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For Ralph

Arena México was a maw. A roaring, black maw with teeth of padded orange seats that breathed in screams. It inhaled the air with sixteen thousand throats and exhaled in tumbling oceans of sound that careened from one side of the stadium to the other. It was a din. A pandemonium. A freewheeling madhouse of raw machismo. A tornado of passion funneling down to the blazing pale square slab that was its heart.

On this slab, gods rose and fell. On this slab, all of Mexico City built a mythology from the grunts and sweat of its sons, who crashed and hurled against each other again and again, huffing and snorting like bulls, arms locked over their heads, boots scraping for purchase.

Inevitably, one would pin the other. Then would come the cry, rising like an Aztec prayer through the very roof to the stars.

"LUCHA! LUCHA! LUCHA! LUCHA!"

This was Rikky's religion. Ricardo Rueda Guerrerro Mendez, the coywolf whose days were counted in racks of steaming dishes five days a week, and in trips to Salazar to help his uncle in the fields on weekends. Who somehow scraped together enough pesos to see his chosen champion's every match.

They announced his entrance with a march of death. Pounding drums backed by a hip hop bass rhythm, all dark chords in minor key. The audience moaned in despair - those who had bet money at least. He stomped toward the ring on booted feet that could almost eclipse manhole covers. Enormous, roiling muscular thighs that twitched with every step, swathed in a black wrestling singlet trimmed in gold. Abs the size of soda cans rippled beneath a pair of pectorals to put the Sierra Madres to shame. His bloated, perma-striated arms were anointed in a thin layer of sweat already, casting his whole titanic frame in a faint halo of gleaming light. Bruno Perromal. El Verdugo. The Annihilator. The Monster of Oaxaca. Tipping the scales at over 300 pounds, the rottweiler was the largest luchador in Mexican history. And the most brutal of the 'rudos,' the 'villain' wrestlers. Any heroic 'tecnico' to challenge him was crushed without mercy in those seething muscles. It was whispered that El Verdugo kept a collection of masks - and even the shaved hair - from his defeated foes.

Bruno claimed the center of the ring. He put his paws on his hips, dull red-rimmed eyes sweeping the crowd in hunger from behind his black mask with its skull emblazoned in gold sequins. The maw of Arena México booed, and Bruno opened his enormous, bulging arms to receive them. To bask in them. As if he loved their hate.

Only a few scant brave souls like Rikky dared to voice their approval, and these Bruno made note of with movements of his floppy canine ears. The falls and pins he would deliver upon his latest victim would each be dedicated to one of those fans. Known within luchadore fan circles as 'los traidores,' they were a strange breed. A mix of malcontents, punks, and sadists, or so the fandom would have any believe who listened to them defend their dark lord on social media.

Rikky held his breath as the giant canine grinned and fleeeexed his cannonball biceps, giving each a lover's kiss. It was his trademark. Rikky could see the veins that snaked into view under Bruno's hide even from the twentieth row. Dios mio, he was beautiful.

Here came Bruno's competition - a trio of burly ocelots. That made it technically a trios match, but no one worked with El Verdugo. Why, he had once won an eight man battle royale single-handedly! He didn't NEED partners!

Rikky clung to the seat ahead of him while two of the three ocelots worked on either side of Bruno's massive frame, trying to budge him. Bruno just stood there, huge arms folded, laughing. Then again, he did outweigh each of his opponents by a good fifty pounds!

Bruno slowly wrapped a huge arm each around one and dropped to one knee, sneering at them while they writhed and struggled. Rikky moaned to see such power. Such strength. This was the reason he came to every match, why El Verdugo was the only lucha for him. Every other man paled in comparison.

The ocelots did everything they could - elaborate grabs and holds, hurling themselves like oversized dancers from the ropes to try and take Bruno down. Once they managed to stagger him. Once. But El Verdugo was without mercy. He made a show of swatting them out of the air like flies. Of holding them aloft to gloat at the crowd before letting them drop or just tossing them clean out of the ring....carefully, so as not to injure them, of course. He was a brute, but he didn't want to be disqualified. All too soon, it was over. Once again, the Annihilator reigned supreme.

