Maybe This Time

I was at a conference the last five days; had hoped to be able to keep posting and stay on top of things in the meantime, but that just didn’t happen. Hilariously, one of the things I’d forgotten in my years of not being active on wrestling contact sites is what little butt-hurt bitches some wrestlers can be. Activating a profile on Meetfighters was nice, and so was all the attention. I try to keep up with responding to messages, but I do get, with all due modesty, a lot of them; same with Globalfight. But some people…if you don’t respond to them in what they consider to be a proper amount of time will send you a really bitchy message and then block you! I’d forgotten about that aspect of contact sites in my long absence. Of course, it’s amusing to me; wow, you sure showed me! I have LEARNED MY LESSON by being denied forever any chance of ever meeting or wrestling you.

And yet you think I’m arrogant. Okay.

So, where was I? Oh yes, Big Joe was being used a ring mop by vicious ultra heel Dick Rick. I kind of had figured that was how the match would go–I mean, it is Dick Rick, after all–but you know I like me some big boys, and so I was a little bummed. But I counted Big Joe out a little too soon.

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The thing about the big boys is they are strong. And when your opponent has size on you, you’ve got to not give them the opportunity to let them use their size and strength against you (my big mistake with Mitch Colby, for the record). But when you’re Dick Rick, and you’ve literally beaten down every person who’s gotten into the ring with you–and this match is already going that way–you can forget, you can make the mistake that turns the match on a dime and suddenly there’s a new narrative.

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Never get into contests of strength with stronger guy, and never let someone use their strength against you. A bear hug? You fucking let him get you into a bear hug?

What were you thinking?

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Dude, seriously?

And once Big Joe has started working over the hapless heel’s back…and let him overpower him…yeah, BIG mistake.

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Turn about is fair play, and Big Joe wound up giving Dick Rick an enormously satisfying–and sexy–beating. And Big Joe sweats.

I love a sweaty man.

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And in the end, Dick Rick doesn’t know what happened, where he went wrong…and probably spent the rest of the night thinking about his choices.

Great, great match; amazing pro action between two sexy studs with mad ring skills, and a compelling narrative.

High recommended.

Mr. Big Stuff

As I said yesterday, I’ve always had a thing for big guys. I love wrestling big guys; it’s a great challenge, and either way, I win–I either get dominated and tossed around (a fantasy) or I get to beat the crap out of them (always a good time). So Big Joe Robbins caught my eye when he showed up in the review copy of Ring Rookies 1 I got many years ago when I was writing for the BGEast website. He was taking on Dick Rick, already established as a hot-as-fuck heel for BGEast–and yes, I was a fan.

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That is some solid beefcake there, and while I wasn’t sure if he was big or simply looked big, once Mr. Rick climbed through the ropes…yeah, he’s a big’un.

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Dick Rick is pretty much flawless. He has an incredibly handsome face, and his body is literally perfect. You can’t really look at him and see an area for improvement. (Did he ever wrestle Josh Goodman? That would be pretty fucking hot…) He’s also a great wrestler, and being that gorgeous makes him a perfect heel. He’s that good looking asshole who’s not only arrogant because he’s so good looking but will also kick your ass for complaining. He’s fun to watch in the ring because he so clearly enjoys what he’s doing. He also doesn’t have a problem showing off that amazing body in the skimpiest of gear. And you have to wonder what’s up when he shows up in white…white trunks usually mean I’m here to get my ass kicked and have my body used to mop up the ring.

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But Dick Rick? Nah. And Big Joe’s also wearing colors you don’t usually associate with the wrestler who’s going to win the match, either.

The story behind the match was a great one. Dick and Joe went to the same training school; Dick finishing up as Joe was getting started. Joe’s first “training” match was with Dick, who kicked his ass and humiliated him in front of everyone. Now Joe’s been signed to wrestle for BGeast, where Dick is already a star. Will Joe get revenge, or will Dick humiliate him once again?

Dick makes the mistake of challenging Big Joe to see who’s stronger.

