Es stand in vielen Zeitungen, ein Professor - David Carrier - von der Universität von Utah hat herausgefunden, dass der Mensch im Gegensatz zum Affen sehr ausgeprägte Kieferknochen und Kiefermuskeln hat, die er für seine Nahrung bestimmt nicht brauchte. Der Grund war wohl die Lieblingsbeschäftigung unserer Vorfahren - der Faustkampf.

In der Tat, noch bis Ende der Fünfzigerjahre gab es viele Männer die sich regelmässig leidenschaftlich prügelten. Schlägereien auf dem Schulhof waren ohnehin normal, kein Lehrer schritt dagegen ein. Aber auch am Samstagabend, wenn man nichts besseres zu tun hatte, konnte man in bestimmte Kneipen gehen und ein paar Leute fragen. Man fand immer jemand der mit einem gern vor die Tür ging für einen zünftigen Boxkampf. In den sechziger siebziger und achtziger Jahren verlor sich diese Gewohnheit. Sich schlagen und Boxen war plötzlich verpönt, die grosse Mode wurde das Tennisspiel.

Aber nun haben sich die Gewohnheiten wieder geändert Boxen ist wieder in. Die Kampfsportvereine haben wieder Zulauf. Besonders in den angelsächsischen Ländern wird wieder viel gekämpft und im Internet kann man nun glücklicherweise auch wunderbare Kämpfe von Frauen und Mädchen sehen, die zwar oft technisch vielleicht nicht ausgefeilt sind - aber sie zeigen viel Einsatz, Begeisterung und Mut. Sehr viele Männer möchten dabei nicht zurückstehen. Sie träumen davon zu Boxen und sich zu schlagen.

In anderen Foren fragen junge Männer oft, ob es normal ist dass sie sich prügeln möchten und bekommen oft Antworten, als ob diese Frage schon krank sei. Dabei ist die Leidenschaft zu körperlichen Auseinandersetzung Jahrtausende alt. Wir sollten doch diese klassischen Träume der Menschheitsgeschichte respektieren und die Tradition erhalten und weiter verfolgen. Möglichst viele Frauen und Männer sollten so oft wie möglich dieser Leidenschaft frönen.

Wer sich in einem Sportverein wohl fühlt, jung und fit ist, hat damit kein Problem. Aber viele Frauen und Männer mögen dieses organisierte Boxen nicht. Sie möchten nicht laufend trainieren, sie möchten keine Punkte, keine Medaillen und keine Pokale bekommen. Sie möchten auch nicht weiter kämpfen - für die Ehre des Vereins - wenn sie keine Lust mehr haben.

Da jeder vernünftige Mensch die Schlägerei mit zufälligen Gegnern auf der Strasse schon vermeiden will wegen der Gefahr für Leib und Leben und wegen der Gefahr mit dem Gesetz in Konflikt zu kommen, ist die beste Lösung sichere Partnerinnen oder Partner zu suchen, die denselben Traum haben, denselben Adrenalinschub suchen. Da stellen sich einige Fragen:
wie findet man am besten einen Partner/-n von dem/der man sicher sein kann dass er/sie sich an die Regeln hält und kein Weichei und kein Feigling ist ?
Welche Regeln sollte man vorher vereinbaren um bleibende Schäden zu vermeiden?
Wo sollte man am besten Boxen - in einer Privatwohnung, im Freien oder irgendwo wo auch Leute zuschauen können?
Sollte man mit normalen Boxhandschuhen, mit Leicht-Boxhandschuhen oder mit blossen Fäusten boxen?
Ist ein Kopfschutz zu empfehlen?
Man sollte einen Modus finden dass fast jedermann ob 17 oder 70 – gross, klein, dick oder dünn, auch und trainiert und ohne Vorkenntnisse herrliche Kämpfe geniessen kann. Meine Lieblingsbücher: Blaise Cendrares - „Wind der Welt“ und das E-book von “Die Boxerin 1995” Grüsse Karl Maisch

My first really HARDCORE ab-busting session was with two guys I met at the D.C. Eagle who invited me back to their house one hot, summer night. It turned out they had a full scale dungeon set up in their older house, in a basement made of stone walls. At the bar we'd talked about what I was into (and what I wasn’t), and though they’d never done a scene totally focused on ab and stomach punishment, they expressed a definite desire to do one with me.