Bruno filled the building with his booming, arrogant laugh. Rikky sagged against his seat with a shudder. The black and white-striped wolf serving as referee handed Bruno a microphone.

"GRRRRRR...Bruno looooves Mexico City. So many little wrestlers to plaaay with." Bruno taunted, his voice that of a giant. Husky and deep.

More booes from the incensed crowd. But they couldn't deny that Bruno played within the rules. Bruno stomped forward and put his huge paws on the edge of the ropes.

"NONE of you would dare step into this ring with me! Not even for 200 pesos!"

Bruno's manager stepped into the light of the ring from the first row of seats. He was all of four feet, eleven inches - a smirking little rat of a chihuahua in a tailored pinstripe silk suit, with a little round belly on him just peeking out the bottom. Grown fat and rich off of Bruno's infamy.

Rikky watched in disbelief as two crisp 100 peso bills landed in the referee's palm. Bruno sneered at the crowd.

"Who dares?" he challenged.

The crowd stirred and muttered to itself, a jiggled bee hive. Yet Bruno could intimidate almost two thousand people.

"Mine now, then," Bruno said with a snicker.

Rikky shot to his feet. He raised his paw. Moments later, a spotlight caught him in its glare. What the fuck was he doing? Bruno's expression said something similar.

"What is this?" Bruno sneered, practically drooling scorn. He pointed to his own boots. "Get down here, runt!"

Rikky almost bolted. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Back out, and never come to the Arena again out of shame. But the pride of a Mexican man had made them do more foolish things than this.

Rikky descended the long line of steps toward the ring. Some sadistic DJ put on a slow dramatic marching beat, as if Rikky were being led to the gallows. Bruno watched him the entire way.

The referee helped Rikky past the ropes. He asked Rikky his name.

"My amigos call me Rikky, Señor," he said.

"And why did you accept El Verdugo's challenge?"

Rikky's throat was like the Sonora. He cleared it. Glanced over and UP at Bruno.

"Because otherwise I'll never get to meet him."

Bruno raised an eyebrow, and also the edge of his lips in a faint smirking smile. A few of the cannier fans caught on. Cries of 'fucking traidor!' hurled from above.

The referee guided Rikky over. Rikky's tail flattened to his ass. Madre de Dios, Bruno was ENORMOUS. A living mountain of sweat and musk that breathed. Rikky's stomach was an armadillo's burro.

Bruno swiped the microphone.

"SHUT UP!"

The crowd obeyed. Rikky blushed as he felt a huge heavy paw clamp onto the back of his neck.

"None of you PUSSIES had the balls to come down here! And I can see some fucking jacked puto over there with his girlfriend. You feel like a real man now?"

Bruno ignored the shouted insults. He turned to Rikky.

"Okay, Rikky. Here's my deal - 200 pesos to you, if you can move me. One budge, and you're a richer man."

The calls died down. Rikky leaned to the microphone.

"How could I compete with the GREATEST LUCHADOR IN HISTORY!"

That got the crowd on its feet. Mostly roaring in indignation. Bruno had not expected that. But his eyes blazed. He grinned like a damn demon. The referee blew his whistle until the crowd calmed again.

"What if I made it 400 pesos?"

That was serious money. Rikky felt a cage around him. Bruno had him in the world he ruled. He was the Devil, with Rikky the mere mortal trapped at the crossroads, his very soul on the line.

Rikky shook his head. Before the crowd could interject its opinion, he said, "I've watched every match you were in since I was nine years old, señor. No one can defeat you, Verdugo. Least of all me. No one EVER will!"

The ref guided Rikky back toward the anonymous darkness at the edge of the ring, where a security guard stood waiting to escort Rikky back to his seat safely. Rikky's eyes never left Bruno's. And Bruno's never left his, either.

Ten minutes would pass before the next match. But it was not a match Rikky cared about. If it wasn't El Verdugo hurling his opponents to the floor and gloating over them, he might as well head home.

"I'd like to leave, please," Rikky said to his escort.

The guard nodded, with a bit of a sympathetic pat to Rikky's shoulder.

"That took real heart, señor."

"Gracias," Rikky said.

They reached the grey double doors to street level when the guard's radio crackled. Frowning, he asked for a repeat. Then he turned to Rikky.

