The Youthnage Experience 4: Sam and Jack's Meeting

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Sam stood with his big hand outstretched for Jack to take. Jack sized the boy up, then reached out and took Sam's hand in his. They did not shake hands; this was not a "I'm glad to meet you" greeting, this was a test of strength, out and out. Jack sneered down at Sam, and expected, I think, to make the kid crumple in seconds. But Sam held his own, and as they both increased their grip, I saw the skin around their fingers blanching white. Sam's forearm, already freakishly pumped from crushing the serving platter cover, bulged even more, and stretched his flawless Polish skin tight as a snare drum. You could see every striated fiber responding to his call for power. He stared at Jack, and had the single-minded focus of a pitbull.

Jack stared back at the 19 year old. His beefy hand was bigger than Sam's, and more gnarled and scarred from his years of pro wrestling. For a full minute, the two alpha males stood their ground, but then Sam's forearm began to shake. Sam looked down at their enmeshed hands, then back at Jack. It was a split second of uncertainty, of doubt, and Jack seized on it. He took a step into Sam, and Sam stepped back. Jack grinned and doubled the pressure of his grip. Sam grimaced. Sweat was beading up on his forehead. Jack began to roll the muscles of his thick hand, and I could hear the gristle in Sam's knuckles grinding together. Sam staggered.

Just as I thought Sam was about to go down, he reached out with his other hand and cupped the bottom of Jack's forearm, right below the elbow. He dug in with his powerful fingers, and I heard Jack go "Gahhhh" between his gritting teeth. Jack dropped down to one knee from the pain of the pressure point grip that Sam must have learned in martial arts. Sam grinned down at his older opponent, and tightened his hold.

"Little fuckin' SOB," growled Jack, and he pulled his arm back into himself so hard that Sam lost his balance. He spun around into Jack, and their handshake grip was broken apart. Jack put on hand around Sam's belt, and one hand around Sam's neck, then he hoisted Sam up and overhead like a pillow. "Little fuckin' cheater," he snarled, and he slammed Sam down hard, right into the room service cart, smashing it into a heep.

There goes my lunch, I thought hungrily.

Jack still had Sam by the belt, and he ran across the room with him and slammed Sam's head into the far wall, busting right through the plaster. He pulled Sam's head out of the wall, then slammed it into the wall again, creating another hole. Then again... BAM, into the wall, another hole. He pulled Sam out, and let him crumple onto the floor, unconscious.

Jack turned and looked at me, his thick neck tight and sinewy, his muscled body raging with pump and strength. His biceps had pushed the sleeves of his tee up high, his huge delts now only half covered. His arms stuck out at an angle, his powerhouse back was so pumped. He took a step toward me, and I backed up, stumbling against the bed behind me, and falling onto it. He pushed me down onto the bedspread, climbed on top of me, straddling me with his thick legs. He put one hand on each side of my head and stared down at me with his rugged face.

"Who the hell's going to pay for all this damage," I said, in a pathetic attempt to distract him from smashing me to a pulp.

He grabbed the back of my neck with one powerful hand, and squeezed, not tight enough to snap it, which I think he could, but tight enough to get my attention.

"Don't ever run out on me again, boy," he said, lowering his face to mine. "No one's ever walked out on me like that."

"You gonna cry?" I said.

Jack closed his eyes tightly, and said, "No, I'm not gonna fuckin cry. Shut the fuck up, shithead."

"Make me," I said, assuming these would be my last words, but hoping he'd be so mad, he'd make it fast. Instead, he lowered his mouth to mine and shoved his tongue down my throat. His tongue was thick and muscled, just like he was, and he worked my mouth like I was a little kid. His taste was so masculine that I'll be damned if I didn't get shivers up and down my spine like a friggen schoolgirl. He held me against him hard, and began to dry hump me. I could hear the headboard crashing against the wall, as he thumped against me harder and harder, like a horned up dog. He kept going, I could feel his savage brute strength growing. The bedsprings screeched against his thrusts, and suddenly, the bed collapsed onto the floor with a bang. He broke our embrace, looked down at me and said,"I hate when I do that."

Just then, from behind him, I heard "That all you got, loverboy?" Jack turned and looked, and I looked behind him. There stood Sam, glaring at Jack, plaster dust falling out of his buzzed blond hair, three lumps on his forehead, but otherwise looking unharmed. He was huffing like a bull, and had the balled up metal tray cover in his right fist. Jack stood up. Sam stomped over to him and swung his right fist hard into Jack's jaw. Jack's head swung to the side, spittle flying. Jack looked back at him, then turned his head to the side again, and spit out two teeth.

"Now this is getting good," said Jack. He looked back at me, and said,"You... go down to your meeting, I've got a young buck to break."

I looked at the clock and realized I had two minutes to get to my presentation down in the conference room. I jumped up, straightend myself up some, then headed toward the door. I looked back at the two alpha males glaring at each other, and left.

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