The men, who were a few years younger than me, were in a gang, hung around outside the show occasionally with the other marks. They talked about a world I knew nothing of, they were in their game and I was in mine y'know? And I didn't even consider myself a wiseguy. Their faces had probably been in the newspaper if anything had gone down. Just that usual assumption shit that's called prejudice today. They were local celebrities I guess. They were a gang with catchphrases I didn't understand, mostly referring to sex acts, and little hand signals that the boys and I emulated and giggled over like fucking kids.
That night, I watched them in the crowd and when they smiled at me, pointed me out and waved, I felt important, and it felt pretty fucking good ain't gonna lie. Adrenaline rush in a fucking high school gym, Jesus H. I had been seeing one of them, Tyrone, for three weeks and had met Sam and Merlin once or twice. Tyrone asked me to arrange to stay out the night after the show. He suggested I lie to my housemate and say I was at a rat's house, so we could "spend the whole night together". I would have done anything for fun honestly. The road is hard. He couldn't believe I wasn't actually 7 feet when I first met him after the boys bullshitting and fucking with the marks. Couldn't believe his luck, more like.
So I arranged my alibi and stayed out. I wasn't pilled up but just some fucking cheap vodka. After my match, the guys were on a high, enjoying the attention of their groupies. Fuck, were supposed to be mine. I waited while they circulated for half an hour and then they came over to me. Tyrone asked if I had made the arrangement to stay out. I said yes and he shuffled me away from the back door of, gorilla, obviously this is a fucking gym not New York but, that deal y'know.
One, it was the summer of ninety-two Nine, guys wanna be in who? Nine, dicks in nash ya seethe Go and post some eddie memes (and) Two times nash swallowed with glee Nine guys filled him with their seed Always guaranteed to get a you Nash summer of ninety two
Luis Diaz
Tyrone asked if I would like to hang with him Merlin and Sam where we would "all be together" or go back to the fourth men at arms in their merry gang. (He was also a gangbanger and was having a 'party') I didn't understand the hidden meaning. I thought he wanted us to spend the night together in this dank fucking alley, so this was what I chose. This is what, he later told me, he took as my consent. Asking me where I wanted to be and take part in group sex.
The year before, our city had been terrorised by a rapist known as the Mouse. Malcolm Fairley broke into houses during the night and raped women at gunpoint in front of their husbands. My father, God bless him, even though there ain't one, desperate to protect his family, would stay up all night after barricading the windows in. He was determined no rapist would get near us.
That was what I thought rape was, a man climbing through your window in the night. Even at my age. I never thought it would happen at a local wrestling show, one of my earlier shots. I didn't think Tyrone would spend weeks getting to know me, before passing me on to his friends.
I was in this alley. There was newspapers spread around, those big green dumpsters and pictures of semi-naked women as stickers. It was like a 1980s bachelor pad, I suppose. Had the fucking neon hint from the strip club opposite. After a while, the gang said they were tired and that we should leave. I followed them a different way, a shortcut, led by Merlin. When we reached the other alley I looked around, confused. I asked Sam where we go. He said, "We'll all just hang round".
Hang round?
As Sam and Merlin leaned against the walls I asked Tyrone if we could leave the normal way. Tyrone just looked at me. I turned and thought for a second about the way out; the kind of situation where you can feel people looking at you.
The neon dimmed purple against the walls, Tyrone started touching me around my waist from behind. I said, no, said it was weird, and asked again to go. But he wasn't even listening.
He had sex with me....
I was uncomfortable and... uncooperative...
Hating every second of it.
I thought that if I just let him do it... It would be over and I would be able to wait out for them to leave me alone and I can leave...
But then the light was on and Sam said, "Can we join in?" And Tyrone said, "Be my guest."
None of them asked me...
I remember the texture of the gravelly floor piercing into my knees...
My ass up in the air, the side of my face was pressed into the floor. It was cold. Almost numbing, probably why I just stayed like that...
I could feel the heat radiating off whoever was latched on to me, and their strong hands roughly holding my hips, sometimes moving to my lower or upper back; with their fingers touching the end of my hair against my skin. I could hear the pitter patter of their hips against my butt. The stiff, bristle like hairs of their public regions scraping me. It's strange... It felt like when you need a shit, but it felt like I was being stretched... I thought I was bleeding... I felt like I was being stabbed over and over in the most intimate part of my body... I could feel their tension... Every beat in the veins of their penis within me... How my anus tightened around them as of it was holding on, begging them to stop...
Suffice to say, I was the victim of a "ramming" - one of their catchphrases. I was raped by Tyrone, Sam and Merlin in turn, each with the "assistance" of the other...
To this day I can still feel the chill metal of Merlin's cock-ring pressing against the outside of me as I was torn apart in every sense....
often wake from nightmares where I am having the breath squashed out of me, a huge weight pushing down on me and the smell of his sweat in my nose.
Like a 17-year-old girl, I "stayed for breakfast"...
We went to the 7/11 afterwards... Chocolate donut rings...
Though I didn't eat a thing. I watched them stuff their mouths with these chocolate donut Rings and waited for them to leave...
