Kirk, Prologue

Blayne

“Blayne?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m Tiffany, I’m your ride.”
“Oh great! Nice to meet you.”

I was on my way from Boston International Airport to Pembroke. I had been hired as a photographer. The story of how I got here takes a few twists and turns.

In high school and college, I was a wrestler. I loved wrestling. I was good at it. I was fast and nimble. By my senior year in college I was 5’9’’ (175cm), 165 pounds (75kgs) of solid muscle. In my weight class, I knew exactly how to dominate an opponent. I collected quite a number of trophies in my day. Although they are now in a box in a closet in my apartment, I’m still proud of those achievements.

I went to college at Emory University in Atlanta, where I also came out as gay for the first time. At no point during high school or college did wrestling have an erotic component for me. Looking back from where I am now, this might be difficult to believe. But honestly, I must have been able to completely switch it off during any match I’d had. It was all about strategy, stamina and athleticism. I was dead set on winning. I was competitive. I had something to prove. Being so physically close to a young man of my own age, feeling their ass against my crotch, their hand between my legs, or my face against their chest, it wasn’t a big deal to me. Not even the visual of singlets aroused me.

When I broke my ankle during training in senior year, I was devastated. I graduated, but I knew wrestling wouldn’t be my career. I had to focus on something else. It took me years to find out exactly what that would be as I went from job to job looking for a new passion.

Thanks to the physique that wrestling training got me, I got offers for modeling jobs. Modeling was something I kept up after graduation. Nothing really major ever happened, I was much too short for that. But it was easy money and a reason to stay fit.

Blayne

While no regular job could keep my interest, I kept getting offers for underwear modeling and even nude modeling, always for a gay audience. I was hesitant at first, but I did end up doing a wrestling-themed solo scene for a gay pornsite. Although I had enjoyed the experience, more than any other job I’d had, I knew I didn’t want to go any further. I stuck to my boring office job. My modeling gigs did get me interested in cameras and photography. I bought my own camera and took my own nature shots during the weekends. It never occurred to me this could be my career.

The wrestling shoot I did for the gay pornsite did not go unnoticed and I got even more offers than before, specifically for partnered scenes. I knew I wasn’t into that. But one offer stood out. A gay wrestling fetish site. No nudity required. I looked at the website online and it was basically built dudes wrestling each other while wearing skimpy speedos. The money was pretty great. The wrestling looked pretty awful.

Joey, Blayne

I accepted the offer and went to Florida. I worked out and trained, seeing if I could go back to how good I was in college. The first few matches I did, didn’t end well for me. Wrestling skill meant nothing here. It wasn’t even WWE-type wrestling, as there was no ring. Bodybuilders just picked me up and threw me around on a mat. There were no weight classes, everyone wrestled everyone, usually making me the smaller guy. It was common for matches to end in a knockout sleeper finish for a 3 count. I ended up getting knocked out time after time. I was very motivated to continue wrestling on the site so I could win. My competitive side came back out. And they hired me back each time. Apparently, I was popular. Viewers loved seeing me get thrown around and be knocked unconscious.

I ended up moving to Florida and quitting my office job, as I was making more money than ever before. I was also getting other offers from the exposure. I did more underwear modeling and I got offers from many other fetish sites. So I was making a comfortable living and I had a job where I could get competitive. I was loving it.

Bolt, Blayne

I was making friends with many of the other wrestlers, but when it was match time, we all had our game faces on. Some of them were pretty hot, but I found out most of them were straight. All matches were on the mat, though sometimes outside or in the middle of a room. My bad streak continued throughout my time wrestling for the site. Even in a 2-on-1 match, I once woke up with my partner sprawled unconscious on top of me.

For a while I did not watch back my own matches, although if I had won I probably would have. I didn’t understand the appeal for our viewers or why I was so popular. Until that one day I caved and had a look at the site. I saw photos of myself lifeless in another man’s arms. I could feel myself getting hard and I mindlessly started touching myself as I went through photos of others. I had been completely out of it on the photos being taken. Bested by a stronger man.

Scrappy, Blayne

I clicked on some other matches and realized it was even hotter to see some of my hot, muscular fellow wrestlers. A big bodybuilder completely knocked out and lifeless in the arms of another. Eyes rolled up, mouth ajar. I was starting to understand the kink.

And that’s how my new career started to unfold. My body was aching from doing wrestling matches, and I eventually realized I could no longer be competitive during them now that I understood the appeal. I wanted to be the photographer during the matches. Next to the cameraman. Being able to swiftly change an angle and get a facial expression, a speedo-clad ass in a compromising position, or some rippling abs on a photo. The Florida company let me try it a few times, but preferred to have me in front of the camera.

I did my research and found out that the biggest gay wrestling fetish site mainly filmed outside of Boston, but also had a location in Florida. I contacted the owner, Troy, and he invited me for a meeting. He was quite a flamboyant figure, much more so than my current boss. He had been a TV wrestler across the globe. He said that there were major differences with the company I was currently wrestling with, as there was actual wrestling technique involved and the matches were usually WWE-inspired though sometimes with a gay(er) twist. Also, there was ring wrestling as well as mat wrestling and some of the matches would have nudity or sexual activity in them.

I was slightly intimidated by Troy, but I explained that none of this was a problem for me as I had the right experience with both wrestling and adult content. He paused.
“I like your eagerness.”
Another pause.
“I’ll give you a tryout during my next shoot, OK?”
“That would be great!”

That was years ago. By now I was an experienced photographer for Troy. I’ve said goodbye to the wrestling site that I started with, even though I still lived in Florida. But Troy organized shoots about a weekend a month, and if it’s in Boston he flies me in. So now I was being driven to Pembroke by Tiffany, an Uber Troy ordered for me. The drive through tunnels, over highways and then past the wooded area to Hanover and then to Pembroke was now familiar to me.

Lorenzo, Damien

I was thrilled with this job. I freelanced and did some other photography jobs on the side, but this was by far my favorite. I had been able to explore my kink while getting paid. I had taken photos of the most beautiful guys knocked out cold, flat on the mat. Sometimes trunks would get stripped off and the nude fight that followed was incredibly arousing to me. I had a great collection of photos from this job, of which I stored the best on my own hard drive to look back on whenever I wanted.

Troy was still quite a character for a boss, but I knew him now and would even consider calling him my friend. He was aware of my knockout kink and had told me he could tell by my photos that I loved taking shots of an unconscious wrestler. He was always satisfied with my work and I had a great time doing it.

A long weekend of many matches was ahead of me. 8 matches per day, for three days straight. Some in a ring, some on a mat. Most 1-on-1, some tagteam, even a 2-on-1. I was used to it. I knew which wrestlers tended to make things slightly more erotic and some matches were set up that way. There were also some new faces. I wondered who was going to be sprawled across the mats this weekend, sleeping off a match gone bad, with my lens pointed right at them.

The villa in Pembroke was very large and had a big garden. Outdoor matches were filmed every now and then as well, weather permitting. Wrestlers and other employees all slept in the villa, sometimes with mattresses pulled into several rooms. Every weekend there were rumors about wrestlers who shared a room and got up to funny business. A majority of the wrestlers were gay, I had found, as opposed to my previous employer. However, very few of them noticed the photographer, as they focused more on each other. Which made sense, I guess. That said, I did get my rocks off with a few of them but it was always a one time thing.

Tiffany pulled up into the driveway and helped me with my suitcase and camera bag.
“Thanks so much!”, I said.
I walked up to the villa and Troy himself walked out to hug me.
“Welcome back!”, he said enthusiastically.
“Are you in for another hot weekend of wrestling?”
“Of course!”, I smiled.

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