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The spotlights blared in the underground arena that the 'Circuit' had started to use to host their matches, the sex-crazed maniacs they called their fans clawing at the roof-high fence that surrounded the giant wrestling ring directly in the center.

They'd paid good money to watch their favorite performers. Well, magical sex wrestlers pretty much summed up what they were about, but no one really called them that. It sounded much too frilly for the types of fights that tended to take place.

As it was, tonight was a special night.

The Mafia, a trio of cocky Italian wrestlers with the bodies of gods had made quite the splash in the underground circuit, tearing through established teams and stables with no end in sight.

There wasn't much known about them, though they certainly looked the part; no one had ever seen one of them wearing anything less than the finest tailor-made Italian dress-suits, with matching loafers no less, save for when they were wrestling, when that all came off. They were professional, belligerent, and more than a little shady.

And oh, how the crowds loved them.

They won every single match they'd been in, even the ones that weren't theirs to begin with. Their winning streak went on for quite some time. They always seemed to know something about their opponents, something that they used to undermine and destroy them. No one knew what it was for sure, but some heard a distinguished-sounding voice speaking to them whenever they thought they were alone.

Between their penchant for interfering with others matches, impressive winning streak, and impeccable bods they'd managed to earn the ire of many of the circuit's mainstays, most of which openly called for a 1-on-1 match with them, wanting to take them apart one by one.

One of the wrestlers who called for their defeat was the Executioner, a muscular brute of a man who happened to be a huge fan-favorite for his habit of toying with his opponents, enthralling the fans with stage presence and wrestling skills while he 'executed' his opponents.

That he tended towards fighting dirty just like they did hadn't gone unnoticed...

He'd called them out one week, challenging them to face him one-on-one. They waited another week before accepting his challenge, telling him that he'd go down just like all the others.

It was that night that they faced off; the Executioner, wearing his dark red executors' hood with matching speedo-trunks, jet-black boots with studded metal edges, and studded metal belt with matching wristbands; versus the Mafiosi, as he liked to be called, the lightly tanned middle-man of the group, who came into the ring sporting an expensive looking suit, which by the time he'd entered the ring had been reduced to nothing but light-grey dress-slacks with matching suspenders, jet black loafers, a light grey fedora with a black trim and a grey and black stripped tie, the former of which he ripped off - stripper-style - revealing a jet-black speedo with a gold dollar-sign across the front.

"I sure hope you got your will up to date hot-stuff," the Executioner broke the ice by saying, "'cause I'm gonna bury you in the ground!" He topped off that last bit furiously pointing his thumb to the ground.

The Mafiosi, however, was hardly impressed. "An allusion to your title of Executioner huh," he sassed in a deadpan tone, "Not impressed." He gave his head a sad little shake.

"Oh I'm not here to impress you, stud," the Executioner shot off, "I'm just going to execute you!"

The Mafiosi slowly clapped his hands. "Better."

"Grrr!"

It was then that the referee, a bald bodybuilding man with a frame almost as hairy as the Executioner's stepped in between them, the big bulge in his black and white striped speedo bouncing with each step.

"You know the rules," he said as he stopped between them, the bulge in his stripped trunks bouncing as he planted his feet, "the first one to make the other one run out of juice is the winner. You may use whatever you've brought into the ring with you." He glared accusingly at the Executioner. "And nothing else."

Ex grinned at the ref's implicit reprimand. "No worries, ref," he said as he waved his hands around in front of him, "This ain't gonna be like last time. Besides, I've got all I'm gonna need to beat this punk."

The referee stared at him for a moment. "Hmph!" He turned his head to face the Mafiosi, who regarded him with a small smirk. "Alrighty then, if no one's got anything left to add," and another glance both ways, "then let's go!"

The two wrestlers rushed out of their respective corners, locking hands in the middle of the ring. The Executioner was the first to break the ice, pushing the Mafiosi back into his corner, his big red bulge pressing up into the other's jet black pouch. The heftier man in red rubbed his chest onto the Mafiosi's, grinning at the latter's rumbling chest.

