Some confessions of wrestling obsession have started to arrive, THANKS everyone who has contributed! Most of them so far involve placing oneself in the position of a hold, or dressing up and pretending to wrestle.
I wonder why pro wrestling always compels viewers to want to participate and act it out? I watch football, but it does not give me the urge to run and tackle somebody or to dress up in tight capri pants, shoulder pads, and a loose jersey. But we watch pro wrestling and it’s Monkey See, Monkey Do — lets all strip down to speedos and roll on the floor. Why is that?
Well here are a few confessions that convey the power of that urge to join in…
“I was a swimmer in my high school so I had a few pairs of speedos. I used to slip those on, lie down on my back in my bathroom, bridge up like a struggling jobber, just to punch myself in the gut and have my body crash down to the floor…
“…I would repeat this as if I was a jobber being choked and desperately trying to bridge up to get some leverage, inadvertently showing off my bulge to the crowd, just to have my efforts thwarted by a hard blow to abs…
I’ve since purchased a few pairs of real pro wrestling trunks from wrestlers so I can still do this in my adult life and crawl around the floor, ass spread wide like a defeated wrestler. ;)”
“For me, it was convincing my friend to put on my speedo, as I put on my dad’s bikini brief and act out wrestling while we watched it.”
“I have acted out being smothered by a huge hairy belly while laying on my back. I have an obsession with getting snuffed out under a big hairy belly by a wrestler wearing the smallest speedo he can wear.
It is something that has always been able to get me sexually excited. I used pillows usually and I had a friend who was a bit husky who would lay over my face and crush me but we were fully clothed.”
“We had a brick wall in the basement and our couch was up against that. I would climb into my Speedos or athletic underwear and lift myself on my head and then balance myself against the brick wall. I would be clutching the side of my trunks, pretending to give myself a vertical suplex. This was also a great opportunity to pretend I was getting a piledriver from the evil Paul Orndorff or Colonel DeBeers or Bob Orton…
“…For the suplex, I would hold that position for 30 seconds, a minute, or even longer. I would literally feel the blood rush to my head. Which worked out great, because I was providing verbal commentary, the type I heard Gorilla Monsoon give:
“Look at that, Brain, the Barbarian holding this youngster up for a suplex. What raw power! Holding him like a rag doll. All the blood is rushing to this kid’s head…”
“…Usually I would pull the side of the trunks but sometimes I would yank on the front, the way Ric Flair or Buzz Sawyer liked to deliver a vertical suplex, pulling on the front of the jobber’s trunks.
I would get hard and would start rubbing myself on the outside of the trunks. I would picture my teenage classmates or teachers from school, both male and female, watching me get dominated and lifted like this….
“…Often I would splooge jobber juice inside of the trunks. One time, I was unfortunately holding out the front of the trunks a tad too much and the cum went dripping down my stomach, toward my neck. I quickly fell down and some of the fluid got on the couch. I vigorously cleaned. Didn’t need mom finding any jobber stains.”
Thank you my sons, for sharing thy confessions. Thy sins of lust, obsession, and self-abuse are all forgiven and washed clean. Now for thy act of contrition: thou must clothe thyself in only in thy under-garments and place thyself in a pose of agony or defeat for a duration of no less than five minutes.
And who else in the congregation is wrestling with hidden thoughts of lust and obsession? Who else is carrying a secret burden of shame and guilt and is ready to be absolved by confession? Send them onto me that we may enjoy them and learn from them.