"Señor Zapata would apparently like a word with you."

"Who?" Rikky asked.

"El Verdugo's manager, güey. Maybe you'll get your pesos after all, eh?"

The guard spoke rapidly into his walkie. He gestured toward the exit doors.

"Wait just outside. He'll meet you."

Rikky waited. It was dusk in the packed parking lot. Rikky could barely see the color of the sky through the haze of the city and the crowded buildings. Street lamps set the air humming like electric wasps. Somewhere, a stray dog barked.

"Señor Mendez?"

Rikky saw the chihuahua approach, strolling with a polished little cane.

"Yeah, that's me," Rikky said.

"May I call you Ricardo?"

"Rikky, please."

"Don't worry, my boy. You're not in trouble," Zapata said with a chuckle.

"Then what do you want?"

"To business, eh? I like that. I like you, Rikky."

"What's this about, Señor?" Rikky asked. His ears were up in full alarm. This didn't make sense. And in Mexico City, when things didn't make sense, you got the fuck out.

"Bruno Perromal. You impressed him. He asked about you backstage."

"Bullshit."

Rikky was already backing away. Why the fuck hadn't security stayed with him?

"You think so?" Zapata said. "You're the one man who stood toe to toe with a giant brute and, if I'm not mistaken, told him exactly what you thought of him. How many men can do that?"

"Look, Señor Zapata, I really should get home."

"He wants to see you. Alone."

Rikky froze.

"What do you mean, alone?"

Zapata glanced around and padded closer. He had to look up to meet Rikky's eyes and flashed him a wink.

"Alone, güey," he said under his breath. And opened his paw to show the carefully folded black and gold mask. "No one is going to hurt you, Rikky. You have his word."

Rikky could still smell the rottweiler's musk on the black velvet cloth. A luchador's mask was his honor. Rikky's pupils dilated.

"But...why would you...?"

"Play pimp for him?" Zapata grinned. "I like to keep him happy. The question is, would you?"

Zapata flashed a rolled wad of cash, just under his sleeve. All hundreds.

"For your trouble."

Zapata led Rikky around the outer curve of the building toward the back entrance. No one but staff were allowed in there. Rikky heard the swelling cheers of the crowd, a surf on a distant beach.

"This way," Zapata said.

Rikky walked down the dark hallway, following the starlight wink of Zapata's cane. This was stupid. Rikky said it to himself with every step. This was a scam. Extortion. Kidnapping. Who knew what? Anything but what it seemed to be. Yet, he didn't turn back.

Zapata knocked on a closed door. Rikky heard Bruno's voice inside, though not what he said. Adrenaline spiked through him. His heart shifted into third gear. Zapata opened the door. Dim light spilled out. Rikky saw a huge shadow move across the floor.

"Go on," Zapata said. "Vamonos, boy. We don't have all night."

Ears flat, Rikky walked through the door.

"Hey," Zapata slapped Rikky's hip with the wad of bills. He addressed Bruno. "You better not break this one, Perromal. You hear me?"

He shut the door after Rikky took the money.

Rikky looked around. He stood in a spacious dressing room. A rainbow of costumes hung near the ceiling. The light came from the glowing golden bulbs surrounding the mirror on the opposite wall. Bruno stood facing the mirror, no longer masked. His fingers pulled at the strips holding on his gloves. He still wore his singlet and boots.

Rikky stood there, unsure what to do. He shifted the roll of cash from palm to palm. Plucked nervously at one of the elastics holding it together with a claw. A shadow covered him. The cash fell from Rikky's startled fingers.

Bruno gripped Rikky by the front of his shirt. His bicep rose, expanded, thick and veined. Rikky's sneakers left the floor.

"Nnnnngghhh...you were right not to take my offer, runt. No way you could have budged this body."

Bruno smirked and swung his free arm up into his usual bicep flex. From so close, Rikky could not only see it, but smell it. The unwashed sweat from the ring soaked through Bruno's singlet. The sweat he'd built up during his bout. Somehow, knowing WHERE the sweat had come from made it worse. Made it hotter.

Bruno kissed his muscle and slowly turned his head toward his victim. Rikky had both hands wrapped around the clutching fist. His feet kicked the air, saucer eyes staring at Bruno....who held him there with no effort at all.

