Message from John Carter

This blog is rated R and is not appropriate for people under the age of 18. If you are offended by gay content, please move on and read some other blog.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Humiliating Your Opponent (Cont.)

Especially when you are a kid, you encounter guys who you think you should be able to pin.  These may be guys who are held in contempt by your friends.  They may be guys who are just a little odd, or are not really in very good shape.  You step out, in front of your friends, and you wrestle them.  But, then, inexplicably and humiliatingly, you are beaten. 

Held in a hold.  Unable to move.  Struggling feebly.  All the while your friends look on, laughing at you. 

I wrestled a guy like that once when I was a kid.  My friends were convinced that he was some sort of punk and that I should be able to take him so easily.  I could see that he was built.  He had that smooth, muscled look some guys have, and I wasn't so sure I could take him.  But, they were pushing me to go at it, so I did.

I thought his body looked a lot like the guy without the shirt shown above.  He stripped off his shirt to wrestle me, and I was both intimidated and turned on.  Still, I was game and we were soon rolling on the grass in the front yard while a ring a guys shouted around us.

He was good at getting around behind me.  Those were the days before MMA, so he wasn't trying to submit me.  He was trying to pin me.  The school-boy pin.  The ultimate end to any match in those days.  When an opponent sat on your chest and held your wrists to the ground, laughing in your face while you struggled to escape and buck him off.

I did not give in easily.  I turned and tried to force him back onto his back, but he was stronger, and from the slight smile on his face, I could see that he enjoyed messing with me. 

Although it was autumn, it was still warm, and we were soon covered in a sheen of sweat as we rolled in the grass.  I kept trying to gain an advantage over him, but he was so strong. Much more of an athlete than me.  My friends were calling me names.  Telling me that I was a loser and a punk.  And, I could feel my opponent drawing strength from that.  He believed them.  I was starting to believe them, too.

He worked me over until he was lying across my chest, pressing me into the ground.  He was laughing, and that pissed me off, but there was little that I could do.  We were chest-to-chest, his crotch pressed into mine, and his hands were clasped around my wrists.  I foolishly tried to force him off with just my arms, but I wasn't strong enough, and he was using his weight to hold me in place.

One of my friends, David, leaned down and looked me in the face while I was held there. 

"Get up," he commanded.  "Don't you let this fag beat you."

I summoned my strength and tried again, raising up into a bridge while I tried to roll him off me, but he pressed his chest down into mine and I collapsed again onto the ground.

I was beaten.

I gave.

My friends turned away and left me there on the grass, my opponent grinning above me. 

Monday, November 26, 2012

Humiliating Your Opponent

Sushil Kumar, Indian wrestler and Olympian.

Sometimes, when you wrestle a guy, you can just feel that he wants to be punished.

Some guys, they just shout it out.  Not in so many words.  Not in any words, quite frankly. But, their actions, their style of wrestling--everything says: "pin me and do your worst."

There was this guy I wrestled a few years back who just looked like a wrestler.  Broad shoulders.  Well-defined deltoids and biceps.  A pair of pecs that made my cock harden almost instantaneously.  When he stripped off his shirt, I was nodding in agreement with the wrestling gods.  Yeah, well-done.

He was my size, roughly.  I might have had a few pounds on him.  But, overall it was gonna be a pretty square match.  We came toward each other in just our jeans and stood, eye-to-eye for a bit, giving each other the once-over.

I admit it.

I was flexing my guns.  And so was he.  But we both knew that I had him in the sheer circumference category.

We locked up, and he instantly telegraphed that he was waiting to be taken.  You could tell.  He was tough, but he buckled easily, and I worked him over standing, throwing a blood choke on him, and then transitioning to a nelson.

Borrowed from Inner Jobber.

I liked the feel of his smooth back against my pecs, and I was so hard that I could have broken through my jeans if they'd been a little tighter.  He had some fight in him, though, and tried to break free only to have his arms pinned behind his back.

I worked him over to the bed and threw him, face-down.  Then I was on top, putting on a chicken wing, locking my legs around his waist, squeezing and tweaking his nips.  He wasn't just lying there.  He tried to break free, but I could tell his will wasn't in it--not entirely.  And the more I squeezed, the less he fought.

I stood up, rolled him over, and unbuttoned his jeans.  His cock showed through his briefs and I let my hand slide purposefully across his shaft as I moved to pull his jeans down and off.  I had my own off as quickly, and I had no underwear so my hard cock bobbed and throbbed above him.

He hadn't moved from where he lay on the mattress.  He was too intent on looking me over.  So I straddled him and ran my fingers just inside the waste band of his briefs.  My fingertips brushed his head and I felt the pre-cum.  He was enjoying this as much as me, so I pinned his arms above his head and began to lick his biceps and chest, letting my tongue linger on his nipples.  He liked that.  I could tell.  And I playfully bit down.  His back arched up and I knew I had him.

At that moment, he regained a sense of himself, and caught me unready.  He rolled me over and tried to pin my arms, but I fought free and using my legs held him in place and squeezed.  He groaned in pain and I pulled his head in close, working one arm around his neck until he was doubled over, his face against my cock.

