Dale fixes his hair as he waits for his next interview subject. He just started working as a backstage correspondent for Raw and he loves it. He gets paid to flirt with half-naked muscle hunks on camera, like a PG-13 rated OnlyFans. It just seemed like a natural extension from his porn, modeling, and influencer work. Plus he likes returning home to his boyfriend and stripping his suit off before they fuck.
Ziggler storms over, stomping his feet down like he's trying to create cracks in the concrete. He had been looking forward to his match against the new, hot jobber and what would be a much needed victory for him to end his current losing streak. But somehow Mustafa Ali stole his match away and ruined his plan. At first Ziggler got over it when Ali lost, but when he returned to the locker room and saw Ali fucking that jobber's beautiful, round ass he became angrier. Sure, it was hot and, sure, he stayed to watch them finish, but it should have been Ziggler fucking that ass, not Ali.
Ziggler yanks Dale's microphone away from him, staring into the camera ready to issue a warning to his fellow wrestlers, "I feel very unappreciated, disrespected even," Ziggler says. "And it's time everyone back in the locker room respects me. And if you won't do it on your own, I'll do it for you."
Dale nods, keeping his cool even though this is completely off script. Fortunately he's got a knack for improv, so he asks, "That sounds like a warning. Who is on the receiving end of that?"
Dale nods, keeping his cool even though this is completely off script. Fortunately he's got a knack for improv, so he asks, "That sounds like a warning. Who is on the receiving end of that?"
Ziggler, either ignoring the innuendo or not noticing it, replies, "He knows who he is."
"Now you've had a difficult few weeks racking up the losses. How do you hope to recover?" asks Dale.
Ziggler looks at the correspondent for the first time, "I'm gonna get some wins..."
Dale nods, apparently Ziggler isn't the greatest at improv...
"...starting with you."
And with that Ziggler begins beating Dale with a flurry of fists. Dale pushes himself away, unsure what's happening, but knowing he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of this. He looks for a way to escape, but Ziggler is blocking the path in front of him, his only option is to go behind him, where the ramp out to the ring is. As Ziggler begins approaching him Dale ends his deliberation and races out toward the ring. As he runs down the ramp he keeps looking over his shoulder, watching Ziggler sprint after him. Dale slides into the ring, nowhere left to hide, and Ziggler follows him in. The wrestler strips off his jacket and tosses it down, getting them to ring the bell and start an impromptu match.
Dale takes off his blazer and approaches Ziggler with his hands up defensively, trying to talk his way out of it. Ziggler grabs Dale's hands and bends down flipping the pornstar up and over his shoulders on to the ring. He climbs on top of him in a schoolboy pin position and pounds away at Dale. Dale throws his arms up, blocking the punches, enough so that Ziggler stands back up. Dale catches his breath, thinking he has a break, but Ziggler leaps up and hits an elbow drop right across Dale's chest. Dale tries to roll away, but Ziggler grabs at his button down shirt, ripping it off. Ziggler is stunned by Dale's muscular body, staring at it as if it weren't real, allowing the pornstar to crawl to the ropes and use them to stand back up. Ziggler snaps out of it and charges at him, looking to clothesline Dale over the ropes, but Dale ducks and flips Ziggler on to the mats around the ring. Dale knows that the only way he's going to stop Ziggler is by fighting back, so he runs across the ring, building up his momentum and then runs back, sailing over the ropes with a tope con hilo, squashing Ziggler. Dale is sore from the attack, but looking at his opponent he can tell Ziggler got it even worse. Dale gets back up and pulls on Ziggler's waistband, rolling him back in the ring. He then hops on the edge of the ring and waits for the wrestler to stand back up. Dale then slingshots over and knocks Ziggler down with a crossbody. He stays on top of him, hooking the leg -- one, two, thr-- Ziggler punches out.
