Title:

Title: The Pole On A Diva Match

By: Knorg

Category: Pro-Wrestling/paranormal(magic)
Description: Trish Stratus has a foreign object to use in a Diva’s ring. Porn without any real plot.

Codes for part one are: Dickgirl, magic-use, oral, Solo, Exhib,

PART 1

Ratings were through the floor. WWE was becoming less popular than a prostitute with Ebola virus. Vince knew what he liked to see and knew better than the fans what they wanted. He tried using all the stuff he liked to reverse the trend, upping the Triple H promo segments to nearly an hour in length, giving Stephanie her own weekly screechathon, ordering wrestlers to never, under any circumstances, attempt a cool looking move, a conjugal dress code for married talent. He’d even got in Dusty Rhodes to start wrestling again. The ratings just kept falling. That fat hack Heyman regularly suggested adding some wrestling on the shows. What kind of organisation did he think WWE was?

Vince tossed back a shot of finest scotch and scratched his chin. The gloomy room was quiet, soothing. The hilariously misnamed ‘creative’ team had departed for the day. If things kept up then Vince’s incredible personal fortune might decrease slightly. This was getting serious. He needed something that would get everyone - mainstream media, the internet, those alcoholic bums down by the highway who used to main event Nitro – talking.

A knocking on the door to the room punctured Vince’s reverie.

“Fuck off, Paul! We’re not going to run that ‘features wrestling’ angle!”

“It’s me, Vince.”

The genetic jackhammer recognised the voice of the WWE Woman’s Champion, Trish Stratus. His marital vows meant about as much as a Terry Funk retirement stipulation, and Vince always welcomed another chance to try to get into the curvaceous blonde wrestler’s shorts. Heck, he welcomed the chance to get into almost any female wrestler’s shorts. Allegedly.

“Come on in, Trish! Come in!”

Trish did so, shutting the door behind her. She looked briefly around the gloomy room. A white board on the corner stand detailed Creative’s plans for one last Dusty heavyweight title run, the introduction of Shelton’s Grandma and, yes, the return of the Red Rooster. She winced at the thought before recalling she was there to sweet talk Vince. Trish shook her head and sat on the edge of the table before the boss. The lecherous old man took the opportunity to leer at Trish’s breasts in her cream tank top and the tight denim material of her cut-off shorts. The Canadian wrestler smiled indulgently; it was just Vince’s way.

“Vince, I…”

“Yes sweet tits? Uh,” he coughed, “I mean Trish?”

He was an old man. He thanked God for his strong heart.

“I have an idea for getting a huge buy-rate on the next PPV as well as keeping interest afterwards. Something utterly new and original…”

Vince didn’t like the sound of the last part. It sounded like a crazy Ring of Honour idea.

“…but also entertaining and incredibly, totally, sleazy and sexy.”

She lent forward and held Vince’s gaze. He groaned. She whispered,

“Utterly perverted.”

Vince’s erection was straining in his pants. Trish had him totally aroused. He hadn’t been so excited since seeing Stephanie’s swimsuit pictures – and with a lot of therapy, he was over that.

“Sounds perfect, Trish.” Vince’s voice was hoarse. He swallowed, “What is it?”

Trish slid off the table onto her knees between Vince’s legs. She reached up quickly and deftly unbelted his suit pants. Vince barely managed to lift his ass as she pulled them down. Trish hooker her fingers into his boxer shorts and hooked down the red heart patented underwear. Vince’s penis sprang to attention between his muscular (Vince was skipping the wellness program) thighs. Trish’s nostrils were filled with the ever-pungent smell of a sweaty unwashed cock.

Her nose wrinkled, but without another word she leaned forward and swallowed the bulbous purple crown of Vince’s penis. Vince felt the sweat pouring down his face as her agile tongue swished around his piss slit. Trish kept her dark eyes locked on Vince’s as she slowly took more of his thick length inside, deep swallowing him like a professional - Porn star, not wrestler. Vince’s head rolled back as Trish’s lips kissed the base of his shaft. Trish pressed her nose into Vince’s grey pubic hair, enjoying the complete dominance she enjoyed over Vince at that moment.

She held the face of his cock with one hand, and cupped his balls with the other. Vince gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckled tightness as Trish began to bob her head enthusiastically. She raised her face up until Vince’s cockhead alone sat in her mouth, and then plunged it back down into her throat. The exquisite hot, wet, TIGHTNESS of Trish’s throat coupled with the unexpected speed of the situation was too much even for an old man like Vince McMahon. As his body stiffened and his cock jerked, Trish pulled back and took his watery cumload across her open mouthed face. Vince’s sperm dripped down her beautiful features, with one strand dripping down to the valley of her breasts. Trish released his cock and slowly sucked her spermy fingers between her full red lips.

Vince lay back in his chair and panted. Trish Stratus’ mouth was everything he ever imagined, hoped, dreamed. Trish rubbed at the crotch of her shorts, and then mumbled a few special words from memory. She felt the change begin as she began to tell Vince of her PPV idea.

“Get Lita back in the ring for a Woman’s title match. Make the stipulation a ‘Pole on a Diva’ match.”

“That’s a great id… what?” Vince hadn’t been so confused since Linda had told him she was pregnant – he must have gotten real drunk to actually pork his wife.

