This Little Bitch Has No Idea What He's In For Today
WARNING: Sex and violence follow. No kids or prudes allowed. This is the devil's work ... some of his best to date.
Jonah Marx vs Tyler Rush, 13 January 2017 (Naked Kombat)
Later this year I turn 64. I'm well educated, liberal, peace-loving, and in possession of a modicum of good taste. There are days--and they are increasing in number--when I feel that I'm past my erotic attachment to the sport of wrestling, a passion that was at its fullest in my late teens and early twenties. It has been years since I actively participated in a wrestling contest and I am less and less in touch with the whole wrestling scene. And at a certain age, slobbering over minimally dressed youth in combat seems, well, unbecoming and a little creepy. Many have been the days when I've tried to bid a ceremonious farewell to this blog and wrestling. Then something like this happens.
Pouty fratboy Tyler Rush issues a challenge to hairy-chested Jonah Marx, easily my favorite sex wrestler of late. Tyler seems certain that his lovely and unblemished body is up to the task of kicking Jonah's butt. As he speaks, he smirks, looking down his nose at the camera, glib and entirely confident in his superiority. "Oh boy," I say to myself. "This is going to be tasty." I feel my temperature rise by a good three or four degrees. The feeling sweeps over me like a wave. From the start, Jonah lays claim to every inch of Tyler's smooth body--like an eagle taking possession of a small, prettily coifed marsupial. The arrogance in Josh's eyes fades, dilating to undisguised terror. Jonah works him like a procrastinator's science project. He can't wait to plug every hole in the kid's body. Any thought of my being unmoved by such violence is vanquished, too.