This is going to be a rant, so if you don't like rants this isn't the blog for you. Recently I have been having more cyber matches, and I am enjoying them and everyone has been pretty respectful, so I feel that I am picking the right opponents. However, I found a guy on a different site and I went on trillian because he wanted a match and it took SIX HOURS. I understand two hours, but only crap. the guy refused to lose. I pinned him 3 times and make him submission twice, but he refused to be done. So I laid down and let him win, but he still said we weren't done. I told him that I needed to leave because I was tired (truthfully I was annoyed my day was shot). He then proceeded to tell me when we were going to have matches when he wanted and I had no say. I then said we will have matches when its convenient for the both of us. I have a feeling that the gentleman is a little lonely, but ground rules need to be set and time limits as well.

I've never actually mentioned this to anyone before, but was curious whether anyone had a similar experience.

Sorry I don't time to write it out eloquently.

In case you can't tell, I'm Italian. I have the huge stereotypical family, but (unusually) I only have two first cousins - Tommaso, a year older than me, and Davide a year younger. As is probably quite common, all three of us grew up vying for the attention of my grandfather, who was essentially Don Corleone. Davide quit this game by the time we were about 5, but Tom and I were basically locked in a lifelong battle (figuratively and, occasionally literally) that started even before that age.

At first, Tom was always the more sporty one, and would bring home trophies and certificates all the time (much to my annoyance). I was always the more intellectual of the two and quite chubby at that age, two traits which our grandfather valued far more, and it was almost as if he knew that he was sowing seeds of jealousy and resentment when on one day I was the favourite, and the next day it was Tom.

The first time I remember this rivalry being vocalised was around age 6, and Tom and I were forced to share a bath together (I think my beleaguered grandmother thought we were puppies or something). One moment we'd be playing, next thing I know Tom is poking at my flab and making fun. Doing so much sport, he already had crazy abs going on. I remember his "what are you going to do about it" look. I sunk neck deep under the water and kicked him straight in the balls. I remember the flash of pain and shock on his face and we both started kicking at eachother wildly until our grandmother came back in, threw down a large beach towel and told us to dry off. As soon as she left the room, I got straight out of the tub and into the towel . Tom was right behind. He tackled me to the ground and tried to yank the towel away, but i wouldnt let go. Like two stupid wolf pups we tugged at the towel, dripping all over the place, until eventually it got thrown to the side and we smacked into eachother, on the ground, Tom punching with both arms into my flab, me squeezing him around his waist in a bearhug while pulling his hair. Despite being so young, I remember we both had little hard ons. The encounter ended with us knocking over a vase and my grandmother running in, shocked.

We didnt talk about this weird moment again, though competition continued to feature in our daily lives as usual, and occasionally a game would flare up into a light scrap. We would often arm wrestle, which at first I lost but that soon changed. Neither of us admitted it but we both did weights every night to try and get an edge in the arm wrestle - the result was that we both had disproportionately large biceps by 15. As we hit puberty, our bodies both changed – I slimmed out and basically became as you see in my profile. He got a little more stacked. By the time we were 15, we were the same height and weight - 6ft and 75kg and looked pretty much identical. Dark, olive skin – typical Italian boys, basically.

The competition didnt boil over again in a major way until we were on holiday as a family - every summer we would drive from the UK to Italy, and my cousin and I always had to share a bed en route. The journey would start amicably enough, but a couple of weeks in a confined space with teenage hormones raging is too much for even the best of friends. And on this trip, around 16, we certainly werent the best of friends. Tom had just started dating a girl that he knew I really liked. We'd been texting for ages, but he'd got off with her at a party and I'd heard from friends that they'd slept together. He knew that I knew, but it didnt come to a head until one night, two weeks into the trip, when we were sharing a bed in Ancona. It was seriously hot, about 30 degrees at night, and lying right next to eachother was creating even more heat, even in just boxer shorts.