"But now," Bruno growled "I want my fun."

His fist opened. Rikky dropped. Soccer instincts kicked in, and he landed on his feet, knees bent to absorb the blow.

"Push me, runt. Go on. Try it. Try to budge me."

Rikky hesitated. He planted a shaking hand against the soaked black lycra that barely covered the lower half of that towering chest. Bruno waited while Rikky screwed up his courage and added his other hand.

"Push."

Biting his lip, Rikky obeyed.

"Harder. Put your fucking weak little back into it, my little traidor."

Rikky moaned. The sweat made his palms slide over the heavy muscles. Bruno just stood there, arms akimbo. He chuckled.

"Oh God," Rikky cried out.

"Why do you watch me, boy? Why do you watch El Verdugo?"

"Because you're the greatest!" Rikky panted as he pushed harder. To no result.

Bruno's fist closed around his throat.

"I've heard better lines from whores. Look me in the fucking eyes and TELL Bruno Perromal why you REALLY watch him!"

"B...b...because...because you...make me...hard, S..Señor!"

Bruno pulled Rikky's face against his chest. He yanked down the front of his singlet to expose dripping pectorals. He tensed and rolled them against Rikky's face while his palm held Rikky's head like a melon, forcing his mouth to move as Bruno wished.

Rikky tasted sweat. Rolled it onto his tongue like salsa off of street food. Another musk-filled breath later, he was washing that muscle, tongue pressed to skin, muzzle crumpled inward slightly from the pressure of Bruno's grip.

"Ooooooohhh....oh....sí...that's the sweat of a winner, bitch...a champion..."

Rikky bit down with his fangs and pulled against Bruno's nipple. Bruno's hand didn't let him move more than a few inches. Bruno's saliva dripped onto Rikky's neck. Absorbed into his scruff.

"FUCK," Bruno growled. "Trying to escape, eh? Just take your cash and run? Oh no, puny thing, you're MINE. Miiiiiiine. Until I'm DONE with you."

Bruno flung Rikky away from him. Rikky crashed against a wardrobe on the far side of the room. Bruno swaggered closer, laughing, cracking his knuckles and his bovine neck.

Rikky stood tall. Not disguising how aroused he was. His panting matched Bruno's in an erotic duet. The bulge that bobbed in the front of Bruno's singlet looked like an inverted tennis racket. Rikky started to yank off his clothes right there. Bruno just watched, licking his chops. The rational part of Rikky's mind had shut down. If this was a set up with some sort of hidden camera, if this was just a fever dream, the metaphysics no longer mattered.

Bruno lifted Rikky right out of the pile of clothes with his hug. "Feel the embrace of the Annihilator," Bruno whispered. "Feel my STRENGTH."

It was like being crushed in the coils of some oiled up anaconda. Bruno's sweat made every inch of his massive arms slick against Rikky's fur. Rikky could literally feel the soft pulsations of the veins on those biceps twitch against his body. He gasped for whatever scraps of musk-laden air he could get.

"Oh yes," Bruno chanted. "I control when you breeaaathe, wimp. It's so eeaaasy...to squeeze the life out of you."

He made good on his words. Pumping those enormous arms HARD around Rikky's body, relaxing them without letting Rikky go, and repeating it. Rikky focused his efforts on caressing his paws along the telephone pole sized arms, their sheer MASS drawing his hands and fingers to explore more and more.

Rikky even gathered a palm full of Bruno's sweat and eyed him as he slowly licked it clean. Bruno chuckled.

"Would you wear your mask, too, Señor?"

A grin. "Ah, you want the full fantasy."

Bruno dropped Rikky to the floor again. He turned to the wardrobe and fetched a fresh copy of his mask from inside. Rikky bit his lip.

"So, you do this all the time?"

Bruno eyed him.

"I always get horny after a match. Zapata pays for my needs."

Rikky stepped forward.

"What if he didn't have to?"

Bruno bellowed out a laugh that shook the room.

"So you'd just drop everything to be my whore, huh?"

He cupped Rikky's cheek with a grin and kissed him.

"Don't think with your pito, boy."

