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  1. michaeldavid

    Wrestling with Orgasms

    I would love to hear what you think of this little series and hope you enjoy these mostly true tales about my discovering my love for muscle! Big Uncle George (first story) link Wrestling with Orgasms My adolescence was filled with a few favorite television past-times. We lived in a little town in the mid-west but were one of the first to get cable. I spent countless hours watching MTV, which back then really did have a lot of music. It was the era of the big, outlandish and fantastical music video. We watched countdowns like they were news breaks telling us the Soviets had actually invaded! I found my love for dancing trying to mimic the moves of so many of these galactic stars and, in the cases of ones that couldn't dance, (I'm talking to you Debbie Gibson), their back up dancers. My mother recognized my desire to watch the dances over and over to learn them and she bought me blank VHS cassettes to record the best. I did - and learned every step to 'Cold Hearted Snake'!! This is where the muscle adoration piece comes to the front. My OTHER favorite of that era was good old, classic WWF wrestling! Between those men and MTV, I was entertained throughout my teens. I would record my favorite matches and watch them over and over. I wasn't any different than other kids that loved the Hulk or perhaps Ric Flair. Well, I was a little different. Ric Flair was a pussy with no real muscle, so I never cared for him. In fact, the list of the men I wanted to see on screen now clearly indicate the body ruled over all other attributes. These studs included the Warlord, the Ultimate Warrior, Lex Luger, the British Bulldog, Rick Rude, and the Road Warriors, Animal and Hawk. I wanted to see these particular men wrestle because they were the biggest, the strongest, the toughest, the manliest. They WERE what a wresler was supposed to be. Specimens of manhood that lived to wear skimpy trunks and flex their muscles and get sweaty and roll around on a mat with another man to show their dominance. It was SO primal. Their grunts, the moves, the cocky flexing. Looking right at me through the camera and making me so...how do I say this considering my youth at the time?...making me... HARD AS FUCK. Yep, that describes it best. I had no comprehension of sexuality, really, but I had learned one thing lying on my parent's bed, watching these men alone in my house in the late afternoon. I learned it felt really good to lie on my stomach and press my crotch into the bed. I discovered that sensation could be enhanced by placing both my hands down there at the place my thighs met the stiffy. I intuitively realized that grinding my hips made me short of breath and drove me to what I later learned to be an orgasm. I came to recognize, and to exercise, my personal sexuality while fucking the shit out of that bed. It was SO easy. I was born to adore those musclemen, and in their physical absence I was going to get that bed pregnant if I wasn't careful. I would fill my tightie whities with globs of youthful, eager, easy to come by spunk. Over those men, their power and prowess, and those pride-filled bodies. I creamed imagining being tag teamed and held easily in the air and thrown around by the Road Warriors. I humped everyhing I could see envisioning myself alone with Rick Rude slinking out of his robe and placing his hands behind his head, flexing those rippling abs and grinding his hips into me. I reveled in the smooth body of Davey Boy Smith, the British Bulldog, and dreamed of being as desireable as I found him while I ground into my hands. I couldn't believe a powerhouse like him had a cute nickname like Davey Boy. I came all over Lex Luger's massive individual muscles in my mind...those throbbing pecs he could endlessly bouce...the biceps peaked like no one else and flexed over and over throughout his matches...God, I lost it to him more times than anyone else. I think my favorite flexing pose of all time, the most muscular, comes from watching his muscles flex slowly into that pose while he'd growl right at me! It was/is SO hot to see a man's muscles slowly bunch while he flexes with all his might. Only the gifting can make that take more than a second. The Ultimate Warrior brought me to orgasm because I was afraid of his animalistic drive and incomparable physical ability - I wanted him to overpower me like that. But, my favorite jizz moments came from one monster of a man...The Warlord. Dear God, when I heard he'd be in a match later in the program, I would pace the room REFUSING to lay prostrate knowing that I'd ejaculate way too easily to countless other wrestlers and I wanted to wait for him. The fucking Warlord! I would have done anything to be near him! I didn't even understand - not actually picture the act of penetration during these fantasies because the mere presence of a man that powerful sent me to heaven. No other stimulus needed. I had more desire for that 300 lb muscle beast than I could hardly contain. No one else made me leak like that. No one else made me stand and air fuck with my hips just thinking about him. He never made it big in the league, but I still conjure him up on occasion when I want a guaranteed and quick shower wank fix. He was everything. So filled with testosterone he was bald. So tall it was silly when anyone stood near him. So perfectly powerful that it was obvious his body was built to lift and kill rather than flex and show. He had to fight with such obvious restraint it was nearly comical. But when he let go, his whole body of 300+ became working muscle and he could pulverize anyone and in one or two koves. His matches were never long. And he would wreck me in seconds once he came to the game. Man, just thinking of his prowess even now makes me sure I WANT HIM! And -- oooh -- that memory, huff, has me stroking and, nngg, grabbing my full cock and thrusting into my-- God, so big -- bed and remembering how hot, and huge and God Damn powerful those Warlord - - ahhh, here it is - - muscles were! God YEEESSS! I'm cumming!! Hope you do too.
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