"Aaah yeah," he growled, "That's the ticket. Looks like you're just as horny and turned on as I am." He slid his hand across the Mafiosi's bulge, grinning harder as the slimmer man's cock bucked in his hands. "See what I mean?"

The mafiosi pushed back with a growl, forcing the other man's chest and bulge away from his own. "If that's the way you want to play it super-stud," the Executioner said, as he pulled his arm back, "then fine," he threw his hand down and grabbed the other's jet black bulge, gripping it in his hands, "let's play."

The Executioner's forceful groping wreaked havoc on the Mafiosi, who broke out in a cross-eyed moan as his knees buckled beneath him, with the former's grip on his valuables the only thing keeping him from collapsing onto the canvas. He pulled and jerked the jet-black bulge, grinning at the Mafiosi's struggles, until in a surprising show of strength the Mafiosi pushed the Executioner off and away.

"Glad to see you've got some fight in you, stud," said the Executioner, "For a moment there I was worried that you gonna be a wuss." He scuffed his nose. "Wouldn't want this to be over so quickly."

The Mafiosi pushed himself out of the corner, clutching his bedangled bulge, and made off for the Executioner, who darted out of the way, just missing the Mafiosi's grinning face as he ran into the ropes.

The Executioner turned on his booted heel just as the Mafiosi had pushed himself off the ropes, spinning on his heels just as the latter came rushing at him. The Mafiosi surprised the Executioner by coming to an abrupt stop in front of him, then, before he could react, he had jumped onto his shoulders, stuffing his bulge into the Executioner's hairy face.

"What's that," said the Mafiosi, as he pumped his bulge into the Executioner's face, "I couldn't hear you."

The Executioner was surprisingly silent, a strangely contented moan against his jet-black speedo the only response the Mafiosi got. He wiggled his hips some more, oblivious to the stirring in the Executioner's pouch, before flipping his body over and sending a startled Executioner flying overhead.

The Executioner landed some distance away, the surprisingly strong legs of the Mafiosi having sent him into a sprawling tumble, with him only barely managing to catch himself on the ropes.

The belligerent Mafiosi, having righted himself, looked down at the kneeling man, smiling cockily. "I've got more than you can handle, old man," he said with a grin, "but if you think that you can take then, by all means, come after me. I'll show you just who it is that you're messing with."

The Executioner's rebuttal growl didn't bother the Mafiosi in the least. "Oohh I'm shaking." He turned around and waved his ass around. "You see me shaking? You want to come and spank me?" He gave his ass a few good smacks. "You know you want to."

And apparently he did, for, with a savage growl, the Executioner jumped his feet and lunged at the young Mafiosi, who danced out of the way. "That's the spirit!" The Mafiosi crouched into a stance and locked eyes with the Executioner, the latter of whom returned his gaze. The two wrestlers then made for the center of the ring, where they resumed their earlier contest of strength.

It was the Executioner who won that one, his heavier frame pushing the smaller Mafiosi down to his knees. The smaller man struggled for a bit, his knees wobbling under the stress. With a herculean shout he broke the lock and slid behind the Executioner before the latter could react, and locked his arms around his sweaty chest and across his hairy abs. He tried diligently to ignore the way the Executioner's heady musk made his balls stir.

There would be time for that later, he told himself. For now let's see what we're working with.

The Executioner smiled when he felt the Mafiosi's cock grow against his back. "Getting horny back there, stud?" The Mafiosi didn't need to respond, the throbbing of his cock against the Executioner's backside all the answer he needed. "I thought so," he continued, as if he'd answered his own question, "What say you we mix this up a bit?"

The Mafiosi blinked in bewildered surprise when the Executioner started to fight back, pushing his hands up and away from his abs with his own. Said bewilderment doubled when the Executioner pushed his hands high to break out and slide behind him, taking one of his hands with him and locking it behind his back.