Emboldened, Rikky reached down and gripped the thick, pulsing tube of Bruno's cock within its lycra prison. He smeared the palm of his hand firmly up toward the hidden tip, then dropped to cup those balls. All while Bruno gently groaned, like some 18-wheeler shifting gears.

Bruno slapped Rikky's fondling off and rolled his huge shoulders out of the singlet straps. The singlet stuck to his sweaty body like skin on a shedding snake. Bruno kept gloves, mask, and boots in place. Rikky helped with the rest.

Gleaming, sweat-soaked cloth gave way to heaving, undulating muscle. The more of it Rikky revealed, the stronger Bruno's scent became. Rikky freed Bruno's six pack and paused to mouth each abdominal muscle. Bruno smirked fondly.

"I should do this with fans more. No gigolo's ever done THAT before. Nnnngh."

The singlet descended. Bruno's proud erect penis bobbed and twitched in the open. Thick knotted, the tip an angry red from all the blood flushing into it, it jutted from the top of Bruno's thong. Rikky noted the absence of pubic hair.

Bruno permitted Rikky to strip him down the rest of the way, including his thong. His booted feet gave audible thuds when he slipped them out of the pool of cloth.

"Keep the thong along with the money, guapo," Bruno murred. "I like you."

Bruno presented his cock to Rikky on the palm of one of his gloved hands. Rikky swallowed to moisten up his throat and worked his jaws a bit. He rose up on his knees. One glance up, and Rikky saw the Annihilator's ravenous eyes through his death's head of a mask. The rottweiler blew him a little kiss.

It was a lot to fit in. Rikky took his time to get used to Bruno's size. Or tried to. But the brutish rottweiler was impatient for release. He crushed Rikky's muzzle down his bloated manhood. The slimy pointed head punched Rikky in the back of his throat. Rikky choked. Bruno just chuckled and kept pressing. Tears flooded Rikky's eyes, the pain of it blended to the pleasure of just who it was he was sucking off.

"Nnnnff!!!"

Rikky let out a wailing yip when the pressure grew too great and the cock burst into his throat proper. Rikky's face smacked into the hot slimy flesh of Bruno's crotch.

"Nnnngggaaahhh...nnnnaaahhhgghhh.....yeeaahh......sssuuuck, bitch. Swallow."

Rikky writhed, a pan fish speared and ready for roasting. Bruno's fingers held his head in a death grip. So hard the blunt claws scraped the hide beneath the fur. The rottweiler's enormous body humped, thrust...thrust...thrusting that pole into Rikky's face.

Bruno laughed, low and soft. And it was then that Rikky realized that Bruno's luchador character was no act. He and El Verdugo were one and the same.

Rikky slapped his paws along the sides of Bruno's dinosaurian thighs. It took his full arm's length to do it, to reach the outer sweep of both legs at once. Fingertips glided along marble hard flesh, lost themselves in the cuts of the muscle. They flexed around Rikky's digits, pulling at them like suckling piglets.

Rikky felt crucified on Bruno's body. The massive dog hammered his cock in and in and in. Rutting the way a junkyard dog rutted a bitch in a back alley.

Bruno laughed again, louder this time. Because Rikky rutted back. His hips pumped uncontrollably in the open air.

"I make you that horny, eh, bitch?"

Rikky slid both paws up and in, grabbing and kneading a pair of balls as hot as freshly boiled eggs and as big as oranges.

"GRRRRRR...fuck..fuck....FUCK.....GNNNRRHH!! GOOD dog!"

Rikky used none of his own power. His head was a fleshlight in Bruno's paw. All he could do was time his sucks and swallows to pleasure the giant.

Bruno came like a horse - heavy, thick, and long. The nutty salty oily load overflowed Rikky's muzzle. He couldn't swallow with that beast wedged down his throat. Rikky whined while it oozed down his neck.

Bruno shoved him off with a boot to the chest. He smirked and ground his heel very gently into Rikky's erection. Rikky stared up at the giant hulking dog with his ravenous eyes and his panting, drooling jaws.

"Not enough, eh, bitch?" Bruno snickered. "Guess I'll have to milk it out of you with these muscles."

He growled and proudly bounced those mighty chest mounds back and forth while he hauled Rikky off the floor, up over one shoulder.

