Sunday, May 19, 2013
The Wrestling Community...and another issue
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.