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That doesn’t go so well for him, so of course, he gets pissed–you don’t fuck with Dick Rick’s ego, especially in front of the cameras! So he unleashes some of his dirty tricks.

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And it looks like yup, it’s going to be a repeat of the training match. I settled in, looking forward to watching the master beat the crap out of the big man.

(to be continued)

Physical

One of the interesting things about BGEast, at least to me, is to see how the wrestlers’ bodies change from one video to another. (This is NOT, by the way, to be seen as an opportunity for anyone to rag on a wrestler’s appearance. I don’t put up with that shit. If you’re so fucking amazing, YOU put on a bikini and go in front of the cameras. Until you do, shut the fuck up. You can say, “not my type” which is noncommittal and fine.)

My own body changed and evolved, and could even look different in matches shot on the same weekend, depending on the gear.

Case in point: I taped the matches with Mitch Colby and Josh Goodman on the same weekend:

 

Maybe not so different; but on the left I look more defined and lean than I do on the right. But since we’re talking about how bodies can change and evolve from shoot to shoot, let’s try this comparison. Here I am during one shoot:

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And here I am at another.

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Now, differences can also be attributed to gear choices, lighting, and camera angles–it’s quite amazing what a difference that can make–but clearly, I am much more tan, leaner and more defined, in the top photo, for the match with Pink Puma, than I was in the lower, which is from the match with Gold Mantis.

And with me, hair can also make a difference.

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Also important is how the trunks fit.

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The higher the waist, in my case, the less defined I look. I have a big ribcage and a naturally high, long waist; but my pelvic bones are low. The higher the trunks sit on me, the bigger the pooch around my navel looks; if they fit lower, you can see the deep cum gutters running from the top of the hip bone down to the groin. (See top two pictures for an example.)

But this also can happen with other wrestlers, as well; some guys are big in some matches, smaller in others; bounce from ripped to shreds to slightly thicker. Chase LaChance, who debuted as a very lean muscle boy, has also appeared as bodybuilder huge. Some of the guys clearly are bodybuilders; you can see when they are bulking and when they are trimming down for competition–Braden Charron will sometimes be thicker, and others be darkly tanned and shredded.

One of my current favorites at BGEast, Big Joe Robbins, is one of those as well.

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The first time I saw Big Joe–I was enthralled. There’s something awesome about big guys, big wrestlers. It’s always been a huge turn-in for me to take on bigger guys; it’s equally fun to not only dominate someone bigger, but it’s also kind of fun and hot to be overpowered, out-physicalled,  by someone much stronger and bigger. Why does that turn me on so much? I don’t know. That’s something I will probably unpack at some time. Take a look at him above; that muscularity and thickness, the sheer size of him; yes, I’d love to jump over the top ropes and see that in the other corner.

And then he can turn up looking like this:

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More lean, definition showing, and more vascularity; look at those arms, pecs, and thighs. This Joe would also be a lot of fun.

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Leaner and more tan; that bikini is sexy as fuck on him.

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Dat ass, too. You can truly appreciate how thickly he’s muscled in profile. This is someone who could slam the fuck out of me, bearhug me until I can’t resist any more, toss me from corner to corner like a practice dummy.

And yes, that turns me on.

I love watching Joe in action; I love watching him overpower smaller guys, and I enjoy seeing the smaller guys turn the tables on him, get the upper hand for a while, but I never ever doubt who’s coming out the winner. It’s gonna always be the big guy.

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FUCKIN’ LOOK AT THAT. I love the little silver mask that’s a call back to the Handsome Stranger, who eventually became a much bigger star under another name. That little mask obviously wouldn’t stay on for long in a match; this match, against Paladin on one of the Masked Mayhems, is one of my favorite Big Joe battles.

But the best was when he took on heel extraordinaire Dick Rick.

(to be continued)

The Heat Is On

(continued)

So, where were we? Oh yes, Troy Milan had taken the first fall from Corey Young, and they’d stripped down out of their original gear to thongs that showed off their assets more clearly than what they were wearing before, and I had become totally Team Corey.