Dale's near victory only makes Ziggler madder, a reminder of his recent losses. He stands up ready to fight only for Dale to nail him with an enzuigiri. Ziggler stumbles back into the corner, his hair a frizzy mess in front of his face. He flips it back and sees Dale coming his way looking to spear him. Ziggler sidesteps the pornstar and Dale manages to stop before he rams into the turnbuckles, but it creates an opening for the veteran wrestler. Ziggler leaps on Dale's back and wraps his arms and legs around him in a sleeper hold. His hands cover Dale's eyes, blinding him, as he shakes violently, trying to weaken Dale. The pornstar struggles with his energy draining and the extra weight on his back. He catches glimpses of where he is in the ring and orients himself to face away from a corner and then runs backward into the turnbuckles, squashing Ziggler. He does it a second time, which shakes Ziggler off of him. And then he turns around and runs toward Ziggler leaping up with a body splash. Ziggler falls forward on his knees, dazed, and Dale comes at him with a step up enzuigiri, knocking him flat on his back. The pornstar tries for a pin again, but Ziggler throws him off of him before a two-count.
The two men square off again, locking up in a grappling battle. Ziggler whips Dale into the ropes and when the pornstar rebounds back he goes straight into Ziggler's big boot. The blow doesn't keep Dale down long as he scrambles right back up, but Ziggler is ready with a dropkick that sends Dale into the corner. Ziggler marches toward him and grabs him by the head, pulling him to the center of the ring where he hits him with a neckbreaker. Ziggler grabs Dale's ankle and twists it, getting him in an ankle lock. A painful sting rips through Dale, but the pornstar is close enough to the ropes that he grabs them, ending the hold far sooner than Ziggler wants.
Ziggler looks at the correspondent for the first time, "I'm gonna get some wins..."
Dale nods, apparently Ziggler isn't the greatest at improv...
"...starting with you."
And with that Ziggler begins beating Dale with a flurry of fists. Dale pushes himself away, unsure what's happening, but knowing he doesn't want to be on the receiving end of this. He looks for a way to escape, but Ziggler is blocking the path in front of him, his only option is to go behind him, where the ramp out to the ring is. As Ziggler begins approaching him Dale ends his deliberation and races out toward the ring. As he runs down the ramp he keeps looking over his shoulder, watching Ziggler sprint after him. Dale slides into the ring, nowhere left to hide, and Ziggler follows him in. The wrestler strips off his jacket and tosses it down, getting them to ring the bell and start an impromptu match.
Dale takes off his blazer and approaches Ziggler with his hands up defensively, trying to talk his way out of it. Ziggler grabs Dale's hands and bends down flipping the pornstar up and over his shoulders on to the ring. He climbs on top of him in a schoolboy pin position and pounds away at Dale. Dale throws his arms up, blocking the punches, enough so that Ziggler stands back up. Dale catches his breath, thinking he has a break, but Ziggler leaps up and hits an elbow drop right across Dale's chest. Dale tries to roll away, but Ziggler grabs at his button down shirt, ripping it off. Ziggler is stunned by Dale's muscular body, staring at it as if it weren't real, allowing the pornstar to crawl to the ropes and use them to stand back up. Ziggler snaps out of it and charges at him, looking to clothesline Dale over the ropes, but Dale ducks and flips Ziggler on to the mats around the ring. Dale knows that the only way he's going to stop Ziggler is by fighting back, so he runs across the ring, building up his momentum and then runs back, sailing over the ropes with a tope con hilo, squashing Ziggler. Dale is sore from the attack, but looking at his opponent he can tell Ziggler got it even worse. Dale gets back up and pulls on Ziggler's waistband, rolling him back in the ring. He then hops on the edge of the ring and waits for the wrestler to stand back up. Dale then slingshots over and knocks Ziggler down with a crossbody. He stays on top of him, hooking the leg -- one, two, thr-- Ziggler punches out.
Dale's near victory only makes Ziggler madder, a reminder of his recent losses. He stands up ready to fight only for Dale to nail him with an enzuigiri. Ziggler stumbles back into the corner, his hair a frizzy mess in front of his face. He flips it back and sees Dale coming his way looking to spear him. Ziggler sidesteps the pornstar and Dale manages to stop before he rams into the turnbuckles, but it creates an opening for the veteran wrestler. Ziggler leaps on Dale's back and wraps his arms and legs around him in a sleeper hold. His hands cover Dale's eyes, blinding him, as he shakes violently, trying to weaken Dale. The pornstar struggles with his energy draining and the extra weight on his back. He catches glimpses of where he is in the ring and orients himself to face away from a corner and then runs backward into the turnbuckles, squashing Ziggler. He does it a second time, which shakes Ziggler off of him. And then he turns around and runs toward Ziggler leaping up with a body splash. Ziggler falls forward on his knees, dazed, and Dale comes at him with a step up enzuigiri, knocking him flat on his back. The pornstar tries for a pin again, but Ziggler throws him off of him before a two-count.
