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Man Beast Saga Part 2: Something To Prove
by The David

Smackdown had the more impressive roster. They had the more physicality.
They had the more brutality. They had the guys who worked harder. They had
the better wrestling talent. Chris Benoit, Eddie Guerrero, Brock Lesnar,
Kurt Angle, Rey Mysterio. They had the biggest wrestlers, The Big Show,
A-Train, Nathan Jones, and The Undertaker. Then, they had a wrestler who
brought it all to a head. A man filled with passion. A man filled with
energy. A man who could take the head off another man. A man who lived and
breathed intensity. His name, Rhyno...

He shook his sweaty head as he walked through the curtain. "Damn that
Benoit." He mutters to himself. Another loss. He hates losing. He pushes
past backstage workers. He ignores people complimenting him on putting up
a good fight. It doesn't matter how good he fights if he doesn't win. He
needs to win. He needs that feeling of reigning victorious. He needs to
feel superior. He needs to feel like the Alpha Male (no, not a reference
to Monty Brown), but he can't when he loses.

He doesn't realize where he's walking. He doesn't pay attention. He just
walks. Down hallways. Turning, winding, oblivious that he's wandered out of
the wrestlers locker room area, and into the empty parts of the backstage.
He finds himself alone, the hallway dark. He falls to the ground, his hair
matted to his head, covering his eyes. There was a pounding behind his dark
pupils. A pounding causing him to shut his eyes. He knows why is his head
is pounding. It's that urge. He needs It. He has to have It.

The pain shoots through his head, he tries to open his eyes, but he can't
see. He falls to the cool floor, his chest against it, the tile cooling his
over-heated body. But it does nothing to the searing pains in his head. He
lays in the fetal position, whimpering. He hears the tapping of approaching
feet. A repetitive tapping. A tapping he's heard before. Some where. He
can't quite recall, but the tapping is all too familiar. The tapping stops,
but there are shoes in front of his face. High heeled shoes. They lead up
to soft, slender ankles. Defined calves. Thick, but smooth thighs. A skirt
covers from mid thigh to waist. Above that, a white blouse stretches over
large breasts, a black jacket over that. Professional, but erotic.

He knows, and the pain his head begins to subside. The soft figure crouches,
her knees hitting the cool floor, by his face. Her soft hand reaches out,
her delicate fingers touching his temple. She brushes the hair away from his
eyes, off of his temples. Her other hand moves, taking his head in her hand,
she raises it off the cold floor. His dark eyes roll up to meet her chocolate
pools. She smiles at him. Her smile warm, loving. It's not the usual smile
he's greeted with. That cold, unforgiving smile. The smile that always
demands, but never gives. This smile lets him know it's okay. The smile lets
him know that she does care for him, that she does like him.

The throbbing in his head is all but gone. She helps him to his feet. He's
only slightly taller than her when she's in her heels, but even though he's
bigger, he never feels more powerful than her.

"Thank you, Miss McMahon." He says, his voice soft, deep, but soft. Barely
able to be heard, as if he was too scared to speak, to intimated to speak.
Her hand reaches out, and gently touches his cheek, her nails softly rubbing
down his jaw bone.

"It's okay, sweety, it's okay." Comes her reply, soft and delicate. Her hands
rub down his shoulders, grabbing his singlet straps. She lowers herself,
pulling the singlet down as she goes. His body is revealed. Hard, muscular,
thick, powerful. She hits her knees, she pulls his singlet from his waist, it
slides down his thighs. She leaves it at mid-thigh, and lets her eyes focus
on his ever-hardening member.

"So big." She says, her face close to it, her warm breath hitting it. He
moans. Excited. Intrigued. Her soft hand snakes out, gently touching the
mushroom shaped tip. She drags a fingernail over the slit, then down it,
against the nerves on the underside of it. He groans, his body tightening.
The sudden tightening of his muscles thrusts his already near-rigid member
closer to her pursed lips.

Her eyes move up, looking at his face. The skin is drawn tight over bone,
his features clear. He's not incredibly attractive, not by normal societal
viewpoints. His face is thick, his jaw wide, his cheekbones are high, and
set into his face. But there's something about him that she finds attractive,
irresistible. The animal-likeness of him. He's fierce. He's intense. He's
uncontrollable, until she steps in. She has him in her palm. And that one
fact excites her more than others.

