ChrisWrestling's blog

I didn't think much of Marc when I first met him, he was a bit of an ass. He kept his hair long and parted which seemed to be the official hair style of soccer players. Some pulled it off but it gave Marc an air of arrogance. He was the kind of guy who needed everyone to know that he was the alpha in all things. One might think that he might have grown out of it by his Junior year in college, one might be wrong.
We had a couple classes together and he still sat in the back corner of the room in all of them, trying to be as insignificant to the teachers gaze as possible. We all knew he was coasting through school on an athletic scholarship. You didn't get shredded by reading text books, especially if you had to spend five nights a week on the field kicking a ball around. Here we are, middle of January and he's wearing his soccer shorts in the halls of the school; shorts short enough that his balls might fall out... he'd like that I'm sure.
He had a clan of meatheads who followed at his heels like a pack of puppies. These were the kinds of guys who would lift up a girls skirts as they passed by. There would be a barrage of chortles that got louder the more the poor girl protested.
I stood in the line in the cafeteria, pointing at my choices of boarderline food that I was about to pay too much for when I heard the soccer douche mob enter the cafeteria. I rolled my eyes but their clucky laughter was distracting me and my tray was becoming more and more loaded with mushier food like substances. Uncomfortably I paid for my food as the annoyed complaints from another unfortunate girl began to crescendo.
What came over me I can't tell you, I blacked a lot of what happened next from my memory. What I do remember is no longer having a lunch and Marc staring at me, dumbfounded, covered in a collection of goopy mock edibles.
Now, you would think that a dumb jocky meathead like Marc would be too stupid to show any restraint, if that were the case I would not be here to tell you this story. He looked at me with what almost appeared to be respect. I had played a risky card. If he had struck me down right there and then he would have been expelled for sure. The school board could look past sexual harassment as long as it didn't lead to {removed} but striking another student, that's a different story, even for their star soccer player.
The gang was silent as Marc swiped some goop from his shirt with his index finger. He licked his finger and smiled at me. "Tastes like karma may be coming your way, little man" he said looking into my eyes like a hungry snake. His smile widened briefly and disappeared as he turned back to the food counter.

The next week was torturous. That look, those words, he meant to have his revenge. He knew that by making me wait for it I would be tormented by the persistent fear of what he was planning. By the time the day came I was almost begging to have it over with. When he came, he came alone.
I left school around eight and walked through the quiet streets which were poorly lit. I had almost forgotten about Marc and was rather relaxed walking down the dark but familiar streets. It was a good little town and the stars and moon provided ample light even in the late winter.
My hands were tucked into my jacket pockets when an arm reached around me, grabbed the zipper of my coat and unzipped it half way. Next, my coat was pulled halfway down my arms, pinning them to my sides. My legs were kicked out from under me and I was dragged through the open door at the front of his apartment.
He looked down at me fiercely, "Don't make a sound."
It was so damn cold and there he was in nothing but his jersey and uncomfortably short shorts. His level dropped and soon his knee was on my gut, his face in my face, his hands... on my balls.
"Don't worry little guy, I'm only checking that your balls are as big as you seem to think they are." He squeezed them fairly hard and my face showed anger, not pain. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was hurting me.
He picked me up with some ease, wrapped his arms around mine and started to squeeze. I didn't know what to make of what was happening to me or what I could do about it. My coat was still holding my arms uselessly to my side. I think I felt the pressure on my arms first. They felt suddenly tired like someone had tied a rubber band around them at the arm pit and the blood had stopped flowing a while ago. The tension my bones and joints was immense and I began to wonder if my shoulder would dislocate. My back cracked loudly at least eight times and the air was rushed from my lungs. I noticed another point of pressure, a smaller one. His penis had become hard and was now poking into my thigh. I couldn't believe it, Marc was getting sexually turned on by the idea of crushing me.
He took in a big breath, expanding his chest and then pulled his elbows back doubling the pressure on my ribs. My pride had lost, I couldn't hold in anymore, I cried out. I announced that the torture was working and gave him the satisfaction he had been looking for. His grip loosened till my feet found the floor and his hand migrated up to my head, holding it in place as he kissed me.
