Schoolboy Strip Match: John Mitchell Vs. Jean Richards

“STOP…TALKING!” John was in a foul mood indeed. Normally, he himself was a talker during fights. Normally, he had a little fun with back and forth. But John’s mood made him quite short on patience. Jean’s jaw just experienced that the hard way.

John wanted to continue his assault, but he had to get his pants buckled again. If he didn’t, he’d probably end up tripping over them latter. While Jean was on his side, John quickly brought his hands up and tried to get his belt buckle back on. Only once he did, after a few brief seconds, did he turn his attention to getting away from Jean, scrambling backwards so he could get back on his feet.

While Jean nursed his aching jaw, John was busy distracted trying to get his belt fastened back on. He ran his tongue over the new cut in his bottom lip, tasting the coppery blood that seeped through the opening. His face was his livelihood, dammit! Both his face and his meticulously trained for body combined to make him the heart throb that he was today, and now John had made this match personal.

Jean's expression soured and he descended on the angry American with righteous fury. While John was preparing to get away, Jean charged at him and threw a swift and silent kick towards the back of John's head, and then spun around and kicked with the other. Kicks weren't always his thing, but he wanted to make the New Yorker hurt!

John had no idea that Jean had an obsessive compulsive thing about his face. He thought he had given Jean pause, dazed him so that John could get back to his feet and get his pants back on. He managed to get his pants buckled, but getting to his feet was another matter.

“GAH!” John let out in surprise as a foot cracked into the back of his head. Before he could react, another foot slammed into him. John gasped and collapsed sideways, landing on his stomach, dazed as he brought his hands up to grab the back of his head.

The kick to the back of John's head was effective, but not nearly on the magnitude he had foolishly hoped. In his head he had imagined John falling like a sack of potatoes, but then look at this guy, he was a tank compared to the men and women he had wrestled thus far. More force was needed to subdue a man like that, so more force was exactly what the rockstar ordered.

Jean followed to where John lay on his stomach, looking down at him and briefly considering the best plan of action. He stomped on the flat of John's back between the shoulder blades, likely where he couldn't quite reach. He bent down and grabbed John's ankles and pulled them back underneath his pits. To complete his nice little boston crab, Jean placed his knee in John's spine just above his pantline and continued to pull back.

John was still writhing on the mat, on his stomach, when he felt a sudden burst of pain. He cried out again as his back was stomped, and beat his legs against the mat. Before he knew it, he felt hands picking up his legs and suddenly yanking back, tucking them into Jean’s pits for a Boston crab!

John groaned in pain, straining his face as he pounded his fists against the mats. He squinted his eyes, his face red with effort as he felt his back being bent brutally. With a grunt, he tried to grab onto the mat, trying desperately to claw his way towards the ropes.

As he heard John cry out and struggle against his crab, Jean's anger gradually faded back to playful antagonism, though his face still throbbed as a reminder in the back of his head. John was digging his hands into the mat, clawing his way inch by inch towards the ropes even with Jean's weight on top of him.

Jean would work the hold while he could, trying to bend the redhead back and snap him into two pieces. His lower half was almost entirely in the air, but still John fought through the pain in the hopes of a rope break. Jean sighed in frustration, but then a wicked idea came to mind. He let John's right leg fall out from under his armpit, but then quickly crossed that leg and trapped it beneath John's left knee. This left Jean a free arm to play with, and boy was he going to enjoy this.

Jean's hand glided over John's pantleg until it found the redhead's bulge. He rubbed the spot with glee, giving John a good tug for good measure.

"At least part of you is happy to be here" Jean teased as he worked at undoing the belt buckle again, undoing it for good and then getting to work on the zipper. If there was one thing he was gonna accomplish before John reached the ropes, it was going to be removing these pants.

John grunted and groaned, his veins popping out on his neck as he struggled to overcome the pain from the brutal hold. Despite Jean’s smaller size, he was able to lay down considerable pressure. John was getting closer and closer to the ropes, but it was a vicious, uphill battle and John was starting to tire out.