The two men square off again, locking up in a grappling battle. Ziggler whips Dale into the ropes and when the pornstar rebounds back he goes straight into Ziggler's big boot. The blow doesn't keep Dale down long as he scrambles right back up, but Ziggler is ready with a dropkick that sends Dale into the corner. Ziggler marches toward him and grabs him by the head, pulling him to the center of the ring where he hits him with a neckbreaker. Ziggler grabs Dale's ankle and twists it, getting him in an ankle lock. A painful sting rips through Dale, but the pornstar is close enough to the ropes that he grabs them, ending the hold far sooner than Ziggler wants.
Dale sits up on his knees, trying to catch a breath when he feels Ziggler grab his leg. Dale holds on to the ropes, preventing Ziggler from getting him back to the center of the ring, but the wrestler doesn't give up. He pulls some more, and ends up ripping Dale's pants off. The pornstar is thankful he's wearing underwear today, but the distraction allows Ziggler to yank him off the ropes. He picks Dale back up and sticks his head between his legs. He hoists him up for a powerbomb, but Dale flips through it and lands on his feet, striking Ziggler in the head. Ziggler swings back, but Dale ducks and wraps his arms around his waist and hits a belly-to-back suplex. Ziggler takes a second to get up, his energy depleted, but once he's upright Dale knocks him right back down with a dropkick. Dale can tell he has a shot of putting Ziggler away so he goes to the corner and climbs up the turnbuckles. But Dale's balance isn't the greatest and it takes him longer to get to the top than he expected. Ziggler races over to the middle turnbuckle, grabbing the pornstar and hitting him with an avalanche facebuster. Ziggler stands up with a smile on his face, victory so close he can taste it. Dale then gets up, albeit bent over in pain, opening himself up for an attack. Ziggler runs off the ropes at him and leaps up for the famouser, but Dale slides back to avoid it. He then rolls Ziggler up into a pin -- one, two, three! Dale gets the shocking upset victory over Ziggler. Ziggler pounds his fists into the ring, not yet ready to accept another lose under his name.
It's a week later and Dale is resuming his regular backstage correspondent duties. Most of the wrestlers give him props for his victory over Ziggler last week, looking at him with a bit more respect, some even flirt back. In other words, the job is only getting better. And then Dale looks to see who his next interview subject is and it's Ziggler. Only Ziggler doesn't show up. So like a natural journalist, Dale goes looking for him, bringing the camera along.
He enters the locker room and sees Ziggler sitting on a bench, trying to focus.
"Dolph, what are you looking to do tonight to make up for last week's loss?"
Dale points the microphone at Ziggler, who slowly tilts his head up and stares daggers at him. "What am I going to do tonight? I'm going to win. And I'm going to do that by prepare for my match instead of answering your stupid questions."
"And what is part of your preparation?" Dale asks.
Ziggler stands up, towering over Dale and swatting his microphone away. "I told you I want to be left alone. How would you like it if you were trying to concentrate and I started shoving my dick in your face?"
"Dolph, what are you looking to do tonight to make up for last week's loss?"
Dale points the microphone at Ziggler, who slowly tilts his head up and stares daggers at him. "What am I going to do tonight? I'm going to win. And I'm going to do that by prepare for my match instead of answering your stupid questions."
"And what is part of your preparation?" Dale asks.
Ziggler stands up, towering over Dale and swatting his microphone away. "I told you I want to be left alone. How would you like it if you were trying to concentrate and I started shoving my dick in your face?"
"Don't threaten me with a good time," Dale replies, licking his lips for emphasis.
Ziggler stands less than inch from Dale, looking down at him. His voice softens, "Really?"
