It's been a while since I have written well... much of anything really, I guess life has gotten away from me. I've been so busy racking up the lost kilos, getting work under control, and meeting as many wrestlers as I could within the time I could give to wrestling... I've had so many experiences that I haven't written about - and I hope that the guys I haven't written about - don't feel that their matches have someone been any less inspiring or exhilarating because that would be far from the truth. So I took a couple of weeks off from wrestling over Christmas and it was in Amsterdam that the first fight of the year was to take place.
It was originally going to be three fights in one night, but as I sit here writing a new entry I realise that maybe that would have been far too much to chew off anyway. I had a chance to wrestle once more with my gelato - a guy with whom the connection both mentally and physically seems to work quite well. I like matches where we can begin having a nice intellectual discussion but at the same time still give ourselves fully to the act of physical exertion - and even better if we can play games that only adults should be allowed to play.
This was our third match-up, and so far my progression in skill had meant that I'd been progressively able to exert my dominance through much of the match - to be fair my adversary likes the sensual aspect of the sport and so he is far less competitive than I can get... and I had been in the previous match-ups. But we changed things up this time around, deciding to limit the space where we could wrestle both to prevent us having to rearrange the whole room and also to see what would happen.
We picked each other's gear - I had brought some of my new singlets and he had a new pink underwear to show off so he picked for me to wear my new all-white N2N singlet, with see-through mesh on the side of my legs, whilst I picked for him his new pink underwear for sure as it showed of nicely his complexion and brought out his eyes. With that picked, we head up to the mezzanine where the bed was located and where we had decided to place the match.
The dynamic of the match changed in a very interesting way actually...Because the space was more limited it prevented certain escape moves from becoming possible and as a result it required a lot more constrained moving around to get out of holds and to apply holds. Whereas I like to lay perpendicular to a guy (a trick I was taught in one of the inspiring matches I probably should have written about but didn't), here it wasn't as possible to achieve because the space just wasn't there. Being able to move a body around to get it in a position to get scissored also was far less possible... And in this game of tight spaces, my adversary was certainly able to level things far more.
We exchanged roles being on top, and as the match progressively got hotter - both in terms of body heat as well as erotic heat, the proximity played its part. Hands remained squeezing family jewels, resting on the others' ass in efforts to distract and leverage a more commanding position. Slaps were not far behind, as well as squeezing of nipples. But I could feel I wasn't in top form, fatigued by the return to work perhaps, or something else, I just wasn't landing my scissors the way I wanted them and my pace was too slow giving him plenty of time to anticipate my coming moves and to frustratingly block them.
Perhaps I should have been lucky that this wasn't a competitive match because I am not certain that this one would been a win... How did it conclude, you might ask? Let's just say that once I did get him in an elusive schoolboy pin, the need to climax took over from the need to conclude the match and my tool in his mouth led him to climax very generously as well. As I got off from him, I couldn't help but admire my drained adversary - at least had it been a first to cum match - I would have won handsomely. Sometimes though, it's just better to leave things as a friendly showcase rather than make it too competitive.
Onto the next matches, I hope this year brings me a lot more fun, challenges, and wrestling action for topping rights! Are you ready? I sure am...
Captain's Log, Stardate 011117.16 - "I'm learning, I'm progressing, I want to be the best that I can be."
Sometimes the writer's hand lifts itself and scribes the imagination's thoughts faster than a snap of a finger whilst other times the story takes time to percolate and come to life. Sometimes it might be because the inspiration source has to experienced, analysed, and the impact measured before it can make its way to writing utensil and support. I think this match is one of those, well the whole week probably was one of those, I had my first week where all the matches I had planned actually happened and whilst last week was also a week where (spoiler alert) loss was the theme, it also allowed me to take stock of the progress I’ve made since joining the site and progress I still wish to make in order to consider myself a competent adversary who knows what he’s doing, knows where he wants to take his adversary, and lock the win. So whilst this week wasn’t about that, it certainly was a week where I met fantastic, experienced adversaries who taught me a thing or two about arm locks!
My mind is a blur, each wrestler was so different from one another, my first of the week was a very handsome man in fact, whose training experience in wrestling and martial arts clubs showed through on the mat without hesitation. One of the things I love about when wrestling with an experienced wrestler is that they’re able to show you holds that you would never think of doing and if you stumble on patient ones, they’re willing to let you try and see where you end up. Our session was intense and passionate, and the true victim no doubt was the hotel’s bedsheets which ended up being completely drenched in our sweat and perhaps the speedos.
Whilst experience was on his side, our stats were showing pretty level on the mat, which I think added to the fun so that neither bodies had to be wasted on throwing excessive weight off and instead focus on technical prowess. I think what I took away most from this battle of wits was how far I had progressed on anticipating attacks, whilst eventually submissions came, they certainly took a while to arrive and often happened on counter-attacks following an unsuccessful application of an arm bar or other move.
The erotic finish itself was amazing, rare are the boys that are so well endowed – and I was proud to be able to show him a trick or two to make him climax. I was so delighted, he alone made it worth coming back to Munich for another bout!