I was feeling seriously pissed off, and decided now was as good a time as any to start some shit. I had to whisper as our families were asleep in the next room. "Can't find your own fucking girlfriend" I whispered in Italian. There was silence for a moment but i knew he was awake. "...I guess she preferred a real Marrone (our family name). Anyway, she's with me now, nothing you can do about it" he said testily. Frustratingly, he was right. I couldnt start something here, our parents would wake up and open a can of Catholic whoop-ass. But this was too much. I was a ball of testosterone. I pulled back my arm under the sheets and landed a thwacking punch on Tom's bicep. "What the fuck?" he said, but by the glint in his eye I knew he wanted to punch me back. "Let's see who's the real Marrone then...who's stronger?" And so, silently and tentatively we locked into a sweaty bearhug under the sheets. Our legs got tied up and our foreheads were pressed together, nose-to-nose. In the moonlight I could see his look of hatred and his winces of pain as I tightened my grip. I had been lifting weights secretly and was proud of my bulging biceps, just as big (if not bigger) than Tom's. This was more intense than the usual cousin scrap and we were whispering creative obscenities to eachother, the bed creaking as we rolled over. "If you like her so much, you can buy a ticket to watch us fuck" he spat. I growled and squeezed harder "I've already fucked her, asshole" – but just like before, I could feel a tenting in the boxers. I wasnt sure if Tom noticed, but his cock was pressing into mine as well. I panicked a little, and released the bearhug. Gasping, we rolled away from eachother onto opposite sides of the bed. "Pussy" he said. We both knew that our parents would be going to visit relatives in the afternoon tomorrow, and there'd be time to settle the score then.

We ate a huge breakfast and spent the day on the beach as usual – and then the time came. Our parents drove off mid afternoon and we went back to the small room. In the backseat of the car, we had already begun a test of strength with our legs in the footwell, pushing against eachother. As I put the key in the hotel room door, Tom was millimetres behind me. He slapped my ass testily. "Hurry up, pussy". We went in, I slammed the door, and without another word he slapped off my cap and we started to go at it full pelt in our swim shorts. I remember that we were both lean and taut, with the same diamond patch of chest hair. Remarkable really that we weren't brothers. It was more of a fight at first, like wildcats we just laid into eachother with the most speed and force we could, unleashing a decade of pent up aggression.

Actually, why use words? It was pretty much like this:
https://www.meetfighters.com/videos/More_brutal_fight_ujdaicob

We slammed fists and knees into eachother in bursts, and when we stopped we laughed a bit to try and keep the veneer that this was somehow just another casual scrap, but as soon as we locked up the mood was silent and serious. When we finally took it to the ground, it didnt slow up. There was punching, biting, hair pulling. We were completely equally matched so resorted to other tactics. Tom slammed me down on my back, and started to choke me with one hand, placing the other over my mouth. I grabbed his throat in return from below, and he spat on my face. I slugged him hard and he released his grip. We both stood up at exactly the same moment and locked into a bearhug. It was so sweaty that it was easy to slip behind and apply what I now know is called a rear naked choke. I jumped on his back and scissored him, and we fell backwards onto the bed.

He clawed at my face and yanked my hair from behind, and after about half a minute he managed to roll us onto the floor and get out of it. Again he was straddling me, and now banging my head against the floor. "You fight like Trish Stratus" I said, and kneed him in the back, and he flew forwards, so he was basically schoolboy pinning me, his swimshorts in my face. He pushed his semi-hard cock into my face, and disgusted, I headbutted him in the balls, and he fell back in pain. We both took a minute to recover, panting on the floor. It got slower after that. I pulled him up by the hair and we stood facing eachother. Our bodies had become more defined from the exertion of fighting. I hardly noticed that we both had massive boners pointing straight ahead. Looking Tom in the eye, I slapped his tented shorts, and he did the same to me. The feeling just made me want to beat him more. We stepped forward until we were toe to toe and our shorts were pressing together. I could feel it beating. I didnt think of this as sexual, just that this was the cock that had potentially been inside the girl I wanted. I planted two light testy punches on his pecs, and he did the same to me. We assumed a 'mercy' test of strength, which neither could win. Eventually we broke and he pushed me onto the bed. He fell on top of me, and on the point of exhaustion we exchanged a few more holds, constantly cock to cock.

