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.

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.


Friday, May 3, 2013

Discovering Ourselves

Isn't that a cool digital picture?  That's from Naked Combat (the link is on my blog).  I think it's really hot and who doesn't love a crane shot?  Even a digital one? 

So, I posted a short video on my Globalfight profile.  I think you have to be a premium member to see it, so everyone can't view it.  But, to summarize it for you basic and non-members, I issued a challenge to the world -- to all guys -- to wrestle me.  I felt that it would make good sense for guys who want to wrestle me to see what they may be getting.  Truth in advertising.  I think that's better than showing up at some hotel room and having the guy look aghast.  It's happened. 

                                                Will Grant - BMX biker and model

I am trying my best to get out there and explore my limits on things.  Lately, it has taken a turn toward dominance and submission.  I've talked about it here on my blog a few times recently, and I've alternated between being interested and...well...not being interested.  However, I think I've found a great solution.  I've come across (figuratively speaking) two guys who will play the roles with me.  One will be submissive and the other expects me to be submissive.  That should give me a pretty clear picture of what this is all about.

Both guys are screaming hot.  I mean, really.  Both are about my size.  Both are muscled up and cute.  It's gonna be interesting seeing how this goes. 

Now, let me clear, I will be with one guy, and then the other.  This is no group thang. 

Why am I doing this?  I find that I have to know how I will react in these situations.  I want to explore my sexual roles a little.  I'm not getting any younger, so now is the time to try things and see how they go.

Meanwhile, I continue to write on Middleboro and Bazotter (that insanely talented artist) is busy drawing new pics for our...ahem...pleasure.  I will also be keeping you up-to-date on how all this exploring goes.

So, in the meantime, all of you---hit the gym!  Eat right!  And wrestle, damn you!