The second match of the week the following evening was a whole different affair, having been losing weight pretty aggressively what had been on paper a more balanced weight match when we agreed to meet had steadily become lopsided. Despite that, I probably sweated and worked harder during this match than in the previous one. He both had the weight advantage, and a technical advantage which showed as he consistently had me under him pinned in various guises of a schoolboy pin which would free him up to play with my facial features or my gut! I was relieved that he was extremely careful on his gut punching when he did decide to go there…
Like the speedos the day before, my white N2N singlet and his red singlet were getting drenched in sweat as tried to keep my fiery resistance under control – and succeeding over all. We concluded with a first-to-cum loses match, where the positions ended up quite the same, but luckily my trusty partner in crime down under had decided that he wanted to give me a fighting chance and refused to explode quite so quickly. Instead – and perhaps become he was just as horned up as me – he let himself get milked first before we concluded with me… What a great way to finish off a trip to Munich!
Back home… I had made two new friends that I was certainly willing to see again in an upcoming visit back. I had one more fight to conclude the week in my home turf in Brussels. I had booked for us a hotel room to spend the afternoon and we agreed to meet at the train station to go to the hotel together. The contact before the match was cordial, not excessively warm, but not cold either and in the end it proved an easy enough match to arrange despite our two excessively busy schedules. As I waited for him at the train platform, my backpack carrying a selection of clothes which would prove wholly inadequate for our match, I felt the butterflies again that I often get ahead of a wrestling match. I guess I’m just eager to please and worry often that I might not pass muster.
As he walked up the corridor I thought I had recognised him, but it took one walk-by before we realised we indeed had recognised each other. There he was, I checked him out, not sure if he was feeling my gaze as I looked at his tall and slender figure. Standing at 1m90 versus my 1m78 I was having to look up at him, he had short dark black hair and a beautiful set of eyes to match, his clothes were dark coloured and plain, and I hadn’t at first noticed his backpack full of goodies that we would later discover. He was quite a dashing fella indeed.
We wasted no time taking a metro closer to the hotel and then walking together all the while exchanging more about each other and common adversaries that we knew. We checked into the room and spent a bit more time shooting air and getting more comfortable with each other’s presence. I asked him about his previous match the week before as it involved him against known acquaintances. The hotel room was large, with a huge mattress that would serve as our wrestling ground, unfortunately it couldn’t be moved to the ground but there was enough space to have fun for sure. I placed my things on one of the storage furniture, whilst my adversary put his on the other side of the room. We agreed to start with singlets, one of my favourite if not the favourite kit to start with because I find that they have a way of wrapping a body like no other kit.
I checked him out anew, his N2N kit was an older white and orange version of my dark grey one and boy did it suit him. We got onto the mattress and he suggested I showed him what I had in order for him to adjust his gameplay, with my 15 fights to his 90+ there was indeed a difference in experience even though he was the younger of the two of us (an impressive record by any measure!). And there we launched at each other, our bodies connecting for the first time, my hands wrapping around his arms in an effort to try and gain control whilst my legs grapevined to try and complete a lock. I remembered the advice I had received just a few days prior in Munich about trying to control shoulders and hips but from theory to practice there was still some ways to go.
Boy was he strong! he was able to counter my attacks with seeming relative ease, and when I was on top of him and controlling his arms I wasn’t remembering how to apply the arm locks well enough as I had been shown before, so he was able to just bide his time carefully and attacking when I would make a mistake in positioning or relaxing body parts that were anchoring him in place. He was complimentary, confirming I wasn’t a push-over by any measure even if it was clear which way the match was going. I made good efforts anticipating and countering his efforts to secure leg-led headlocks against me. His killer weapons indeed resided there, his legs and the scissors that could be applied to them were surprisingly strong from such a seemingly light frame. I had received more tips and advice about those previously, but I remember distinctly one leg-scissor he applied that had me nearly screeching so painful it was. Whilst I suspected already before scissors was not a place I wanted to be against him, that was confirmation enough of the wisdom of my analysis!
I can’t tell if I am remembering everything in the right order, we then began changing gears as the rapport de force became quite clear. From singlets, to more revealing speedos, our bodies were revealed to each other – I was complimented on how far my body had evolved compared to my profile pics on MeetFighter, indeed I had changed a lot, and it’s only when I see the pictures that he took of me that I realise just how much. The transition from hard-core wrestling towards a far more intimate exchange was so smooth and I discovered more and more of my adversary’s quite extraordinary body… not only were my eyes treated but so was creative side we talked about writing, and fantasy and science-fiction, and the stories that we were working on… the connection the shared passions, it made the wrestling even more rewarding.
We continued sparring for a few more bouts but it was clear that we had other things progressively on our minds as final layers of clothes disappeared and we began playing with each other in the most intimate of ways. He allowed me to play with one of his most sensitive spots, but I soon realised that doing that only would lead to a yo-yo effect of dominance that was exhilarating to see. He climaxed on butt cheeks in generous gushes and then later he discovered ways to make me climax in power jets of cream. As we showered together, I think both of us realised just how much we enjoyed the experience and how much we wanted it to be the first of many encounters. Or at least that’s what I’d like to think.
What a whirlwind of a week that was, with so many memories swimming in my head I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to commit it all to writing. It’s so hard keeping track of all the details, but for me the most important of all is knowing that the connections made are first contacts that will be renewed again in the future to come. In the meantime, I’m learning, I’m progressing, I want to be the best that I can be.
