Beautiful Boy

Ah, Richie Douglas.

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

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

Legs

I’ve always been a leg man; I think one of the hottest holds in wrestling is the scissors, whether it’s head or body (I prefer being caught in a head scissors, if I am being completely honest).

So this boy’s legs made me stand up and take notice.

I mean…

I noticed him first on Globalfight. I got one of those your friend so-and-so posted new pictures, you should check them out and so I thought why not and pulled up his profile. He has posted new pictures; action shots with a guy I thought, since I couldn’t get a really good look at him, was Mitch Colby. But then I realized wait, Mitch doesn’t have tattoos on his left arm and looked even more closely; nope, wasn’t Mitch. Mitch, I know from experience, is about six two or three; the friend in the pictures is about six four, and this guy was much shorter than that. Hmmm, I thought, he’s kind of hot.

Flash forward a couple of months and BAM! There he was on the BGEast site: Calvin Haynes (how much do I love that his ring name is two underwear companies?). The resemblance to Mitch wasn’t as pronounced as I’d originally thought, but I started thinking of him as mini-Mitch.

And he has a hot ass to go with those legs.

Nice arms, too.

And he doesn’t shave off his torso hair. I also like that. I also like that he’s more interested in being thick than ripped. I also find that kind of sexy.

And you know, much as I love pro gear, I’ve always regretted not doing a ring match for BGEast in jocks or just flat out nude.

Yeah, I like this kid. I’d also like to experience how brutal his scissors might be; like I said, those are some nice quads.

He also looks damned good in full pro attire. He has the look, doesn’t he? My dick gets hard just looking at this picture. It makes me want to shove him back into that corner and choke him and elbow smash those hairy pecs and then toss him back into the center of the ring for some more fucking torture.

So, I thought I’d check out one of his matches; see if he’s as good as he looks.

Caging the Wolf

So, the little wolf worked me over a bit. It happens. Sure, there are matches where you spend the entire time mopping the floor with your opponent, but where’s the challenge in that?

A foot in my face? You know, that took guts.

It also wasn’t particularly smart. It kind of pissed me off.

Aw, does that hurt?

Go to sleep, little bitch.

Yeah, let me take your mask off. You shouldn’t be allowed to wear one, since you’re just  little bitch.

I have to say, this was my first time ever unmasking someone, and it kind of made my dick hard. Who knew symbolically stripping my opponent of his power would be such a turn-on? I’d stripped opponents out of their trunks before, but this was a whole new world of arousal.

Oh, I took his trunks too.

Yup, nothing more humiliating than having your own sweaty trunks shoved into your mouth.

Poor Lobolito. He always wanted a rematch, but it somehow never happened.

Pity.

Wolf’s Bane

Lobolito never knew what hit him.

Newsflash: it was me, and I just kept on hitting the punk. There’s something satisfying, you know, about landing some blows, seeing the glaze of pain in your opponent’s eyes, listening to their labored breathing, their whimpering and sobbing.

Although when they don’t really resist much, it’s disappointing. I can’t speak for other wrestlers–or viewers–but I get bored with matches that are just beat downs. And when you get bored, well, that’s when you make a mistake. That’s when your victim gets a chance to make his own move.

And I’m always up to see what the punk has to offer.

Nice! If I weren’t so flexible, this would have been pretty fucking painful. But I didn’t submit, so the punk made a heel move and grabbed my crotch and squeezed.

I can respect that, you know? It’s what I would have done. But you know what they say about payback…

And again–props to not letting me get my breath and get back to speed before moving in on me again. Maybe the punk has some potential.

Always go for the balls again when in doubt.

But you’d better fucking finish me off, punk.

Miss You Much

Well, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it?

Sorry about that, but I experienced a thirty-day ban on Facebook, during which time things got rather hectic in the day-to-day existence, and since I couldn’t share my blog on Facebook I didn’t see any real point in writing entries no one was going to see. Most of the traffic here is clicks from my Facebook page; hopefully I won’t get banned again–but I have also taken measures to ensure that if it does happen again, everything else will continue to operate as before.

In other words, fuck you Zuckerberg, and your puritanical employees.

The ban was triggered by someone reporting a picture of me in one of my matches, schoolboy pinning the loser; so basically my crotch was too close to his face for those community standards. Fuck right off. Good thing I didn’t post the picture of me forcing my cock down Boyd Hicks’ throat, right?

It’s also Carnival time here in New Orleans, and I am, in addition to my day job, working on multiple freelance projects. Since the first of the year I’ve gotten back into the gym on a regular basis, which is great; I can already see a difference in my body, and I can also feel a difference in my body as I slowly get back into the swing of things. Injuries, and the forced inactivity that comes with them, are a bitch; I am hoping to be back in wrestling shape again by the summer and hopefully hopping over the top rope into the ring again–probably only for private matches; I don’t see myself taping again.

Although there are some boys at BGEast now who have aroused my interest. More on that as time passes.

And I am going to pick up the thread of my previous, pre-banning posts too, but just wanted to get checked in here so you bitches can know where I’ve been.

Speaking of hot BGEast boys–here are two of them that have aroused my, ahem, interest:

Yes, Richie Douglas and Colton Haynes. Pretty, aren’t they?

And now back to work. Talk to you soon, bitches.