I wrestled with buddies as a teenager and was aroused by skin on skin, muscle to muscle contact. Sometimes a hardening adolescent cock would pop from its white pouch rubbing the bare skin of an opponent. Budding male ego fueled by teenage testosterone turned fun matches into opportunities to exert dominance or be shamed into submission by a stronger boy. Fantasies have evolved and now include both getting beat up by a muscular man, as well as dominating a weaker one. I like foot contact, where a wrestler's foot is pressed into thigh or stomach or face of an opponent by accident or for strategy and domination, in a tangle of legs. I'm aroused by a schoolboy pin, both sides. I want to be mounted, another man's powerful thighs pinning my midsection, his legs immobilizing mine, his strong feet holding mine down, his torso looming over mine as he grinds and humps me, showing me who's in control. I love a full nelson, one man behind his victim, chest into his back, bulge digging between his glutes as he applies pressure and tilts his pelvis. I also fantasize about married couples wrestling for entertainment and dominance, husbands and wives in various combinations, leading to orgasms. But that's a different story.