Glancing out on the high-speed train back to Belgium, seeing the Dutch on their bikes commuting to their workplace. The cars' headlights still bright white as the sky slowly turns brighter, still hazy with light grey clouds but hints of pale blue and almost peach colours breaking through. The view changes rapidly, from historic buildings to much more modern industrial warehouses and office towers lacking any particular identity, before the density starts breaking down once more to a much more suburban feel with generous tree-lined streets and parks, and more widely dispersed housing towers and small houses laid out with meticulous urban planning care that is the Dutch's signature trait.
As the scenery changes, I am left with an incessant image of a whole other sorts. Flashes of images that start to form a story. White lycra... with accents of red. A dark royal blue lycra with accents of mustard yellow. The masculine grunts and the image of muscles stretched tight, hands connecting to flesh and lycra alike, bare legs wrapped around bare legs... grunts giving way to moans of pain and pleasure a chorus just the same. I have time, this train journey is only beginning and as the high-speed train pulls into the first station, I decide to let my mind wander and make the most of this precious time left to my own thoughts.
As J-J glanced at the hand-written note that had been left on his work desk. He looked at it again 13 Rue des Fantômes, the street of the phantoms. There didn't seem to be another house for kilometres, only the shadows of trees and the small paved country road filled with imperfections.
He tentatively put the note back into his sports bag, deciding that he had come to the right place. Before he could enter, he was met by an imposing iron gate that stretched two meters high. On both sides of the gate, tall red-brick walls lined with trees behind it marked the domain's limits. The brick wall itself was aging, one could identify a number of masonry patterns along the wall that hinted at detailed brick work commissioned by the domain’s owners. At regular intervals the wall was even higher creating pedestals that no doubt housed elaborate statues before but no longer were there. Parts of the wall were starting to fall apart due to a lack of maintenance that probably stretched decades. J-J took a deep breath and then pulled down the rusting handle. It was unlocked, and the gate whined as he pushed half of the gate to open, the paintwork breaking up into fragments whilst the red and black metal underneath slowly gave way to the pressure, the leaves on the ground being pushed to the sides.
It was getting darker; the sun had just set and there was just enough lingering light for J-J to see down the long gravel pathway that led to an impressive lord's house. The building stood slender and tall, with the dark burgundy red brick that was so common to this part of Belgium. The window frames were made of timber which had seen better days, the dark green paintwork just like the gate showed all types of cracking nerves and was seemingly ready to break off with just the right wind. Six windows to each side of the front door, stretching up three stories. The front door was clearly designed to impress, an impressive patio covered with an iron and glass gazebo. The iron clearly came from the art-nouveau and art-deco era and perhaps helped to age the last time the house had been used. The ironwork had been twisted and turned to look like vines wrapped around a tree - it no doubt costed the owner a fortune... What a shame to leave in such bad state, J-J reflected as he approached the front door. Underneath his feet, he heard glass breaking and the sound of more leaves as he stepped on some of the panes that no doubt formed part of the gazebo at one time.
The house was dark, he couldn't see any lights, but as he moved his hand forward to open the door, the door opened before he could complete his action. He stood aback, before deciding to precede inside regardless his apprehension. The entrance hall was huge, a wooden staircase in the middle led to upstairs, but J-J could tell that the wood had rotten through and that it was unsafe to go upwards. The hallway itself was covered with Belgian blue stone and white marble, quite untypical of the period in which the rest of the house was built. Yet J-J recognised it as being of a local origin. There were no lights, electric or otherwise, but yet he could somehow see clearly through to the end of the various corridors which led away from the central hall.
He lifted his sports bag anew and proceeded down one of the corridors, along the way he tried to open one or two of the doors finding them to be locked. Without warning, he felt something on his left arm just underneath where his V-neck shirt gave way to his naked, lightly haired and fair skin. The hair on the skin lifted up, goose bumps forming as he looked around trying to see who might have touched him. He couldn't see anyone, nor had he indeed heard of anyone walking about.
"You are going the right way, just keep walking ahead," a voice whispered into his ear in Walloon, the local French dialect. His face whitened as J-J froze and stood still, there was no one in the room, and yet he could feel a presence, the sensation moving from the arm towards the hand tugging J-J along, "Don't be scared. I won't hurt you..." The hand was tugging harder, as J-J was guided down the corridor, until they dead-ended towards two large French doors. "I've been waiting for someone like you for so long." The voice whispered.
"Who... who are you?" J-J finally got the courage to reply, as the doors once again opened without any intervention on his part.
“I am the one who wrote you the note,” The voice had shifted location, it wasn’t next to him anymore, it was coming from the centre of the room whose doors had just opened. J-J peered through the huge ballroom, above his head, three crystal chandeliers hung high from the ceiling. The room was long and narrow, and there was a huge fireplace at the centre of it on the wall opposite of where he had come from. In the centre of the room he could discern a body shape finally. A person – full flesh and blood.
“Come on in, don’t be scared,” the person stood still in the middle, as soon as J-J made his first step into the room, the chandeliers lit up, a soft glow that made it easier to see the fancy wall paper that had once been the owner’s pride. The wall-paper depicted scenes of Belgium’s colonial past, the glories of the Congo, he recognised the building cities in the middle of the jungles, the struggles of man against lion, the artwork or what was left of it was faded but quite meticulous.
