Confession #5, Shopaholic

Before we start the confession today, I have a favor to ask.  One of my loyal readers asked me who is the BG East wrestler seen here, wearing the purple speedo and white jockstrap.  Can you ID him for us?   Thanks in advance.

Now on to today’s confession…

 

 


I think most guys who have jerked off to pro wrestling their entire lives would agree that the gear was a big part of the attraction and fascination — especially those speedo-style trunks.  Mmmmm!   Form-fitting, colorful, revealing, and stretchy — who didn’t obsess over them, aching to cup that bulge in your hand, to pull the waistband and snap it back, to feel that taut fabric caress your cheek, or to yank them up tightly over one’s own nuts and ass?

One loyal reader sent me this fairly long confession that illustrates the power of the trunks — the titillation and excitement over them, the magnitude of our lust for lycra.


“This goes back to when I was 18 years old and a freshman in college. This was before the Internet.  I didn’t even know if there were other people in the world who liked what I liked and for that matter I didn’t even know what it was that I liked so much about wrestlers! 


 

“… I didn’t know the word “jobber,” that’s for sure. The first time I saw that was on the internet a few years later. I just knew I loved the guys who got beat up on my TV every week. And I wanted to be them. And most importantly I wanted to wear what they wore. I wanted trunks.

 


“… So one day in a wrestling magazine, where I’d hunt feverishly for any picture of a jobber, though they were hard to find at times in the mags, I found an ad for Adrian Street’s Wrestling Gear Store “Bizarre Bazaar.”  The ad talked about how they made all kinds of gear, including trunks.  Trunks! Trunks!  Just the word made me hard…


 


“… There was a phone number.  At the time I lived in an apartment with three idiot roommates, who would not really understand if they heard me on the phone with someone talking about wrestling trunks. No cellphones, of course. Just our one phone in the kitchen.

“… So one day when all the meatheads were gone, I worked up the courage to call the number.  I didn’t really expect anyone to pick up. But someone did — Adrian Street himself!  At that point I didn’t really know who Adrian Street was as I didn’t see him on the wrestling I watched.  But he picked up and I stammered that I saw the ad for trunks.  And he was eager to talk! 

He asked me if I was looking for tights or trunks. Uh, what? I thought I wanted trunks but the word tights was also intoxicating…



“… Men didn’t wear tights in my world.  Tights.  But what were they?  So I asked and he said at the time he was watching a video of a match between Kerry Von Erich and Jerry Lawler.  Lawler was wearing traditional tights, Von Erich trunks.  I understood because I’d seen both men wrestle.  I wanted trunks, yes.

“Well, trunks, I guess, is what I’d like,” I stammered.


“… Street then started talking about different types of trunks and what material did I have in mind.  I had no fucking clue!  I didn’t know why those jobber trunks I saw looked so shiny and delicious on Tommy Angel or Bob Emory or Red Tyler…


“… And what kind of fit did I want?  I don’t know!  Small?! Skimpy?! 

So I actually said I kind of wanted “skimpier” kind.  Street was nonplussed and said they could make whatever, they would just need my measurements. Uh, sure, I’d get right on that…


“… He asked what kind of color I might want and even then I knew what I liked and I said “pink or white.” And again he said they could do that.  I said I didn’t know my measurements and he said when I had those I could call back and make an order.  I thanked him and that was that.

After getting off the phone I realized I was hard. I went into my bedroom and pulled out one of the Speedos I used as wrestling gear and military pressed myself and pulled my hair and wedgied myself and imagined wearing “trunks”, real ones, and came into my Speedo like I had so many times in the past four years…


“… I never called back. Where was I going to find someone to measure me?  I didn’t really know what I was expecting.  But I had been able to talk wrestling with someone for the first time in my life, even if that other person had no idea who was on the other end of the line and had no clue it was a young jobber wannabe. 

Adrian Street passed away a few years ago and I mourned because he was my first “real” connection with the world I craved.  I would have loved to gotten some trunks from him.  And I would have loved to have been in the ring with him wearing those trunks, being dominated, humiliated and beaten. Like a true jobber.

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4 Responses to Confession #5, Shopaholic

  1. RayAtL says:

    That’s a great story!
    Thanks for sharing it on here

  2. Don Hafner says:

    Ahh Bizarre Bazaar, I have had many pairs of trunks done by them and they all were wonderful. Sadly the supplier of their fabric died a couple of years back and now they are forced to get fabric that wasn’t as nice as the ones they did have. I don’t know what kind of spandex it was but it was soft, supple and had a nice sheen to it. Some of the best trunks I have ever had the privilege of owning. *sigh*

    Needless to say, they still make some nice trunks and anyone who wants some should absolutely check them out!

  3. K T Ong says:

    Trunks are absolutely a great turn-on — but only on the right body types. And they must come with the boots, too!

    We very rarely get to see wrestlers in thongs (way sexier), don’t we? 😛

  4. JR says:

    Fantastic post! I’ve always been way into wrestling trunks (and speedos and briefs). Definitely something in particular about the ones made of the shiny spandex like the dude in the pink pictured above.

    Also, anyone happen to know the names of those British studs in the Union Jack trunks? I love when wrestlers wear trunks patterned with the flag of their homeland. Makes it all the more humiliating when they get dominated by their opponent because it’s like they’re tarnishing the masculinity of their entire country. How embarrassing!

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