I neglected to anoint a homoerotic wrestler of the month last month, but it’s not because there weren’t outstanding and eligible candidates. It was entirely do to my neglect (and ass-kicking travel schedule). To rectify the situation, I’m widening the field for the new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month to include all of the new releases for the past 2 months.  That makes this the homoerotic wrestler of the months, I suppose.  Or of the summer. Whatever. Fuck semantics. Let me get down to business.  I wrestled about twice as long comparing and contrasting twice the new releases, but I kept finding myself drawn back to what I found to be a surprising conclusion. This is a first-time HWOTM and someone I haven’t spent a ton of time writing about. But for reasons I’ll explain below, I decided that my new homoerotic wrestler of the month(s, summer) is…

 

 

 

…Trey Dixon.

Somehow it feels to me like Trey has been around the scene for ages, but that’s just not the case.  He’s wrestled a total of 3 times in BG East releases, and those have all been out less than a year. I’d consider him part of the sophomore class, but like I said, there’s a quiet confidence and maturity about the stunningly ripped stud that belies his relatively brief known (to me) wrestling resume.  So seeing him in the ensemble cast of BG East’s early summer release Wet & Wild 7: Pool Tournament, I’m a little surprised to find myself so taken with him.  Standing out among the crowd of contenders across all June/July wrestling releases is tough enough, but also standing out among 5 other sophomore class hunks seems like even more of an achievement.

Wet & Wild 7 is a king-of-the-pool competition, so that at least makes sense to me as grabbing my attention.  I love the drama of wins and losses and eliminations and best 2-out-of-3 to the title moments, and all of these are part of this fun romp. All 6 studs get their hands on each other at some point or another, but early going its clear that the hunk to beat is either going to be Trey or Mason Brooks. In the initial single elimination round robin, in fact, they’re the two left standing, but along the way, everyone has gotten into the act.   Initially, the action is pulled directly from summer pool fights from my childhood, with the scramble taking place in the middle of the pool, punctuated repeatedly by humiliating dunks and long, slow, overpowering submissions.

In the initial one-and-out impromptu tournament, it’s the freshest man in the pool, Mason, who overcomes long, lean, tanned, beautiful Trey for the victory.  Nobody, and I mean NOBODY is satisfied with smart-mouthed Mason simply taking the crown and walking away with it. Regular readers know that I’m more than a little infatuated with Mason, and though BG East doesn’t ask, I unilaterally award him Best Nipples of the Year every year.  Mason is smart and quick witted and when victory goes to his head, no one around that pool is happy to concede he’s king of the pool.

What follows is a very fun fuck-the-rules free for all as the boys go to town on each other.  Double teams batter every cocky stud, including Mason, down a notch or two.  Mastered muscles are paraded around the pool for the combatants at poolside to indulge in some gratuitous slaps and punches and trash talk.  There are sweet subplots of revenge enacted after earlier slights and humiliations. Personally, I’m struck by the stunningly hot contrasts when Trey returns to wolverinish, pale, hairy heel-in-training Kayden Keller to teach the babyheel a thing or two.

The moment in this match that haunts my dreams is after Trey has milked out a submission from Kayden. He turns to the rest of the boys sitting on the pool deck, and with supreme confidence he holds his arms out wide, inviting any and all to deny that he’s the fucking stud to beat.  Trey says precious little in his matches, at least as far as verbal communication goes, but his non-verbals raise trash talk to new heights!  His arms held out silently to his sides light a fire in my crotch that’s still burning a month and a half later!

Ultimately, Mason is as worn out as everyone else, and with the field a little more even, he and Trey agree to go 2 more falls to determine whether Mason truly is the pool bully of the day, or whether tanned beauty Trey is the rightful title holder.

They’ve both tasted victory. They’ve both choked on humiliation. Absolutely having to win a fall or face the humiliation of going down 2 in a row, Trey turns into a wild animal.  He swarms all over Mason, exploiting his long limbs and superior height to take advantage of the smart mouthed stud puppy.  More and more the action spills out of the pool and onto the pool deck, which for someone like me who resents pool wrestling for how much remains unseen underwater, is a blessing.

Trey takes the equalizer, and the fierce look of determination on his face drives me nuts! Okay, that look along with his stunningly flexed muscles. And that hot bulge in his trunks. And the momentary desperation playing across Mason’s normally cocky face. The buzz cut, the all-over tan, the pump, the squeeze, the veins popping to the surface… Trey is picture perfect as the Lord of the Summer, the Poolside Bully Extraordinaire, the muscle-punk tamer, the champ.

There are depths to Mason Brooks, however, that we have yet to plumb. With the momentum heading Trey’s way, Mason finds gears that no one has ever even heard of.  Trey spends days languishing between Mason’s gorgeous thighs. He throws his own offense, but finds the chess master Mason two steps ahead of him every time.

Slowly, it’s Mason’s fall to lose. Even the superhuman conditioning on Trey can’t stave off exhaustion as he battles the water weighing him down and his opponent gradually taking possession of his smoking hot body.  Here’s where the real competition happens for today’s question, because this could be Mason’s HWOTM title for his part in this work of art. But what lingers in my mind’s eye is Trey selling the story of the poolside bully worn out, beat at his own game, and hung out to dry.  Once a finely tuned muscle machine patrolling his waters like the primordial shark, Trey melts helplessly cracked across Mason’s knee, in the Virginian’s total control as Mason crushes his balls.

There’s this fantastic symmetry as Mason hoists Try up across his shoulders. Almost as if in cruel mockery of himself, Trey’s arms hang to his sides, palms up, the pool Messiah crucified in  the same position with which he had summoned all challengers earlier in the afternoon to soak in the sight of his awesomeness and tremble at his taunting challenge.

Mason parades the once-mighty hunk around the perimeter of the pool for everyone who Trey had bullied to slap around and taunt. He is Mason’s possession to do with what he wills. That gorgeous tan. Those ripped muscles. That devastatingly handsome face. It all belongs to Mason. And everyone, even a begrudging Skrapper, has to admit that this day, this pool, this vanquished hunk, belongs to Mason.

All six sun-kissed studs are torqued beyond tolerances by the extremely erotic action, and they all retire to the middle of the pool to luxuriate in the pumping adrenaline and hard bodies all around them. Again, Trey let’s his body do the talking, leaping into Ty Alexander’s arms as if Trey has been ravishingly hungry for a taste of adorable Ty all afternoon. Ty’s hands grab Trey’s ass underwater. Trey cradles the back of Ty’s head in his hands and locks lips, sucking face with a ferocity to match his wrestling performance.

I repeat, this is an ensemble piece and all six of these summer studs tell the story. But among all of the boys of summer, for the body, the beauty, and the balls, for everything he’s packing inside those trunks, for his unspoken trash talk, and for his perfect telling of power and domination spoiled and broken, my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is Trey Dixon.