Christ, those two shots alone make my dick stir. Not that Troy was a slouch in the body department, either, mind you–but Corey was just, I don’t know, a total fantasy man. I also think the fact that his fucking incredible body was so well hidden by what he wore originally; the tank top and square boxers, made him even sexier. There’s something so incredibly sexy about a guy who is so confident in his body, its innate sexiness, that he doesn’t feel the need to show it off at all times. I mean, he was definitely someone you’d notice before–but in just a thong? That big smile lighting up his face?

I not only want to wrestle him–IMAGINE those quads around your head, squeezing, that amazing ass flexing and contracting–I’d want him to spend the night. I want to touch every part of his body, flick my tongue over his nipples, kiss his mouth and neck and keep going lower.

Seriously.

Yeah, he definitely turns me on.

Troy’s win, and domination throughout the first fall, has made him incredibly cocky; to the point of arrogance. Trash talking, confident, as they begin the next fall in their thongs, it looks like Troy is going to make short work of Corey; a surprising squash.

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But Corey is starting to get a bit pissed. More than a little pissed. And he’s not about to rollover for some cocky pretty boy.

This brutal bearhug finishes Troy off for the second fall; crushed by Corey’s strong arms, tossed around like a rag doll as Corey taunts him, Troy finally surrenders. Corey just tosses him down on the mat like the nothing he is compared to Corey, and taunts him some more while he lies there, clutching his aching lower back and moaning in agony.

God, how that turns me on.

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Look at that facial expression. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Corey  is so contemptuous of Troy that he doesn’t even make him get up and start fighting again immediately. “Take your time,” he smirks as Troy staggers to his feet, still clutching his back, wondering what the hell went wrong, where he went wrong, contemplating what a mistake it was to rouse the sleeping giant.

He manages some offense, but it’s almost half-hearted. The fight has  been stomped out of him already.

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There’s a desperate quality to Troy’s offensive moves now, like he knows if he doesn’t get the upper hand and keep it, that Corey will finish him off. And soon Corey does just that; shrugs Troy off like an annoying insect and starts toying with him.

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I’ve never envied a wrestler more than I envy Troy Milan as Corey tortures him with his legs.

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And when he finished him off, Troy is done. There’s no coming back for him at this point. The best he can hope for is Corey is finished with him and isn’t interested in torturing his pretty ass anymore.

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I rented this on the Arena; I wore my videotape of it out years ago. I spent many happy hours watching and rewatching this match. I am pleased to say it’s just as hot and fun to watch as it was all those years ago.

It’s such a shame this was the only match these two made. Both could have been huge stars. I’d have loved to see them wrestling Josh Goodman, Justin Pierce, Tommy Tara, Brad Rochelle…any number of guys from that period. I’d have loved to have seen them in full pro gear in the ring, too.

Ah, well.

Remember When

One of the fun things about managing the BGEast Facebook page is coming up with monthly themes for posting pictures. Inevitably, this leads me to come across matches, and wrestlers, I’ve not thought about in a long time but at one point were, shall we say, rather important to my viewing fantasy life? Take March, for example. I decided to make March #MarchMuscles, and so then I had to find guys who, you know, I haven’t posted tons of pictures of in the past (cough Alexi Adamov cough Rio Garza cough) because, after all, my favorites aren’t necessarily everyone’s favorites; and besides, there are some guys who weren’t around as much, or haven’t been around in a while who deserve a shout out.

And I came across these two, from Fantasymen 18: Troy Milan and Corey Young.

Nice, right?

Check this out:

Right?

Seriously, where does the Boss find these guys?

I  originally ordered Fantasymen 18 because the other three matches on the tape featured wrestlers I loved to watch: Brad Rochelle, Mike Columbo, and Joe Mazetti. I never watched the fourth and final match on the tape–sometimes I’d get to the end of the Mazetti match with Derek D’amore and rather than stopping the tape, I’d start picking up things or doing something and the tape would keep playing, showing the start of this match, with the two of them, in shirts and shorts, entering the mat room. Then I’d stop, and go about the rest of whatever I was doing.

