his knees and taking a step back.

I quickly kneel even further and use our still intwined grips to pull him forward, my shoulder ramming hard into his basket. I hear a loud moan and I follow up my opening by letting go of his hands and punching upwards into his lower abs, and his balls. The former feel like bricks, the latter like full punching bags. I think about going easy on them when I notice the company's owner smiling at my tactics.

Sorry Logan. Throwing in a half dozen more punches to each of his plums, which are rewarded by yelps and shrieks, I move out of the way and step up, just as my devastated blond friend falls to his knees. I can finally see his face and it is a mask of agony, the eyes scrunched up and his mouth open in a silent scream.

I do a bit of flexing - it always looks good on the website - and turn around just in time to see Logan has gotten back on his feet. Normally, I'd give him a break. But my instructions were pretty clear. I approach him cautiously, because I know he's good, and sure enough he sees me coming and kicks out at me.

But the blows to his balls have slowed him down, and I'm able to catch his leg. With a mischievous grin that I know the owner can see, I fire my own leg up, crunching Logan's vulnerable cajones into his pelvis. His eyes bulge out and he coughs. I drop his leg and walk up to him more confidently.

I wrap my arms around his waist and lift him up into a bearhug. Working with the nature of the place I'm audition for, I also start rubbing our crotches together and, sure enough, Logan pops a boner. I can see why Ashley likes him so much - and I can feel clearly that having her away for the week might be frustrating for him.

I notice, a minute too late, that while I try to exploit his libido, Logan's raised his arms and brought them crashing on to my back. Generally, that would be enough to let me drop him, but I'm determined and he's already weak, so all I do is grunt and increase the pressure a bit. When he does it again though, I know I need a change in tactic.

Shifting my grip just a little, I drop him down and raise my right knee to meet his balls. He yells out and falls on to his back, but before he can protect himself, I spread his legs and start stomping with my foot. I switch it around a little, throwing in a few stomps to his gut, but I focus on the target afforded by the snug briefs. I finish off by balancing myself on his package on just one leg for a full minute, the pressure threatening to crush his precious jewels. When I get off, he just groans and curls up into a ball.

At this point, I can tell he's done. Unfortunately for Logan, this isn't just about winning the match any more, it's about how I win. I need to make this memorable. So the first thing I do is gently pry his hands away from his aching nuts and envelope the entire front of his package into my mouth. It's one of the things I'm good at and I can tell from Logan's sudden moans that I've not lost my touch. With the stimulation he's already received through the match, I need to make sure I don't force it though.

Just as he's about to blow, I pull up. He's left shuddering and I know I have my opening, so I grab his arms and pull him up into a seating position. At the same time, I brace his thighs against my legs, wide open, and I pull. The modified spladle move has him screaming again as his groin is pulled apart. I grab both his hands in my left hand and use my right to add to his discomfort by first flicking, then slapping, then outright punching his balls, still held tightly in his briefs. Splat after splat is met with an ever-louder shriek.

Good. I let go of him and stand up. I grab his pecs and use them to drag him to his wobbly feet. Throwing a smirk over my shoulder at the owner - got to sell it, remember? - I do a running start at the ropes and use it to launch myself at poor Logan, my arm outstretched. The clothesline actually makes him flip over and fall on his stomach. He's groaning, but I reach down and pull him up again. I start kneeing his balls, each hit hard enough to lift him off his feet.

After a dozen or so shots, by the end of which he's leaning on to me for support, I grab his arm and fling him into the corner. He's already dazed so he doesn't react fast enough to stop himself, and ends up hitting the top turnbuckle hard and sagging over it. I don't have time for sympathy though and I lock on a full nelson from behind. Using the hold to guide him, I begin to seductively dry hump in the corner, his balls getting crushed between the turnbuckle and his body with every thrust and ruining any chance of pleasure. I can tell from his grunts he's not enjoying getting his balls even more abused and soon enough his head begins flopping with my movements. I'd be lying if I said I don't enjoy part of it.

And then the grand finale. I wrap one hand on the back of Logan's neck and kneel down, before draping his back over my shoulders in a torture rack. My other hand works its way into his briefs and wraps itself around his nutsack. I don't squeeze too hard. Yet. Instead, I parade the slab of perfectly tenderised beef around the ring, doing a few squats to show my dominance. Logan's just groaning wordlessly at this point. Come to think of it, neither of us really said much during the match.

"So," I finally say out. "You ready to submit?"

Before he has a chance to react, I clamp down hard on his crown jewels. "FUUUUUUUCK!" is all I hear before I feel his whole body convulsing on my shoulders. I play it up more.

"Not the right answer", and I pull his balls even harder. That's all he needs. After a full match of being worked over, Logan's sperm-tanks can't hold it in any longer and I feel the inside of his briefs get really wet, really quickly. The orgasm lasts for a while, his plums letting go of load after load for what feels like an eternity. Some of it dribbles down the back of his briefs onto my arm.

Finally, after his mammoth orgasm subsides, I hear him groan again. Another tug at his balls has him shaking his head. "Say it," I repeat, squeezing again.

"Fuck. I submit. I submit. Fuck." is Logan's response. Satisfied, I unceremoniously dump his body onto the wrestling floor and begin flexing again. For some reason, the owner doesn't look completely sold yet. For a split second, I panic, before remembering that all the matches on the website end with something more.

I walk back to where Logan is on the floor, drained of his load and too tired to move. I work his briefs off him, taking note of the bruised balls and glistening fuckstick along the way. He whimpers, and I do my best to take no notice. I make him sit up, his legs spread wide, as I kneel down behind him and wrap my hands around his head in a sleeper.

Then, like a drill sergeant, I begin to bark out orders for him to flex. This feels amazing! Winning the match was great enough, but now I get to make Logan Kruger, the Logan Kruger, my own little puppet. He might be sore all over, but he takes it like a champ, showing off his baseball biceps and washboard abs. He even manages to make his pecs bounce.

Once I know he's had some time to recover, I lift him back up to a standing position, my arms still around his neck, then tell him to jerk off. For the first time, he seems hesitant, but he probably remembers me telling him how far he would have to go and meekly complies. As soon as he's got a steady rhythm going, I adjust my grip and only use my left arm to keep him in a reverse chokehold.

I then guide my right middle finger into his tight butt and push it through. That's all it takes for Logan to blow like a geyser once again, this time his cock unbound and free to spray the whole ring with his juice. His second load doesn't last as long as the first, but I still make sure to squeeze his balls out, eliciting another shriek as they get wrung dry. To cap it all off, I then tighten my arms around his head and knock him unconscious, the signature ending of the wrestling federation I'd like to join.

As Logan drops like a sack of potatoes at my feet, the owner gets up and starts applauding. Phew! All that work paid off. When he came in, he had told me that there were no more jobber openings and if I wanted to work for him, I'd have to be a dominant heel, vicious through and through. I definitely answered that call. He congratulates me on my win, saying that maybe I could do some more trash talking next time, but that I have definite potential.

As we talk about my contract, Logan's still unconscious at my feet. It feels powerful. The owner looks down at him and, after a serious pause, looks to me again.

"I know I said no jobber openings are available, but any chance we could convince your friend to come on? Those balls of his would go down really well with the other recruits."

I chuckle. "I don't know sir. He's not really into all of this."

The owner sighs, but makes one last push. "Okay. But maybe we could convince him to redo this match in front of a few cameras, exactly as it was? We can do it here tomorrow. He stands to make a lot of money on it, I promise."

Logan's beginning to stir. I know Ashley won't be back for at least another three days. I grin.