(Correction: At the end of Part 13, we had a lapse and called Randy "Chuck," which is his actual name. We'll stay with that. Sorry, Chuck.)
Dave did not have to confront Chuck unaided. He was joined by the two swimmers, one of whom had caught Dave's eye the minute he arrived. His thick dark hair reached proudly to his shoulders. It framed a photogenic, androgynous face which could have been described as either beautiful or handsome. Dave noted that both men had nicely-developed swimmers' shoulders and chests. Their brawling skills were at that moment undiscernable. Dave, being the biggest and most muscular of the three challengers, took the lead and went for Chuck's legs. As he dove, Chuck quickly bent forward and circled Dave's waist with his arms and proceeded to lift Dave straight up, feet dangling in the air and head pointing downward. Chuck's face slammed into Dave's butt, which he proceeded to jab with his chin. The other two attacked Chuck's now vulnerable legs, and all four went down in a flailing pile of limbs. Dave managed to squirm free and wrapped an arm around Chuck's thick neck, jamming his armpit against the big guy's nose.
"Phew!" grunted Chuck. "Chemical warfare."
"Smother the fucker!" said Chris, the swimmer with the long hair. He had captured one of Chuck's ankles and was trying to bend his heel back toward his ass. One kick of Chuck's flaring calves sent Chris bouncing off the mattress pile. Chuck bridged and pivoted, and suddenly he was on top of Dave. The swimmers dove onto Chuck's back and tried to pry him off while Dave shoved upward against his chin. Eventually they managed to roll the big guy off. While captured beneath his adversary, Dave took a glance around at the mayhem. Nearly everyone was bare-footed and stripped to the waist. Some wore gym shorts, others sweatpants -- most of them cut off below the knee -- and a few had on worn jeans. The room was filled with the smell of sweat and the sounds of swearing, shouting and slamming. Some had already been eliminated and were watching, and a couple were taking action shots with digital flash. Dripping, flexing muscle was all around. God, this was fun, thought Dave, and sculpted Chuck was as big a turn-on as his best buddy Danny. What was Danny doing just now? Winning, he hoped. Too early to be fucking Carla -- or Leo.
Chuck got lucky. While he had his arms tightly around the necks, respectively, of Chris and Dave, he managed to scissor the other swimmer with his boa legs and flexed...flexed again...tighter. His victim groaned, struggling for breath.
"You give? Huh? Better give it up before you pass out, bud."
"Give! OK!" Chuck released him and he crawled slowly over to one of the sofas. Now there were two.
Chris, unable to pry Chuck's arm from around his head, was jabbing him in the ribs with one hand and trying to goose him with the other. This was annoying. Chuck rolled onto his stomach, pulling Chris across to the other side and momentarily trapping Dave under him again. Chuck then grabbed Chris's waistband with his freed hand and with one mighty tug the scrappy dude's shorts were yanked below his knees. Beneath the shorts he had worn a jock, the length and girth of whose bulge was a credit to Chris's relatively slender stature. When he reached down to recover his shorts, his arm was grabbed and twisted into a painful and irresistible hammerlock. After yelping his submission he was released to join his buddy on the losers' sofa.
"Me and you, bud," muttered Chuck as he hooked his legs around Dave's in an attempted spread eagle. Dave kicked out, twisted and struggled onto his knees with Chuck still firmly riding on his back. Chris's jock-encased tool had been no more impressive than the boner which now pressed against Dave's backsides. As Chuck attacked Dave's forearms in an effort to flatten him back down onto the mattress, he dug his chin into Dave's neck and was unmistakably humping him. With his left hand Dave reached across to capture Chuck's right forearm and rolled him off to the side. He got his right arm around his adversary's neck and tried with all his might to straighten Chuck's arm out against his knee so that he could hook it beneath his ankle. This was going to be that "arm wrestle" which Chuck had proposed out in the front yard when they were introduced. Chuck did not reach around with his free arm for reinforcement. One arm only against one arm. Their breathing was rapid and deep as they strained for dominance. Slowly Chuck's pulsing bicep contracted and the arm bar was lost.
"Shit," muttered Dave. Chuck slowly unwrapped Dave's arm from around his head and forced it around Dave's own head. Then he did the same with Dave's other arm, so that both arms were wrapped around his head. Tighter went the noose.
