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.

Saturday, November 16, 2013

Slow Start

Okay, it's tough getting back into the swing of things.


Hitting the gym?

Naw.  Those are easy.

Finding someone to wrestle?

Surprisingly easy these days.

No, it's the writing that isn't coming like it has in the past.  I find it really difficult to sit down and bang out a few paragraphs.

I blame work, because, well, I always blame work.  It's that big ugly thing that gets in the way of my fantasy life.  I gotta work.  Gotta produce.  But I really just want to work out and wrestle and play.

On another note:  there is a guy here in town named PSKBOB that I have been trying to meet up with for the longest time.  We planned a meeting a few months back, and then things just did not work out.  But, finally, we met last Saturday.

It was a lot of fun.  PSKBOB is taller than me and weighs more, but we make a great match.  There was a ton of give-and-take and the issue was always in doubt--which is exactly the way I like it.

And, he's a nice guy, too.  Very personable and easy to talk to.

Next Saturday, he and I are going over to Joran's - a guy I met on Meetfighters - who has his own place.   The three of us are going to (hopefully) wrestle. 

I say hopefully, because you never know if guys are going to hit it off.  Joran and PSKBOB have not met before.  So there is the possibility that they may not like each other.  But I hope they do.  I really can't think of any reason why either of them shouldn't become best friends. 

And it would be really cool to have a place to wrestle and multiple guys to wrestle.  That would be like fucking great! 

But I'm not getting my hopes up too high about all this.  Every time in the past guys around here have attempted to organize a wrestling club, it has not worked out.  There always seems to be an issue between two of the guys.  Someone doesn't like someone else - and they won't show unless that person isn't there. 

Arrrgg!!  Drives me crazy. 

Wrestlers, you gotta stop that behavior.  Wrestle, damn you! 

Anyway, so things look promising just now.  I'll let you guys know how the meet goes next week.  And, if anyone is interested in joining the group - even if it's just a one time thing - contact me.  Let's go wrestle!!!

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Trouble's A Brewing

So, it’s been awhile hasn’t it?

Yeah, I’ve been off the circuit for a while.  Not wrestling.  Still working out and still running, though.  I will never give that up until I’m in my grave.

Okay, no matches to report.  I hurt my back in September and it took me some time to recover.  I had a match set up with a friend here in town a few weeks ago.  It was a sweet set-up.  Oil wrestling at his house.  Plenty of room.  But I just could not do it yet. 

Now, though, I’m ready.

I think I am going to be doing some wrestling the weekend of the ninth of November.  Again, this promises to be naked oil wrestling.  I don’t know if there will be any pictures from that match (if it takes place).  I have never wrestled this guy before and I’m not sure he’d be cool with us taking pictures.  Still, even though he’s a little bigger than me, I think this could be fun.

A friend is supposed to be coming to town in December, and I am hoping to spend some quality time with him.  He is quite a bit stronger than me, but a really nice guy.  We will be wrestling, I hope.

I am also thinking seriously about taking a trip to the DC area.  There are several friends up there I need to strip down and pin.  I always seem to have a good time in the DC area – although one of my absolutely favorite wrestlers has moved to the west coast (a damned crying shame) and another very close friend has passed away.  Still, DC ranks up there with Chicago for wrestling fun.

I am back to working on Middleboro – I promise – and I will post a new chapter very soon.  So, stay with me guys.  I’m back in my singlet.  I’ve got my wrestling shoes strapped on and I am hard as a fucking rock.

Who wants to wrestle?

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Wrestling is Back In the Olympics!

The IOC just voted and wrestling is back in the Olympics for 2020 and 2024.  That does not mean it is a core spot.  After 2024, they will have another vote to decide if it stays in.  But at least it still has a place and, hopefully, can continue to increase it's presence. 

So, how am I going to celebrate?  I'm going to wrestle.  What else would I do?

I've been running.  I've been lifting weights.  Now it's time to come to grips with the reality of life. 

You should do the same.  Go find someone to wrestle. 

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Why We Fight

In 1941, shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl harbor, the United States government commissioned the director, Frank Capra, to film a series of short movies that would explain to the American people why they were compelled to fight in World War II.  Capra, the director of such classics as Mr. Smith Goes to Washington  and It's a Wonderful Life, turned out a series of films that mixed animation and live-action film that were intended to galvanize the home front and motivate the American people to fight.

Well, no one has commissioned me, but I want to try and urge you to define, for yourself, why you want to wrestle.  Why you want to strip off your shirt and come to grips--literally--with your fellow man.

The pic at the top of this post is as good an advertisement for wrestling as anything I can think of.  It captures a lot of the basic aspects of our fetish--our sport.  Granted, the clean-cut young guy above may not be everyone's perfect wrestling date.  I know some guys prefer a hairy chest or a larger guy.  Maybe you think only pro wrestlers are really hot.  But, that is not the point.  The point is that we can use a pic like that above to start a conversation about why we want to do what we do.

Undeniably, there is something about a muscular male.  We love to look at them in their tight jeans, their briefs, their fight shorts, their...well...nothing.  The male form, when it has been enhanced by exercise and good diet is a thing to behold.  And a thing to be held.  Tightly, in a headlock.

There is something primal about the male form.  Something that draws our eyes and makes us get hard.  On some basic level, it's actually hard to see why a guy turns us on as opposed to a girl.  They both have the same flesh.  The same eyes.  But with guys, it is the promise of strength, of masculinity, of fellowship and friendship.  It is an arm around your shoulder.  A big hand on your ass.  It is a bicep flexed until it wants to pop and two rounded pecs just aching to be worked over.

It is a round, bubble butt.  Two thick, hairy legs.  It is childhood re-lived and adolescence re-awakened.

Wrestling is about getting to know someone.  Really getting to understand a person.  There is a reason why guys on wrestling teams hang on each other.  They are used to the feel of another man's body, and they are unafraid of the touch.  They understand that it means something more than just sexual desire.  It means friendship.  It means maleness.

We, as adults.  Especially, gay male adults, want that in our lives.  We seek out other men like ourselves who want to bond on some level.  We are not necessarily looking for boyfriends.  We are instead searching for the companionship that the ancient Greeks took for granted.  The closeness that comes with physical exertion.  The bonding that follows a well fought battle.

We fight.  We box.  We wrestle.  We get each other in holds and taunt each other.

We fight.  Not because we hate.  Not because we are angry.  But because we are seeking a better form of friendship.  A more pure form of male bonding.