The Executioner growled deep within his chest as he felt the Mafiosi's smaller cock buck against his bright red bulge, causing the latter to throb and swell.

It was the Mafiosi who broke up the hold, hands trembling as he slipped out of the Executioner's grasp and slid behind him, surprising the older man with a bearhug of his own.

The Executioner smirked at the kid's impudence, even as he himself struggled and tugged at his arms. The arms eventually yielded to his superior strength, even as he himself was bedeviled by the swelling of the Mafiosi's bulge against his shiny red backside. The Executioner circled behind the startled young man, pulling him into another belly-to-back bearhug like he had on before.

"Heh! Got you now!"

With a mighty roar, he lifted the startled Mafiosi into the air and just as quickly brought him down, smashing the latter's groin against his outstretched knee.

The Mafiosi let out a pitiful yowl, a pained expression on his handsome brow as he hopped about, clutching his injured breadbasket. The Executioner gave him no time to recover; with a wicked gleam, he stepped up and spun the Mafiosi around. Then he picked him up and took a step forward, and took a knee, bringing the Mafiosi's genitals into contact with his pointed joint.

The Mafiosi sprang up with a vicious yowl, his thick hands flying onto his leaking, injured package even as his knees buckle against themselves, his yip changing into a startled yip as he felt the heftier Executioner scoop him into his arms and slam his back against his knee, a heavy hand on his chiseled abs holding him down.

The Mafiosi groaned as he felt a calloused hand slide down his abs, glide across the front of his jet-black speedo and clamp down on his swollen bulge.

"Not so cocky now, are ya?" He roared, as he silenced the Mafiosi's startled cries with his free hand. "And I'll bet that you'll be even less cocky once I relieve you of some of that tension."

The Mafiosi gasped against the hand around his mouth as a cold hand pulled at his speedo and grasped his swollen digit. "That's quite the piece you got there, son," said the Executioner, as he grabbed his balls and gave them a few good squeezes, "and you're packed too. What say we get to relieving you of that tension."

And with that the Executioner went to work, slurping the Mafiosi's thick Italian cock into his mouth, skillfully squeezing the latter's fat sac while he kept him bent over his knee.

He started a steady rhythm of sucking and squeezing, the Mafiosi's struggling diminishing as his fat dick grew and throbbed in his mouth. He heard the Mafiosi moan warningly into his hand and clamped his mouth over the head of his dick just as it fired off, shooting thick globs of the Mafiosi's thick Italian semen into the Executioner's mouth, the latter's throat visibly dissenting as it went down.

The executioner felt a strange tingling sensation deep inside as he felt the Mafiosi's semen travel down his digestive track, going all the way down to his balls, which throbbed within the tight confines of his bright red trunks.

The Executioner felt his balls getting heavier but didn't think anything of it; his balls always throbbed and swelled whenever he took a boy to task. No sense in worrying about it now.

Once he was satisfied that the Mafiosi was compliant -meaning that he didn't struggle against his hand anymore- he threw him onto the mat, jumping onto his feet with a scrotum-shackling roar, soaking in the crowd's roaring adulation.

"Looks like they like me, pup," he said to the Mafiosi, turning his gaze downward, "but don't you worry. I got something special for you."

He'd done him a service by sucking him off, the Executioner reasoned with himself, as he slid his cock out and kneeled over the Mafiosi, oblivious to the gleam in the latter's eye as he sucked the former's fat dong into his mouth, so it was only fair that he return the favor.

The Executioner wasn't prepared for how good it felt; it was as if the Mafiosi's mouth was made for sucking cock. He barely had time to call out his incantation before he fired off. He fired off more than he normally did, much more in fact; were it not for the potent afterglow that followed, he most certainly would have stopped to think. As it was however, he was content to just stand up and look down at the Mafiosi with a contentment that wasn't due solely to the latter's oral skills...