It was almost sunset, and totally spent we rolled off eachother and lay side by side on the bed. I was still rock hard. "Good fight..." Tom said. I was too out of breath to speak. We just lay there for a while, and then Tom flicked on the TV. It was the Miss Italia contest – which is essentially Miss World but with more nudity. A horny teenage boy's dream. We watched for a bit, and then I noticed that Tom was stroking his shorts. I tentatively started doing the same. As they got to the wet t-shirt contest, we decided "fuck it", lost the swim shorts and just went for it. I wasn't really surprised to see that we were both very similarly endowed, with the same forest of black hair. Tom put his arm around my shoulder, and I did the same, and we started furiously jerking off. This went on for about 15 minutes, and I was getting seriously close. As we lay next to eachother our legs were pressed together, and we locked them up, melding into one person.

Then suddenly, just as my back was starting to arch, he batted my hand away and gripped my shaft tightly, and began wanking me at double speed. "Now let's see you become my bitch" he moaned triumphantly. I was horrified. I grabbed his cock in turn and yanked it as fast as I possibly could with my left hand. Suddenly it became an endurance test, but it didnt last long. My toes curling, eyes tightly closed, some strange compulsion just made me jump on top of him and smash our cocks together in the last few seconds. He grabbed my ass and pushed us closer together, and we both held our breath. A few seconds later, I kid you not, we both spewed a river of cum at almost exactly the same time, covered Tom's abs.

We immediately became quite sheepish and laughed nervously as we quickly got up and jumped into the shower to get rid of the evidence.

After that we went down to dinner with our parents, and didnt talk about what happened again – until very recently when something else occurred that triggered all these memories.

I realise this is particularly extreme, but wondered if anyone had a similar rivalry, and what your relationship was like now?

65 today and he doesn't look a day over 64!

Many happy returns Paul. You're a good man, a good friend and one of the stars on this site.

Best wishes mate.

Had a quick,off the cuff wrestle with my cousin. Was fun as hell! Video I got was not that good but might post later.

Seems my problem is getting guys to actually look at my profile to see where we could go from there. They see the age (top item in the overall listings) and don't bother to look further – presumably believing I'm at death's door or something. If the problem is not age, I sure would like to know what it is. Have mats, indoor/outdoor space for action. Pic below is 2016 current. Profile pics current also.

Do we really need titles and roles when it comes to wrestling? I get a kick out of guys who automatically as the questions, "Are you a heel or a jobber?" My response is, "why don't we find out?" But in all honesty, for me, having a label simply means that the guy isn't willing to explore all sides of wrestling.

I get the need to dominate and understand the "heel mentality". Most men like to see themselves as alpha males. But that doesn't necessarily mean that they ARE an alpha male. In a real wrestling match, it's rare to have a tie. One man wins and one man loses. Just because you win doesn't automatically make you a heel. And a loss doesn't necessarily make you a jobber. For me, it means I came up short and got out smarted, out muscled or out wrestled.

When you hear the word jobber, most of us think of a guy that get pleasure from losing. They are devoid of the alpha male drive to win and enjoy being dominated. Sure, that's a big part of the jobber role; you expect the guy to "get off" on being beaten and turned on by the consequences of it.

But for me, these roles come from the world of professional wrestling world, where I feel it's more about the theater of wrestling. This has evolved in to other areas of wrestling as well. When I set up a match and guy automatically assumes that I'm a heel, I already know the kind of match he wants. Sure, I get pleasure out of beating a guy; but I much prefer to beat a guy in a competitive match.

But here's the catch.... I don't always WIN those competitive matches. I step on the mats expecting to win, but sometimes, I walk off the mats a loser. And since I'm being honest here, some of those loses are exceptionally erotic to me. Does that make me a jobber? Nope.

It makes me a Heelber. A new breed of legitimate wrestlers do go balls to the walls in a match and are willing to accept any outcome. They strut out prepared to win, but know it's possible that they can lose. They get into the struggle and begin to uncover all the elements that make for a great match. The physical power and skill. The mental strategy that goes into anticipating a move and trying to stay two moves ahead. The psychological side of wrestling that comes into the play once the match unfolds. We all know it. That rush you get when you're winning and you can stare into your opponents eyes and see that is he is beaten. The feel of his muscle as you pin him down and sense that the fight has gone from the sinews of his muscle fibers. He just can't defend. And you feel victory. And, admit it guys, we all the frustration that comes from that moment in a match when you realize that YOU are the one who is gonna lose. Your body gives in to the relentless attacks of a better opponent. You head tells your muscle it's over.