I moved his head back and forth across the tip of my cock, and he began to lick.  Then, he took my cock in his mouth and I released the choke hold.  My legs relaxed as well, and he re-positioned himself so that he could work my shaft.  I caught a handful of his hair and took control of his head, forcing him down on me, and then back again.  With a free hand, he was working his own cock, and I knew he was enjoying himself.

A few more pics of recent crush Kumar. 

Saturday, November 17, 2012

The Wrestling Fraternity

In the homosexual pantheon, wrestlers have a special place.  We occupy a portion of the sexual spectrum that is actually a lot closer to the masculine end of the scale than the feminine.  We extoll the virtues of fitness and muscle, sweat and hard work.

In general, gay wrestlers recognize that they are a breed apart.  Akin to S&M - but not exactly into the bondage and collaring (although they can be). They are rather like the Cossacks of old, a wild, masculine fraternity of guys who live to be in the company of other men, who admire blue jeans and tight t-shirts, tank tops and leather boots.

And like any close-knit fraternity, wrestlers look after their own.  When a wrestler is in trouble, other wrestlers recognize that they have an obligation to offer a hand, to step up, to do whatever they can to help.

One of our fraternity, Battleboi from DC, got some bad news this past week.  He may have cancer.

Please, any of you guys out there who have wrestled Battleboi over the years, please take a moment to contact him and let him know how much we are all thinking about him.

And, have a safe and wrestle-full holiday.  I hope each of you gets to spend time with family and friends.  And, I hope you will hold off on that extra piece of pie, and hit the gym at least once over the weekend.

Remember, I may be coming to your town next year, and, dude--I want to wrestle.

Monday, November 12, 2012


A friend of mine once said: "All gay men just want to fuck themselves."

I wrestled a friend of mine a week or so ago, and we were lying on his bed talking.  I asked him to tell me his greatest wrestling fantasy.  He described a match between himself and...well, himself. 

Do I want to wrestle me

Well, let's put aside the science-fiction aspects of that question.  After all, if you truly met your doppelganger--an alternate other you, would you wrestle it/him?

Yeah.  Sure. 

My most intense wrestling fantasies have always revolved around wrestling someone who was my match in strength and skill.  Someone who I could wrestle, and never know for sure whether I could beat.  The issue would always be up in the air.  Too, I would like that person to share my sense of what is hot.  In the drawing above, the blonde guy has his dark-haired opponent in an immobilizing hold, while he works over his cock and balls.  That is undeniably one of my favorite scenarios.  I should be able to beat him, but I haven't and he's humiliating me.

As a result, I like guys who are my height and weight.  Nothing is hotter to me than being able to look a guy dead in the eyes and stand pec-to-pec with him (or cock-to-cock).  I like to lock hands and struggle, our muscles bulging and beads of sweat popping out on our foreheads.  I like the feel of his strength matched with mine and knowing that if I just find that will within myself, that I can beat him.  But will I?

I haven't had a lot of matches exactly like that.  Some, but not an overwhelming number.  Most of my matches are against guys who are taller, and stronger. 

In those cases, I love it when the guy gives me a break.  Let's me have the impression that I can beat him.  It's all a game, isn't it?  An attempt to recreate some primal scene from my dim, partially remembered past.  Am I remembering some hot, sweaty summer night long ago when I wrestled a friend?  I think I am, actually, and I guess I've spent my whole life looking for that same match.

I'm not done looking.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Being There

A week ago, I was in Memphis, wrestling a hot guy.  This week, I'm...well...not. 

I suppose if I really hustled around, I could find someone to wrestle today, but this past week has been a real drag in terms of the domestic situation.  I won't go into all that.  That's not why you check in.  But, again, it's been no fun, and I find myself on a fall Saturday spending time with family and just generally trying to stay calm.

I am prone to bouts of introspection.  Now, I'm no genius.  Not even that smart.  But I can see that my fascination with wrestling has colored my life from start to finish.  And, to cut to the chase, I think in a good way.  It's been primarily positive.

I'm one of those guys who has fantasized about wrestling all my life.  In middle school, I remember lying on the couch in the family room and building these elaborate fantasies in my head about wrestling snakemen (how's that for Freudian?) and muscled neighbor boys. In high school, I wanted to see my friends in just a pair of jeans, and often after one beer too many, I would launch myself onto one of them and roll in the grass.  In my twenties, I actively tried to meet gay guys who wanted to wrestle.  But I was a complete failure.

All the guys I met were so feminine.  They hated sports, of any kind.  And, when I tried to get them to wrestle, they would be so passive and just give up. Or they would try and psycho-analyze me to figure out why I was fixated on wrestling--as opposed to just gay sex.

In some ways, that was the problem.  When I had "straight" gay sex (is that even the correct term?), I was dis-satisfied with the experience.  Even today, on the rare occasion when I meet a guy and just have sex with him, I don't really like it.  I find myself trying to imagine wrestling him, or someone else.  Even if the guy is built, I am off somewhere else in my head, wrestling him. 