The wrestler puts his hands on Dale's biceps, pulling him in for a kiss. Their lips lock and Ziggler slides his tongue in, Dale moaning in disbelief. All his time interviewing and flirting with wrestlers has finally paid off with the most unlikely one of them. As they makeout Ziggler takes off Dale's blazer and presses his hands on his ass, squeezing it through his pants. Dale can feel Ziggler's cock harden, pressed up against him. He pulls away to bend down to service him but Ziggler holds him, "Wait."
The wrestler unbuttons Dale's shirt, taking it off him, revealing the pornstar's ripped body once again. "Much better."
Dale lowers himself to his knees as Ziggler shimmies his tights down, freeing his boner from their confines. "I can see why they call you the showoff," Dale says as his hand grips the dick.
"You think this is showing off, you ain't see anything yet," Ziggler chuckles.
Dale spits on the head and then devours it with a long, slick slide of pleasure. The sudden move silences Ziggler, making him hold his breath even. The pornstar bobs his head back and forth, squeezing the dick in his mouth as one hand rests on Ziggler's thigh and the other plays with his balls. Ziggler pulls his hands through his hair realizing that Dale was not lying when he said it would be a good time.
Dale moves on to taking all of him in, getting Ziggler's dick down his throat with ease. "Now who's the showoff?" Ziggler thinks to himself.
Ziggler stands less than inch from Dale, looking down at him. His voice softens, "Really?"
The wrestler puts his hands on Dale's biceps, pulling him in for a kiss. Their lips lock and Ziggler slides his tongue in, Dale moaning in disbelief. All his time interviewing and flirting with wrestlers has finally paid off with the most unlikely one of them. As they makeout Ziggler takes off Dale's blazer and presses his hands on his ass, squeezing it through his pants. Dale can feel Ziggler's cock harden, pressed up against him. He pulls away to bend down to service him but Ziggler holds him, "Wait."
The wrestler unbuttons Dale's shirt, taking it off him, revealing the pornstar's ripped body once again. "Much better."
Dale lowers himself to his knees as Ziggler shimmies his tights down, freeing his boner from their confines. "I can see why they call you the showoff," Dale says as his hand grips the dick.
"You think this is showing off, you ain't see anything yet," Ziggler chuckles.
Dale spits on the head and then devours it with a long, slick slide of pleasure. The sudden move silences Ziggler, making him hold his breath even. The pornstar bobs his head back and forth, squeezing the dick in his mouth as one hand rests on Ziggler's thigh and the other plays with his balls. Ziggler pulls his hands through his hair realizing that Dale was not lying when he said it would be a good time.
Dale moves on to taking all of him in, getting Ziggler's dick down his throat with ease. "Now who's the showoff?" Ziggler thinks to himself.
The more Dale goes the more Ziggler worries he'll accidentally come. The last thing he needs is to look like an over the hill forty-two year-old and end things much sooner than either of them wants. He pulls Dale off of him, the string of drool still hanging from Dale's lip that he refuses to wipe away.
"You've proven your point," Ziggler says. "So let me prove mine. Take off your pants."
"You've proven your point," Ziggler says. "So let me prove mine. Take off your pants."
Dale stands up, sliding his pants off (he opted for no underwear today) and then crawls on the bench, arching his back so his ass is angled perfectly for Ziggler. He sighs as he feels Ziggler's hot breath over his swollen hole, but it doesn't linger there long as the wrestler dives right in. He presses his tongue in briefly before fully licking over him from mid-crack to taint again and again, savoring the taste of Dale on his tongue.
"Ohh, Ziggy..." Dale moans out, twitching with delight.
Dale thinks about how Ziggler may not be the best at going off script, but he definitely knows how to work his tongue like this. He whines even louder as Ziggler fucks his tongue in and out of him, teasing him, making him beg for the real thing.
Once Ziggler is satisfied, he stands back up and pushes Dale up against the wall and forces his dick into the pornstar's hungry hole. He snaps his hips giving Dale a forceful thrust, almost as if he's still seeking to punish him for his victory last week, at least subconsciously. If so, he's failing judging by the smile on Dale's face. Whatever his intentions are, Ziggler continues the brutal fucking, wrapping one hand around Dale's neck, grabbing his chin, the other rubbing his lower back down to his ass. Dale breathes heavily, not wanting to moan out so soon, still embarrassed by how loud he was when Ziggler was eating his ass out -- did he actually call him Ziggy? -- but fuck it's hard the way Ziggler is nailing him.
