Monday, December 5, 2016
Within the gay spectrum, there are innumerable variations on sex. Gay men find arousal in a variety of ways, and through a variety of fantasies. Wrestling is one of those, and in many respects, one of the most healthy fetishes. If one accepts the idea that all sex - excluding that which without consent inflicts pain on another - is beautiful and natural, then wrestling is surely one of the most healthful.
Wrestling is masculine. In fact, it is one of the truest manifestations of masculine intimacy. What can be more manly than two men, testing each others physical boundaries, pushing each other to struggle, to dominate, to submit? Men have always wrestled with each other. Only within the gay realm is this dominance and submission translated into masculine love and affection. Only in the act of two men, naked, sweaty, struggling - enthused with respect and friendship and desire - can true masculine love be expressed.
Wrestling is healthy. It imparts a need to exercise. To stay in shape. To be able to mix it up on the mats for more than a few brief moments. It is a fetish that drives men to the gym to lift weights, to run miles, to do cross-fit and yoga. It encourages us to eat right. To think of ourselves as athletes. Even when we have spent an entire lifetime seeing ourselves as average, non-athletic guys, wrestling gives us the chance to be the jocks that, perhaps, we never were.
Wrestling is courageous. The very act of stripping down and wrestling another man is an act of courage. Where in the past, we may have been timid with other men. Where we might have been unable or unwilling to engage physically with another man, wrestling allows us to experience what a lot of men have always known - that competition is healthy and empowering. After a wrestling match, even if we lose, we stand a little taller. We fought. We struggled. The old stereotypes of the effeminate and weak man are sloughed off and left on the floor along with our sweat, our exhaustion and frequently our cum.
Wrestling is a healthy fetish. One borne of comradeship and a longing to engage with other men on a level beyond just kissing and fucking.
Now, get out there and wrestle.
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Hey guys. It's been quite a while since I last posted. I'm not dead. Not off the circuit. I still love to wrestle. It's just been hard to write the last few years.
Why? Well, there are a number of reasons. One is this blog. I found that I couldn't always write honestly about my experiences, especially when they were less than stellar. People got their feelings hurt. Others thought I was speaking of them, when I often wasn't. It was getting a little too unpleasant. But, I have decided to try again.
The picture above is of me today - November 29, 2016. I'm still working out. Still lifting. But, you know, I'm never as big or defined as I wish I was. Part of that is diet. I have no problem getting to the gym. But I do seem to have less will-power when it comes to maintaining a healthy diet. I guess for a 58-year-old, I'm not too bad.
I've been wrestling. I wrestled just last week, and it looks like I will wrestle today as well. Luckily, there is a guy here in town who likes to wrestle, who is in great shape, and is a nice guy. So, I have a wrestling partner for a while. He's very much a jobber. He likes to be man-handled and worked over - which is fun. Although, I like to be the jobber some too.
I continue to be very fortunate in that the matches I've had over the last few years have been a lot of fun. I've met some great guys. Had some really hot matches. But, I am finding that travel has become harder and harder. Not so much because of the expense, but because of family constraints. A few years ago I could jump in the car and take off for the weekend with no problems. Drive to Memphis, Dallas, or maybe Oklahoma. Wrestle a few hot guys, and then head home. But I'm finding that more difficult to pull off. Like a lot of people, my family obligations ebb and flow.
So, write me and tell me how your matches have been going. Let's talk about gay wrestling in the first decades of the 21st century - and under a Trump regime. The political world may be hard to fathom, but we can still gather in darkened rooms, strip off our clothes, and struggle with each other. We can wrestle to feel each others muscles. To work up a sweat. To get huge hard-ons, and explosive ejaculations. It's what we want. It's what we crave. So, what-the-hell? Let's get to it.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
Because there are several videos of Stu posted, you can sort of track his growth over time. I'm not sure how much time we are talking about, but Stu goes from being a really fit young guy to an very muscled young guy.
I have no idea how large Stu is. I assume that he is around six foot, and maybe 190. Too big for me to wrestle competitively. But still, he'd be fun to wrestle, wouldn't he?
The guys at BG East need to track this guy down and see if he'd be willing to wrestle.
I wonder just how sold Stu is on the gay life. I mean, is he a college student just goofing around for the money and the thrill of having guys on the internet get turned on by him? I wonder if he thinks he can do this for a while and then go back to his "normal" life? I wonder if these pics will show up on some guy's desk who is interviewing him for a job?