"Such a nice little ass you have," Bruno murred, patting the upturned coywolf rump. Rikky's view was of that sweaty naked backside, those softly flexing, jiggling glutes so fat with beef, and a hint of big balls winking up at him between Bruno's heavy strides. Bruno's back was awash with colored ink, too distorted by his muscles for Rikky to make out what the tattoos were supposed to show.

A metal door creaked. Shadows closed around Rikky. Rikky bucked under Bruno's grip.

"Wait, where are you taking me?"

Bruno chuckled.

"Haven't you ever wanted to be in the ring with me? Just the two of us?"

Rikky sensed their descent down concrete steps. Some sort of narrow passage beneath the arena. Rikky craned his neck to look into a low-ceilinged basement as large as an airline hanger. It had to span the underside of the entire stadium. This was the private world of the luchadors, where they trained and practiced. Three sections subdivided the echoing space into a weight room, a kind of spa section for things like massages, and a long row of practice rings.

Bruno carried his victim to one of the small practice rings.Rikky rolled as he was thrown, tumbling across the dusty white surface to land face up near the northwest corner. He pulled himself up with one of the red guide ropes in time to see a leering Bruno stepping in, already half hard again.

Rikky shivered.

"Fuck you're...enormous."

Bruno licked his snout.

"And I'm hungry."

He spread those tree trunk arms and moved forward.

"Time to play, you puny little TOY."

Rikky ran toward him with a moan. Bruno swiped him into a headlock. Rikky vanished into his armpit up to his ears. That tent of muscle that formed by his lats, shoulder, and bicep bore down, sucking Rikky up into the swampy depths of male darkness.

"Breeeathe, my triador. Breathe the smell of your GOD."

Rikky's moans were muffled by all that meat. His weak paws caressed that veined arm, that rippling striated deltoid. Bruno's strength was so immense compared to his. Rikky was a ship lost to the whims of a lustful ocean of muscle.

Bruno growled deep and heavy, pumping his incredible arm over and over around Rikky's head.

"I just want to fleeeex, and squeeeeze, and SQUEEEZE you!"

Rikky's face poked out between Bruno's bulging arm and chest in time to let loose a howl. Through eyes slitted in blind ecstasy, Rikky saw the dark-masked god grin as Rikky succumbed and splattered cum all over Bruno's side and thigh.

"Dios Mio, you're a hot little bitch."

Bruno grabbed the scruff of Rikky's neck and Rikky wrapped devoted arms around his heavy neck. Their mouths became one. Two grinding slimy ribbons of panting slimy horny tongue, sliding and massaging each other there in the dim light while oblivious fans roared overhead.

Rikky clung to him, shuddering.

"I want to feel more of your power."

"Oh, you will, boy. You're mine to play with all night."

Bruno spread his hulking thighs. He wedged Rikky between them up to his waist. The legs closed tight, holding Rikky parallel to the ground as if he were no heavier than a broom.

"So strong," Rikky moaned. Bruno's cock lay against his body, so long Rikky barely had to lift his head to suck it.

"Mmnnnh...oh yes, boy. GRRRRRR.....strength...power....size....those are what matter in life. ALL that matter!"

The legs parted. Rikky dropped to the matt. He looked up to see Bruno squatting above him. Sitting DOWN on top of him. As if he were nothing but a seat cushion. Rikky wheezed. Bruno's weight was a giant's foot, pressing him down like a honey ant on a plate.

Rikky rubbed his little paws up that continental backside. Over the heavy twin ridges of Bruno's lower back to the Christmas tree-like ridges that tapered up his middle. His eyes widened when the entire wall of Bruno's back covered him over.

Bruno chuckled and ground Rikky to the mat, an itchy bear scratching a tree. Rikky mouthed and slurped into the flowing folds of back muscle. He punched and pushed as if trying to force the brute off of him, knowing that Bruno loved his pathetic struggles.

Bruno flexed his huge arms to emphasize how little effort it took to immobilize the coywolf. Rikky's paws shot out to worship those whale belly triceps, up to the crumpled folds of his deltoids, then smeared down and in along the contours of his smooth armpits.

"Such a man," he whispered to the sweaty fur. "The ultimate man!"

