LET'S RASSLE, MR. PRESIDENT (Part 4 of 5)

LET’S RASSLE, MR. PRESIDENT
a/k/a More Than A Streak of Lavender
Part 4 of 5

They eyeballed each other long enough to punctuate the challenge, then simultaneously broke away and began exploring the ground of the moments away fight. The setting could not have been more ideal. An unbroken sea of swaying green grass as far as the eye could see. And at three o’clock in the morning, it felt as if they were the only two men on Earth.

The President’s mood instantly changed from depression to elation. Here FINALLY was a challenge of a different sort than the agonizing one he had been dealing impossibly with day in and day out as President of a forever fractured country. The weight of the world fell off his shoulders. Likewise, the years melted away. He felt his body gathering strength second by second. Here FINALLY was a situation that could resolve itself between two men in a contest of strength for glory (however momentary), which didn’t involve destruction, death and permanent despair. This was exactly what he needed to do.

The fighting ground now measured, the President firmly squared his shoulders. He expanded his chest and widened his stance. He spit into both hands. The Captain duplicated him exactly.

The two men began circling each other very slowly. They smiled, rather shyly at first.

“You’re a pretty man, Captain. You must make the ladies very happy.”

“Thanks, sir. But compliments are not going to make me throw this fight to you.”

“You better not. I intend to go at you hard. I expect you to come back at me with everything you’ve got.”

“You have my solemn word I intend to whup you good!”

It’s been a long time since any man’s licked me. Take that as a fair warning.

All due respect, Robert Armstrong was a very long time ago, sir…and I reckon I coulda beat him just as decisively.

“Mebbe, mebbe not! You know, it’s almost a shame to tussle with a man as pretty as you, Captain. I keep thinkin I might mess up your looks. I’m almost downright reluctant to fight a man as good lookin as you. Like fightin a woman. It’s not proper. And I put one welt on you already.”

“You keep thinkin I’m soft cause I’m handsome. I ain’t no maiden…as you’re about to find out. You on the other hand are an old man. I keep thinkin I got a huge advantage over you.”

I ain’t that old. You’re in for a mighty big surprise. BOY!

You’re in for an even bigger surprise. GRAMPA!

The circling and sizing each other up came to an end, as well as the taunting, which was becoming increasingly less polite. The friendly smiles on both men disappeared as their fighting blood was now definitely up. The corners of their mouths turned down. This would be a struggle in earnest.

The President said, “These nightshirts aren’t the best things to be wearin in a fight. But I don’t want to waste time changin. Well, come on then.”

The Captain said, “Yup, let’s do this.”

They sprang at one another and collided hard, each furiously struggling for advantage. They traded holds frantically. Each man was determined to establish dominance right at the start. Groans, frequent gasps erupted from both.

The President, bending his knees to lower his stance, finally got a firm grip around the Captain’s waist, raising him off the ground. He began to shake him violently up and down. The Captain let out an agonizing cry of pain. Without a second’s hesitation, he landed an open palm straight into the President’s face causing his head to snap back. The Captain kept driving his palm forcefully into the President’s face again and again in an effort to break the back hold on him. But the President held on stubbornly.

Finally, the Captain put all his strength into driving the President’s head, first backwards, then sideways. The President’s neck couldn’t take the agonizing pain anymore. He spun around in desperation and flung the Captain with all his strength to the ground.

The Captain landed with a loud thud but immediately leaped back to his feet. Both men paused for a moment to catch their breath. They were in for a rough fight. They began circling again.

Both sprang at one another just as before. The Captain, ducking low, drove his shoulder into the midsection of the President driving him back. The President lost his footing and they both went crashing to the ground, the President’s nightshirt sleeve ripping at the shoulder. The combatants rolled around on the ground fighting for top, their nightshirts immediately showing grass stains and ripped holes. It was getting harder and harder to get a firm grip through the folds of their increasingly shredding garments.