And then his eyes set on the person in the middle. He could finally get a look at the body and he was surprised. A dark almost ebony-coloured man stood waiting for him, his pearly white teeth contrasting with his dark complexion, his deep brown eyes and his black curly hair cropped short. He was already dressed in a singlet that was white, black and red. He noted that the singlet fit his body extremely well, from his narrow heels to his much bulkier and muscular thighs… A clearly well-endowed package hidden in the centre, before giving way to a compact but muscular upper-body. The singlet couldn’t hide that the man also had a behind that often-endowed Africans, his back curving in such a way as to accentuate the feature.
The doors slammed shut as J-J and his bag penetrated deeper into the room, making a loud bang with some of the dust forming a plume around it. J-J turned around instinctively to try and open the door but it was locked and pull and push as he might it wasn’t giving way anymore. He could feel again the sensation of hands around his chest, coaxing him away from the door, “No! No!” he shouted as he tried to break free, but he was trapped. He turned around seeing the African man, who seemed his age just smiling, “Open this door right now!”
“It doesn’t work that way,” He walked towards J-J who nearly recoiled back towards one of the walls, “He doesn’t allow that.”
“”Who is he? Who are you?” He quickly blurted out, putting emphasis on the he and the you.
“You must fight him,” The voice whispered in his ear, J-J closed his eyes, where was he? What was this place? Why did he follow the instructions of the note.
“Yes, wrestle him” another voice whispered but it wasn’t the same voice, “We will not let you go before you do…” Again another distinguishable voice. He felt two hands grab his shoulders, he opened his eyes, it was the man in his singlet. “Ignore them.”
“How can I, they are in my head! Who are you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” He answered, letting J-J go, “But what they are telling you is correct. You cannot leave this house until we wrestle or you face living out your eternity here.”
“My eternity? Wrestle you? What??”
“Don’t feign ignorance, J-J,” the wrestler answered, “You followed the instructions of the note to the letter so far, to the letter. You know what is to come next.”
He felt his bag lifting from the ground as the zipper opened, and J-J’s singlet was revealed. The voices again, spoke “Such a nice singlet,” “Yes, royal blue and mustard yellow suits him,” “put it on him!” J-J felt the sensation of many hands, pushing his hands and arms up before he could react and starting to strip him out of his apparel. He tried to resist but the force was too strong for him, “Nice resistance and musculature,” one of the voices commented, “Yes, they are getting taller aren’t they, I would say 1m80… 80 kilos, nice buttocks,”
“Hey!” he shouted in protest as the voices commented him like a piece of meat in a butcher shop.
“Well you do have a nice one” The voice whispered, “He will like that very much.”
“Who will like that?” J-J grumbled.
“Me,” The wrestler had a broad smile as the voices and their hands made quick work of J-J’s clothes. He felt a rush of embarrassment as his naked body was presented to the wrestler like some sort of trophy, his body was elongated like many local Belgians, long legs, and a slightly smaller upper-body frame, his body was defined but not overly muscular, slender but not too.
His green eyes had sparkles of orange whilst his almost jet-black hair was cut neither long, neither short – a proper haircut for someone working in an office, his pale skin contrasted sharply with that of the wrestler. He hadn’t even noticed that the hands had aroused him, as somehow, they were able to put the singlet on him, leaving his body wrapped tight around the singlet he had brought inside his sports bag, hugging his body close.
“I am not wrestling you… whoever you are,” J-J protested.
“Oh, but you will…” The wrestler paused, “Because you must, J-J.”
J-J could hear the voices heckling in his mind, “we will enjoy this match very much, he has spirit,” the wrestler gave JJ more space as he moved back towards the centre of the room, his body adopting a starting stance that was reminiscent of wrestlers in Greco-Roman style. J-J could feel a sensation on his back as he was pushed into the room, now wearing the singlet that had been put on against his behest. He tried to resist the forward motion, but the power was insurmountable. “The rules are simple,” he could hear the very first voice that had haunted him so thoroughly in the corridor, “One round, whomever submits to the other must give himself to him.
Other voices came into his ear, “Yes, just as the note says! No holds barred” another voice heckled “You must honour the note! Someone must be conquered!”
J-J was distracted, but he soon felt the hands stopping to push him, but now his neck was grabbed by the right hand of the wrestler, and his chest by the left hand. J-J relented, he understood that neither the voices nor the wrestler staring in front of him were going to let him back out. His right hand rested on the wrestler’s chest – he could feel his warmth, his pulse, as he placed the other hand on the hip, feeling the singlet’s cold lycra.
“Yes, a wrestling match!” The voices whistled in glee, “We wonder who will win!”
The dark eyes connected with J-J’s, despite JJ’s fear and distrust, there was something alluring about this man that he was about to wrestle. But before he could get too distracted, he felt the hands and arms flexing, coaxing JJ’s body into a forward motion. J-J resisted, his back leg planted firmly against the wooden ballroom floor that must have hosted many elaborate banquets. J-J returned the favour, trying to pull his adversary back towards him, the two bodies see-sawing for control. The force was different, it wasn’t insurmountable like the hands that had undressed and re-dressed him. Both men grunted as they felt the other not giving way, the balance of power was equal at this stage. The two men tugged at each other and their singlets, forcing the singlets to tighten and show off their flexed bodies even better.