"You like that, do ya?" Ziggler asks in a tone that makes it sound like a taunt.
"Uhh, yes..." Dale groans.
Ziggler smirks to himself. He definitely prefers Dale answering his questions instead of asking them. He brings his hand down over Dale's perfectly round ass cheek and the bottom whines out so loud, the pain and pleasure echoing through the locker room.
Ziggler lifts Dale's left leg up, angling himself better to nail his sweet spot. Dale moves his hand on the back of Ziggler's neck to help balance himself, watching the determination in the wrestler's eyes. He realizes that this isn't rough revenge, but something completely different. It's almost as if Ziggler is proving himself, like he's trying to make up for his loss last week, that he's better than what Dale thinks of him -- or at least what he thinks Dale thinks of him. Perhaps he thinks Dale's questions about Ziggler's losing streak weren't condescending, but they weren't meant to be. If Dale's tone was off it was only because he was intimidated by the presence of the hunky veteran superstar who still kept himself together after all these years. Realizing all this Dale lavishes Ziggler with sincere praise, telling him to "get it," and "right there," throwing the words "stud" and "daddy" around liberally.
"Ohh, Ziggy..." Dale moans out, twitching with delight.
Dale thinks about how Ziggler may not be the best at going off script, but he definitely knows how to work his tongue like this. He whines even louder as Ziggler fucks his tongue in and out of him, teasing him, making him beg for the real thing.
Once Ziggler is satisfied, he stands back up and pushes Dale up against the wall and forces his dick into the pornstar's hungry hole. He snaps his hips giving Dale a forceful thrust, almost as if he's still seeking to punish him for his victory last week, at least subconsciously. If so, he's failing judging by the smile on Dale's face. Whatever his intentions are, Ziggler continues the brutal fucking, wrapping one hand around Dale's neck, grabbing his chin, the other rubbing his lower back down to his ass. Dale breathes heavily, not wanting to moan out so soon, still embarrassed by how loud he was when Ziggler was eating his ass out -- did he actually call him Ziggy? -- but fuck it's hard the way Ziggler is nailing him.
"You like that, do ya?" Ziggler asks in a tone that makes it sound like a taunt.
"Uhh, yes..." Dale groans.
Ziggler smirks to himself. He definitely prefers Dale answering his questions instead of asking them. He brings his hand down over Dale's perfectly round ass cheek and the bottom whines out so loud, the pain and pleasure echoing through the locker room.
Ziggler lifts Dale's left leg up, angling himself better to nail his sweet spot. Dale moves his hand on the back of Ziggler's neck to help balance himself, watching the determination in the wrestler's eyes. He realizes that this isn't rough revenge, but something completely different. It's almost as if Ziggler is proving himself, like he's trying to make up for his loss last week, that he's better than what Dale thinks of him -- or at least what he thinks Dale thinks of him. Perhaps he thinks Dale's questions about Ziggler's losing streak weren't condescending, but they weren't meant to be. If Dale's tone was off it was only because he was intimidated by the presence of the hunky veteran superstar who still kept himself together after all these years. Realizing all this Dale lavishes Ziggler with sincere praise, telling him to "get it," and "right there," throwing the words "stud" and "daddy" around liberally.
Ziggler grunts and groans, his musky sweat dripping on to Dale's equally sweaty skin. He eventually pulls out, releasing his grip on Dale's leg, so he can pause to catch his breath. Dale gives him a kiss, an apology of sorts for what happened last week.
This angle is deeper and he soon realizes just how sensitive his prostrate has become when the flared head of Ziggler's cock nudges past it.
"Fuck your ass feels so good," Ziggler sighs.