The truth is, that I sort of understand Stu, at least on one level. I do not look like Stu in any way, but I do work out a lot and run, and I've posted quite a few pictures of myself here on this blog as well as on my profiles at globalfight and Meetfighters. There is a satisfaction that comes from knowing that someone finds you attractive, especially when you have gone through most of your life never having experienced that. It feels good.
Working out, for me, is sort of an OCD activity. I've done it so long that not doing it feels like I am doing something wrong. Too, working out is relaxing for me. Exhausting, yeah, but relaxing in that it usually gives me a chance to sort of zonk out and focus on my physical being, rather than the focus which is usually on my work.
Too, I'm older. There is no denying that I am in my mid-fifties. I'm not a kid anymore. I think I'm in pretty good shape for a guy my age, and I was lucky that I always looked young. But that doesn't mean that twenty-year-olds want to wrestle me. (Actually, some do.)
Another aspect to this whole thing, is the fact that a picture is one thing, but real life is another. Tanned and pumped, Stu looks like some Greek god. In person, I can be pretty pale in the winter. I don't use a tanning bed. So, if I get tanned, it's because I've been working in the yard.
I wonder sometimes what people think when they meet me in person after looking at my pictures for a long time. I wonder if the reality is not exactly what they had hoped. I wonder if meeting Stu I would find him to be a self-centered jerk, instead of the playful, fun guys I wished he was.
So, I'll close out for the day. Again, I think we all need to explore our deeper selves as much as we can. As long as those desires don't hurt anyone else, I think they are basically okay in the greater scheme of things. If you have wanted to wrestle but have been afraid to try it, take that leap and try it. Find some guy who seems ok and see just how the reality measures up to your fantasies. Then write me, and tell me how it went. I hope it is everything you wanted it to be.
And if you are Stu, and you are reading this, write me, dude. Older guys can be a lot of fun. I promise.
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
In the picture above, two stud wrestlers have met in the gym after hours to settle an old score. The guy in the red singlet is a state champion who has beaten the guy in the blue singlet. The guy in the red singlet is extremely popular in school and is one of those guys who just always seems to have everything go his way. The guy in the blue singlet is sick of the red singlet. He's tired of being beaten. Tired of how stuck-up red is, how popular and how handsome.
And so they meet. The match goes well for the red singlet. He scores points, and is soon ahead. But blue singlet has other plans. He goes for red singlet's balls and cock, and starts to work them over through his singlet. Red singlet tries to pay no attention to it, but soon he grows hard and his cock throbs at each touch from blue singlet.
Points begin to go out the window, as blue singlet gets red in a body scissors and reaches down into red's singlet where he grabs a hand full of cock and balls. He squeezes and red lets out a low moan - not of pain, but of pleasure.
The, unexpectedly, blue hoists red up and turns him upside down where he uses his bear hug to squeeze the breath from red all the while using his tongue to work red's balls. Red tries to escape. Tries to reach around and break blue's hold, but the tongue on his balls is too much and his red singlet grows wet with pre-cum. His singlet is stretched out exposing his chiseled chest, and his cock grows harder and harder as red realizes that he is trapped and at blue's mercy.
How will this end?
Saturday, April 19, 2014
I've always wanted to recreate that scenario, but to tell the truth, I've never really done much role play. Once, quite a few years ago, I wrestled a guy who lived in Memphis who was into role playing. He was extremely handsome and wanted to be the hero. I was assigned the role of the evil villain. We wrestled at his house, and I subdued him and then made him my slave for the afternoon.
There is something very satisfying about watching a muscular guy humbled and tied up. Forced to do your bidding.
The humiliation that I felt, being pinned to the mats by this guy whom I should have beaten, my friends laughing at me, the coach with that look on his face. All of that should have been something that I quickly forgot. But I did not. It has stayed with me all these years. I had enjoyed it. I actually wanted to wrestle the kid again.
But I never did. And so, I - like a lot of guys - am left with this unsatisfied urge to wrestle and be beaten.
Now, the thing about this scenario that I should point out is that I have to wrestle someone that I should be able to beat. It has never worked that well with me against guys who are a lot bigger than me. And I wind up wrestling big guys fairly often.