So next time one of you ask; don't just settle for heel or jobber. Remember, many of us are heelbers.

Talk amongst yourselves.

It is now almost a week since I met Jay at Grove Park and ever since I have been promising myself that I would write a blog about the experience.
Jay had spent a good deal of time before we met on the phone trying to convince me that I would have nothing to worry about but on the morning that we were to meet I was far from certain that this was a good idea. I managed to convince myself that this time I had bitten off a lot more than I could chew, the best thing I could do was to ring him and give some excuse. But I didn't and I have to say that I am glad that I went ahead with seeing him. Jay was good enough to agree to meet me at Grove Park Station and we spent a short time just chatting in his car. The truth is that he was just trying to re-assure me that no harm would come my way.
When we arrived at the Mat room I thought I was never going to survive the experience such was the terror that went through me but still Jay was there with his charming Scottish smile to re-assure.
But as soon as we started to get to grips with each other the tension that I felt seemed to disappear as he showed me some of the tricks of the trade and also got me in some holds. My attempts to get out of them make me laugh even now. At one bizarre moment I threatened to tickle his feet unless he let go ( some chance ).
After about 80 minutes of being chucked about and put in a variety of holds I decided that I had had enough. It has to be said that he gave me opportunity on a number of occasions to try out some of these nasty holds ( Camals and bostons )and it was quite tempting to put on a little more pressure than was advisable. I did not give in to this pressure although it was the only thing that I was not giving into that afternoon.
Overall it was an awesome experience with a guy who is undoubtedly a top man in every sense of the word. He managed to keep this mad OAP from Wales amused and tied up for over an hour. A word of warning to those seeking a proper fight with this man. If you really fancy your chances against him you had better bring your A1 game with you otherwise you will be in for a painful time because he is the real deal as well as being a really good man for a newbie to meet

A couple of times in my blog entries (which, amazingly, do seem to be read!) I griped. Once - when I was completely and dishonestly scammed by someone who deleted his profile then popped up again almost immediately under a different name and, it seems, may be continuing along the same road. Another time, about "ageism" - perennial complaint, I know.

I thought, therefore, that I would write about some of the things I love about this site.

1) Most members are so polite, friendly, tolerant, encouraging of each other. Maybe we won't ever meet but to exchange a few messages is often good fun and affirming: there seem to be plenty of people here who love a good chat and making contact with them is civilised and civilising.

2) In recent weeks I seem to have had the pleasure of several excellent meetings despite my perhaps rather unpromising starting points (my age ... and ... see my profile for the rest of the story). It's a tad disappointing when people one contacts don't even send a message to say "no interest" but, well, the positive responses and the people who DO take the trouble to decline politely restore one's faith in basic good manners. Mind you, one guy I met last week, whom EVERYONE wants to meet, told me that he had had up to 170+ messages in his inbox so maybe the non-replies begin to make sense.

3) I've made several really good friends here - whom I have yet to meet in person. We just seemed to hit it off and we have exchanged masses of e-mails ... books of them! Special thanks to my good friends in Canada and Margate.

4) And then there are the great guys who have had the generosity of spirit to give me the time of day and actually meet up. Nice guys, each and every one of them. Thank you: there hasn't been a single meeting I've not enjoyed.Or, to put it the other way round, I've enjoyed meeting all of you! It continues to be a lot of fun.

5) Now, at the end of this week, I'm off to the USA for a holiday and have already made several arrangements to meet people along the way. My past opponent count is about to go up considerably, I hope. Hooray for MeetFighters.

HI GUYS AS FROM NEXT YEAR THE TIMES AND NAME OF THE OWG GROUP MEETINGS WILL CHANGE ETC I WILL KEEP YOU INFORMED AS TO DATES ETC

Hi guys,

My profile on MeetFighters is as old as the site itself. But after nearly eight years, it was time for a little rebranding.

I used to be Gutpuncher33. I'm no longer 33. More importantly, my interests have outgrown that name.

Now I'm StrikeFighter.

Hopefully, my new profile name will do a better job at conveying what I'm into: submission fights with body blows (punches, kicks, knee strikes.)

Having said that, I'll happily do a submission fight without body blows.

Finally, GP on its own is still a major side interest.

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