After hearing some of their intense stories of BDSM, I somehow found the courage to tell them I wanted to experience a seriously brutal beating of my abs and stomach –– no mercy. I said I wanted them to work me over until they made my abs finally buckle and fail –– but then I wanted them to KEEP working me over, forcing me to finally experience what I'd only fantasized about up to that point: being tied up and made to take a savage beating to my defenseless, UNPROTECTED stomach.

Not to brag, but I've always had a really hard stomach, with abs that can absorb literally hundreds and hundreds of punches. The showoff part of me always got off on the puncher(s) tiring out even before he got me to grunt much. And in past sessions, if a puncher DID tire out –– or if he could tell that he was actually starting to cause some pain –– that, unfortunately, was usually the end of it. I can't tell you the number of times I heard, "We should stop. I don't want to hurt you..."

Taking punches and object hits to my FLEXING stomach is one kind of pain –– mostly of the ab muscles. Taking hits that went DEEP into my stomach would be an entirely DIFFERENT kind of pain –– that I HAD to experience. For years (during countless solo jerk off sessions!) I’d imagined taking that kind of pain, and I CRAVED to experience it FOR REAL. Somehow I just knew it would take me to insane levels of pain and pleasure.

Despite having countless gut punching sessions prior to this specific night (and even a few of those being with two or more guys going at me ), I'd somehow been able to take all the beatings with mostly just some muscle soreness and maybe only a few moments of true "pain" when a guy was able to fire in a "good one." I suppose my "secret weapon" (or not-so-secret) of getting fully aroused when having my stomach worked over also gave me some EXTRA pain tolerance, too. Yeah, I had some good times being gut punched, but I felt my sessions weren't even close in intensity to the ones that I always FANTASIZED about in my JO scenarios. THOSE always had me taking some SERIOUS, HARDCORE beatings.

And so, on this night, meeting the two guys at the leather bar, I was on a serious mission to finally "go there."

I remember driving behind them on the way to their house, my heart pounding, my dick already hard thinking about what I was getting myself into. And there was also this very real sense of fear, too. Yeah, I WANTED to experience this –– but there was a part of me questioning if I'd actually be ABLE to take it that savagely. Yeah, I knew I could take punches while fully flexed, no question. But what would the pain be like –– when I COULDN'T?

Once down in their basement –– with the three of us stripping down –– I quickly started to think with my "other head" and pushed away my fear. “These guys are built like brick shit houses and hot as hell!” my little head told me, “You’ll be fine.” Yeah, I know, not the smartest way to approach being worked over by two strangers. But as they almost tenderly restrained me spread eagle to a stone wall, I started thinking they were pretty much the perfect couple for me to "give myself over to" for this experience: they checked to make sure I was comfortable with everything –– that the restraints around my wrists and ankles weren't too tight, that I didn’t need water. And they promised to take everything at my pace.

Once fully naked and fully restrained, the bigger of the two, Matt, started in on me first. As he visually explored his target, I just smiled and flexed my stomach. Matt slowly ran his knuckles up and down the creases of my abs, letting out an audible “Mmmmm,” then pulled back his arm and slammed in his first punch. There's something exceedingly hot to me about those first few minutes of taking a beating, watching a puncher's face, that look in his eyes as he realizes that I really CAN take it. Matt punched again. And again. And again. THUD. THUD. THUD…

I’m sure I probably produced my first drip down below when Matt finally stepped back and said something to the effect of, “This gonna be a fun night.” He then gestured for his partner to have a go at me. I can’t remember his name, but after watching Matt’s attack, he didn’t even “test” me out with a punch, he just immediately got into firing a long, relentless barrage of punches nonstop into my abs. When he stopped, it was only to turn his body slightly and throw some elbow slams hard into my navel. After a few more punches, he almost courteously stepped aside, allowing Matt to take front and center again.

Matt quickly started back in on my abs, noticeably hitting much harder this time. Not quickly, but methodically. He worked my upper abs, drilled sadistic shots into my navel, and spent some time using my lower abs as his personal heavy bag. His partner stood by closely, watching intently, subconsciously stroking after any grunt Matt was able to slug out of me. After 10 or 15 minutes of taking turns on me, after there was no doubt that my stomach could definitely take a serious beating (and I’m sure, after they saw that the harder they pounded me the harder I got) –– it's then that things started to escalate.

It was obvious to me that Matt was definitely getting more and more turned on the more brutally he got to beat me. And I could tell that his partner –– though into it, too, and just as boned for most of it as Matt –– that he was more into doing what Matt wanted and into pleasing him by doing a good job busting me up. I didn’t care. I’ll TAKE IT any way I can get it.