The Mafiosi grinned to himself, traces of the Executioner's seed traveling down the sides of his mouth, pleased at how smoothly his plan was coming along. He watched the Executioner pull himself onto his feet and made to do the same, only to find that he couldn't.

"W-What the hell!?"

"You ain't the only one with special tricks," the Executioner surprised him by saying. Had he picked up on his plan? "You used your mouth to try 'n make me cum all at once." That was part of it... "Well it didn't work. In fact all you did was make me pump out even more of my paralyzing protein."

The Mafiosi blinked rapidly as he took in just what that meant, his body refusing to respond to anything else. He looked on with dread as the Executioner pulled him into his feet. "And you know what that means, don't ya?" He blinked rapidly at the Executioner's words and tried futilely to move his body, a whimper escaping his throat when the Executioner pulled him up by his designer tie. "It means that you're my bitch now."

The Mafiosi, in his state, could do nothing more than moan impotently as the Executioner explored his body, the calloused fingers lingering on whatever areas that his dick lurched.

"You like that, stud?" The Executioner asked as he tweaked his jutting nips, "then you're gonna love what I do next."

The Mafiosi watched in his paralytic helpless as the Executioner stepped in front of him and made a big show of pulling out his dick and jerking off. "Just you wait right there. I've got something special for you. Just let me pump it out..."

He thanked his lucky stars that whatever was in the Executioner's semen kept him from smiling; his sources had told him of the latter's preference of stuffing things into his cock. It was the reason he'd been chosen to go up against him. And he could see how he struggled to pump anything out, could see thick veins forming on his forehead. He caught the Executioner giving him the briefest of glances, so brief that he almost missed it, and slid one of his hands under his balls and squeezed something, -ironically the part of his balls that housed the Mafiosi's invasive semen- cumming almost immediately afterwards.

The Executioner was relieved to finally cum; he'd wanted something to help him teach the kid a lesson but for whatever reason wasn't able to pump it out. It was only when he pressed up against his scrotum, against his sweet spots, that he was able to pump anything. He found it a bit ironic that the first thing he pumped out was a ball-gag, considering that he had hoped that the kid hadn't seen what he was doing and where he was doing it. The last thing he needed was for word to reach the locker room. Then he'd never get any rest.

"Finally..." The Executioner took the ball-gag in hand, flicking bits of cum off as he walked up to the Mafiosi. "I think you'll enjoy this," he rumbled as he wrapped the gag around the Mafiosi's head and stuffed the ball into his mouth, "cause I know I will!"

The Mafiosi roared onto the ball-gag, spewing muffled expletives onto the cum-soaked ball. "Don't bother, stud. You know this was a long time coming." The Executioner kneeled beside him, his eyes fixed on the Italian's outstretched dick. "And besides," he went on, turning the Mafiosi around so that his dick was in his face, "it'll be better this way."

A small shudder rocked the Mafiosi's face as the Executioner sucked his fat cock back into his mouth.

Now this wasn't normally how he'd do things; normally he was content to just play with his boys for a while before milking them dry. But the Mafiosi was just so damned good looking, and his cum tasted so good. It'd have been a shame to not help himself to a little more. And besides, it wasn't like the kid didn't have more; by his estimation the kid had two, maybe three more loads before he was tapped out.

The Mafiosi, on the other hand, was rather pleased at how everything was going; despite some initial setbacks everything was going according to plan. He could feel the Executioner's paralyzing agent wearing off, oddly enough just he was about to blow his own load. As it was, he figured that he had about three more loads in him. And if everything went according to plan, he'd need all but one of them...

A thick shot of rich Italian cream hit the back of the Executioner's mouth, with several more right behind it. The husky man drank heavily of the smaller man's man-seed, gulping it with an almost frenzied relish.

The foreign seed made its way down to where the first batch laid, pooling within the Executioner's balls and making them swell in a way that he couldn't overlook. The pressure it exerted on his balls was strangely pleasant, the extra weight a blessing rather than a burden. The Executioner couldn't help smiling as he pulled away -reluctantly- from the Mafiosi's dick and rose to his feet, the feel of the foreign man-cream mixing with his own sauce in his fat and bouncy sac made him smile.