Trish stood up before Vince while his legendarily virile seed dried across her face. The Canadian wrestler unbuttoned her denim shorts and pushed them down to the floor along with her pink thong. Spouting from the centre of her shortly trimmed blonde bush was a thick cock that, even semi-erect, put Vince’s to shame. Trish balls the size of grape fruits in lightly haired scrotum. Trish wrapped her slim, feminine fingers around her ever-so-masculine cock and began to pump it.

Just to get something out of the way here - Vince, after decades, was utterly secure in his sexuality and didn’t find him attracted to Trish’s cock. As the man behind necrophilia, suicide, poop angles and also a Lex Luger push he also found he wasn’t automatically disgusted to see it. It was just a cock. Thus, it was curiosity that was to the forefront of his imagination as the hot blonde diva jerked her meat.

“What the hell! How did you hide that in those Diva photoshoots? Or from the special camera in the showers?”

Vince paused; from a legal stand point confessing to secretly filming the divas shower was right up there with pissing off pandas. He figured the cat was out of the bag and continued in a less urgent tone.

“And if you have to beat off, turn around for Christ’s sake. I grew out of circle jerking before you were born, Trish.”

Trish smirked and turned away. There was a poster of Stephanie McMahon on the wall – a creative meeting requirement for the McEgo – and she thought about spearing into Vince’s daughter’s mouth, or wrapping Steph’s chubby breasts around her shaft as she sprayed on the girl’s face. Trish’s cock quickly grew hard; nine inches of thick uncut meat. She reached with her free hand and pushed her top up over her breasts. Trish began to play with her swollen nipples.

Vince could only see her hot body from behind, and hear her slight moans as she pleasured herself. He realised she was masturbating over Stephanie’s poster, but was enough of a businessman to know that that was why they sold so many of them. People liked spanking the monkey to Diva posters. And there was nothing homoerotic about male teenagers with muscle men posters on their walls. No sir. Vince pulled up his pants as Trish spoke.

“Promote our title match as a Diva on a Pole match, give everyone the idea they’re going to see some real hardcore tits and ass after the bout, that one of us is going to get fucked in the ring on PPV. Call it the ‘Philadelphia Screwjob’.”

Trish spoke breathily over the sound of her steady cock stroking. She toyed with her left nipple with her free hand, and kept her gaze casually on poster-Stephanie’s cleavage. She figured Vince would go for a chance to crowbar in yet another Montreal screwjob reference. She also knew a lot of teenaged fans as well as horny, lonely old men and whoremongers would tune in for the chance to see her or Lita naked. Especially since in the past Trish had shied away from the cheap playboy route.

“Hell Trish, you couldn’t have told me you had a cock before you sucked my dick?”

“Come on Vince, you had Regal kiss your ass. You took a stinkface from Rikishi. Anyway, it’s not permanent. It’s a kind of magic.”

“That’s what Chyna tried to tell us. We had to photoshop in Mae Young’s crotch for playboy. She had to wrestling in strengthened leather gear.”

Vince pushed the bad memories from his mind and pondered the match suggestion as he looked at Trish’s buff but feminine ass. It sure would get the WWE talked about and sell a lot of PPV buys; even if it did sound like an idea from the Beaver Cleavage School of booking. ‘Wait a minute,’ thought Vince, ‘I love the Beaver Cleavage school of booking.’

“What does Lita say?” he asked, thinking about Trish pulling aside her thong and taking the red head roughly from behind. It was an image he enjoyed.

“I guess her spirit was crushed when the tiniest details of her sex life were made public for an angle, Vince. You know she walks down the street and Hardy fans call her a slut and a whore? She just sees sex in the ring as part of the business. Hell, look at the ratings with Edge and that was just a work.”

Trish’s breathing was deeper as her hand flew up and down her rock hard rod. She was working with the stiffest spear in wrestling and she felt the strange new sensation of her balls tightening against her body as an orgasm approached. She imagined them on Stephanie’s chin as she looked at the poster. She wondered if there was a way she could get her cock into Stephanie as well as Lita. Drops of precum splashed from the end and lubricated her eager stroking.

“What the hell. We’re going to be out of business by 2007 if things keep going the way they are. You’ve got your Pole on a… Diva on a Pole Match.”

Trish gasped a thanks as Vince offered Lita to her on a plate. She tossed her blonde mane back and groaned Stephanie’s name as her fantasy and masturbation started to peak. Trish stroked her huge she-dick faster and faster and began to mutter her Stephanie fantasy out loud before climaxing with a shout.

“FUCK, EH!”

Trish Stratus came hard, spraying her chick spunk over poster-Stephanie’s face. She continued to pump her cock, emptying her heavy balls of creamy seed. Vince watched in awe as Trish grunted and sprayed, until the last dribbles were sliding down her softening she-dick. Trish sat back against the table and panted. Poster Stephanie’s face and cleavage were covered with her seed.

“I’ll tell Lita the match is on.”

Trish turned back towards Vince and mumbled a different few words, similar to those she’d mumbled earlier. He watched in amazement as Trish’s cock and balls shrank quickly and the flesh melted back into her lightly furred blonde snatch. She was wet with arousal and her clit stuck out visibly. Vince was amazed as he felt his own ancient cock twitch only minutes after a powerful climax.

She pulled her shorts and thong up, and rubbed the remains of Vince’s dried seed from her cover girl features. She blew him a kiss and left the room. Somewhat shocked, as he would be to witness as good Mark Henry bout, Vince walked over to the door and watched Trish walk down the corridor, mouth agape. In a state of shock, he turned back towards the sperm coated poster of his daughter and reached out a finger…

End of Part 1!

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