There were quite a few times during the nearly four hours that they worked me over, where Matt –– and it immediately bones me every time I think of it –– would sit down on a nearby weight bench stroking himself, staring right at me, staring at my abs, while his partner was hammering away at me, trying to break me. It's hard to describe, but when our eyes met, I felt this incredible, erotic, bonding sensation –– both of us getting off on the scene: HIM watching me TAKE the pain, and ME wanting to take it FOR him.

At one point, when Matt was dishing out the beating to my abs, he had his parter kneel and suck my raging cock WHILE Matt piston-punched my navel (I can take almost ANY intensity of gut pain if I'm stroking, being stroked or sucked). Matt's punches were so incredibly powerful that each time they rammed into my abs they made my body slam back into the stone wall. When it did, grit and debris from the wall would rain down on his partner's head –– now between my legs. When it first happened, I remember Matt’s partner telling us that he thought it was "hot as hell."

Throughout the night, Matt would send his partner off every once in a while to look for objects to use on me. There was something incredibly hot about that to me. One guy beating the shit out of me in his basement while his partner was upstairs or out in the garage searching for new things with which to brutalize my stomach. Seeing him come back down the stairs with something new and savagely punishing in his hands –– that I knew would soon be slamming or jabbed into my stomach –– just made me drip even more…

And for some reason Matt always seemed to go at me even HARDER when his partner was upstairs looking for objects. He was noticeably more verbal, too. I’m not sure why. But I LOVED his verbal: “I’m gonna bust you up.””How’s it feel getting that stomach taken apart?” “Can’t wait to drive that navel to your backbone…”

That night, I had my abs and stomach worked over with all kinds of things, including a baseball bat, lead pipe, SAP gloves (lead filled in the knuckles), and the very first pair of brass knuckles ever used on me –– all hammered and/or rammed into my fully restrained body. And with all those objects and with all the muscle power these two could put behind them, after about 90 minutes of this seriously brutal gut beating, I began to feel a totally NEW sensation. For the first time in my life, I could feel my abs not fully responding when I tried to flex them. More and more, as the punishment continued and grew more violent, I could feel the savage blows starting to actually “break through" my stomach muscles –– no matter how hard I tired to flex. I just remember thinking, “No, not yet. Not this early...”

It was just about then that I got a bit of a reprieve –– when the next found object Matt's partner brought downstairs to use on me was a wooden kitchen spoon. The handle was about the thickness of a finger and rounded at the end. Matt took it and moved in, wrapping an arm around the back of my neck to pull us closer together and to force my head downward as if to watch. As he did at the very start with his knuckles, Matt ran the end of the spoon down my now battered and mark up abs, stopping and circling my navel –– before forcefully pressing it in. He slowly worked it around my already tenderized belly button –– turning, jabbing, pressing –– intentionally trying to make it as sore as possible. Every time I wince or moaned, he'd whisper this sexy, "Yeah, that's what we want…” He kept grinding it, working the wooden piece more viciously into my red, raw belly button until he had me moaning with every twist and thrust. It's kinda funny, my abs had taken slams of a lead pipe and punches with brass knuckles, with me holding back most of my grunts and moans. But this wooden spoon in my navel... Oh, man.

I looked up at Matt as the wood went deeper and deeper into me, and for the first time this night (but definitely not the last), he had this incredibly evil gleam in his eyes. He finally pulled the blunt spear out of my stomach and stood in front of me smiling. He told his partner to get him a brick from under the pump at the far corner of the basement. I had no idea what was coming next –– until the handle went back into my aching navel, and Matt used the brick to literally HAMMER it into me. With every slam of the brick, it felt like a knife stabbing me in the navel, spiking me in the stomach. As thoughts blurred in my agony, I wondered if he might mistakenly pound it right into my stomach. And as I dealt with the serious, non relenting pain, I have no idea how long he continued bashing that rod into my throbbing stomach hole –– into that crater at the very center of my lust for pleasure and pain. I just remember the sound of the wooden spoon hitting the floor, and each of them working to unhook one of my wrists from the wall, and then my ankles.

They kept the leather restraints attached to me and moved me into the center of the room next to the weight bench, under the brighter glare of a hanging light. They pushed me down onto my side on the floor then, behind my back, they connected my wrist restraints to those on my ankles. Matt walked over into the shadows and picked something up off the floor, then sat down on the bench. I could see then what he was doing –– slipping on some big, black (probably steal-toed) boots. Unlike the brick, this time I was SURE what was coming...