Bruno sat up. He pushed himself backward. Rikky was free again. But only for a moment. Those massive legs lay spread to either side of his head. Bruno's ballsac was practically big enough to be a pillow.

Rikky ran fingers along the sculpted loins that had been the defeat of so many men in the ring.

"Mmmrrr...always loved these thighs, big dog. They way they just...stomp and flex when you walk into the Arena."

"Then you're going to love this."

Bruno flexed his legs. Rikky's eyes squeezed shut. He bared his little fangs, grabbing the unholy bulges of beef while his ears popped from the sheer FORCE that bore down on his poor skull.

"I could crush a watermelon in these and feed you the pieces, whore."

Rikky bucked the air in agony and lust. His feverish mind imagined Bruno doing that on their wedding night. Bruno relaxed only to bend his left leg inward, across his right, his leg muscles gripping Rikky by the neck. Rikky's face was forced straight upward, his nose pointed into the valley between Bruno's balls.

Rikky couldn't breathe. Bruno laughed at his puny gag reflex. He kept his leg relaxed just enough for Rikky to wheeze.

"Show me your tongue, bitch."

Rikky mindlessly opened his mouth. His tongue tasted flesh. Warm throbbing sweaty orbs. Rikky washed El Verdugo's balls, groaned as he was fed alpha dog shaft while his body remained trapped at the whims of his superior.

A mighty paw wrapped around Rikky's little coywolf shaft, making Rikky writhe in even more pleasure.

"I love it when you squiiiirrrm," Bruno growled.

Rikky titled his head back to deliberately suck hard on that shaft. They got into it again. Panting and groaning, stroking and sucking. Rikky peered through slitted eyes at the swimming vision of that black-masked god, sneering down at him. He would never cum again. That's what it felt like. How could anyone...anything...top this?

"This is the greatest moment of my life."

Rikky said it first thing after being freed.

Bruno snickered.

"You going to brag to your other little fan boys about me in bed? Hunh?"

"Do you want me to, Senor?"

Bruno grunted a laugh.

"It's hotter if no one knows."

Rikky nodded agreement. Bruno reached back behind his own head. He unzipped his mask and peeled it away. Rikky could admire the rottweiler's masculine features at close range. Bruno folded the mask with care and then handed it to Rikky.

Rikky gasped.

"I can't!"

"You can and you will, guapo."

Bruno smooched his forehead.

"And years from now, when you're an old fat coywolf with a bunch of little bastards running around your yard, you can tell your nieces and nephews about El Verdugo. And still get yourself off thinking about me."

Rikky blushed hard. Ears flat to his skull.

"Do you always treat your bitches so well?"

Bruno lifted Rikky's chin to nuzzle him.

"You're my greatest fan, Rikky. You deserve it."

Rikky's lips caressed his once more.

"Please. Fuck me."

The bouts in Arena México lasted all night. Through the solid concrete, the piping, and the roars of the crowd, no one would hear Rikky's screams. Or Bruno's floor-shaking bellows.

Rikky was spread ass-up on one of the angled massage tables, his brutal luchador lord pumping him full of rottie milk while Rikky clung to the underside of the table to take it, yipping and yiffing. Bruno liked to spank his whores. Of course it hurt. But Rikky begged for more every time.

When it was over, Rikky managed to find a water fountain. He guzzled down the icy water with its metallic tang. The cool liquid soothed his raw throat. He had to lean against the fountain to stand. A clock overhead read midnight.

Bruno groped his left cheek. Rikky stepped aside for him to have a turn at the water. Burno guzzled it as if trying to drain the building dry. He eyed Rikky, wiping his muzzle with the back of his paw.

"You stink."

Rikky grinned and stuck his tongue out.

"Showers. Let's go, bitch."

The huge dog and little coywolf helped each other back up the stairs. Neither of them could walk right. Bruno guided Rikky out of his dressing room and had him remove Bruno's boots. Both of them snuck naked down the dimly lit corridor, deeper into the private realm of the luchadores.

Bruno flicked the lights on in a long line of gym-style showers. Thanks to automatic power saving measures, only half the overhead fluorescents actually turned on. It was gloomy and intimate.

