Every gay man who likes wrestling has a perfect match that exists in their imagination--that one, excellent match that combines all the elements that make wrestling such an erotic sport.
I'm no different. I have my own touchpoints that make a match a real turn on for me. They may not be exactly the same things that excite you--we're all different and we have all come to this sport from different places--but I think my perfect match is symbolic enough to encompass the primary eroticism of the sport.
My perfect match would go something like this:
I step onto the mats in semi-darkness. A single light shines from above. I am wearing a low-cut singlet that cups my balls and cock. I am barefoot. A light sheen of sweat and oil covers my body. The spare light accentuates my muscles and I flex for a moment, sure that my opponent will emerge from the darkness on the other side of the mat erect and ready for combat.
He is my height and weight - clean-cut and athletic. He also is wearing a low-cut singlet that shows off his well-defined musculature. He has glazed himself with a small amount of oil and he stops to flex, sure that I am watching.
We come together at the center of the mats and lock arms. He is strong, but no stronger than me and we struggle in the semi-darkness for a bit, feeling each other out. Our cocks harden and it is hard to look away from his crotch. He takes advantage of my distraction and takes me down, but I recover quickly and escape. We are back to our feet.
We go at it again, our chests thumping against one another. I catch him around the waist and throw him to the mats. I am on top and we wrestle for position. He does not collapse underneath, but instead is constantly on the move, trying to escape me. The light glaze of oil makes him hard to control and he slips from me and turns. He is on top of me.
We wrestle back and forth for a while, and he finally has me down. He thrusts his groin into mine and begins to grind away. He knows this turns me on and a smile breaks. He's laughing, knowing that my arousal will only make me weaker. But I refuse to surrender and manage to get the escape.
Back on our feet, we eye each other. A little pre-cum stains our singlets and we, by mutual consent, strip, throwing the singlets off into the darkness. We now stand, naked before each other, our cocks erect and ready. We move toward each other and lock up again.
To be continued...