“What a nice view!” One of the voices commented, whispering in the ear of J-J.
Before he could react, the ebony wrestler side-stepped and used his arms to twist J-J, pushing J-J off balance and falling on his side. The momentum of the falling bodies forced them both to hit the ground. J-J was surprised, whilst the ground had the aspect of a hardwood floor and the landing would certainly have hurt, the landing was in fact more akin to a wrestling mat. He didn’t have much time to think about this further as his slender back was facing the ebony wrestler who himself had misjudged the strength required and was now rolling over him and having to turn around to grab a hold of J-J’s shoulders to hold him in place. J-J was not going to let that happen, he followed the motion, grabbing the unknown wrestler’s head and trapping him in his arm whilst he rolled himself in a more favourable position and locked the headlock tight.
“What a glorious fall,” the annoying voice whispered… “yes wonderful counter-attack” another echoed.
The wrestler grunted as J-J’s arms squeezed the air out of him and choked him. J-J turned his head around, seeing the African Adonis’ lycra-wrapped ass held up high as he struggled to break free from the headlock that was applied. The African was strong, he firstly tried using hands to break the lock that way but when he found that he couldn’t he started to buck his body wildly, trying to force his face free through a pulling action. He wasn’t giving up and slowly but surely, he was finding a way to slip out. J-J tried to move his body to the side so he could have more space to give more power through his arms. Both men grunted – one in a valiant effort to break free, the other in an effort to remain in control – but J-J was tiring until finally in one hard pull the nameless wrestler broke free forcing a mad dash for control.
On their knees, the two bodies crashed into each other, their bodies glistening with fresh pearls of sweat that rolled down their shoulders. One would push the other down, bringing the knees and legs closer, only to feel the counter-attack and being forced in turn to do the same. The struggle continued for a few more minutes until the nameless wrestler changed tactic, he reached forward towards J-J and pulled him towards him, quickly shifting his weight forcing both him and J-J back to the ground, the Adonis on his back and J-J on top of him. J-J winced in pain, exclaiming as the real objective of the wrestler felt itself known, his scissor perfectly applied high along the chest. The pain was excruciating – no doubt just as painful as the headlock he had applied on the Adonis.
“AH! The boy is in trouble!”
J-J had to get out of this scissor, he first tried to pry open the scissor using his hand but the strength being applied was too much. He tried to breath like a woman in labour, as he then tried to move his body back to change the angle where the scissor was applied but that didn’t work either. He moved his hands towards the neck of the wrestler, whose face was also contrite as he tried to summon all the force in him to finish this scissor. J-J’s hands connected with the neck and he pushed whilst trying to lift himself using his legs. The scissor held on tight, with his adversary’s body lifted, he allowed them both to crash back down to the floor, the African Adonis’ wind taken out of him as their two bodies reconnected. The scissor held. He lifted once more and repeated the action. Once again… twice more… it took four lifts and drops before finally the scissor broke and J-J was able to extricate himself to the visible frustration of the nameless wrestler.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt me,” J-J commented aloud, ignoring the voices and focusing his attention on his sweating adversary.
“If I wanted to hurt you, you would be feeling something very different,” The nameless wrestler let out a hearty laugh.
“I told you that this one wasn’t to be toyed with,” the voice commented.
“Shut up!” J-J shouted at the ceiling.
“We are not there,” one of the voices responded, J-J could feel on his body a hand coursing from the shoulder towards one of his nipples, he could feel the hands tugging at his singlet and pulling the straps and leaving his nipples even more exposed for the wrestler to see. He felt a squeeze on both nipples. J-J being sensitive there moaned in surprise, “We are here.” He felt another hand massaging his rounded butt cheeks and another along his crotch making his body tingle with pleasure and anticipation. There was something so arousing that he couldn’t help to get hard a
record pace, “See how he likes being pleasured.”
“The fight is not over,” The wrestler complained, the hands immediately stopped groping J-J, “You do not get to touch him.”
“They are right about something… J-J,” The wrestler banked his head towards his right shoulder.
“You do seem to like being pleasured,” The wrestler lunged without warning at J-J, forcing him on his back as the full weight and force crashed into JJ’s slender physique. J-J was on his back, and the wrestler was mounting him – chest-to-chest, leg-to-leg… One of the wrestler’s hands plunged into the singlet, rubbing J-J’s hardening member, whilst another hand pushed J-J’s face upwards, forcing him to look up at the ornate ceiling once more. The wrestler’s legs were positioning themselves to spread JJ’s own apart in an increasingly painful hold. J-J was torn between enjoying the wrestler’s rather warm hand and the growing discomfort around his groin and legs. He could feel his heels sending continuous pain signals up his spine and into his brain as he grunted and moaned in pain and pleasure, whilst he could hear a domineering groan from his adversary, “So I have found your weakness…” This time the whispering wasn’t coming from the voices.
“Yes finish him!” The voice heckled.
“Let…me…GO!” J-J complained.
