Masculine Olympiad Ch. 02

Tyler let out a scream and allowed the pleasure from his crotch to flood through him. It took him all the way to the peak of ecstasy, but then training took over and he triumphantly put his hands over his head. His body twisted at the sudden lack of stimulation right when he needed it most. He angled his throbbing dick and tried to stem the need to thrust his hips and glutes. The booing in the crowd quickly became triumphant. He had won.

Semen shot from his swaying penis in a glorious arc all the way to the ten foot mark and knocked the small target there clean off of its easel. Then, in another throb of joy, his spraying semen knocked over the eight-foot target, then the four, then the two foot mark, and the long ooze began.

His competitive spirit was overjoyed, but Tyler collapsed to the ground in a cry of anguish. His testicles were angry and their blue fury pommeled its way into his abdomen. He needed a full orgasm, and this triumphant abandonment of his sexual pleasure had wreaked havoc on his insides. The delegation from the USA was laughing and cheering. Tears shone on the faces of some women from the winning and the losing countries.

Tyler's name came up in first place on the marathon leaderboard. Then, first on the skeet shooting, second on the shot-put, and ninth on the weight lifting. He was never one to have massive cumshots compared to the other men, just long accurate ones. As the referees unexceptionally mopped up the stage and themselves, the coaches walked up onto the stage to collect their men and wait for the final points to be tallied.

Tyler's coached stood over him, she reached down between his wobbly legs with her toe and jiggled his completely shrunken and sore penis. Her toe shook through his balls and sent a fresh wave of blue ache up his spine. "You got twenty five for each first place spot, and eighteen for your second place, so you my friend are handsomely in the lead. Hey, are you with me? Hello?"

Tyler nodded, but his eyes were shut and his hands clutched his aching small gut. The women in the stadium let out a roar as the final scores of both days were tallied and shown on the screen above. USA: 101, Germany, 75, and everyone else was almost out of reach below them. Tyler's coach knew there were a few great figure baters that would still give them a run for their money, but barring perfect performances by them and a botched performance from Tyler, they were in perfect position for the gold medal.

The announcer in the stadium took up the reigns again, "Ladies, give your competitors a round of applause, wasn't that something else?" Then she began guiding everyone to the exits. Tyler finally was able to stand beside his coach and they made their way around the frantically working referees to the side of the stage. All around the stage men moaned at the pain in their balls. Two days of ruined orgasms in such spectacular fashion was beginning to take its toll. Some coaches promised them blowjobs for that night to prepare for tomorrow. Other coaches sarcastically sympathized with the aching balls of their men. They rolled their eyes at each other over the dramatic hunched bodies of the athletes.

Tonight, Tyler would prepare for the final two events of competition: Figure bating, and the always-dreaded relay.