The Best Sex Experience with A Muscular Wrestler

Wrestling has always been one of my favourite sports. As a birthday treat, when one of the greatest wrestling tours came to town, my buddies banded together to obtain us tickets, securing nearly front-row seats. That was all about the sport for me. What about them? More on the sportsmen without tops.

The first match began, the lights were turned off, the wrestlers emerged one by one, and the event began. We were all talking about who was the most gorgeous of the bunch when one of the wrestlers leaped over the barrier right in front of us.

I gripped Marcus sides and posed for a photo as a joke. I'd seen him on TV a lot, and he was obviously one of my primary crushes: standing next to him, feeling his oiled-up stocky chest, I was ecstatic.

My buddies couldn't understand why I was so pleased - Marcus is only famous if you know wrestling, so I couldn't help but tweet about it to show off to others who would comprehend it.

Later, I was standing with my pals at the bar when I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the wrestler's fault. I became immobile. With an American drawl, he continued, "Saw your tweet." I was embarrassed!

Especially because I had said how much I liked him in it. Marcus then chuckled and stroked his fingers down my arm before asking if I wanted something to drink.

We were flirting a little - I was certainly receiving the vibe from him, but I thought I was being too cocky. 'He might be that that with anyone,' I reasoned. But then he turned things up a notch.

He continued to massage my arm and put his arms around my waist. Then, when we finished our drinks, we had that moment where you both catch each other's eyes and know what's going to happen next. He placed his hand on the back of my neck and drew me in for a kiss.

We spent the next couple of hours in the bar simply kissing and drinking (my companions had long left me alone), until it became clear that the bartenders were impatient for us to go so they could go home.

All of the anticipation was getting to me, and I couldn't wait to get him into bed. We staggered out and into a taxi back to his hotel, and that was the end of it.

Marcus started pulling my clothing off in an almost animalistic manner before pinning me to the bed and forcing his way inside me.

He was so massive and muscular that he seized complete control of me, turning me over into a doggie position as I reached down to touch myself.

I lost the count of how many times I came because I couldn't get enough of it.

We both arrived, and he collapsed on top of me, soaking with perspiration. Yet it wasn't quite over. He was undeniably an athlete, since his stamina kept him going for hours. We tried everything: missionary, 69, me on top, reverse cowgirl - and because he knew precisely what he was doing, every time he touched me, I wanted more.

Marcus was continually surprised and changing things up. I lost track of how many times I came because I couldn't get enough of it. We were both too fatigued to continue in the early hours of the morning. I crept out after a few hours of slumber, supposing he was on tour and needed to conserve energy for the next bout. Since then, I've only seen him on television...