She feels the juice begin to flow between her legs as she leans forward, her
tongue snaking out of her mouth. She kisses the head, slowly, gently, her
tongue sliding up the slit. She feels his body shake as he leans back, his
powerful back hitting the wall. Her hand grips his thick base, her fingers
not able to circle the member. Her mouth opens, her lips stretching around
the plump head. She pushes her face down, past the head, half way down the
shaft.

Her eyes continue to study his face. His eyes are shut, his mouth clinched
tightly. She pushes herself down further, breathing through her nose as she
impales her face on the towering tool. Her other hand snakes up his thighs,
open. She grasps his heavy sack, feeling it in the palm of her hand. Heavy.
Full. Ready. The hand holding his shaft moves, placing against his abdomen.
She pushes down further, her throat opening. Her lips wrap around the base,
her nose buried in his pubic hair.

"Oh. Mmmm. Fu..." His words trail off, his mind is off, sailing over the
mountains. She slides her head back, leaving a trail of saliva, the only hint
that her lips where there. Her mouth pops out, and she breaths, her lungs
filling with fresh air. She stares at the thirteen inches of thick man-muscle
in front of her. It's slick with her saliva, at full mast, the eye staring at
her, as if beckoning her back on.

"You like that?" She asks in a sultry voice. Her mouth stretches again, and
she lowers it onto his shaft, but not the same way as before. Her hand wraps
back around it, and pumps up to meet her lowering lips. She pulls her mouth
back up, and pushes her hand back down. She's stretching the skin,
stimulating the nerves. His knees are shaking, he can barely stand. Beads of
sweat form on his forehead.

She pulls her mouth off, and slowly licks down the throbbing shaft. She can
feel the veins pulsating against her pink tongue. It snakes its way down,
the tongue lapping over the heavy testicles, her hands release it. One hand
pumping up and down the slick shaft. Her lips open, stretching over the
aching sack.

Then she pulls away, and backs away. He looks at her, confused. Did he do
something wrong? Then it all makes sense to him. Her jacket comes off. Her
shirt comes off, no bra. Her breasts are large, capped off with dark brown
nipples, fully extended. She stands up, her skirt falling, no panties. His
jaw drops at the site of her body.

"How do you want me?" She asks, her eyes dancing, ready. He knows
immediately.

"Your ass, against the wall." He barks out, now in command. It's a switch
for him, and he likes it, strangely. Stephanie obeys, pushing her chest
against the cold wall, she thrusts her hips out, her ass beckoning him,
calling him to it. He moves forward, running his hands over the soft,
suppliant globes of her ass. Suddenly, he slaps each cheek, watching them
jiggle. He grabs his dick, and moves forward, pushing against her chocolate
starfish. He grits his teeth, she's tight, tighter than he expected.

She groans, in a mixture of pain and pleasure. She loves the feeling of her
ass being stretched, that's why she saves anal, the less she does it, the
more it heightens the sensations. She pushes back against him as she feels
the head pop through her anal ring. He goes deeper, his thick member, lubed
by her saliva, her asshole lubed by the free-flowing cuntal juices.

Then he's in her. Pounding. Hard. Fast. Over and over. Deep thrusts. Steady
thrusts. His balls slap off her flesh. He drives into her ass. She groans.
He groans. She backs into him, her flesh jiggling, rippling from impact. He
brushes his hair out of his face, his teeth clenched.

"Harder...Harder..." She groans, her eyes shut, sweat dripping off her body,
causing her to shine under the dim light. He drives harder, forcing her body
to slide up and down the wall. The back of her thighs and ass cheeks are red
from impact, her hole red. He grunts. She lets out a slow moan. His nuts
tighten, her insides spasm. She releases her juices on her thighs, he spurts
into her ass, cream panting her rectal walls. He breaths heavily, pulling
out of her. She slumps to the floor in a pile over her own clothes. He pulls
his singlet back up, and looks down at her. Then he's gone, and she's left
with a smile on her face, and cum in her ass.


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