Fuck, it's dumb. "Waited for them to leave"... I was a 33 year old man hanging around with fans late at night and I'm so crippled with shock I still stayed with them and didn't run, or call the cops or anything...
So I hung and they walked me home. I ran a hot bath and began a ritual that would last for years, scrubbing my flesh in an attempt to get clean. Friends frequently joke about how obsessive-compulsive I am when it comes to cleaning thinking it's to do with a staph infection or something but the truth of this obsession lies in that night.
I have lived with the shame and consequences of their actions since 1992. The emotional repercussions have been enormous. Soon after the attack I attempted suicide but I never told a soul my secret. I feel I over-compensated in my personality. But none of it was real. It was as fake as this fucking business. The men, however, bragged about the "three's up" as they put it. It wasn't seen as rape, though. It was seen as me being a bitch, a willing participant in group sex even though I was a grown man with no experience of people like them. I have suffered from clinical depression, panic attacks, nightmares and many symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder ever since.
The physical consequences of that night scarred me, too, and the physical damage I sustained during the attack has had serious health implications for me ever since.
I have dealt with my disgusting secret without therapy or help of any kind, other than the endless support of my Wife and family. But now, everywhere I turn, I am faced with stories of people who say they were gang raped by a group of men, but people only hear of it decades later. It is in every paper, on the radio, social media and the television. It isn't hearing about it through the media that causes my anger, but rather the comments and opinions of others who question. I feel judged - though they know nothing of what happened to me.
Teenage girls as an example will always be impressed by older men, particularly those who promise a world of glamour and glitz that is far away from their experience. For some girls it might be a footballer but for others it will just be the guy in her class who everyone likes, or the singer in a local rock band.
I applaud the young people who have the ability to tell their parents and go to the police. Much of my anger is at myself for my inability to do these things despite being nearly 60. At the age of 33, I could only see that it was my fault. I lied to my family, my housemate, my friends. I agreed to go to the alley, I didn't know how to stop the men raping me and so how could I face anyone with that amount of shame? I didn't report the rape until many years later, and even then I decided in the end that I couldn't go through with it. I forget it had ever happened.
At a book signing, in my hometown, years on, Tyrone turned up. I had him ejected. Some months later, Merlin and Sam turned up at a spot show I worked. He said hello as if we were old friends. Furious, I confronted him with the truth.
"The thing is Kev," he said, "we really liked you. We thought of you as one of the gang."
But I was never part of their gang. Their gang was about subjecting people to humiliating, degrading sexual acts. What these people are accused of is nothing new. The frightening part is that this has always happened. It happens in small towns and cities up and down the country, projects and in suburbs. It happens to nice girls and girls who get drunk, in bars and clubs, and it will go on happening until this issue is tackled head on.
And it happened to me. Former WWF Champion Kevin Nash.
I don't think Sam or Merlin believed at the time that they were committing rape. They viewed this type of sex as "normal". Tyrone later told me he thought I was participating. "You never said anything," he said. When confronted with the victim's perspective they are forced to consider their actions in an entirely different light. I asked Tyrone to imagine one of his unknown daughters subjected to an identical situation to mine. Would this be rape? I wanted him to consider me as a person, rather than a piece of meat. "Looking at that scenario [the rape]," he said, "I can paint it blacker in my head than probably you can...." I don't think so, but I do believe that he is now aware that rape isn't just grabbing a woman in a dark alleyway at knifepoint.
Men need to be taught that it isn't rape only when a girl screams and shouts and kicks. There are different types of power and sometimes a woman doesn't even need to be held down. I'm a man and I didn't shout or scream or kick. I lay with my eyes shut tight, crying silently while Merlin held Tyrone by the hips and pushed him into me, brutally, shouting "Ram, ram, ram" and laughing. Afterwards, he asked me if I had come.
I'm Kevin Nash. And I was raped in the Summer of 1992.
But that's not who I am. I ran this business with my best friends, made a fuck load of money and had fun doing it.
I was a victim, you don't have to be weak to be a victim.
Last friday I saw John Wick. Imagine my reaction when I saw Kevin
Caleb Reyes
Sad honestly. The only way he can cope is by recreating being held at gunpoint on screen.
Aaron Nelson
>you release a guttural roar as you shoot another massive load of cum into his colon >you grin with satisfaction as you pull out and a steady flow of fecal matter and cum spills out of him. "You're my scat slut now, understand?"
>you watch his match in a motel room. He wins another title >He's uneasy when he arrives later that night but when he removes his coat, he's wearing his ring gear underneath like you requested
>he relaxes as the two of you share a bottle of wine and chat >soon he's on your lap making out with you. You squeeze his ass cheeks through his tight ring trunks
>you get hard as you kiss the soft skin of his neck which has the salty tang of dried sweat. >you carry him to bed and remove his trunks which are damp with arousal
>his juices gush onto your face as he cums >you flip him onto all fours, grab his hips and slide your dick into his wet asshols, all the while wearing his trunks like a mask to smell and taste him as you fuck *SMACK**SMACK**SMACK*