So we fight.


Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Who's Got the Muscle?

My output has fallen off quite a bit, hasn’t it?  That was not intentional.  My real life just seems to get in the way of my wrestling life, sometimes.  It’s annoying, really, but also somewhat unavoidable.

This has been one of the most unbelievably beautiful summers we’ve had done south in quite a while.  I know some of the country has gotten too much rain, but down here we’ve gotten just enough and we’ve had several cool days.  Not exactly typical August weather. 

Man, it would have been great to get out in the backyard and wrestle.  You know, strip off your shirt and wrestle with your buddy on the cool grass.  Maybe under a full moon.  I’d howl.

But, I have not done any wrestling in a while.  I’ve had a few people contact me and ask to wrestle, but unfortunately they’ve contacted me on the day they’ve shown up in town.  You guys know how that is.  You can’t always shake loose and run off to wrestle.  It takes at least a little planning.

Lately I’ve been re-evaluating this blog.  I think I might have hurt a few feelings with some of my recent posts.  That was not my intention.  I’ve never meant to offend anyone. 

That may be the reason I have not written much lately.  I’d forgotten that I can’t write just anything in these posts.  I have to keep in mind that people I’ve wrestled read them.  The bad thing it that several of the matches I’ve had over the last few months have not been that much fun.  I’ve talked about those—for the most part—so I won’t re-hash all that.

[Note: No every match I’ve had recently was unpleasant.  The weekend in Memphis was fun.]

But my point is that it has made me a bit gun-shy about writing. 

I am not giving up on wrestling.  A friend of mine called me the other day.  He’s had a rough time of it the last half year or so, but he wound up consoling me more than I consoled him.  He mentioned that he was worried I’d lost my enthusiasm for wrestling. 

I haven’t.  Not yet.  Although it has been dented a bit. 

I still want to strip down and wrestle guys.  I still want to feel their strength against mine.  I still want to oil up and feel our bodies pressed up against each other as we roll and turn and try to control each other.  I want my hard cock working against a firm set of abs.  I want to flex my biceps and attempt to intimidate my opponent.

And I will.  It will happen again.

I’ll just have to wait out this lean time until it does.

And I will watch what I write.  I’m going to be truthful.  I have to be that.  Otherwise, why keep this blog at all?  If I can’t express myself here, in these posts, then I’m back to where I was originally.  Locked inside my mind.  Unable to talk about my experiences.  Unable to try and work out my desires.  My likes and dislikes.  Unable to express my unbridled joy at getting to wrestle a hot guy.  Unable to speak about what moves me the deepest.

So, I will keep wrestling.  And I will keep writing.

But I’ll edit myself at least enough not to hurt anyone’s feelings.

Monday, July 29, 2013

Looking For My Ideal Man

So, I went to see Pacific Rim.  It was not very good.  In fact, it was sort of terrible.  For some reason, no matter where the robots were in the Pacific Ocean, the water always only came up to their waists.  The monsters were always filmed at night in the rain, so you could rarely get a good view of them, and for some reason they seemed to favor day-glow colors.  And the ending was stolen from Independence Day.

But, putting all that aside, Charlie Hunnam was worth the price of admission.  I’m not sure what it is with me and blonde guys, but I really do like them.  Give me a blonde guy, about five-foot eight and one hundred-and-fifty pounds and I am in heaven.  I’m sure Charlie is much taller than 5’8” and weighs more than one fifty, but in my mind he’s my size and wants to wrestle.

I wrestled today.  I had sort of sworn off wrestling lately but this is a guy who lives here in town and has his own place.  The logistics were too easy to pass up.  Too, he’s about my height and certainly no stronger than me.  So, I like that too. 

He’s not that great looking – body-wise.  He does not work out and he’s hairy in a chaotic sort of way.  But, he’s fun to wrestle with.  In fact, he represents the sort of wrestling I prefer these days.  Wrestling a guy about my size who is comparable in strength to me. 

To be honest, I got into wrestling – real, honest-to-God wrestling—because I wanted to meet someone my size who was fun to wrestle.  After wrestling about sixty different guys in the last five years, I can tell you that I never did find that guy.  I did not find my ideal man.  I met a guy who approximated the size/blonde hair thing – but we just did not hit it off.  

So, instead of finding my ideal, I met…a bunch of normal guys.  Yeah, normal, not always perfectly shaped guys who were, all-in-all, pretty fun to wrestle.  Granted, I have hit a spell of duds lately.  Guys that I just did not enjoy.  But looking back over the last few years of wrestling, on the whole, I’ve had a pretty good time.

One thing I’ve found about my fellow guys is that generally speaking they are quite hairy.  There are a lot of guys who have plenty of chest hair and, yes, even back hair.  I don’t really mind that, although I think I prefer someone who is smooth.  In fact, that is a fact.  I do like smooth guys better.  But, if I had excluded all the hairy guys over the last few years, I would have missed out on some fun wrestling and some really nice guys.

Another thing I’ve found is that there aren’t many guys who are blonde.  Most people are dark-headed – or given my age—gray.  I don’t mind gray.  It can be pretty attractive, actually.  And I don’t really mind dark hair.  I do prefer a guy with a short, athletic cut, but, again, if I’d stuck to that as a prerequisite, I would have missed some great times.  One of my favorite people to wrestle has dreds.  That is about as far from short and blonde as hair can get.  And he’s extremely sexy.

What I have not liked is that recently I have strayed a bit too much into the world of bondage.  The psychologist I told you guys about a while back continues to email me.  His emails are extremely detailed, and quite honestly, hot.  He has even modified his fantasies to include more wrestling.  But, he is also into restraints and even having a woman present.  I’m not willing to do that.  And I have begun to withdraw somewhat from the whole I-wonder-what-it-would-be-like-to-be-bound thing.  I found out and I’ve decided I don’t really like it.

Side note:  Mr. X in Texarkana – this does not apply to you.

So, here I sit on a Monday at the end of July.  I have just returned from wrestling and it was good.  We did not wrestle as much as I wanted, although he was much more aggressive with me than he has been in the past.  I’m about to go to the gym and lift for a while, then I’ll return home and grill chicken breasts for the week’s lunches and make a big pot of brown rice and veggies.

And I will continue to look at pictures of guys like Charlie Hunnam and wonder what it might be like to meet and wrestle with a guy who looks like that.  I might even jack off.  I’ve got the house to myself.  Why not?