"That was incredible," he rumbled contently, "it would be a shame to milk you so soon. Gonna have to play this out for a while."

"...why wait," the Mafiosi surprised him by saying. He had barely processed what the Mafiosi had said before the smaller Italian male surprised him by jumping onto his shoulders and stuffing his cock right into the Executioner's mouth, his fat balls bashing against the man's bearded chin.

"You want more," he said as he pumped his dick deeper into his mouth. "You want more!?" He called out again, his fat orbs throbbing against his opponent's chin. "Then fine, take it," he roared as he came. "Take. It. All!" He roared, accentuating each word with a forceful pump of the hips.

The Executioner was surprised at this turn of events but he took it in stride; if the kid wanted to end the fight that badly then he was only too happy to help. A sudden lurching in his midsection directed his attention downward, to his screaming ball-sac. And though he couldn't see it, he could feel his throbbing dick push up and over the top of his bright red wrestling trunks, and was leaking quite a lot of pre.

Said throbbing intensified as he swallowed more of the Mafiosi's jizz, which traveled down his digestive track to where the rest of it was, pooling within his swollen balls.

Fighting a contentment he knew he shouldn't be feeling the Executioner fought back, grabbing the surprising Mafiosi by his legs and trying to pry him off. But the kid held firm, clamping his legs around his neck and driving the heftier man to his knees. He held fast, letting his jisming cock fire off on its own.

The Mafiosi could feel himself winding down. A quick glance down told him that the Executioner was just about to blow. Right then he felt the big guy moan around his dick and heard him blow his hefty payload, grinning wildly as he felt the thick hands around his legs fall helplessly to the mat.

The Executioner moaned piteously as his dick fired off, the tingling in his balls a pleasant addition. He'd never cum so much, even though he couldn't see it. He was certain of that. And it never felt so good either; for a moment he'd forgotten that he was in a match. All of that came crashing down once the Mafiosi pulled himself out and he was able to see -and feel- with a semi-clear head.

His seed was everywhere, all across the ropes and ring. And though he couldn't see it there was a really big puddle of his man-milk just outside the ring. His dick was huge, much larger than it normally got, and he could see how much his balls had swollen as they strained against the fabric of his trunks.

"Wow," he heard the Mafiosi say, "you were pent-up, weren't you, big guy? Of course, you can't take all the credit."

"W-what did you do to me," the Executioner asked, his voice much lighter than he remembered it to be.

The Mafiosi took his sweet time before answering. "Oh it's nothing special, just a special cum cocktail, designed to give you more punch in your pouch, while at the same time giving me complete control of that pouch. And all of its contents. Didn't you feel anything strange the first time you sucked me off?"

The Executioner languished on the mat, taking in the Mafiosi's words, thick globs of spunk leaking out of his dick like water from a faucet. He saw the kid step beside him and felt him grab his beard. The kid then pulled at the beard, and the Executioner surprised himself by rising, his leaking faucet dick churning at the kid's touch.

"I'd say it's high time you and I got better acquainted," cooed the Mafiosi as he lead the Executioner into a corner, pressing his hairy backside against the turnbuckle. "After all, after today we'll be spending a lot of time together. And besides, I've been itching to explore that hunky body of yours for months now. I'll probably never have a better opportunity than I do now."

The Mafiosi's hands roamed the entirety of the Executioner's muscular form, his fingers sliding all across his skin. The older man trembled under the Mafiosi's touch, his body proving to be unusually responsive to the kid's ministrations. He didn't know if it was because of the Italian-cum that was sloshing around in his balls but he was leaking like crazy; a large puddle of his virulent man-cream had formed at his feet and was growing larger with every passing moment.

Focusing his will down to his cock, the Executioner was able to stem the flow, not by much but enough to give him some peace of mind.