From behind, Chuck put his lips to Dave's ear. "I think we have a winner, don't you?"
"Man, you're pulling my...arms...right out of...their sockets....Yeah, Champ, we...have a winner."
Chuck released Dave's wrists and they lie there catching their breath while other bodies rolled and crashed around them. Chuck helped his defeated opponent to his feet and they embraced ."That was great, buddy. You're a real handful."
"You're stronger than any guy I've ever wrestled, Chuck. This is a great party."
"It's only getting started, bud. Wait til after dinner."
Dave walked over to where Ty and Jimmy were nursing their muscles and their egos. Gary had managed to eliminate his four attackers, one of them before they even got him off his feet. Ty, who had lasted the longest, now had his arm around his baby brother and was complimenting him on how well he had done against a state champion. Jimmy grinned up at Dave and asked how soon he could expect a no-holds-barred rematch after their encounter back at the fraternity. Woody was still contending with the last of his challengers, a swarthy guy with hairy chest and legs putting up a manly resistance. Onlookers were encouraging him, "Fight him, Josef. Hang in there!"
Just then Mike Simmons joined them and asked whether they were having a good time. He and Ty strolled over to the bar, grabbed a couple of beers and disappeared arm in arm into the back of the house. Dave joined Jimmy on the sofa and they compared notes on how the adventure was progressing.
"Did you get a look at that dude with the Tarzan haircut?" asked Jimmy.
"You mean Chris the swimmer? That guy over there?"
"Yeah, that's the one. What a face. He's better looking than most bitches, man."
"Don't be fooled by the flowing hair and the blue eyes. He's a scrappy fighter. He and his buddy and I took on the blond stud, and he held his own."
"I think maybe he digs black guys. When we were coming in from out front he told me what a cool soccer player I was and how buff I looked. We're gonna wrestle after dinner."
"You better take it easy on him. You're a real aggressive fighter, you know, and heavier."
"Shit, I don't want to hurt him. The opposite. I'd like to make him feel real good."
"Get your mind off sex, you horn toad."
"Man, all this looking and talking and rassling has got me so hot, I think I'm gonna have to sneak off somewhere and jerk off."
"Don't waste it, Jimmy. There's plenty of action ahead. Go offer Johnny with the Long Brown Hair another beer. He's been looking over at you while we've been talking."
"No shit?"
"No shit. So has his partner. You may have to fight them both off."
Just then Woody banged on a cooking pot and explained the setup for the evening meal. Gary replenished the fire in the big fireplace, everybody who knew it sang the State fight song, and they fell into the chow line. There was one long trestle table, plus stools to pull up to the bar. Soon a roomful of hungry athletes was gorging itself and laughing while U2 blared in the background. Ty and Mike strolled back into the room looking relaxed and sat across from Jimmy and Dave. Ty looked at Dave and winked, whereupon Jimmy sneaked a hand under the table and pulled a hair on Dave's leg. They both smirked, suppressed a giggle, and went on eating.
The food was all consumed, but the beer was still plentiful. A few old drinking songs were sung. A couple of guys told jokes, and then in response to popular demand Chris and the other swimmer (Dave never did catch his name) climbed up on the table and did a lively pantomime of two hookers, first soliciting passersby and then taking a bath. When Chris placed an imaginary towel between his legs and began getting aroused while drying "herself," the crowd broke into cheers and applause. They broke up after that, and some headed for the shower building while others enjoyed the fire (there being no TV) or went for a lakeside stroll. It was cold outside, but no snow or ice, and the sky was clear.
An announcement had been made at dinner that after nine o'clock everyone was invited to gather for challenge matches, followed by a free-for-all as the evening's capper.
Gary and Woody took turns as referees. A pile of ratty old singlets was brought in from Gary's pickup, and challengers were to wear one and wrestle barefoot. Mike started things off by challenging Josef the hairy hunk. They both stripped naked -- to admiring catcalls -- and donned a couple of singlets that had seen better seasons. Each match was to last just one period, ten minutes max, without a break. If neither man got a pin, the ref would declare a winner.