No, it needs to be someone more my size.
Thursday, April 17, 2014
I knocked, sort of tentatively. He opened the door and he looked just like his pictures. He wasn't so much bigger than me. In fact, I had more muscle than him. I would guess we were within about ten pounds of each other. He was thin, with a shaved head, and he grinned when he saw me.
We greeted each other, perfunctorily, and he led me to one side of the room where he stepped back and looked me over. Then, methodically and slowly, he stripped me of my clothes. At each stage, he'd step back and admire his work. I could see that he was hard through his jeans and he snapped pics and grinned at me. Soon, he had me totally naked. I flexed a little for him - in order to intimidate him - but it didn't work. He knew he was going to own me.
And I turned him over and pinned him to the bed. But as I was gloating over my victory, he turned the tables. He reached down and began to message my hard cock. His hand was strong and he worked the head and tip, distracting me. He had me over and on my back, as he worked my cock, grinning.
"You're weak, little boy," he whispered to me, as he pinned me. I fought to escape, and was again working over into a position to pin him, when he caught hold of me again and began to jack me. I tried to fight it off, tried to ignore it, but I was weakening. He caught me in a reversal and pulled me over and across him so that my back was to his chest. He pulled my head way back and worked my cock, all the while taunting me for being so weak, so helpless.
For the next two hours he worked me over. He used a variety of devices on me. Brushes, his mouth, his hands, a vibrator. He edged me and edged me for so long until I begged him to let me cum. And when I did, it was huge. A great gush of cum that spurted across the bed and across my chest.
* * *
The above is a true story. That was last week. A week before that I wrestled Rivalwrestler from Texas who came up and did essentially the same thing to me - although he tied me up.
Before that, I made a trip out to Oklahoma City where I wrestled a few different guys. I had a really good time out there. Met a nice guy from Witchita who drove all the way down to wrestle with me. We got out the tarp and wrestled in oil. I think we had a great time.
And I wrestled another guy in Ok City who came over during lunch, and wrestled with me. He was pretty hot and he got me in holds where I was immobilized. Then he'd work my cock like a mad man until I was unable to fight him.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Go figure, huh?
So, I decided a while back that I would try Scruff again. That is an app for your phone that lets you meet guys. It tells you exactly how far they are from you, and you can text them and set up a meeting.
After being back on it for a while, I remember now why I dropped off of it. The guys on this app just want to text - endlessly, back and forth. How are you. I'm fine. What's up? What are you up to? On and on.
I haven't actually met anyone yet.
Certainly no one like the stud in the pic above. Yikes. I'd like to get him on the carpet and wrestle him into a few holds.
One thing about Scruffs that cracks me up is that guys always ask the size of my cock. "What size are you?"
I don't really know.
I guess I must be the only male in America who has not measured the length of his cock, but honestly, it never occurred to me that I needed to. I mean, I've never walked away from a guy because his member was undersized. I've met a few guys whose members were, in fact, rather small, but that was no big deal.
So I never know how to respond, exactly. Lately I've just taken to selecting a number a random: Seven. Forty-nine. Three hundred and eight.
One guy sent me a pic of his cock. Then another. Then another. Then another. And on and on. I finally just texted him back and said, "Yeah, I got it." I mean, it wasn't like they were artfully posed shots. It was just him and his cock in the bedroom - in the kitchen, ominously close to a knife sharpener - in front of the bathroom mirror, looking particularly jaundiced - in front of the TV apparently watching "The Bachelor." I was expecting him to send me a shot of the Eiffel Tower with his cock in a beret, or a shot of a smiling President and Mrs. Obama with his cock waving in the background.
But that's the difference between people you meet on a site like Scruff and those you meet on a wrestling site. We are more interested in seeing each others chest and arms. Our abs. Our shoulders. The face can be important, but not always. Other guys, they just want to see the cock. How's it hanging? Well, it's...you know...hanging.
So, will I actually meet a guy using this app? I doubt it. One guy I texted with for quite a while seemed promising. But when I texted him and asked if he'd like to meet, he just texted back, continuing the conversation, as though I'd never asked. He didn't want to meet. He just wanted to text.
So, when will I next be wrestling? I hope this coming weekend. Then, the week of Feb. 14, I will be in DC to wrestle for a few days. Can't wait!!