Maybe that's why I find it so dis-satisfying.  I have to fantasize during sex to get off.  Well, I don't want to fantasize.  I want to LIVE it.  And, thankfully that is what I've been doing a lot lately.

That's also what I mean when I say that I think wrestling is a positive for me.  It allows me to actually participate in the sexual act.  To be completely and totally present.  That's an important point, I think.  What is the point of having sex with someone if you aren't really even in the room with them?  It's unfair to them, and it's slightly dishonest.

Yeah, I know, if every man who was not fully present with their sex partner were to leave, hardly anyone would have sex.  Most married guys would be gone in a second.  Probably most married women too.  But, for me, I need that connection. I crave it.  And when I find it, I feel good about myself.  Not only because I have actually experienced sex like it should be experienced (for me) but because I have been fully, and totally engaged with another person. 

And that, I think, is a rare gift.

So, I wrestle. 

On another note, I saw Fun. (yeah, the period is not a typo, the band's name ends in a period) on Saturday Night Live the other night, and I was really taken with the guitarist, Jack Atonoff.  Here's a pic of him:

You guessed it.  Jack and I have to wrestle.

Is he gay?

No, I don't think he is.  I think he's dating Lena Dunham, the girl who created and stars in HBO's Girls, but I don't care.  Jack and I need to square off.

I like the athlete/nurd type (is that me?)  And I think he's very hot.  He's figured into a few fantasies of mine this week.  So, out there?  Wanna do a Lou Reed and take a walk on the wild side?

How about you guys?  Are you gonna just sit there, or are you gonna take a walk on the wild side?  C'mon, let's WRESTLE!!!  

Monday, November 5, 2012

Gut Punching

I spent Saturday night with LeanmachineTN, a friend of mine from Nashville.  Lean is certainly that--lean.  He has rippling abs and a very slim torso.  But, he's also got a great upper body. 

In the picture above, that's me on top, raining down the blows on him.  I am wearing a pair of gloves with weighted shot in them.  If that was me taking those blows, I would have been yelling "stop!", but Leanmachine is a machine.  He took blow after blow and enjoyed it. 

Here I have him pinned to the wall as I continue to punish his abs. 

Now, I'm not a big gut punch type of guy.  I don't mind some shots, especially during a wrestling match, but I need to know a shot is coming so I can brace myself.  And I am not interested in being doubled over.  Leanmachine, however, can take a punch.  I was not holding back.  I did my best to make him give in to me, but I could not break him.  He took blow after blow and just smiled. 

I'm going to take some boxing lessons, I think, and really work on my punch.  That way, next time we meet, I will force him to give in to me.  

In case you are wondering, we did quite a bit of wrestling too.  Lean is pretty tough.  We oiled up and really went at it.  He and I are pretty evenly matched and it was a toss-up as to who would really dominate who. 

Thursday, November 1, 2012


The whole gain-weight/gain-mass thing has been going on for about three-and-a-half-months.  The lifting is going great.  I'm stronger.  Lifting heavier weights.

But the weight gain is tough.

I was stuck at 150 pounds for weeks.  Then when I changed my work outs, I started gaining weight again.  But, here's the weird thing: about a week ago I was at 154 (just a pound short of my goal).  I didn't eat right over Saturday and Sunday, and by Monday morning, I weighed 151 pounds.

I have to eat like a maniac all the time to maintain the weight, and frankly, I'm getting sick of it.

I'm getting to the point where eating is a chore.  Sometimes I joylessly shove food in my mouth and chew, even though I'm not hungry at all.  It sort of sucks.

So, I have decided to back off on the massive amounts of protein.  Maybe my body just isn't built to go to 155?

Here's my current work-out schedule:

Monday:  Squats
                Bench presses  (flat and then incline)
                Bench flys

Wednesday:  Squats
                      Shoulder presses/Military presses
                      Front raises
                      Deltoid raises

Friday:  Squats
              Bench presses (flat and incline)
              Bench flys

The next week I do shoulders on Monday and Friday.

When I work these exercises, I do five sets:

1.  Relatively light
2.  Heavier weight
3.  Heaviest possible
4.  Heaviest possible
5.  Light to exhaustion

Using this system, I've increased all my weights.  So, I'm getting stronger.  But, like I said, the whole weight-gain thing is exhausting.  I've started running again on Tuesday and Thursday mornings - and I still do 400 abs crunches every morning before work.

The problem is that I don't think I'm building the body I want.  As is typical with me (and a lot of smaller guys) when I pack on the protein, I also pack on the weight around my mid-section.   Running used to keep that off, but to gain weight I backed off on the running.  Now, I'm back at it and hoping to lean up some.  I will continue to work out hard and I will still attempt to eat lots of protein.  But I am not going to kill myself with the eat-six-times-a-day approach.  It's just too much for me.

Now, don't get the impression that I'm discouraged.  I'm not.  It's just that I think this is part of the process. I have to learn how to mold my body.  Eating is absolutely 90% of it, but I've got to figure out how to eat where I get the protein I need, but where I don't feel like I want to explode all the time.
Any suggestions?