These were all friends or friends' friends, but that didn't make the matches any tamer, just less cautious. Josef was the more aggressive and stocky, while Mike was buff and "scientific." They tore into one another, with a dozen pair of eyes glued on their colliding torsos. Mike was quicker and got more takedowns, but once they were off their feet and into a clinch it was Josef who would usually muscle his opponent into a vulnerable position. It was a long match, and in the end Josef nelsoned Mike onto his back and spread his thick legs wide to prevent an escape. Mike bridged again and again, displaying another beautiful full-mast-er for everyone to applaud, but his neck buckled under the weight, his shoulders sank, and Gary slapped the mattress for the pin. What happened next was an eye-popper for Dave, Ty, Jimmy and the two high school wrestlers. Mike stood and hugged Josef, and then planted a wet kiss on the winner's mouth. The hug became a clinch with thrusting pelvises and the audience whistled and clapped. The victor slapped the butt of the loser, the pair grinned and shook hands, then left the mats.
"Wha?" whispered Jimmy.
"You got me," said Dave. "This must be what they call a really, really friendly fight."
"What do you think the winner gets?" asked Ty.
"He just got it, Dummy: a big, wet, manly smacker."
By the time it was Jimmy's turn to go up against Chris, he kind of knew the house traditions. Although he intended to heed his buddies' advice about not being too rough on the shorter wrestler, he quickly discovered that Chris did not require special handling. After they faced off, Chris stood back and shook his head rapidly side to side, making his hair swirl alluringly like a TV ad for shampoo. As Jimmy stood there open-mouthed, Chris leapt into the air and shot a foot into Jimmy's chest. The beautiful black boy crashed to the mattress and Chris landed with a thud on his shoulders . Everyone -- except, perhaps, Ty -- exploded with laughter. The fighters locked hands and Chris went chest on chest, while his knee came up abruptly into Jimmy's crotch. Ooof!
If it was Chris's intention to arouse his younger adversary, he was successful. Jimmy clenched his teeth, cocked his sleek biceps and literally threw Chris off and to the side. Jumping to his knees, he kept his grip on one of Chris's wrists and thrust his other hand right into his face. Chris yanked that hand away and tried to throw Jimmy with an upthrust foot in his abdomen. They rolled savagely around the mattresses, and once in a while Woody had to block what would otherwise have been a dangerous foul.
Their faces flushed and eyes glinted. When Jimmy got behind Chris he applied a full nelson and scissored him with his legs. Chris, however, did an over-scissors, and Jimmy let go with a cry of pain. Ty became so agitated that Dave threw his arm around him and squeezed.
"Jimmy can take care of himself."
Dave was right. His legs rippling and gleaming with sweat, Jimmy at last scissored Chris's head high in the crotch and captured his upturned arm with both hands. He cranked on an arm bar, pulling it diagonally across his chest and thrusting up with his pelvis. Chris slapped the matt and shouted, "I give." It was over.
Enemies? Not exactly. Once they were up and facing each other, Chris jumped into the winner's arms, wrapping his own arms and legs around Jimmy's neck and waist. Jimmy leaned back and grasped Chris's cheeks in both hands to support them. The kiss was long and wild, as was the other wrestlers' appreciative response.
Jimmy returned to his buddies, looking concurrently bewildered, triumphant and moon-struck. Ty hugged and nuzzled him and Dave did too.
"You did good, bro." Jimmy sat and basked in Ty's embrace.
There were a couple of other matches after that, but by then it was getting late and the guys were growing restless.
"We didn't get our match yet," said Ty to Dave.
"We have all day tomorrow, don't we?"
"I guess so. Just the same, I wouldn't sleep too soundly tonight if I was you. You never know when you might get attacked."
"Who's up for the free-for-all?" shouted Gary. Nobody was ready to call it quits. Those who had not yet stripped and pulled on singlets from the pile now did so. Fourteen testosterone-powered athletes knelt on the mattresses spread in the center of the room, eyeing one another.
"You all know the rules," said Gary as he pulled the straps of an old yellow singlet onto his brawny shoulders. "Nobody gets mad, nobody gets hurt, everybody wrestles as long as he likes. Showers afterward are optional -- unless you expect to eat breakfast with the rest of us."
Woody rose and walked over to a wall panel. The lights went out and the walls came alive with shadows cast by the crackling fire.