Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Mike Martin


(via richarddean500)

Watching Mike Martin's stomach heave out and then pull back in, tight as a bullet, while he torments his opponent's right arm and rib cage, I think about what makes this man so attractive.  His face, I think--square, with black eyes so sharp and focused you can feel pinched when they're pointed at you, a terse dash of a mouth, teeth meant to be gritted so that the muscles at the back of his jaw ball up like tiny fists.  His face is the proper spelling of "tough guy."  But then there's that stomach, and his flat smooth chest, and the long sinewy arms and legs.  Those, too.  He has the face of a charming thug and the body of a jungle lord.  The man is hot, definitely hot.

Of course, the poor dope he's fighting sells it.  Those groans are one part heaven, two parts hell.  You can hear it all as they rise up from deep inside the man.  Wrapped up in a knot in Mike Martin's tight and intractable physique has got to be sweet torture.  Who wouldn't sell a pounding at those hands?  I certainly would.  Just the thought of that sleek rubbery body climbing over me gives me goosebumps.  The asshole is lucky to get a thrashing by such a capable grappler--whatever he did to deserve this, I want to do it too and rub Martin's nose in it first, let my taunts stir his spite against me.

Mike's black, close-cropped hair accentuates the aerodynamics of his head.  Cinching the man's arms behind his shoulders, he calls for a submission in an icy, reserved tone of voice.  Almost whispering:  "Give up?"  Martin's soft-spoken brutishness is a good part of his allure.  The victim has got to be torn right about then, the pain firing through his bones and joints, yet the hot breath of the sensual predator brushing against the back of his neck!  "Come on," Martin murmurs, like a lover, like a crooked cop.

I have to imagine the other part of this fight, the part where the opponent gets loose and gives Martin a licking--or the prologue to what we see here, where the guy pushes Martin just a bit too far, takes a swipe at that virile jawline perhaps, insults Mike's sister or brother or manhood and then kicks low and slams him to the mat.  Momentarily triumphant, arrogant, certain of an easy win, till Martin's hair-trigger temper ignites ...

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