*Tyler* vs *Russel*

Both young men pull their shirts behind their heads and stand their ground. Tyler pulls a coin out of his pocket and flips it as Russel says, “Heads.”

It’s tails. Tyler gets the first blow in their gut punching contest.

Each man’s blows are calculated for the maximum amount of damage. As time goes by the blows get faster and some would say more desperate. But they each stand their ground.

After fifteen minutes both seem a little uneasy. The blows are less frequent but still almost as powerful. With each blow their legs need more convincing to remain tense and accept the punishment.

Russel lets loose his next blow and Tyler’s legs buckle. He barely recovers but remains slightly bent over for a few seconds. Straitening up, Tyler is a little slow in getting his next punch ready. Russel prepares, accepts the blow, and immediately plugs his into Tyler’s stomach.

This levels Tyler to the mat and gives Russel the win. Carefully bending backward, Russel tries to rest his abs as he looks over the loser. Offering his hand, he helps Tyler to his feet. They boy intently look at each other as they pull their shirts back on. They boy give each other a nod as they leave in separate directions. Both knowing it’ll be tougher the next time.

*Rudy* vs *Steve*

Both of these guys just wore shorts when they got on the mats. Which is just fine with each of them. They’re both use to getting low blowed. It’s all part of the game as far as they’re concerned. Mutual ball bashing leaves both men nervously breathing, sweating up a storm, and crotches that feel enflamed and over heated. The final nail in the coffin for Steve is when he’s on all fours gasping for air after a particularly nasty kick to the bone located directly behind his balls. Rudy takes advantage and maneuvers Steve into a crotch ripper. With legs fully spread Steve has no strength to defend and nowhere to go.

*Patrick* vs *Shawn*

Here are two more swimmers that have a grudge to settle. Both are tall, lean, and can take a punch. That is...a few punches. More than that is what’s causing Shawn a lot of discomfort. Patrick does everything he can to immobilize the other swimmer and lay into him with his big forearms and fists. Especially to the gut and upper chest. But the blonde is just as happy to pound the tight back of his opponent.

Shawn is having a tough time keeping up with this punishment. He thought this was suppose to be wrestling not a street fight. But he’s in it now so there’s not much he can do but try and win. But that’s tough to do when you’re backed against the wall with a forearm against your throat and a gut punching frenzy wearing down your midsection. The dark haired beauty tries to block the blows but there are too many of them too fast.

Not seeing any other way out, Shawn rams his knee into Patrick’s pouch. But it has no effect. Patrick just gives Shawn a deep stare and returns the favor. Except now that tables are turned Shawn’s eyes slightly bug out as he his whole body shutters. A hot sweat comes over him as he feels the forearm dig deeper into his adams apple.

“You must be pretty sore down there,” Patrick says while looking down at Shawn’s trunks. The blonde heel then raises his knee again to stagger the young man. Looking deep into Patrick’s sagging eyes, Patrick lightly taps his whole hand on one of Shawn’s pecs, “You wanna know how come it hurts so bad?”

Shawn looks down as Patrick pulls out of his swim trunks a plastic cup which was covering his crotch. He holds it in front of Shawn’s face and then throws it aside. Looking more determined as ever he uses his free hand to enforce the choking forearm.

“Never...fuck with me,” Patrick exclaims as Shawn’s eyelids get too heavy to keep open.

Both of Shawn’s arms sag to his side until Patrick realizes he’s the only thing holding the only swimmer up. Patrick lets Shawn fall to the floor in a pile and walks away.

“Next time you decide you want to be captain...make sure it’s on someone else’s team.”