Thursday, July 25, 2013

Thanks for Checking On Me

Thank you to all the guys who have taken the time to check on me these last few weeks.  I am sorry I have not posted, but I'm going to be out of the scene for a bit.

It's nothing physical.  The hernia I thought I had turned out to be nothing.  The pic above shows me today--I'm okay.  Still working out.  Still running.

The problem is in my personal life - for one thing, and in the way my wrestling has been playing out lately, for another.

My family has asked me not to do any wrestling for a while.  Or, more specifically, not to travel to wrestle for a while.  I guess I've neglected the homefront quite a bit over the last few years and it's time to settle down and mend some fences.

Also, aside from a wrestling weekend that I had in Memphis a few weeks ago - which was fun - the last several wrestling matches I've had have not been much fun.  I have not enjoyed myself.  This is primarily my fault.  I had been willing to wrestle anyone.  Basically if someone contacted me, I would wrestle them.

That is not a good idea.  I've preached and preached in this blog that we need to use some common sense in choosing our opponents.  I did not do that.  Please, guys.  Don't make the same mistake I have made.  Think hard before you say yes.  Look at the pics you are sent.  Think about the size difference.  Really think about whether you will be compatible sexually and physically with the guy.  When you are a smaller guy like me, maybe you should think twice about wrestling someone twice your size. 

Also, I've been getting a lot of invitations from guys who are into some pretty extreme forms of bondage.  At first, I was curious.  I am not now.  Had enough, thanks.  I think I will stick to wrestling for the most part.

I will get back to writing on Middleboro, but it will probably be another week before I get an episode on the blog.  Please don't give up on me.

Monday, July 1, 2013

A Battle Against All Odds

I love this picture.

The guy on the left is David Taylor, a one-time NCAA Wrestling Champ from Penn State.  On the right is Kyle Dake, David's best friend and greatest rival.  Kyle has wrestled David five times.  And, Kyle has beaten David five times.  In the picture above, David struggles ineffectually against Kyle at the World Team Trials, about a week ago in Stillwater, Oklahoma.

I like this picture because of what it represents about wrestling.  Notice how David's head is tucked into Kyle's chest.  He has Kyle's arm and is working to force Kyle backward.  But Kyle stands there, immobile and unmoving, as David struggles to force him back.  Kyle looks on, a look of almost casual concern on his face.  He seems to be holding David in place, stopping his forward motion with hardly any effort.  There is almost a look of concern on his face, a muted sympathy for his friend who obviously does not have the strength to push Kyle back.  And, indeed, the match would end in yet another defeat for David Taylor.

To me, this demonstrates the struggle, and the intimacy, of wrestling.  The quiet movement of strength and muscle and determination.  The sweat and the desire, and the failure of that desire.

David Taylor is one of the most talented wrestlers in the nation.  He can beat anyone - literally - except Kyle Dake (and Olympic Gold Medalist, Jordon Burroughs).

He is a hero to many people in the wrestling community.  But, when he wrestles Dake he always fails, and is humiliated, yet again, in front of his fans and admirers.

Maybe someday he will triumph over Dake, but until that day, he will continue to fall.

I haven't written much lately.  I've had a lot going on in my work and home life.  I guess I've been pretty distracted.

I have done some wrestling, but it's been either unpleasant or sort of inconsequential.

About a week ago, a guy who has been writing to me for several months came to town.  I guess I should not have agreed to wrestle him.  I never really found him particularly attractive.  I just sort of agreed because he wanted to wrestle me and he was willing to drive a long way to meet me.  I guess I was flattered.

But I should have given it a little more thought.

I took off from work and went over to the hotel where he was staying.  I was wondering what he'd look like.  He'd sent me pictures, but none of them had been really clear.  So, when he opened the door, I thought...well, he's okay.

I walked into the room and he just stared at me.  A sort of odd, fixed stare.  Then he hugged me.  I thought: okay.  I can hug.  Then he started kissing me.  I thought: okay, I guess I can kiss.

It really didn't stop.  Worse, I just sort of stupidly went along with it.  I want to wrestle but for some reason (what really bugs me about this whole thing, I guess), I just went along with it.

We wound up sort of having sex.  He worked on me.  He, however, never got a hard-on.  At one point, we sort of wrestled a bit, but then he just lay on top of me, kissing me and...well...looking at me.

That was what began to get to me.  As we lay there, it began to dawn on me (I am a little slow) that he just wanted to be on me.  Just wanted to kiss me and touch me.

I got up and left.

I blame myself.  I should have told him that I wanted to wrestle but for some unfathomable reason I just let him lead me through it.  I should not have done that.  It was unfair to him, as much as it was unpleasant for me.  I should have forced him to wrestle me.  But I didn't.  And I'm not sure why.

Then, last weekend, I flew to Boston for work.  While there, I met up with a guy whom I've wanted to meet for a long time.  He's really hot.  He has a lean, muscled body.  He's about my size.  I think he's handsome.

While I was in transit to Boston, he texted me and told me that he wanted me to be open-minded and ready to try anything.  I told him I would.

But, when I arrive, we sat and talked for quite a while.  I began to get the feeling that he didn't really want me there.  When we finally got out his mats, I changed into some briefs.  I walked into the room and he was still dressed.  He said: "You're ready to wrestle."  And it was said in such a way that I knew he meant: "I guess we have to wrestle."

We did.  It was okay.  I think he was in some physical discomfort, and I think that may have been a lot of it.  He's had some physical problems.

But then we went to his bedroom where he set up several videos to play and set up some restrains on the bed.  This took quite  while and it sort of dampened the mood.  But then we got back to it.

I really think he did not want me there.  I wish he'd told me that, but I guess he felt obligated since I'd come so far.  And I was spending the night with him - although in  separate beds.

So, wrestling has not been great lately.  I am scheduled to go to Memphis and wrestle a friend in about two weeks, but I've developed a slight medical problem that might cause me to have to put that off.  No, it's not a sexually transmitted disease.  It's a hernia.  I'm not in pain or anything but I'm going to the doc to see what, if anything, will need to be done.

So, there.  My exciting life.  It gets better, right? 

Friday, June 14, 2013


I kept getting them.

Sometimes two, maybe three a day.  Long, incredibly specific emails detailing various scenarios.  How I would dominate him.  What I would say.  How we would wrestle first.  How I would establish myself as his master. 

I would be at work, trying to concentrate, when my iPhone would ping and I'd know that I had another email, either from him or Expedia.  Jesus, Expedia sends a lot of emails.  But then, so does he.  His are a lot more interesting. 