J-J groaned more, feeling his cock pulsing to life and becoming fully erect against his will. He had to counter, he couldn’t leave it at that, with his free hands, he grabbed the wrestler’s back locking his hands in place as he applied the meanest bearhug he could muster. All the force he could muster was being thrown into that bearhug and the scream he was giving in order to break free of his adversary’s torture.
The two locked eyes together as they entered a new test of force, peering into each other’s souls. The dark-skinned wrestler’s hold on J-J’s cock was released, as the wrestler was forced to try and break the bearhug that was tensing up his back. J-J used the momentum to roll his adversary from him and to the side, the leg lock that had kept his groin stretched breaking too as he slowly regained the ascendance. The tables were now turned and he was still applying the bearhug. J-J started humping his adversary letting him know who was in control.
There it is was… the moans of the dark-skinned wrestler as he too took enjoyment of this reversal of the situation, he could feel that he was increasingly humping a harder landing spot than before. Without noticing it J-J allowed a smile to creep up on his sweaty face as he started enjoying his predicament. Forgetting almost that he was being forced against his will to wrestle this unknown wrestler.
“Nicely played…” the wrestler remarked in between two grunts as struggled underneath. He tried to bridge and destabilise J-J but J-J held firm, matching the wrestler’s moves and keeping his own balance. But the wrestler had more tricks up his sleeve as he began spreading his legs apart further and lifting them to lock a new scissor into place on JJ’s chest, squeezing his rib-cage mercilessly. J-J’s hardened member coming closer to the still lycra-covered ass of the wrestler.
J-J was wincing once more at the now becoming familiar pain. The large ballroom once again filled of noises of anguished pain. J-J was the first to break his bearhug, to pry his opponent’s legs apart from him. The wrestler anticipated the move this time, lifting his entire body up to grab J-J’s hands and then pulling them towards him blocking them with his back, controlling more and more of J-J’s body. J-J tried to rebel as best as he could, panting as he struggled to break free from this new combination of hold.
“He is getting weaker,” the voices commented, “Is it almost the end?” another pondered aloud.
J-J twisted his body in a vain attempt to break free, the wrestler followed his movement, they were now face to face but the wrestler’s legs were still wrapped tight around J-J’s chest whilst his arms were trapped behind the back of the other wrestler. He hadn’t failed to notice that the wrestler was also gyrating slowly back and forth, forcing their hard members to grind against each other, forcing him to moan involuntarily as he struggled to break free from this scissor. J-J’s face raised upwards, looking at the wall as if expecting someone to help him out of this hold. He felt his body weakening…would he have to tap out?
The other wrestler felt it as well, that moment in a fight when you know that you’ve dominated your opponent, he released the scissor from a very grateful J-J and pushed J-J onto his stomach as he mounted him from behind and applied a full-nelson, spreading J-J’s legs and planting his lycra protected rod in between J-J’s lycra-protected bubble cheeks. J-J tried to struggle anew but it was clear to both wrestlers that the tables had turned. J-J groaned as he tried to lift himself up and break the nelson. The wrestler allowed it to happen – as that only gave his opponent a chance to complete his unceremonious undressing whilst he remained fully clothed.
“Naked… one step closer to defeat,” The voices reminded J-J.
J-J was exhausted from the exchange, he was breathing heavily wishing dearly for a break. His entire body sheened from the pearls of sweat against the soft lighting of this eerie ballroom, his breathing was intense, he hunched back as if it would help him to breathe more easily. But the break was short lived as the other wrestler prepared anew for an assault.
The other wrestler’s attack didn’t wait, as he rushed JJ, his hands bringing JJ’s legs together and lifting JJ up to the floor before throwing JJ’s body back down to the ground. JJ didn’t even have time to react as his body was turned into a rag-doll by the dark-skinned opponent. JJ’s body seemed to bounce against the ground, forcing the wind out of him, as he then felt the wrestler’s hands exploring his entire body whilst keeping his legs wrapped tight in a grapevine in lightning fast succession. J-J’s pained moans making the voices laugh gleefully. He tried to throw his adversary’s off from his body but he was too tired to achieve this.
Something had changed… The lycra that he had been feeling somehow had given way to a naked body, and he felt anew his adversary’s cock along his crack but this time there was no clothing creating a barrier between their bodies. When had he taken his clothes off? The grapevine was tightened on him and then he felt the hard member searching for his hole. J-J began to panic, twisting and writhing his body in a vain hope that he could break from this hold. The wrestler keeping him at bay with his stronger legs locking JJ’s in place whilst his hands were distracting him into accepting the pleasure that he was being given whilst being controlled.
Fatigue had gotten the best of him, J-J wasn’t used to wrestling at this intensity and his body’s muscles had given what they could. The breaks between his efforts to break were getting longer, the unknown wrestler knew it was only a matter of time… and so did the voices.
“He is submitting!” The voices cheered, “Yes, he is no longer putting up much of a fight!”
J-J felt himself blush as he his defeat was being commented in real-time, he tried to renew the fervour of his struggle, but this seemed to only excite his adversary even more, make him harder, and lead to a tightening of the grapevine.