The tape was sitting in the VCR when I turned it on one day, and I hadn’t rewound; the previous time I’d let the tape keep going into the last match, the way I did sometimes, but when the tape started up, it was at the point where Troy Milan took off his tank top. Rather than hitting rewind, I thought, whoa, and set the remote down.

Matches aren’t always released close to when they are taped, and I know this was sometime after 2003? Maybe 2004? I don’t recall exactly, but I know I hadn’t switched the DVD’s yet, but I remember looking at Troy’s torn up, ratty cut-off jean shorts and thinking, wow, I used to have a pair similar to that but it’s been years.  And then Corey took his shirt off, and I decided it was time to watch this match at long last.

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At first, I was really drawn to Troy’s body; long, lean, ripped and defined. But…Corey, who was a little shorter and whose muscles were thicker, looked like one of those straight boys from the football team, you know what I mean? Muscled, somewhat defined but not ripped and lean; athletic and sexy and jockish. It was almost like a battle between a football player and a non-jock who loved working out, ate right, and wanted to look hot as fuck. The first fall, when they wrestled around in the cut off shorts and the square boxer-briefish shorts Corey was wearing, seemed more like two straight boys horsing around and having fun, wrestling to see who was the better wrestler.

They also both had incredibly thick Boston accents, which also kind of turns me on.

The first fall went to Troy, who got cocky and started mocking Corey for losing; and then slid off his shorts to show off a thong and an amazing ass. Corey just shook his head, said in his thick accent, “Oh, no you didn’t,” then slides off his own to reveal a red thong…and the quads and glutes of fucking death.

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And in that instant, I switched totally from Team Troy to Team Corey.

I wanted my thick football player with that fucking amazing ass to just wipe the mats with the lean muscleboy.

(to be continued)

Top Dog

Oh, Richie.

Despite that great start, before long you made the mistake so many others do; getting overconfident and underestimating your opponent.

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I’ve not watched one of Calvin’s matches before–popped my cherry with this one, as it were–but from comments and emails since I started talking about watching this match, and my attraction to him, I’ve gathered his previous matches did not go well for the sexy muscle boy. This is also my first time watching pretty Richie in action; I’ve also gathered his matches didn’t go well for him, either. So, thinking this time around would be different for him, after his initial successes getting Calvin to submit isn’t hard to understand, really. We’ve all been there, right?

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But when your opponent is strong and thickly muscled, that strength is going to come into play at some point. And Calvin, worn and tired of being used to wipe the mats by a smaller pretty boy, has finally had enough and puts those muscles to work.

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And once Calvin starts using his power to get control, poor Richie doesn’t stand a chance.

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Ah, to be trapped like this between his strong quads, face oh-so-close to the sweaty crotch. I don’t know whether to pity Richie, or envy him.

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And really, the match finally starts going Calvin’s way, with the inevitable defeat of beautiful Richie.

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Nicely done, boys! I’ll be watching more of your work in the future.

Gonna Make You Sweat

Someone commented on one of my posts about Calvin Haynes that he generally winds up in the jobber role in his matches at BGEast; despite my growing fascination with him I’m afraid I must confess that until this match with Richie Douglas I’d seen neither one of them in action. Therefore I cannot comment on their other matches, or what kind of wrestler either of them actually are; I can only comment on the images of them posted on the website or shared on other blogs. Both are sexy young men, with terrific bodies, and sexy in different ways. Richie is handsome and sexy in a lean way; Calvin is thicker and more muscled with a great great smile and with the kind of legs that make me imagine them around my waist or head squeezing.

So, for a refresher course, here they both are again:

Just from their portrait images, I would give the nod in the match to Calvin; he looks stronger, and strength/size can be key in matches. Then again, pictures can be deceiving; Calvin may not, in fact, be much bigger than Richie. But as the tape rolls and the two show up at the mats in the backyard of BGEast’s north compound, we see that Richie is slightly taller than Calvin, but I’d say Calvin sports ten to fifteen more pounds of  muscle than his opponent on this fine summer’s day.

And at first, it looks as though Calvin’s strength is going to make this a brutal squash; a beatdown of Richie’s beauty with his screams of agony echoing through the woods and across the pond.