Bruno moved into the room ahead of Rikky, ever the alpha. Rikky took a moment to admire that heavy tread and the way the light played over Bruno's massive frame. Bruno turned steaming water on at the very back of the showers. He turned his head back over his shoulder towards Rikky. A big paw offered a bar of soap.

It didn't take long for mutual sudsing of their bodies to turn into another moaning kissing fest.

"Ai, órale, you're a horny son of a bitch," Bruno whispered.

"Mmmmm...as long as your balls last, guapo," Rikky murred back.

Rikky dropped back to his knees. Not for the cock this time, but slurping and 'cleaning' those balls that hung in their sack like those on a feral horse. His little paws clawed upward along Bruno's waistline, pawing at his abs like a climber seeking hand holds.

Bruno was a snarling fouth-mouthed demon, calling Rikky 'pendejo' and every other dirty word in Mexico's considerable repertoire.

Bruno got on his own knees. Rikky embraced him. Bruno's paw clutched the back of his head.

"Lick."

Rikky's face shoved into the depths of those wagyu beef chest slabs. He strained his tongue past the point where the water ended, finding new and far more potent moisture there. Salty. Earthy. Deliciously sour. He soaked in Bruno's moans while he worked upward toward his neck.

"Let's see just how dirty a whore you are."

Bruno stood, yanking Rikky back up over his shoulder in a position Rikky was starting to really enjoy. Bruno didn't bother to turn the water off.

They hit the dry sauna. Their bodies instantly began to steam. Bruno flopped his enormous body down onto one creaking wooden bench. The impact tumbled Rikky from his perch on the dog's shoulder down onto his lap. Bruno grinned, flexing both massive arms behind his head, waiting to see what Rikky would do.

Rikky went for the left armpit. Bruno kept them clean shaved, along with his chest and pubes, as most luchadores did. Nothing to restrict Rikky from swirling and worshiping that sweet man nectar Bruno generated in such quantities that it oozed down his lats.

Once more, Bruno crushed his boy toy's face against his body. Listened to Rikky gush out fantasy after sex-crazed fantasy involving him. There was daddy-son play mentioned, and OTHER types of masks Bruno might wear. Talk of Rikky putting himself in a collar for Bruno.

The talking ended with Bruno sinking his fangs into Rikky's shoulder in a savage love bite that left Rikky breathless and punching Bruno's shoulder until Bruno released.

They looked at each other, gasping for breath. Bruno cursed and lay back, eyes closed. Rikky took a moment, too, cuddling up against his huge sweaty bulk. Smiling when strong fingers stroked his ruff fur until the moisture made it stand on end.

"Never had a boy like you, güey..."

"Then let me stay with you."

"What about your real life?"

"The only time I feel alive is watching you, Verdugo."

"El verdad, guapo. Be real with me."

Rikky looked up at him, chin on Bruno's abs.

"I am."

He told Bruno about his so-called life. How small it seemed compared to this moment.

"How can I go back to that after tonight?" Rikky asked.

Bruno shrugged himself upright on the seat. Rikky rode the shifting motion with bent knees on Bruno's huge thighs.

"This really meant that much to you?"

"Do I have to tell it to you all over again?" Rikky asked.

He closed his eyes when those big sausage fingers scritched his ears, running through his short, pale brown fur.

"Zapata would cut my balls off if I told him I had feelings for you, you know."

"Tell him how much money he'll save, not having to look around for bitches to suck you off," Rikky suggested.

Bruno snorted.

"I'm just a lucha's whore," Rikky said. "I know what I am."

"The best I've ever had."

They kissed again. For real, this time. Without lust. Or at least...with less than before. Rikky smirked up at Bruno.

"You're not worried I'll make you soft?"

Bruno sneered fondly down at him.

"Are you kidding? I'm going to try out all my new moves on you first, güey."

"Nfff!"

Bruno chuckled and nuzzled his cheek.

"Get dressed, bitch. We're going for a little ride."

Arena México slumbered. A contented jaguar of concrete and steel, curled on itself in the street lights and shadows. Mexico City's nightlife reeled on, up and down endless streets - New York City's big drunk Latino sister. Somewhere in the depths of San Angel, a brute and his whore rattled the walls. A mask hung in the light pollution that spilled across the locked door. A mask of black, with a gold-sequened grin.