He couldn’t do it anymore, the insistent hand of the nameless wrestler was making him feel too good and he gave in to the pleasure, stopping to resist, his body to relaxing to accept its fate. The nameless wrestler roared in pleasure as he felt himself winning over J-J, redoubling his fondling of J-J’s manhood, whilst his own cock continued lubricating up J-J’s most intimate body part. The two men’s groans and moans falling into rhythm, the nameless wrestler’s deep base groans being met by J-J’s higher pitched moans.
“Conquer him now!” The voices ordered.
The nameless wrestler did not need to be instructed twice, as his sheath speared J-J slowly, shooting new pain signals up to J-J’s brain. His body tensed up as this invader took its place inside his body. The wrestler paused, listening to J-J’s panting and waiting until the body relaxed again before continuing his initial penetration. It felt like an eternity as centimetre upon centimetre seemed to enter J-J, his hole widening to allow the nameless wrestler to take his conquest. The nameless wrestler turned J-J around so that he no longer was on his side but on his stomach as he began to build up a rhythm, firstly only taking his cock in and out half-way and slowly, before making his penetration the complete length, toying with taking it all the way out and all the way in.
“Such a lovely ass, J-J” the wrestler commented.
“An ass made for riding” the voices echoed, “Such a submissive bitch boy to our champion,” they added.
J-J’s conversion to this wrestler’s bitch-boy seemed almost complete, the voices still describing the scene in whispers in his ears as he cried out in pleasure. His body was now willingly lifting up and down in rhythm with the wrestler’s pelvic thrusts. The wrestler continued pleasing himself and throwing his entire body up against J-J’s forcing him to use his remaining force to hold still or face being smashed onto the ground. As JJ began lifting his body, the wrestler continued using one of his hands to fondle him, and the other hand was used to keep J-J’s back arched so he could penetrate even deeper. The pain was now all gone, only the pleasure of the conquest… and then the wrestler grabbed hold of J-J as he moved upwards and moved their two bodies onto their knees, his hands hugging J-J tight as his cock continued to go inside and out.
J-J looked down at his rock-hard cock, the precum streaming down his cock and forming light liquid streaks on the wooden floor. He could hear his moans echo in the empty ballroom, the wrestler’s groans overpowering them, and the sound of bodies slapping together… especially his body being slapped by the victor.
“Turn around,” the wrestler instructed, as he pulled his cock out and waiting for J-J to fulfil his command, the wrestler lifted J-J’s legs until they were stretched to touch his face, before re-entering J-J in this most humiliating of positions. This position was deep, he’d never felt a cock go as deep as this. He could only admire the dark-skin contrasting with his own pale skin being brought together with primal force.
“That’s a good bitch-boy,” he mumbled, “Fought well.” He thrusted back in, “But it is I who won and now I am enjoying my trophy.” Back and forth, “You are my trophy, for me to use for my pleasure.”
J-J could only moan his acceptance of his situation. He couldn’t hold this position for very long, feeling his legs tensing and cramping up but he tried his best to remain still. The wrestler didn’t keep him in this submissive hold for very long anyway, as he placed J-J’s legs on his shoulders and resumed his conquest, his thrusting becoming faster and more urgent. J-J could see his body moving up and down on the floor simply by the sheer force of the thrusting. His vocabulary having been reduced to a series of Oohs, and Aaahs, and Mmmms.
“Such a beautiful sight, J-J being conquered so thoroughly by our champion!” The voices whispered, “Yes, watch how much pre-cum is already being seeded into him!”
The wrestler turned his attention on J-J’s own weapon, he placed his hand confidently on J-J’s cock, using the pre-cum as lube to methodically stroke J-J’s uncut cock. J-J’s eyes rolled back as he felt waves upon waves of pleasure coming to him. He was close, it wouldn’t take long for him to cum despite not having been touched or fondled by the wrestler. But his handy work was heavenly and it wasn’t long before streams of cum shot out, the first spirt shooting up and hitting J-J’s chin, and the next ones splashing onto the dark skin of the wrestler and on his own chest.
And then he felt it… his adversary’s body tensing up as he too let out a roar as his sperm shot out of his cock and into JJ’s bowels.
“He is conquered!” The voices cheered… J-J was destroyed, the tension in his body evaporating as his adversary pulled out of him gently, forcing him to gasp once more. His hole felt filled, and satisfied.
“We are now one,” J-J closed his eyes for an instant, but as he opened them again, he began seeing the body in front of him fade, the body became harder to see and to feel, as if the body was disappearing right in front of his eyes. He considered the wrestler’s dark eyes, seeing him welling up in tears, “What is wrong?”
“This is the curse, Bingwa’s curse,” the wrestler whispered, his body nearly out of phase with reality, “I may conquer you, but never keep you in my arms.”
J-J held onto what he could of the wrestler, but within minutes he was left holding nothing… only the memories he had built during this match. “Bingwa!” J-J shouted, left behind in the darkness.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now arriving in Brussels, this train will continue to Paris Nord, if you are leaving us at this station, please ensure that you do not leave any belongings behind. At Brussels South Station our train will be coupled with another train, during this short manoeuvre and for your safety, you will not be permitted to disembark. We thank you for travelling Thalys and look forward to seeing you again soon.”
I sigh… what a wonderful day dream to accompany my journey with. But real-life beckons and this writer must return to other pursuits.