Tempers were flaring in frustration. The Captain straddled the President and grasping the collar of his nightshirt tore it open. He then pushed down hard on the President’s exposed chest pinning him solidly. He was so forceful in his effort it looked like he was trying to drive the President straight through the ground. With Herculean might, the President rolled over grabbing his opponent’s nightshirt under his arm, tearing a huge strip away leaving the Captain’s entire side exposed.

They both leaped up again. As they paused for breath, it was clear that their flimsy nightshirts were a hindrance in the fight. They were dirty, sodden with sweat and had acquired numerous open rips and hanging folds. The President’s nightshirt was already torn more than halfway down the front. Grasping the tears on either side, he deliberately ripped the garment completely open in one swift motion. He tossed it aside revealing his tall, lanky nude body.

Unashamed, he assumed a wide stance facing the Captain with his knees slightly bent. Despite his leanness he had long powerful muscles, very large hands with long fingers which he constantly flexed and clenched, large feet and now, most evident, a most impressive long hanging dick. Above his long dick was a very thick crop of black tangled and moist hair. Thick black hair covered his chest, back, arms and legs.

The Captain treated the President’s revealed nakedness as if it was another challenge. The Captain casually chucked his torn garment aside as well and exhibited his nude body with an air of proud defiance.

The Captain puffed out his chest causing his excited pink nipples to rise. He flaunted his wide shoulders and bulging muscular arms and legs. Though the sides of his torso tapered appealingly in a v-shape to his waist, his stomach was just beginning to show signs of a developing paunch. He had smooth, pale skin and a thin tuft of hair in the middle of his chest and under his arms. Otherwise, in direct contrast to Lincoln, the rest of his chest, arms, legs and back were hairless.

His dick wasn’t as long as the President’s and the bush above it wasn’t as thick. But his dick was easily excitable and was already rising to the occasion as the two men breathed heavily at each other anticipating the next round of their fight.

The Captain said, “I ain’t never fought buck-assed naked before. Don’t you pay no mind to my boner. I get hard all the time. Sometimes over nothin at all. Just want you to know that.”

The President paced back and forth. As the Captain kept calling attention to his quite-obvious hard-on, the President began studying his opponent’s dick as the pacing went back and forth. It suddenly looked to the Captain as if his manly cock was being memorized in minute detail by the President. The Captain blushed causing his hard-on to get even harder.

The President involuntarily ran his hand over the dark pointed nipples on his chest still gazing at the handsome Captain’s stiffy. Then he abruptly returned his gaze to the Captain’s dazzling brown eyes, which were now confused and showed an edge of harsh resentment as well.

The President said, “Come on, this fight ain’t over and you know it.”

The Captain answered tensely, “No, it sure as hell ain’t. I’m just gettin started. I’m tougher than what you’re used to, aren’t I?

The President answered the taunt in kind. “You’ll do in a pinch. Yeah, you’re tough. You proved that already but I believe I’ve faced tougher.

They paced back and forth more aggressively building up a real tension between them as the Captain’s erect dick kept swinging back and forth.

The President couldn’t stop glancing at the Captain’s hard cock as he said, “You know, I’m gonna win this fight.”

The Captain was getting increasingly angry at the President’s scrutiny of his manhood. Was he implying that there was something wrong with him? That he was one of those sissy men? His temper flared as he blurted out, “Guess we’ll find out who the REAL MAN is.”

The implication was now out there that maybe it was the President who had something wrong with him. The President picked up on this right away. He responded by spitting into his hands again. This time, however, he raised his fists and aimed them at the Captain.

“Wanna make it more interesting? You can take it. CAN YOU?”

The Captain was surprised at this sudden turn in their contest, which overall up to this point had been very rough, but a friendly competition in strength, endurance and style. Fisticuffs was stepping it up, but the idea immediately appealed to him.

He raised his fists at the President and brazenly yelled, “Rasslin, fisticuffs! If it’s fightin, I’m for it.” He smiled viciously. “Sure. I can take it. But I’m warning ya, I can dish it out even better.” PUT UP YOUR DUKES, MR. PRESIDENT! I’M A TOUGHER MAN THAN YOU AND I AIM TO PROVE IT!!