As if knowing that John was losing steam, Jean suddenly let go of his right leg. For a moment, John was confused, then he suddenly gasped and his eyes went wide. He moaned in pleasure, feeling his bulge tugged. His cock was rock hard, despite the pain he was in, and he froze in his tracks.

While he was trapped halfway between pleasure and agony, his belt was suddenly undone. John didn’t even notice it, nor did he notice his zipper starting to open. He was too busy trying to snap himself back to reality. After a delay, John started reaching for the ropes again, but this time he let out a sexy low groan as his cock twitched.

Jean grinned when he felt John quite literally throbbing beneath his fingers while he worked at undoing the zipper. His struggles to fight back were dying down too as Jean distracted him, pausing every now and then to give him a good tug. Jean was only slightly disappointed when he finally got the pants completely undone to find John wearing compression shorts underneath. Well that simply wouldn't do!

Jean took a quick look back at the ropes to get his bearings straight. John had about another two good pulls before he reached the ropes. Even if Jean tugged the compression shorts away too, he still couldn't tease a victory out of John without tearing his shirt off, and that was slightly impossible given his current position. He'd have to use both hands to do it, and John wasn't going down without a fight.

Thus, Jean chose to pick his battles. He clenched the fabric around John's cock and made teasingly slow movements with his fingernails, dragging them across the head and down the length. After that delicious moan John let out early, this special treatment was bound to have even better results.

And then suddenly Jean sprung up to his feet, letting John's legs fall free from the boston crab. Jean held onto the ends of his pantlegs however, viciously tugging at them until he had completely pantsed the redhead. He swung them around his head and whistled, acting like he had just won a trophy, before wadding them up and tossing them out to the audience.

John was not where he wanted to be. His opening advantage was completely gone, and the momentum of the battle had shifted to Jean’s favor. Before John knew it, his pants were off and his shorts were exposed. John strained, now, even more desperate to reach the ropes. Ironically, this was more what he would usually wear in a match, but here the more clothes the better.

John advanced another few inches, then gasped as fingernails gently dragged up and down his head. The pleasure slowed down John again, and his eyes rolled a bit. He moaned some more, freezing for a moment, before trying to start clawing again.

As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Suddenly, Jean got up. John gasped, darting to the rope reflixivley. As he did, he felt a sudden burst of cool air as his shorts came right off!

“SHIT!” John exclaimed, looking down. His rock hard cock was completely exposed, his lower body now totally stripped. While John climbed up the ropes, Jean swung the shorts around, making quite a show of himself, before he tossed them away.

John panted, catching his breath as he climbed back up then leaned on the ropes. “All right…let’s try that again…” John grumbled, then he leaned back on the ropes. Pants or no pants, now John REALLY wanted to bash Jean’s face. While Jean spent time playing with the shorts, John leaned bac, then let the ropes fling him forward, while John’s big forearm stuck out and aimed for Jean’s face.

Jean's face was beaming with mischievous glee as he saw fans tear into each other to try to be the one that caught his opponent's compression shorts. John ought to be feeling more than a slight breeze now in his nether regions, all that was left was that pesky shirt and Jean could start going for a win!

Jean blew a kiss and winked at the audience before turning around, his opponent was not going to be stalled for long. A split-second later there was a hard thwack as John's bicep met Jean's nose and lips, knocking his feet out from under him and rendering him flat on his back.

Jean groaned as his back met the canvas, his hand coming up to nurse his nose and already busted lip, but he wasn't down for long. He rolled off to his side and popped back to his feet, a little pep taken out of his step, but not too worse for the wear. That was definitely a targeted attack, John wanted to go after Jean's face again.

"You're a big dick, you know that" Jean growled, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. He saw that John was already rock hard, which was great for him. Now all he had to do was figure out how to get that shirt off.