I'd click on the email and read.  As I said, they were long emails.  Several big blocks of text.  No pics.  Just detailed descriptions of what he wanted me to do, and what he wanted to do to me.

I was somewhat gratified to see that he had incorporated wrestling into his fantasies.  The first time we'd met, we'd wrestled but only briefly.  He knew that I wanted to roll longer.  So, he was attempting to accommodate me.  I could see it.  And I appreciated it.  Meant he wasn't completely self-centered about all this stuff.

So, I agreed to meet him again.

He asked me to come to his house this time.  Last time, we wrestled in his office, believe it or not.  This time I drove out to his place after work.  It was a beautiful summer day.  Bright sunshine.  Clear skies.  He lived out from town, down a winding country road.  The drive took about twenty minutes, and as I drove, I began to have some second thoughts about the whole thing.  I hadn't really enjoyed our first meeting that much.  I liked the wrestling.  I thought that was fun, but the rest of it--the humiliation, the face slapping, the name calling -all seemed a bit forced on my part.    But, I told myself that I was going to just go with it and see how it went.

He has a nice house.  Very large, and new, situated in a wooded area.  His house cannot be seen from the road, and he has a large room over his garage that is just perfect for wrestling.  When I arrived, he spent quite a bit of time recounting how his dog had recently died.  That obviously bothered him quite a bit.  Then, sort of out of the blue, he wanted to strip down and wrestle.

We did, and he got down on the carpet in the coach's position, and we went at it.  He's bigger than me--every one is--and out-weighs me by a good thirty pounds, but we rolled around and around, and first he had me down, then I escaped and got him down.  As I worked my way around him, I ran the top of my foot across the carpet and got the worst carpet burn I've had in a long time.

I won't recount exactly what all happened between us.  It was very sexual, and satisfying in some respects.  I wish he were better looking.  He's just not that appealing.  But, it was ok.

When we got done, he started talking...about his family, his prior experiences, and how he'd been trying to read the Bible all the way through.  He didn't appear to be religious,  I think he was just curious what was in the darned thing.  He told me a little about what he'd read, and I think he was surprised that I knew quite a bit about what he was telling me.  I told him that Southern Boys always know their Bible, that's why we're so good at mis-interpreting it!

So, anyway, I slowly figured out that he was sort of hard-of-hearing.  He kept asking me to repeat myself, or he'd just give me this unreadable look when I said something.  I started speaking louder.

So, again, I say, I don't think I'll go back.  I would love to use that big room as a wrestling room, but I'd rather wrestle someone else.

I am still working on Middleboro.  It's just taking me a while.  I will be wrestling a guy from Illinois next week.  I hope that's fun.  Then the week after, I fly to New England for work.  I am set to wrestle a guy in Boston that I have wanted to wrestle a long time.  So, I hope that is fun, too.

Friday, May 31, 2013

Summer 2013

Summertime has traditionally been a time of year when I have packed up my little bag of gear and headed out to Chicago or DC or someplace else to wrestle my friends, or my soon-to-be-friends.  This summer was supposed to be no different.  I was going to go to DC to attend a class, and while there, wrestle as many guys as I could pack into my hotel room.  But, alas, the class fell through and I wound up not going.

I was also planning on going to Canada in June.  But, again, it appears that that has fizzled out too.  For some good reasons that are hard to explain here, but I am a little disappointed because I was going to get to wrestle a guy that I have long wanted to wrestle.

Of course, things could be a lot worse.  And, I guess I shouldn't whine.  I'm set to wrestle a guy tomorrow, although he's not really into wrestling that much.  And I can always head down to Texas to see Mr. G. my erstwhile Master.  I'm sure he will gladly wrestle me to the floor and tie me up and do with me as he will.

I'm also set to wrestle a guy from up in Illinois in June, and another guy from NY in July.  So, as I said, things could be worse.  A lot worse.

I have no idea who that guy is in the pic above. I just like the look on his face.  He seems sort of conflicted about flashing that gun.  Makes me want to jump him and pin him to the carpet.  But, then, I generally want to jump just about every guy and pin 'em to the carpet.

I am still working on Middleboro.  The final few chapters will be coming out in the next week or so, although there may be a lag if Bazotter wants to illustrate them.  Otherwise, I will continue to blog about my desire to wrestle and continue to urge you guys to get out there and wrestle, too.  It is summertime, after all, and what better time to strip off your shirt and wrestle your bud? 

So, if you have any suggestions, please write me and let me know what I should do.  My travel is limited, unfortunately, but I wanna wrestle!

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Middleboro Part 17

It's time for another episode of Middleboro.  Again, we are graced with a series of pictures provided by Bazotter, and I think you'll like what he has done.  

But, before we get started, a few things:

The tornado in Oklahoma really shook me up.  I was just in Oklahoma last month wrestling with Festygoer and TheMan1984 (their globalfight handles).  I texted TheMan and he finally texted me back.  So he's okay.  But I still haven't heard anything from Festygoer.  He lives in Norman, which is just south of Oklahoma City.  I think Norman was spared but I'm not sure.  If anyone knows him, please let me know if he is ok.

I was strangely deluged with offers to wrestle this week.  The therapist wanted to get together again, and an old friend from here in town wanted to get together.  Then I heard from another guy whom I'd wrestled a few years ago who wanted to wrestle.  And, just as strangely, I had the house all to myself all week!  Guess what?  They all cancelled on me.  I wasn't too bummed as regards the therapist, but everyone else too?  Really?  Cruel fate.

Okay, on to Middleboro.


Jack felt his balls contracting, and his cock aching as the creature turned around, holding Jack across it’s back and displaying him for the crowd.  They were all indistinct faces, bronzed, muscular bodies, and huge cocks.  Many of them were stroking themselves.  Some were in the act of ejaculation, their huge sprays of white cum spattering the canvas of the ring and even hitting Jack on the forehead.

He couldn’t give in to this thing.  He had to fight it, had to find a way to beat it at its own game. 

But how?  The thing had taken on the guise of Derrick, Jack’s high school rival and tormenter.  Jack had never beaten Derrick, never been able to take him down and pin him in wrestling, and certainly had never been able to best him off the mats. 

Worse, Jack was so horny.  So worked up by the stimulation of the match.  The laughter of the crowd.  The humiliation of losing to his worst enemy.  It was all straight out of one of Jack’s masturbatory day-dreams.  He’d thought of this very scenario many times.  Jacked off to it, all the while hating himself for using Derrick as stimuli to pleasure.