I waited there naked on the floor, hogtied on my side. Restrained in this most VULNERABLE position, my body was fully stretched into a curve –– my beat up and tenderized stomach now fully arched out, making it impossible for me to flex anything that might be left of my abs. Matt stood up next to me, and slowly, almost seductively rubbed the toe of his boot up and down my torso, stopping once again at my aching navel. He gave it three light taps –– then SLAM!! I had never felt gut pain like that ever before. Burning waves of hot, searing pain coursed through my gut and down through my cock and balls. SLAM. SLAM. SLAM. I tired in vain to flex my stomach –– my abs never responding. The brick and the wooden spoon were NOTHING compared to this! Fuck –– NOTHING in ANY of my sessions of gut punishment amounted to ANYTHING compared to this!!

At this very moment, my stomach was finally being made to endure the kind of brutality I'd fantasized about for so many years. THIS was the first time ever in my life that truly savage, powerful, BRUTAL blows were SLAMMING into my stomach and PLOWING continuously DEEPER and DEEPER into my gut. Matt had enormous muscle power in his arms –– but his LEGS were DEVASTATING! With every kick, I could feel the muscle wall of my stomach simply give way, allowing Matt's boot full access to my gut. With each kick, unbelievable explosions of PAIN ignited deeper and deeper in my aching, throbbing insides. I quickly made up for not grunting much earlier this night, as Matt’s boot kicks now penetrated unchecked further and further into my tortured stomach, and blasted one enormous grunt after another out of my pain-contorted mouth.

In the background of my agony-fevered recollections, I think Matt’s partner finally said something causing the ferocious demolition of my stomach to cease –– momentarily. A continuous, gut wrenching moan began exiting my lips once the last grunt had been kicked out of me.

My head was spinning. The ROOM was spinning. An indescribable FIRE coursed through my gut and radiated down into my cock. As I moaned, my pain-racked body must have been rocking back and forth, eventually causing me to be chest-down on the hard cement. As I laid there, the COLD of the floor against my wasted stomach and the sense of safety with my battered and beat up belly temporarily “out of range" –– were both momentary comforts to me. But Matt quickly flipped me back on my side.

But instead of kicks, Matt motioned for his parter to take a turn on me, returning to his seat on the weight bench. His partner knelt down next to me –– and in the greatest sign of compassion that night –– he gently caressed my ravaged stomach as I continued to moan and gently rock. His hand lingered over my navel, ever-so-lightly brushing it, before moving on to regions below. Soon, any stiffness that the intense gut pain may have stolen from my cock, his hand quickly returned, leaving me thoroughly hard and dripping once again. Maybe he’s not being so much “comforting” as he is simply trying to bring me back around to take more pain, I remember thinking. Matt shuffled his boots on the floor, seemingly informing his partner to get on with business at hand (and fist). And so while kneeling, he wrapped one hand around my back, and with the other –– he began once again slamming punches into my wide open stomach –– with the brass knuckles.

My continuous moan was quickly broken up, punched into incredible, pulsing GRUNTS, rhythmically being pounded out of me with every loud THUD of the brass knuckles hitting my unflexed abs. It was as if he was playing my stomach like a kettle drum. And through my pain-filled delirium, I could make out Matt sitting on the bench –– watching and stroking. Whenever his partner stopped the pummeling of my battered stomach, looking to Matt for the sign that I'd had enough, Matt would simply nod his head for the punishment to continue.

And so –– it did...

[END of Part One]

The first time I donned EVERLAST lace up 8 oz. boxing gloves at age 8 I got sex- cited ! Since that time I have had a even stronger fetish for all the gear! It seems my main interest has become erotic boxing! Glad to find meetfighters in hopes of connecting with men who share my fetish and want to box for fun!

The procedure of May 10 has been reviewed and reported on by the specialist yesterday May 23 and he is very happy with the outcome.
I expect to be able to resume gym and resume wrestling in a little while once I have recovered some strength and am confident I would be able to offer my opponents a worthwhile challenge.
Thanks again to all the good wishes expressed here and in messages...
Darren 'the natureboy' Rix

Because of the nature of this site and the fact a lot of us do this in secret, friends come and go and sometimes you never find out why.
So when someone you chat with on a daily basis, someone you've built up a friendship with over years, months whatever, stops logging on, what do you do?
So today I decided to text Roundtwo2 (Al) who I haven't heard from in almost a month, just a quick message, Hi, how's you? . The reply I got was from his partner saying that Al had sadly passed last week, I was shocked.
I'd just like to say thank-you to him for the help and advice on taking the next step in wrestling, but mostly I'd like to thank him for his friendship.