Dale wastes no time grinding his ass back, fucking himself with a deft vigor. The muscles of his abdomen flex as he grinds his hips down, Ziggler's hands all over them. Ziggler fucks up into him, Dale feeling the hard muscle of Ziggler's thighs underneath the softness of his cheeks, the force behind each thrust. He drops his head back to rest in the crest of Ziggler's sculpted shoulder, settling into the throne of tan muscle beneath his body to enjoy the worship of his older lover's hands. Ziggler gives a hard pinch to his nipple, eliciting a soft whimper from Dale. His hands move lower to Dale's thighs and grips them as Ziggler reclines back on the bench, his dick still throbbing in Dale. Dale grips the bench edges, his body trembling as the veteran wrestler increases his speed, stuffing his dick deep up into the pornstar. "Ahh, ahhh, ohhh," Dale's whines get higher in pitch the longer Ziggler pounds him.
Each surge of a thrust is directed right at his prostate. He tilts his head back staring at the ceiling, seeing stars, so sensitive to the stimulation it renders him thoughtless. He's so out of it, that he doesn't realize that Ziggler is getting louder himself. Then the wrestler pushes them forward, so Dale is bent over on his hands and knees on the bench, still confused as to what's happening.
"I'm gonna come all over your ass," Ziggler gasps, stroking his cock furiously.
Dale grabs his cheeks and spreads wide, moaning at the hot, viscous liquid that splatters over his hole and down the back of his thighs.
"Fuck yeah..." Ziggler says, stepping back to admire his work.
Ziggler sits back down on the bench next to Dale, who returns to a seated position, letting the cum rub off his ass onto the wood. He kisses Dale some more as his hand reaches down to stroke the pornstar's cock. Dale's eyes flutter as he assumes the wrestler will jerk him off to finish. Instead Ziggler says, "I'd much rather have you stick this in my face than that damn microphone."
And with that the wrestler bows his head down and sucks on Dale's cock. He zigzags his tongue down the younger stud's shaft and then slurps back up in a straight line to the head before sucking it again, bobbing his head up and down. Dale can't believe Ziggler is going down on him, and moans openly, cursing. He yearns for more so he puts a tight grip and holds Ziggler's head down, grinding too roughly right up until he chokes around his cock. Dale apologizes, letting go so Ziggler can continue to work his magic. Ziggler takes it in stride; he's used to guys finding his oral skills unbelievable, wanting more. It's a sign that he knows what he's doing, even after all these years. When Ziggler spits out the dick again strings of pre-cum connect Dale's head to his lips. "Lot of pre-cum," Ziggler comments.
"It's gonna be the real thing soon enough," Dale warns.
"Well, you better go ahead and stick this in me," Ziggler says reclining on the bench and spreading his legs open.
Dale puts one knee on the bench and places Ziggler's legs on his shoulders as he lines up in position. Just the barest touch of his cock against Ziggler's hole makes the wrestler moan. Who knew Ziggler could be so horny for dick? He pushes in, all the way in, to the root, and it strangles a noise from deep inside Ziggler's chest, like he's never felt so good in his entire life. Dale pulls back slow and pumps in, building up his momentum to an accelerated pace that keeps Ziggler smiling. It's not long until Ziggler can feel that coil wind up deep inside his core. Dale pulls out again, all the way to the head, and slams into him at just the right angle to hit that sweet spot deep inside. Despite Dale's size and inclination to bottom, he's an aggressive, dominating top. It shouldn't be a surprise how he ended up beating Ziggler in the ring last week, although Ziggler seems to have forgotten all about that now, instead soaking up the waves of pleasure Dale is delivering to him.
Dale shakes Ziggler's legs off his shoulders and grabs both the wrestler's wrists, pulling him toward him on the bench as he fucks into him.
"Fuck yes," Ziggler encourages him to keep going. "Right there, please..."
Dale grins hearing Ziggler beg for more, as if he never came. Dale keeps drilling into him, making his own chest bounce with each thrust the wilder he gets. Ziggler can sense Dale is about to come, the way he's losing his rhythm so he invites him to, "Come in me."
Dale leans forward, his face hanging above Ziggler's as he snaps his hips one last time and holds his dick deep inside the wrestler. Ziggler clenches tight as he feels Dale's warm load fill up his insides. Ziggler comes a second time, unannounced, splattering his stomach with more lines of cum. Dale tries to hold himself up, but Ziggler rubs his back, eases him down, and Dale lets himself collapse against him. The two men are hot, sticky, and still riding high off their climaxes. They'd stay like this forever if they could, but they hear someone entering the locker room and quickly bolt up.