He had to get away from it.  Had to break this hold. 

And suddenly he was face down on the canvas, Derrick’s foot on the back of his head.  The crowd roared with laughter.  Jack felt more cum hit him.  Derrick was above him, no doubt flexing in victory.

Jack got to his feet, and saw that Derrick was waiting on him.  He caught Jack’s arm and twisted it around behind him, and then leaned Jack over so that he could reach in between Jack’s legs and grab Jack’s balls.  Jack could feel Derrick’s scorn.  Feel his contempt.  But he could also feel Derrick’s big hand on his balls, squeezing and massaging them.

Then Derrick took Jack down to the mats.  He rolled Jack over and sat across his chest, Derrick’s big cock in Jack’s face.  The tip oozed pre-cum and Derrick wiped it across Jack’s lips and slapped Jack across the face a few times.  Jack tried to bridge up, and get Derrick off him, but Derrick adjusted his weight and then leaned in, cupping his hands behind Jack’s head.  Slowly he pulled Jack’s face into his hot, wet crotch and Jack had Derrick’s cock and balls in his face, against his lips. 

Derrick held Jack there for a bit and then moved down so his body covered Jack’s.  He was covered in sweat and he began working his body up and down against Jack’s cock.  Jack felt like his blood-pressure had sky-rocketed.  His whole body seemed about to explode in a spasm of hot, milky cum.  His breath came in short gasps, as he worked to get out from under Derrick.  But Derrick laughingly re-adjusted each time Jack moved so that their cocks were solidly against each other’s and Derrick’s was rubbing Jack’s with a fierce, almost mechanical precision.

Jack had never experienced anything this overwhelmingly sexual before.  He’d had sex plenty of times but never anything like this.  It felt so damned good, so great, but he knew that once he let go and shot that he would probably pass out as he’d done in Spanky’s basement.  His mind and his body fought not only to escape Derrick, but also itself as he wavered between giving in and fighting on.

And then that voice.  That odd, disembodied voice that scratched at his mind like fingernails.

“Give in.  That’s right.  Submit to me.  Don’t resist.  Just let it go.”

On and on the creature worked on Jack from every possible angle.  It was in his head, using his thoughts, his fantasies against him.  But, that was it, then, wasn’t it?  Jack was fueling its power.  Making it stronger.

He closed his eyes and began to think of something non-sexual.  Anything.  His Aunt Edna.  Work.  Mowing the yard.  Scenes and faces flashed through his mind and then…he sat up.

He was in total darkness on a cold concrete floor.  Derrick and the ring were gone.  So was the laughing crowd.

Jack’s balls and cock ached, and he wanted to jack off badly.  But he knew now that he could fight this thing.  That he could control it.  He got to his feet.  He was a little shaky.  Soaked in sweat. 

He had to find David.  But which way should he go?  He couldn’t see anything.  Wasn’t even sure where he’d entered this wide area in which he seemed to find himself.  He felt that he had to be in a large room.  Reaching up, he could not feel the ceiling.  Feeling ahead, there was no wall. 

So he walked forward, slowly, feeling his way, waiting for the next attack from the creature and wondering if he would ever find David…or Chris, again.

Sunday, May 19, 2013

The Wrestling Community...and another issue

The picture above is another drawing done by Bazotter for the continuing sex-horror story Middleboro.  [Side note to a fan: yes, it certainly is based on It.]  This picture goes with the end of the last segment, and I will go back and add it the the last post for the story.  In the meantime, episode 17 will be posted, with more of Bazotter's great art-work, in the next day or so.

I'm holding off on Middleboro because there are a few things I need to discuss with you. 

First of all, I want to talk about the Wrestling Community.  We guys who wrestle are all part of one, great big extended family that spreads across the United States, to Britain, continental Europe, into Asia and down to Australia and New Zealand.  We routinely fly to see each other.  Drive long distances. Modify work schedules.  All so we can get in a room, strip down to nothing, or put on our favorite gear, and wrestle.

We are a small community, considering.  There may be no more than 5,000 guys in the whole world who enjoy the sexual aspects of wrestling.  That, out of a population of billions, is pretty damned small.  So, when we lose a member of our family, it's noteworthy.

This past week, Battleboi passed away after a heroic fight with cancer.  He was a very close friend of mine.  Someone I enjoyed wrestling.  Enjoyed talking to over the phone.  Enjoyed trying to make laugh through emails.  He had a partner, Enthusiast (from DC), so he wasn't alone at the end, but I've found that I've been depressed the last few days wishing that I could have seen him one more time before he left us.  

Battleboi and I weren't in love, but I loved him.  Battleboi and I wrestled in DC, in St. Louis, and in Chicago.  We talked all the time, and I routinely signed off on my emails with BFF.   I loved him like I love many of my friends, and I think he cared for me, too.

As I said, we wrestlers are part of a community.  A family.  We have our black sheep.  Our assholes.  And our good guys.  We come together in pairs or in small groups and wrestle and get to know each other.  We explore each others fantasies, each others bodies, and we repel and attract like so many magnets.  For me, I often find that I have a weird form of separation anxiety when I take leave of one of my friends.  I like being with them. I love being with them.  Not in a sappy, stalker sort of way, but in a deeply masculine guy way.  They are my comrades in arms, my brothers, my buds.  They may not feel the same way about me, but I can't help the way I am.  I bond.  And, I bonded deeply with Battleboi.

So, I miss you Battleboi.  You were a fun wrestler and a great friend.  I hope that in some other place, we meet and wrestle again.


I mentioned in an earlier post that I was going to meet up with a guy here in town this past week and wrestle him.  Then, I was going to dominate him.  Well, the guy in the picture above is not what the guy looked like.  He was, instead, quite a bit taller than me, bald, sort of pot-bellied, and much heavier.  I had agreed to meet him in his office (he's a therapist) and when I arrived I opened the door and walked down a long corridor before I found him.

We sat and talked for a while and I could tell that he was not sure about me.  So, I asked him if he was disappointed that I wasn't larger.  He said that he was.  I reminded him that I had told him my stats and he nodded and said that he'd not really paid much attention to them.  So, I asked him if he'd like me to leave.  He said no.