This didn't go unnoticed. "Looks like you've still got some fight left in you. That's good. But I wonder just what else you've been hiding."

The Executioner barely had time to ponder the Mafiosi's cryptic tone before he felt the latter's hands on his man-pouch, the kid's warm fingers sneaking into his tight trunks and pulling out his fat sac. The kid tugged and pulled at his fat orbs, squeezing and kneading them as if he were looking for something. The Executioner gasped when he felt the kid grab his dick, shooting a load despite himself. The Mafiosi jerked on his fat dick, much like he did his, making the Executioner wince by giving it a few hard squeezes.

"You had some stuff come out of here before," explained the Mafiosi, as he continued to tug the hairier man's fat dong, "now how did you go about doing it-- ahh there we go."

The Executioner had cum in the middle of his sentence, crying out as the last of his resistance gave out and he blew thick globs of his mighty man-milk into the canvas, trembling when the kid jerked him off some more, making him blow out a cock sleeve, dildo, and a vibrating butt-plug.

The Mafiosi could scarcely believe his eyes. "Just what did you intend to do to me," he asked his gasping opponent, knowing that he wasn't going to be answering him anytime soon, "no matter. At least this way I'll be able to have some fun with you."

The Mafiosi sneered as he turned the Executioner around and jammed the butt-plug into his ass, smirking at the latter's surprised yowling. "Never had someone back there before? Or maybe you've never played with your own toys before?" He flipped the switch on the plug, smirking as the Executioner blew another thick wad out of his captivated cock.

"It's the former, then. That's good; I'm always happy to be somebody's first."

Sneering to himself, the Mafiosi turned the Executioner back around, the latter's fat cock smacking him in the face. It didn't do much, but it did give the Executioner an opening, which he immediately used by kicking the Italian upstart onto the ground, putting some much needed distance between then and giving him the chance to go on the offensive.

The Mafiosi caught himself just in to see the Executioner lunge at him. Thinking quickly, he rolled out of the way, keeping his legs out and tripping the hairy hunk up.

With a startled gasp the Executioner fell onto the mat, dick first, yowling and flipping onto his back. The Mafiosi was immediately on top of him, his bubble-butt bouncing on his rock hard abs, and surprised him by grabbing his thick dick and jerked it out. The Executioner moaned into the Mafiosi's ass as he felt himself go off in the Mafiosi's hands, the diminishing weight in his balls letting him know that he'd blown out even more of the kid's pirate jizz.

He looked up and saw the kid turn around and face him, raising a cum-soaked hand and licking it clean. "Mmmm, that's surprisingly sweet. And, oh, would you look at that? I can still move. How about that?"

If he'd the energy he would have spit in the kid's face. As it was, all he could do was look on helplessly as the cocky punk stood up and turned around, grunting as he felt the kid's hands on his bearded chin and pull him up.

"Still got some fight left in you," cooed the Mafiosi, "don't worry. I'll take care of that in a minute, but first..." And he dropped to his knees, in full view of his dick, "let's see what else you're packing in here."

A warbled gasp erupted from the Executioner's throat as he felt the kid suck his dick, giving him a taste of that sweet, sweet mouth of his. A pair of hands kneaded his fat sac, which he could feel throb and pulsate between his legs. He came almost immediately, spewing cum into the kid's mouth, the latter pulling his mouth off of his jisming cock and jerking it off with his hand.

"There we go," said the Mafiosi to no one in particular as he started to jerk him off, his free hand kneading his precious man-sac, "got the juices flowing again. Now let's have the rest then."

The Executioner shuttered as the Mafiosi jerked him some more, milking him and depriving him of his special tools. Already he'd blown out a pair of condoms, another dildo, a fleshlight, a sounding rod and a bottle of lube. The only upside to all of this was that with each shot the Executioner could feel his strength returning, even, conversely, as he felt himself being drained of his man-milk and run the risk of losing the match. The elsewhere referee wasn't the only one surprised by all of the stuff he'd unloaded.