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But Richie figure out quickly that if he can’t match muscle with muscle, then speed and agility might be the answer.

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Does Calvin’s easy early submissions out of Richie make him overconfident? Or is he, as the commenter here mentioned, just not that great of a wrestler, someone who depends on his power while neglecting the skills?

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Richie might not be quite as big, but he’s got skills. And he’s strong, too–look at the brutal strength of this head scissors, as Calvin gamely tries to resist the inevitable submission, his face turning redder by the second as the blood pounds from those viciously strong squeezing quads. Calvin may have underestimated Richie.

I know I did when I started watching.

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And as Richie continues his manhandling and mauling of hapless Calvin, who seems incapable of mounting a counter-offensive, my juices begin to stir and rise. A dominant Richie definitely is flipping the script I saw for this match at its beginning, and Calvin’s suffering at his beautiful hands is something to behold. I like Richie’s dark side. I like it a lot.

And he’s relentless.

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And he’s enjoying himself. A lot.

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Is this next submission going to finish Calvin off once and for all? Or does this stud have some more in the tank?

To be continued…

Dogs in the Yard

One of the things I’ve always loved, from the very beginning, about BGEast is its variety of matches; different styles, different locations, and different body types. While other wrestling companies tend to focus on one body type–usually guys with enormous muscles and very little flexibility–BGEast has always offered someone for everyone’s taste, whether that taste is thick bodybuilders or lean muscle or twinks or muscled guys who aren’t utterly ripped.

I’ve already talked about how Calvin Haynes punches my ticket; with his thick powerful legs and his thick musculature, he’s kind of a hairy muscle tank with a devilish grin and twinkling eyes.

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I wonder, every time I see those powerful legs, how they would feel around my head; around my waist with my back pressed up against his groin, how those nipples would taste.

And then there’s Richie Douglas, the pretty boy, the guy everyone in the club would look at as he moved on the dance floor with no shirt, those tight muscles, those ripped abs, that hard, round little muscle ass.

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Just thinking about the two of them wrestling made my cock hard.

Fucking look at them. And on mats in the yard? Oh, fuck yeah.

 

 

Still in the Game

The other day I reconnected with an old wrestling buddy of mine; we hadn’t talked in a while. It was one of those weird things; I had literally just been thinking about him the night before, remembering our first match together, in a hotel in Manhattan about ten years or so ago. It was an incredibly hot experience; our styles of pro wrestling and physicality meshed perfectly, and of course, he had an incredible body that still stirs my dick today just by thinking about him, remembering the hair on his thickly muscled pecs, the meaty muscled arms, the legs and how they felt around my head and body, squeezing; the smell of his hairy armpits, the taste of his sweat. We’ve gotten together and wrestled numerous times since that first encounter; business bringing me to New York with great frequency. Alas, that frequency no longer occurs and I haven’t been to New York in a couple of years, but we still continue to communicate and talk shit to each other and trade pictures. Our fantasy has always been to meet in a ring somewhere so we can experience the match we’ve always wanted together. I wrote about him in a short story, whose title I cannot recall at the moment.

Anyway, he was telling me about a wrestler he’d met and has wrestled a few times, who reminded him of me; but in order to see what this guy looked like I had to register on a wrestling contact site. I’ve kept my Globalfight profile active despite not being very active on there; in the rush of everything else that’d been going on I forget to even go there and check the messages–there are always a few at the very least, many of which are hey I’m coming to New Orleans and would love to wrestle you and are just as likely weeks, if not months old; this makes me feel guilty and that makes me stay away from the site even longer. But reconnecting with my buddy, along with some other things in my life that have been going on have made me want to start wrestling again; put on the gear and face off against someone again. So, I thought, why not? So I registered and created a new profile; looked at this new guy’s pictures and was more than a little surprised to see the physical and physiological similarities between us, which also kind of inspired me to want to wrestle him. But with this new profile, this new registration, this new website membership came the need to create an actual profile; to add pictures and likes and wants and desires. So I did so, and walked away from the website, diving back into my writing and the other day-to-day business of being.