He was very specific about the scene he wanted, and I agreed to comply.  So, he stripped down to a pair of shorts, got down on the floor, and I draped myself across him college-style.  We started to wrestle.  He was fun, in spite of the size difference.  He had an odd way of constantly trying to grab one of my feet in order to control me, but I worked loose, over and over, and finally got him down flat on his belly and put him in a nelson.

He whimpered and cried, and I made him give into me.  Then, I began to humiliate him.  I stripped him and made him eat his shorts.  I slapped him across the face with my hand and with my hard cock.  I showed him my biceps and made him crawl across the floor to suck my dick.

All-in-all, it was okay.  I enjoyed the wrestling far more than I enjoyed the humiliation part.  If I could have coupled that with some holds, I would have liked it better, but he didn't want me to do that, so I didn't.  

When we were done, we sat and talked for a bit.  He critiqued my...what's the word?  Work?  Acting?  I don't know.  He didn't like it when I got him in a headlock.  He didn't like it when I bragged about my strength.  He liked it when I made him suck my cock.  I took mental notes and watched as he sat in his chair behind his big desk and drank a beer.  I drank water.

So, I left, thinking that we'd never do that again, but the next day he started texting me again and talking about what he wanted me to do next.  I am not sure that I want to do anything with him.  I wouldn't mind wrestling with him, but his sexual scenarios are so specific--down to what I say--that I'm not sure I'm up for the gig.  Maybe I need acting lessons.

I've wrestled guys who wanted to enact a scene.  I've role-played.  I've repeated phrases that they said turned them on.  But I've never been in a sexual situation where I was expected to become a particular person.  A persona, that would turn him on.  Or not, if I failed to nail it.

I think it's too much damned work.

So, I'm not real sure about all this dom/sub stuff.  It's okay, but what I really like is wrestling.  I have no problem with being dominated in a wrestling match.  I love it when I'm put into a hold and jacked off against my will.  [Thank you, JTWrestler.]  That's the sort of dom/sub stuff I can get into.

More please!


Tuesday, May 14, 2013

A Dynamic of Control

It's always been wrestling with me.  So how did it all sort of tip over into dominance and control?  Okay, I understand that wrestling is about dominance and control.   I get it.  But dom and sub BDSM seems a little more kinky to me.  A little less wholesome.  A little less Iowa and a lot more San Francisco. 

Does any of that make any sense? 

But, I have to know.  Am I a natural submissive?  Or do I secretly want to dominate and control another man?
                                                    Me, looking quite helpless.

It is a question that I have asked myself for years.  My recent experiences tell me that I am capable of being submissive, but only with the right person.  Mr. G, my friend from Texas, is a good example of that type of person.  He has the physique and the attitude to allow me to shift into a submissive mode.  He knows what he wants and understands the dynamic of control--the psychology of dominance and submission.  He doesn't attack me.  He doesn't scare me.  He takes things slow and easy, and eases me into a frame of mind where I can relax and allow him to take control. 

                                                   Me, a slave of the dastardly Mr. G.

Of course, I want to experience the opposite as well.  I want to dominate.  I don't think that is possible with Mr. G. - and quite frankly, that's okay-- he's too alpha to be a my beta, so I will have to look elsewhere for willing submissives.  And, by the oddest of coincidences, I may have found one.

Completely unrelated to wrestling or this blog, I met a guy who admitted to me that he wanted to wrestle me.  He wants me to dominate him, and force him to perform sexual acts which, he says, he finds humiliating.  We have been discussing the possible parameters of this, and it appears that he and I are on the same page. 

                              Mr. G. flexes in triumph after defeating me in a wrestling match.
He lives here in town, which is pretty damned handy.  But, still, I'm a little nervous about this whole thing.  I think I over-think things, and I've sort of imagined myself into not wanting to go through with this.  Odd, I know.  How many times have I gone to a hotel room to meet a guy just to wrestle?  A lot, let me tell you.  But, this seems different to me.  There's a different vibe at work.  A different yin and yang.  Bondage stuff still seems sort of 1950's Betty Page to me.  We should be photographed with black bars across our eyes.

So, I'm not sure how I will do in this scenario.  I will see him first time tomorrow.  We are going to meet, wrestle, and then he will be my slave.  This will either be a remarkably entertaining afternoon, or I will rush home to scrub myself with steelwool.  Let's hope it's the former and not the latter.

                                       Me, looking sort of clean-cut and all-American.
I want to explore all this, though.  I really am curious to see how I do as a dominant.  I think I've learned a few things from Mr. G. - but his approach to me is not the same that I will employ tomorrow.  My friend here in town wants me to be pretty rough with him.  No pain.  But he does want me to be aggressive, and I intend to be aggressive.

So, anyway, I'll let you know how it goes.


Sunday, May 12, 2013


Over the last several months, I've talked about the possibility of me trying out various submissive and dominant scenarios.  I'm a lucky guy in the respect that I have friends who are willing to work with me on these things and whom I can trust. 

Trust is definitely the key factor.  To allow another person to tie you up and basically have their way with you, you have to trust that person a great deal.  I decided, this past weekend, to see if I could do that.  It turns out, I can, to an extent.

This past week has been sort of tough.  I was in a car wreck on Wednesday that scared me quite a bit.  It also screwed up my back and arm.  Friday night, my left arm just sort of quit working, and I was a little nervous that I'd really hurt it.  But, when I awoke Saturday morning, it was sore, but okay.  So I drove to Texas to meet up with my friend.  Is it significant that I wrestled my friend, and he tied me up and abused me, and my back and arm did not hurt once?  In fact, my back did not bother me until I put on my shoes to leave.  I guess my mind was on other things.

Anyway, trust was a big part of what I experienced.  My friend, let's call him Mister G, is extremely well-built.  Plenty strong, but not really any bigger than me.  In fact, that was part of the turn-on in all this to me.  I had a chance to beat him, and to escape, but he over-powered me and had his way with me (all with my consent).

Here's my captor.  He's hot, isn't he? 

I've never really done this sort of thing before, so I'd like to tell you what I experienced.  I think this can be a fun thing to add to your sexual life, but you have to know a little about what it entails.  For instance, you really do need to know the person you are with and be able to trust that individual.  You should maybe spend a little time talking about what each of you wants.  We did.  And, of course, you should establish a safe word.  Although for us, I was just going to say flat-out--please stop.  But I never did.

We started out wrestling.  We love each others bodies, and wrestling Mr. G is as much about feeling his well-defined muscles, as trying to pin him.  He's stronger than I am, but on that Saturday morning, I decided that I would not even really try to win.  I wouldn't just give up, but I was determined to be dominated.  Mister G gladly dominated me. 