It didn't make any sense to me. Macho Marc, king of the quads, ruler of the meat heads kissed me. The super buff human meat sack was gay. All that harassing he was doing was a cover and for some reason he had chosen me to come out to.
The next moment I was on the ground and he was on top of me. I tried to buck him off but his feet were hooked behind my thighs and he stayed no matter how much I squirmed.
"You're ballsy, boy, I like that." He said with a toothy grin. "It's Jeremy, is it not?" He asked but gave no time to reply. "I've watched you for some time and I suspect you're someone else, someone I've been watching on Craigslist. If my intuition is right that bearhug was not all that horrible for you."
A look of shock registered on my face and he read me like a book. He never replied to my ads but I had posted some.
"I thought so. This is supposed to be your punishment so let me propose a game.... I'm going to see if you can take everything you suggested. If I'm right about you, then you're my new best friend, if I'm wrong, you'll know never to mess with me again."
Before I could speak he rolled me over so I was on top of him, trapped between his legs. He didn't snap them down on me, instead he ramped up the pressure and I moaned in discomfort. I could feel my penis start to get hard, every pulse a notable throb. He reached my pressure threshold in about 20 seconds and I thought he would just hold me there... he didn't. At 30 seconds I thought my ribs would break, at 40 my moan became a howl. The intensity stopped ramping at about a minute but he didn't grant me a second of mercy. He held it at that incredible pressure, his endurance was unbelievable.
Sweat began to bead on my forehead and he smiled up at me. In my insanity I smiled back. I couldn't help it, a long held fantasy of mine was being realized and he was more of a beast than I could have ever hoped for.
When his pressure finally released my ribs felt like they were going to explode. The springing back to their normal position was a startling experience. I was so in shock I didn't realize that I had been rolled to my back and now his legs were going across my abs. He straightened hard and fast and the pain was intense but not all that unpleasant.
"I've been playing soccer since I could walk. Even on days I don't practice, I lift, swim, and run so that when I find a little guy like you I can cut him in half with my powerful legs. Do you believe I could cut you in half little man?"
In a moment of pure insanity I cried out, "No!"
The power doubled. Maybe it tripled, there's no way to know for sure. It was like I was trapped under a car and suddenly a cow sat on it, or hell, an elephant. My legs began to feel hot and cold at the same time. For a moment I could feel my pulse in my gut but that feeling had faded. My breathing was shallow and labored and my panic was mixing with a high I can't describe. I thought about my toes, I think they went numb. His pressure varied but never went below miserable. Was my cock still hard? I couldn't say. I couldn't say if I was miserable or in heaven. It was the worst kind of awful.
Every second became an hour, perhaps real hours had passed, perhaps mere moments. I don't know, I was lost in my own world.
He repositioned onto my ribs and the clamp flattened me again, slower this time. My face flushed and my hands pitifully groped at his legs which felt like tight bundles of raw jute. Breathing was out of the question now. He kept on his murderous squeezefest. My useless attempts to push his legs off my chest became more like an elderly man swatting a fly in a dark room moments before dying from leukemia. A moment later the swatting stopped and was replaced by directionless twitching in my arms.
I have no idea how long I was out for but when I awoke he was wearing nothing but compression shorts and my neck was trapped between those horrifying thighs. My face was buried in his balls and he was precumming. He was more gentle on my neck but he gave me little bursts to remind me that he still had a lot of gas in the tank.
He squeezed a little. He squeezed a little more. He squeezed a lot and my eyes felt like they would pop in my head. That twitchy drunkness returned to my arms and my whole body shook in an electrical spasm and he would relax. Even when I regained control of my limbs I was too tired and high to use them. I didn't want out. I wanted to be buried in the brutal warmth of his legs for the rest of my existence.
After what seemed a millennia he rolled me off to the floor. He took my face and made me look into his eyes. "You belong to me now" he said sternly.
"Yes, I do" I replied.