"Shit, my match," Ziggler says. "It's gonna start in two minutes."
Dale helps him get his pink tights on and fix his hair.
"I guess I'll come find you after my match," Ziggler says. "For a follow up interview?"
Dale nods, "It's going to be very intimate. But I have to say you've been doing a real good job answering my questions so far."
"I'm gonna come all over your ass," Ziggler gasps, stroking his cock furiously.
Dale grabs his cheeks and spreads wide, moaning at the hot, viscous liquid that splatters over his hole and down the back of his thighs.
"Fuck yeah..." Ziggler says, stepping back to admire his work.
Ziggler sits back down on the bench next to Dale, who returns to a seated position, letting the cum rub off his ass onto the wood. He kisses Dale some more as his hand reaches down to stroke the pornstar's cock. Dale's eyes flutter as he assumes the wrestler will jerk him off to finish. Instead Ziggler says, "I'd much rather have you stick this in my face than that damn microphone."
And with that the wrestler bows his head down and sucks on Dale's cock. He zigzags his tongue down the younger stud's shaft and then slurps back up in a straight line to the head before sucking it again, bobbing his head up and down. Dale can't believe Ziggler is going down on him, and moans openly, cursing. He yearns for more so he puts a tight grip and holds Ziggler's head down, grinding too roughly right up until he chokes around his cock. Dale apologizes, letting go so Ziggler can continue to work his magic. Ziggler takes it in stride; he's used to guys finding his oral skills unbelievable, wanting more. It's a sign that he knows what he's doing, even after all these years. When Ziggler spits out the dick again strings of pre-cum connect Dale's head to his lips. "Lot of pre-cum," Ziggler comments.
"It's gonna be the real thing soon enough," Dale warns.
"Well, you better go ahead and stick this in me," Ziggler says reclining on the bench and spreading his legs open.
Dale puts one knee on the bench and places Ziggler's legs on his shoulders as he lines up in position. Just the barest touch of his cock against Ziggler's hole makes the wrestler moan. Who knew Ziggler could be so horny for dick? He pushes in, all the way in, to the root, and it strangles a noise from deep inside Ziggler's chest, like he's never felt so good in his entire life. Dale pulls back slow and pumps in, building up his momentum to an accelerated pace that keeps Ziggler smiling. It's not long until Ziggler can feel that coil wind up deep inside his core. Dale pulls out again, all the way to the head, and slams into him at just the right angle to hit that sweet spot deep inside. Despite Dale's size and inclination to bottom, he's an aggressive, dominating top. It shouldn't be a surprise how he ended up beating Ziggler in the ring last week, although Ziggler seems to have forgotten all about that now, instead soaking up the waves of pleasure Dale is delivering to him.
Dale shakes Ziggler's legs off his shoulders and grabs both the wrestler's wrists, pulling him toward him on the bench as he fucks into him.
"Fuck yes," Ziggler encourages him to keep going. "Right there, please..."
Dale grins hearing Ziggler beg for more, as if he never came. Dale keeps drilling into him, making his own chest bounce with each thrust the wilder he gets. Ziggler can sense Dale is about to come, the way he's losing his rhythm so he invites him to, "Come in me."
Dale leans forward, his face hanging above Ziggler's as he snaps his hips one last time and holds his dick deep inside the wrestler. Ziggler clenches tight as he feels Dale's warm load fill up his insides. Ziggler comes a second time, unannounced, splattering his stomach with more lines of cum. Dale tries to hold himself up, but Ziggler rubs his back, eases him down, and Dale lets himself collapse against him. The two men are hot, sticky, and still riding high off their climaxes. They'd stay like this forever if they could, but they hear someone entering the locker room and quickly bolt up.
"Shit, my match," Ziggler says. "It's gonna start in two minutes."
Dale helps him get his pink tights on and fix his hair.
"I guess I'll come find you after my match," Ziggler says. "For a follow up interview?"
Dale nods, "It's going to be very intimate. But I have to say you've been doing a real good job answering my questions so far."
No comments:
Post a Comment