WORLD WRESTLING DAY 2017
世界レスリングの日2017

On May 23, 1904, the first World Greco-Roman Wrestling Championship was held in Vienna, Austria. More than a century later, May 23 is now celebrated by many wrestlers around the world as World Wrestling Day.

It's actually the fourth year in which this event is being celebrated, and I'm proud to let Manga Pro-Wrestling join in this celebration. After all, pro-wrestling wouldn't be here without going back to its wrestling roots.

For this piece, I decided to draw an original Filipino freestyle wrestler character. Sure, I could've gone with a more popular anime character instead, but that would somewhat distract from what this day is supposed to be about: a celebration of wrestling. Also, I wanted to use this as an opportunity to promote Filipino amateur and freestyle wrestling. It's a sport that could really use a lot of love in this country.

I hope you enjoy this piece. And Happy World Wrestling Day everyone.

#WorldWrestlingDay
#SaveFilipinoWrestling

Not going into politics or anything like that but Manchester for me is the wrestling capital of the country. If I get on a train on the way to Manchester, I know I'm getting a match.

It's sort of like another home to me.

In the aftermath of an attack on it, with all that darkness and despairing of humanity - there's stories of kindness, compassion and empathy.

A hero isn't a guy who puts on Speedos and gets in the ring and destroys everyone. Not all heroes wear capes.

It's those in uniforms running towards a building that others run from, coming in on their day off to help. It's strangers offering others beds, chargers and of course, a cuppa.
It's taxi drivers and businesses offering services and help free of charge.

Manchester won't be beaten.

It may be knocked down temporarily, but like it's wrestlers, it won't lay down long.

It's up before you know it.

Manchester is strong.

I stand with Manchester as I remember all those who have lost their lives.

Or at least quite habituating. Used to think once every couple weeks or so was a decent amount; but lately with some action almost every week, even more often than that, I'm beginning to feel I really "need' (want) it to happen at least twice a week, in order to get the skill-building practice one needs to become a significantly better wrestler.

Have met lots of nice men recently – mostly men visiting from out of town. So it's probably a good time to remind local men in the Washington-Arlington-Alexandria metro area that you are more than welcome to come wrestle (also judo, mma, below-neck boxing) me; as it takes a strong local base of guys for both my skill-building and gaining wrestler friends goals. Can wrestle downstairs, or for those into doing it outside, the back yard. Getting a group together for oil wrestling outside could also be part of the action.

Check out what my profile says I am into, the recommendations to see what others think, and if there's something which interests you, feel free to contact me about arranging for an encounter

When I started working out in November, I had a fire to get going but very little direction. I knew the basics of a combined strength training/fat loss regimen and got started... and adjusted along the way as I read more about - and discovered through trial and error - what would work for me. And through luck or wit (more likely the former) and lots of determination, that worked for me for awhile.

As for motivation, there was this guy... and a nebulous idea that I might start wrestling. However, even as I saw progress and - with difficulty - got past a plateau, my workout intensity grew harder and harder to sustain, until the last few weeks. What changed was my mindset.

Before, I was "getting in shape," or "wanting to look good naked" or just "trying to be healthier." Those are all fine goals, if a bit nebulous, but none of them really translate directly into an idea of what I should be doing. Now, however, as I'm wrestling several times a week and ever more focused on getting better... I am actually starting to look at myself as an athlete (though expresing the idea still gives me a chuckle) and training for wrestling.

And that shift in mindset around my workouts has made a big difference. The intensity is back. I am starting to notice feedback loops of what I need to work on/work more on, etc. For example, I have added loads of variance into the way I run and added footwork drills to almost everything I do because I find myself lacking speed when shooting for takedowns.

Training to feel good meant more upper body focus because of more readily apparent improvement, etc.... but training for wrestling means never skipping leg day again! Lol...

I still know way less than I'd like to... and the best workout is still a nice long wrestling session with a challenging opponent. But I am grateful to wrestling for my renewed focus during other exercise... and to fellow wrestlers for advice, tips, and of course sparring.

So please, let me know in the comments if you have favorite wrestling drills or exercises that you've found especially helpful in conditioning oneself for the sport... I'm eager to keep learning and keep training!

Today started out crappy, but now I feel better because my punching bag is coming by to get wrecked for 3 rounds. First I am going to work his head over, next his body, then finally everything!! This is going to be epic!