Once I admitted his dominance on the mats, he led me into his bedroom where he fondled me and worked to put me at ease.  I was a little nervous.  Again, this was new to me.  And slowly he got me to relax and then blindfolded me.

Surprisingly, it was harder for me to relax than I'd thought it would be.  He bound my arms, and then my legs, and quietly explored my body.  He applied what felt like feathers to me and ran his hands over me, all the while reminding me that I was his. 

I did not enjoy all this as much as I wanted to.  I think the inability to see him sort of dampened the sexuality of it.  I am (apparently) very visual, and when he finally removed the blindfold and made me look at myself in the mirror, I started getting a lot hotter. 

The infliction of pain can be a big part of all this, and I'm not too crazy about it.  He put me across his lap--which I liked--and then spanked me.  I did not enjoy the spanking so much and I found it hard to keep an erection when he did that.  I think the play humiliation and helplessness are more of a turn on for me than the true infliction of any physical discomfort.  And we talked about that afterwards.

One of the things he did which I found oddly erotic was to put a necklace around my neck.  I liked that feeling of him owning me.  Of his advertising that I had given into him.  That appears to be a sexual fantasy that I like. The picture above is erotic to me also.  Here I knee before him, a leather belt around my neck.

Here's a better view of the necklace. 

So, am I a submissive?  Not really.  I don't think this is something that comes naturally to me.  I really want to play this scene out again, but this time I want to be the dom.  I have a chance to do that this coming week with a guy from here in my town.  I also have a chance to do this with a really hot guy later this summer.  But I think I need to practice.  I learned a lot from Mister G this weekend.  I learned how to allow a guy to relax.  To reassure him that you are there to facilitate a fantasy, not to hurt.  I learned to take it slowly, and to build up to the more intense scenes.  I also learned that it's important to gauge what turns your sub on.  My turn-ons are visual and tactile.  I like having his hands on me while I cannot respond.  And I like seeing him when he does it.  He has such great arms--I like the look of his biceps and deltoids as they contact and elongate when he is in the process of running his hands over me.

Will I do this again with Mister G?  Yes, absolutely.   Should you try it?  I would give that a qualified yes.  It depends on what you want in a sexual experience.  If this sort of thing is part of a recurring sexual fantasy, then I think you should search for someone to help you explore it.  Maybe that person is me. 

Monday, May 6, 2013

Middleboro Chapter 16

Here it is, chapter 16 with pictures by Bazotter.  Hope you enjoy it!

Chris stood in the increasingly cold water and looked around the open chamber.  A dull light fell onto him from the grate far above and he suddenly felt very alone.

Jack had disappeared down the dark tunnel behind the iron grate.  It had been shocking to see how quickly Jack had been swallowed by that gaping maw of a hole, and Chris leaned on the iron grate and tried to peer into the blackness beyond.  But there was nothing.  No sound.  No light.  Nothing.  It was as if Jack had disappeared from the earth entirely.

Chris turned and sloshed through the water toward the opposite end of the chamber to the tunnel where he and Jack had entered.  He would head back to the surface.  Find Spanky.  Find help.

Suddenly, the room was filled with the awful metal grating of another iron gate falling.  The tunnel where Chris was headed was suddenly closed off.  He was trapped in the chamber beneath the streets of Middleboro. 

He stood there, breathing hard, his leather pants suddenly feeling constraining and so damned hot.  He wanted to strip them off, he was sweating so badly.  So he did, draping them over an extended pipe.  He was standing there in nothing.  He hadn’t been wearing underwear.  And it suddenly occurred to him that being naked was probably not the best thing to do since obviously he was going to have to face the creature sooner or later.

Sooner, it seemed.

Above him, he saw a dark shape.  Two red eyes suddenly opened and Chris realized that the thing had been waiting for him, crouched in a dark corner, far from the fitful light provided by the grate above.  Chris backed up, but he was up against the cold concrete of the chamber and realized that he had very little room to maneuver. 

The thing extended its legs and Chris saw that it was like some sort of spider.  A shining strand of web or saliva or cum, he couldn’t tell which, allowed the bulk of the thing to lower slowly from the ceiling.  Chris shook with fear, and bounded back along the wall as the thing let go and splashed into the water, which suddenly seemed much higher than it had been.

And it was.  The water had been only a few inches deep but now it came up to Chris’ thighs, leaving his cock exposed just above the water line. 

The water was clear but there was little light and Chris couldn’t tell where the thing was.  It had to be under the water just in front of him and he braced himself for it to attack.  He brought up his fists and got in his stance.  But he was shaking violently.  Terrified. 

He stood and waited and waited and waited.  Nothing.  Where had it gone?  Chris looked at the water but it was so dark in the chamber he just couldn’t see.  And, strangely, he was getting hard.  His cock was becoming erect and Chris glanced down to see that something was on him. 

He panicked.  He brushed frantically at his cock. Something was on it, massaging his shaft.  Cupping his balls.  He couldn’t quite see what it was, but it felt good.  Too damned good.  He plunged his hands into the water and felt but there was nothing there.  What the hell? 

Then, with a jerk, he was pulled under.  Something had him.  The thing had taken on the shape of something slimy and wet and tentacled.  They were thick, muscular things, like cocks, each grasping him like a snake.  One encircled his waist.  Another caught hold of one arm.  Another pulled a leg from underneath him.  Yet another clamped onto his cock and balls and squeezed.  Yet another felt for his ass. 

He fought to get his head up out of the water and gulped for air as he broke the surface.  The thing was on him, holding him in its steel-like grip.  He fought wildly, trying to pry the one tentacle from his arm with his free hand, all the while trying not to think about the thick tentacle that caressed his balls and cock.  Another slithered up and around his neck.  How could he fight something with so many arms?  How could he possibly escape?

Then it truly had him. The tentacle around his neck pulled back on his head while both arms were suddenly pinioned. The tentacle around his waist brought him up, exposing his cock.  Then, out of the water arose a massive figure with a stunningly muscular torso.  For arms it had eight tentacles, writhing fleshy protuberances that each ended in a head like a cock.  Its face was beautiful.  Handsome.  But it leered at Chris in a sexual frenzy and Chris knew that it was going to make him cum.  He was going to be held there in place and worked over until he gave up his spunk to this monster.