BGEast had a live show the other week, as a fundraiser for the Pride Center in Fort Lauderdale; the Boss invited me to come and I had really wanted to, but of course things in my personal life intervened and I wasn’t able to get away. But as pictures of the event, from the event, and of the wrestlers hanging out at the south compound of the company in Florida began showing up on line I felt a pang; I missed it. I miss the camaraderie of a weekend taping with the guys; I miss the Boss and the rest of the company employees, who were always so much fun to hang around with; I miss the feeling of camaraderie with the other wrestlers. I miss the interesting dichotomy of in front of the camera personas as opposed to the real life person. Some of the guys from this new generation of BGEast wrestlers have messaged me, talked to me, indicated an interest in getting in the ring with me. I always thought they were simply being kind, flattering someone from a previous generation of the company. But as I looked at the pictures from that week in south Florida, and saw some of the guys from previous generations, I remember how thrilled I was to meet the guys I’d watched on tape, been aroused by, followed as a fan; what it felt like to meet them in the flesh and wrestle them in real life rather than in my fantasies. Maybe they aren’t simply being kind and flattering; perhaps they actually want to get in the ring with me. And there are guys from the past that I haven’t wrestled yet, that I still desire a match with; there are guys I’ve been talking to on Globalfight for years that I want to fight, and I don’t like the idea that those matches will never happen.

I ain’t dead yet.

It was also a pleasant surprise to go back to the new website and see that I’d been buried in messages, that my profile has been viewed over five hundred times. That can, of course, be partly attributed to being a new profile; but some of the messages were from guys who were like I once was; guys who watched BGEast and had enjoyed my matches, were fans, which was a pleasant surprise. I’d forgotten Cage Thunder had fans; had never really taken the very concept of a fan base very seriously; I am just me, after all, and I am no Mitch Colby, no Josh Goodman, no Kid Leopard. And yet those messages were there.

And I’ve missed wrestling. It’s always been such a key component of myself, of who I am.

So, while I don’t travel hardly at all anymore and i have very little free time to indulge, I am going to come out of this strange semi-retirement and get back into it again. I am rusty, of course, but…yeah. It feels good to make this decision, and while I am older, I am also more mature and more wise.

So, here we go.

 Stay tuned.

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Beautiful Boy

Ah, Richie Douglas.

I’d not seen any of his matches, but I had become very aware of his existence.

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That’s pretty much the image that comes to mind when one thinks, pretty boy, isn’t it? Look at that smile. The teeth all perfect and shiny white, the smile lighting up the entire face, and those eyes. Those gorgeous, beautiful, sloe-eyes.

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I’ve always been a fan of strong, thick,muscular legs; but my favorite facial feature has always been eyes. I don’t know anything about that whole “window to the soul” thing; I’ve known too many guys who were total and complete asswipes who also happened to have beautiful eyes; but when someone has beautiful eyes, I always take notice. Richie has beautiful eyes; large and round and brown and faun-like; heavy-lidded like a Byzantine saint rendered in mosaic tile in the Hagia Sophia. The strong jawline, the dimple in his chin, the big smile and the twinkle in those oh-so-beautiful eyes, the impertinent nose…yes, our Richie is quite the beauty.

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The body is also equally lovely. Those beautifully synchronized abdominals; the defined obliques, the deep armpits with the moist dark  hair, the cleft between his nicely shaped pectorals, the little blue veins just beneath the skin of his triceps and biceps.

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And that ass. That bountiful round, perfectly shaped, hard, firm, beautiful ass. This might be my favorite picture of him; that come-hither smile, that knowing look: my ass is beautiful, isn’t it? Don’t you want to smack it, touch it, bury your face into it?

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This shot, not posed, simply a candid shot of him during a match; evidence of the fight showing in red marks on his porcelain skin where he has taken hits, the blur of his hands because they are in motion, the rising sneer on his lips as he is about to respond to something his opponent has said; the beautiful lines on either side of his lower abs where he is legs connect to his torso, running down into the shiny golden trunks.

Ah, yes, Richie.

A match with Calvin Haynes was definitely something I needed to watch.