It's been a while (well, I don't know if it's really been a while, but seemed like a good place to start this blog) since a wrestling match inspired me to write a blog report about it. But this one certainly did, and therefore it only seemed right to stretch the wrestling, oh wait, I wanted to write writing muscles. Bare with me whilst my brain gets itself sorted out a little bit.
This week's been a great wrestling week, I had an amazing personal training session with one of Belgium's greatest and I was given a lot of instructions to improve my scissor-locks, to make sure I didn't present my back, to find better ways to win starting positions and more. It was also the first time I really wrestled in a room which was far more prepared for wrestling giving a lot more space for us to practice different holds. Whilst I was proud that I was able to put him in difficulty a few times, I found myself wrestling a tireless wrestling machine. On the way to Amsterdam my arms were sore and my neck even more from all the locks applied against me. I was pleased though that our match had clearly turned him cause it certainly was a creamy finish!
As usual, I'm taking you down the scenic route, which is probably not what got you reading in the first place. I understand, I will move forward in time to the meeting of the adonis who inspired me to write this blog. Something to know about me, sometimes a guy attracts me so much that I kinda can't get over the edge as a result of it. This kind of happened here. I don't know what it was, his green eyes, the tone of his voice which was full of warmth and curiosity and passion, his hairy chest, his perfectly proportioned physique or what, but the moment I saw him in the hotel lobby I knew that we were going to have a good time.
I know I probably shouldn't but I always have these butterfly nerves before I meet someone for a wrestle match, just like a first date, and i had these bad by the time he got here. We exchanged warm greetings, took the short lift that led to my hotel room and began talking about the things that we had exchanged by message on Meet Fighters. After moving the furniture around we picked each others' singlets, he picked my dark black one which has the advantage of showing off more of my body than the white one. As I put it on, I noticed that all the efforts put in sport were really starting to pay off as it looked far better than the first time I had put them on. I asked him to wear a beautiful blue singlet that I had seen on his profile. We nervously danced around the fact that we now needed to wrestle, continuing our conversation nervously.
But it was time to hit the mats, we started the first round standing-up, arms connecting together, as we tried to throw each other off balance and towards the mat. I had in my head all of the instructions given to me by impromptu trainer and I was eager to try them on my adversary. Our bodies connected, and was intense as we tried to secure a submission using a combination of body scissors and headlocks. I was enjoying grabbing those arms and hearing him groan as I tried to lock them in place. But he was no push-over, if I was making a mistake in positioning, I was finding myself having to defend myself on my back before facing a schoolboy pin. Even there, I was trying to remember what I was told to force my adversary off his balance. I was on top of him, my body stretching him until finally, I leaned to kiss his cheek... it was there: the first submission of the night.
During the water break we exchanged flatteries which made us more comfortable and I loved his comment that in a normal match I wouldn't be kissing him. We had warmed up and our bodies were eager for more contact as the sweat started to mount... as the match carried through some moves were starting to introduce themselves which certainly hadn't been there for the opening move. A hand resting a little too long on the ass, we were getting comfortable with each other. During this match we spent a little longer on top of each other, and then I was made to discover his predilection for a cock and ball torture, I think it was the first time someone really applied it with view of getting domination, it was hot but I managed to make sure I wasn't too distracted, but the hardening members on both side did make it clear we were enjoying the round.
At some point, he reached over to me to bring my singlet half off to reveal my naked chest and pecs, I returned the favour as we naturally flowed towards a naked round - such a beautiful body facing me - I thought to myself. The second submission took a lot longer than the first one to be achieved, but came it did (no pun intended!) after quite some grinding against each others bodies, more torture of the family jewels mixed in with body stretches to force that pain that would lead to a submission. The second submission would have made my teacher proud, I think, as it was a combination of a scissor and from what I could see a painful arm stretch. Score!
We arrived to the nude round and by then it was clear that the wrestling was slowly giving way to far more interesting endeavours (at least that time), our kissing got more passionate, the holds were as much about enforcing domination as they were to turn the other guy on. It was sensual, primal, but fair, with a give and take was quite the turn on indeed. But our wrestling (and I think our day's other workouts) had worn us down... how did the third submission come about? Oh yes, I remember now, we had eased ourselves so that I was schoolboy-pinning him, my cock willingly entering his mouth, whilst I rubbed his cock behind my ass. I moved my body in such a way that my knees were hurting his arms and he had to submit before I would move to a more comfortable place.
There were some more hot moves that we tried on each other as the wrestling got more sensual, more sexual in nature. Like humping him from above or to the side. Although I also found quite hot when he had me on all fours doing the same to me.. I don't even know why I allowed that to happen, but it was a hot moment in the match that just flashes in my head right now. My adversary also had wicked scissors though, I was glad I hadn't put myself in a position to feel them too often because when I did I certainly had to keep from tapping myself out.
In the end though this match certainly was a great way to practice all that I had learned thus far, and his climax with my hands playing with his nipples and my tongue with his ear was the cherry on this wonderful cake. In the end, just having that seemed to satisfy me, he was such a wonderful person to play with and our shower together to get the sweat and cum off was another opportunity to enjoy each other's company. As he left, a part of me wished we could have had the whole night to wrestle, climax, and wrestle some more together.
Alas, that will be for another time and another match. The addiction quenched for now, but soon to come back wanting more.