Then, he felt it.  The last of the eight tentacles, working its way up between his ass cheeks, feeling its way into his rectum.  He was going to get fucked by this thing.  It was going to jack him off while fucking him.

And it did, too. 

Chris suddenly felt the thick cock-like tentacle drive itself into his ass, hitting that spot just behind the prostrate that felt so damned good.  It was an overwhelming feeling.  One that could have made him cum even without the tentacle wrapped around his cock and balls.  But with both, Chris could feel himself giving in.  Surrendering to this thing.  Willing himself to ejaculate and get it over with.  It would feel so damned good, anyway.  He could almost feel it before it happened.  Feel the tightness in his balls.  The constriction of his cock.  Oh God, he was going to blow.


He wanted Jack. 

God, how he wanted Jack to be there.  To help him.  To free him from this thing. 

He didn’t want to cum and die or whatever it was that happened when you gave into the thing.  He didn’t want to give in.  Not yet.  Not now.  Not ever.

And then, almost instantaneously, the thing dropped him, it’s slimy tentacles receding into the waters.  Chris fell headlong, almost head first, and furiously fought to find his footing and get his head up out of the water. 

He was in that weird, underwater freefall, when he just couldn’t seem to find his footing.  He was near panic.  When an arm caught him, and brought him up.

He was coughing from the water, but he was ready too.  He turned, his fists up.

“Hey!  Hey!  It’s okay, Chris.  It’s okay!”

Chris took a swing.  Another.  He brushed the water from his face and eyes.


Jack was standing there, holding him.  Grinning that stupid grin.


He nodded and smiled.

“Thank God you’re here!” Chris threw himself onto Jack and Jack drew him in, his strong arms around him.  He had never been so happy to see Jack, never been so relieved.  Thank God.  Thank God.  Jack.

Chris drew back.  “What happened to you?  How’d you get back here?”

Jack merely leaned in and kissed Chris, his lips feeling so great.  His warm tongue slipping into Chris’ mouth.  They were both naked.  Both hard.  And Chris felt so safe.  So secure.

He tried to pull back, but Jack kept kissing him, working his lips, slightly biting Chris’ lower lip, his tongue sliding gently in and out of Chris’ mouth. Chris was suddenly aware that this was no time to make out.  No time to screw around.  They had to get out of there.  That creature.  That thing.  It was still there in the chamber with them. 

It was still there.

Chris tried to draw back, but Jack would not let up.  Would not let go. 

This wasn’t Jack.

Sunday, May 5, 2013

Thinking Back

Okay, so this is a true story.

One warm Spring night when I was in Eighth Grade, I was hanging around in the garage with my older brother.  My brother loved motorcycles, and all his friends did, too.  So, it was pretty typical for him to open the garage door and tinker with his rides.  Sometimes I hung around just to talk.

A car pulled up and one of my brother's friends got out.  He had a guy with him.  He was my age.  Blonde.  In pretty descent shape.  His name was Doug, and I'd seen him at school, although he didn't really run with the same crowd as me.  When they walked into the garage, everyone greeted each other, and Doug and I, since we were younger, naturally paired off.

I remember walking around to the front yard with Doug.  I think we must have been talking about school or something.  Then, on an impulse, I asked Doug if he wanted to wrestle.  I did that a lot in those days.  I had not reservations about it, although a lot of times, guys turned me down.

Doug did not.

We walked around to a place between our house and a neighbor's house where we could wrestle with no interruptions.  I suppose it was my idea for us to wrestle there.  I think it was my idea to wrestle with no shirts, too.

I loved wrestling Doug.  He was strong, but no more than me, so when we wrestled it was an endless change of position and dominance.  He had a great body.  Not really muscular but definitely well-defined.  He was tanned and I liked that he was blonde.

I'm not sure how long we wrestled, but when we were done, Doug announced to my brother and his friends that we'd been wrestling.  I know that my face must have gone scarlet, because to me, wrestling was sex.  I equated them so strongly with each other that the mere mention of wrestling could turn me on.  As you might expect, my brother and his friends grunted something and kept talking about motorcycles.

From that day, I became Doug's best friend.  He constantly invited me over to his house where we wrestled endlessly on his bed in his bedroom.  He had a dark bedroom that was downstairs, and away from his parents bedroom.  The walls of his bedroom were covered in blacklight posters (it was the 70's, so sue me) and we frequently wrestled in the near darkness.

I was hopelessly in love with Doug, and he was oddly attracted to me.  I began to hang with his friends, who were all jocks compared to my previous friends.   Several of them, Joe and Mike, in particular, were really handsome and they liked to wrestle too, although not as often as Doug and I.

Eighth, ninth and tenth grade passed like that with Doug and I experimenting with drinking and smoking while wrestling in the darkness in his room.  The wrestling only slowly became more sexual, and as it did, Doug began to pull away from me. 

I remember one night, in particular, in ninth grade, when Doug and I were alone in his parents' house.  He wanted to wrestle, and insisted that we drag this huge mattress up from the basement so that we could wrestle on it. I insisted that we wrestle in just our briefs.

Doug had improved as a wrestler by ninth grade, and he was slowly becoming stronger than me.  I loved that because for the previous year I had dominated him, and I wanted him to fight me more.  Suddenly, he could.  As we wrestled that night, I got harder and harder, and so did he.

And then suddenly, he stood up and said, "I don't wanna do this any more."

That ended our wrestling.  We put away the mattress while I basically pleaded with him to wrestle me some more.  Then, I got on my bike and went home, tears running down my face.

The next few months were torture.  I wanted to see Doug so badly, but he avoided me at school and would not return my phone calls.  Once, when he did, he asked me to come over, and I hopped on my bike and rode as fast as I could.  But when I arrived, he'd gone.  It had been just a cruel set-up.

I guess I seem pretty pathetic in this story, but remember, I was only a middle schooler, and Doug was my first, true love.  My heart literally broke, and I could not discuss it with anyone.  I had never felt so all alone.  So absolutely isolated.

You see, wrestling is not just about the sexual excitement, to me, it is also an attempt, however misguided, to recapture something that I lost.  It is a vain, foolish hope sustained by an almost unconscious need to reconnect with someone who, quite frankly, does not exist anymore.  I am no middle school kid anymore.  I am an adult, and I have an adult's understanding of how the world works and how powerful our first sexual experiences can be.  Even when those first experiences are not, strictly speaking, sexual.  But I still hold out a hope.  A dumb-ass, misguided hope about the world and it's inhabitants.  I guess I'm still looking for Doug.