Wrestle School
Chapter 1: Lesson 1
I'd hit 50 and decided it was time to hang up my wrestling trunks. I couldn't keep up with the young high-flyers anymore who were more into theatrics than pure grappling on the canvas. Even when I changed my style and became a 'heel' I was still losing matches to guys in their teens and the bookings began to dry up.
But after a few months I was starting to miss the sport but didn't want to wrestle in front of a noisy, hostile crowd anymore so I put an advert in several online wrestling clubs:
"Ex pro wrestler with mats and professional ring facilities offers one to one training in the south London area. Rates, charged by the hour, will depend on level of experience to be attained.
Reply to....."
I left my e-mail address, logged out and went downstairs to the ring room to lift a few weights and get in shape for any future match. My mind wandered as I looked at the ring and thought about who I'd wrestled in it. Some of the guys came from the gay underground wrestling scene and that didn't bother me as long as they came to fight and nothing else, though I must admit to getting a hard-on a few times – even with the straight guys who were often prettier than their girlfriends who they sometimes brought along to watch!
The first reply pinged into my inbox. A kid just starting out in wrestling and needing tuition. I replied back with details of where I lived and what gear to bring though I kept a supply of trunks and singlets just in case a fellow wrestler wanted a quick workout. It wasn't easy to find a ring for training in and word had spread in the wrestling community that I was willing to share or hire it out, but now I wanted to make some extra money from it. After all, I still had bills to pay.
"Hi, I'm Chris", said the blonde, floppy haired youth in front of me when I opened the door. "You must be Daniel."
He offered his hand to shake, which I did, and showed him into my lounge where a DVD was playing one of my old bouts on the TV.
"Take a seat...you want a beer?"
He threw down his kit bag and nodded, sat down and leant back in the sofa, stretching his long legs, light hair showing through the ripped jeans while he watched my DVD.
"You know my Dad used to take me to wrestling matches when I was younger and I saw you wrestle a couple of times! Don't think you won though...but you put up a good fight!"
I handed him a cold beer, pleased that he had heard of me but not so pleased that he recalled me losing, especially if I'm going to train him to be a wrestler! I changed the subject.
"So what experience have you had, Chris...and why do you want to be a wrestler?"
"Always been a fan, ever since I can remember. Used to play fight a lot with my older brothers but always got beat so I figured on learning from a pro then getting my own back on them next time they pick a fight."
"So you've never actually been in a ring and wrestled in front of a crowd?"
"No. But I know you can teach me!"
He took a sip of beer and looked at the TV screen where I was screaming out my submission to a young bear. The bulge in his crotch was catching my eye and he saw me looking.
"So, what do you think? You want to teach me how to wrestle?"
His hand rested on his crotch as if to hide it.
"Well, I don't know, Chris...you look kind of...thin. You need to put some more muscle on; there's some pretty mean guys out there who'll crush you if you aren't fit. Let's take a look at you in your wrestling gear...you can change through there in the bathroom. I'll be waiting for you downstairs in the ring."
"Sure, no problem...though muscle isn't everything, Danny."
He finished his beer and grabbed his bag after checking out the DVD once more of me being racked and submitted. I was having second thoughts already about this twink. Only met him for ten minutes and he's calling me Danny, which I HATE! But I have to confess he's got me wondering what he looks like out of those skinny jeans. I turned off the TV and went downstairs to change; black tight-fitting trunks, black boots and leather wristbands. The shaved head, yet hairy body, completed the look, still pretty trim at 180 lbs...this kid is going to get a lesson alright. Tugging on the ropes when he walks into the room and slides underneath the bottom rope; barefoot and wearing a light blue speedo with the white drawstring dangling in front of his crotch. I try not to stare.
"So let's see some muscle, Chris....flex for me."
He posed and flexed while a pimple resembling a bicep grew on his arm. I tested the muscle with my fingers and laughed. This is going to be fun.
"OK, Chris...let's see what you've got. Come at me."
To be continued...