"How'd you get all that in here," asked the Mafiosi, emphasizing his point with a squeeze of the Executioner's balls. "What's your secret?"

The Executioner chuckled to himself. "If I told you, it wouldn't be secret."

"Huh, so that's how you want to play it? So be it." The Mafiosi rose to his feet and, grabbing the Executioner's nipples, pushed him back into the corner, ignoring the sloshing sound he made when his back hit the cum-soaked turn post. "I've got a special surprise for you."

Blinking in surprise the executioner watched as the Mafiosi turned around and took off his trunks, revealing that perfect little ass that he'd been meaning to wreck. Had he the strength he'd have thrown the kid onto the mat and had his way with him; as it was however, he had to be content with the hotdogging the punk was making him do. He nearly lost it when the kid grabbed his dick and lined it up with his ass. Then without further ceremony the Mafiosi held it firm and thrust his ass backwards, taking the Executioner all the way down to the base.

Nothing had ever felt that good; the kid's ass was even better than he'd thought it would be. He came almost immediately, filling the Mafiosi's ass with his hefty seed, a good portion of it belonging to the kid.

"Already? Not much for patience, are you?" The Mafiosi gave his ass a savage bump, making the Executioner cry out as another thick load shot out of his ass-bound dick. "But you're still packed, though, so I'll let it slide this time. Now, let's get down to business."

The fans went wild as they watched the Mafiosi work over the Executioner, the latter's orgasmic wailing drowned out by the crowd's roar, the cheers growing in intensity in time with the puddle of man-seed that was growing beneath the two wrestlers.

The Executioner's eyes blurred as he felt the kid speed up, working his ass-bound dick to the max, drawing out even more of his man-seed. He pondered just how virile the kid's spunk had made him when he felt the kid wrap his tie around his neck and use it to pull him into a kiss, sighing into the kid's mouth as his dick fired off into his.

Almost immediately afterwards, he felt his balls getting lighter, and he himself getting stronger. "He he he."

"Something funny, big guy?" The Mafiosi slowed down just enough to let him talk. A calloused hand groping his genitals was all the answer he needed.

"Finally got all of ya out of me," said the scraggly voice behind him, "ain't got no more tricks. And now," he winched as he was bucked, hard, "I'll be taking that last load."

What happened next could only be described as frenzied rutting; the Mafiosi fought a revitalized Executioner, whose savage bucks he meet with his own forceful twerking. He struggled to keep up, the latter getting more forceful as time went on. But one thing he'd forgotten was that his heightened virility was due to the Mafiosi's own seed in his system; without it, he couldn't keep shooting off big ones and would soon tire out if he kept up this pace.

Which is exactly what happened; the Executioner had started to slow down, gasping piteously as he struggled to not only make the Mafiosi blow, but to keep hold of his own man-cream. The kid proved too skilled for the second one to not happen, so he focused on making him blow his last load.

The two titans continue their frenzied rutting, each trying to overtake the latter, until...

*ding* *ding* *ding*

The exhausted duo collapsed just as the bell rang, their mutual orgasms going off at nearly the same time, the Mafiosi's seed hitting the canvas and the Executioner's pooling out of his ass. The crowd waited as the ref stepped up and came between them, pulling them apart but keeping his hand on one of them.

"Tonight's winner: The Executioner!!!"

The crowd went wild. Their favorite had won the match. The ref explained that the Executioner had managed to jerk out the Mafiosi's final load, which in turn helped the latter draw out the former's last shot. The Mafiosi had slumped forward, pulling out the Executioner's final payload as he went down.

The Executioner roared to his adoring crowd, shouting his supremacy. Seeing the Mafiosi turn into his back he made his way over to him. "And that," he gasped, "is how you win a match. If any of your little friends would like to face me, you know how to reach me. I'll Execute you every time."

He left the ring then, grabbing his cum-drenched trunks as he headed towards the locker room, his hairy ass bouncing with each step.