It takes a big, ballsy man to wrest the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month away from a 4-way tie like last month’s winners. Happily for all of us, there are plenty of big, ballsy homoerotic wrestlers, and perhaps none as big, ballsy, bulging, blond, blue-eyed, and buff as July’s homoerotic wrestler of the month…
… Biff Farrell.
With all-American grade A beef like Biff, a post explaining how he earned the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month practically writes itself. This is Biff’s second time claiming the title, and it’s little wonder he also owns the distinction of being voted by fans as BG East’s 2015 Best Debut. He put out 3 brand-spanking-new BG East matches in July, constituting his first (of many, hopefully) Wrestler Spotlight collection. Many neverland readers need no convincing to hail the reign of Biff. He locked up an army of eager fans from the first moment we saw him barely one year ago. It’s been a rocky road for the flag bedecked beefcake, and perhaps never rockier than in the brutal 3 matches of his Spotlight collection. But win (rarely) , lose (often), or draw (never… this is BG East, after all) , it’s hard to deny that Biff embodies exactly the boyishly handsome, magnificently muscled, classically beautiful qualities of a chart topper babyface.
I’ve already discussed just how much I enjoyed the phenomenal Biff-bashing in the opening match of his Spotlight. In fact, the dazzling, dastardly performance of prettyboy heel Kelly King nearly made me drop Biff from title contention for HWOTM, just like Kelly choke slammed big Biff to his back with absolute authority. If there had been only this one match to consider, truth be told, I’d be lifting Kelly’s hand in victory right now. Not that Biff didn’t sell like a mother fucking champion. I buy many times over the absolute devastation and brutality of Kelly in large part thanks to Biff’s sensational sell, and doubters need only watch this match to be convinced that pro wrestling is a full contact sport for serious athletes. I’m certain that Biff’s alabaster smooth muscles were seriously black and blue the day after this match, and the only flaw in the perfection of this pairing is that I was not invited to massage away the aches and pains from Biff’s oil soaked muscles as he recovered. But again, I have to say, the revelation and commanding turn on for me was falling in lust with Kelly King.
Fortunately for Biff’s prospects for winning the title of HWOTM, he showed up twice more. His mat match against another rising infatuation of mine, Masked Menace, is my second favorite bout in the compilation. Menace brings something I don’t think we’ve seen before from one of Biff’s opponents, namely, a carnal appreciation of Biff’s stunning beauty. It isn’t over the top. It doesn’t have to be, as far as I’m concerned. But the two things Menace enjoys most in life, clearly, are the feel of a pretty boy’s bulging muscles and the sensation of making a muscleboy his bitch. The first camera break in this match comes only after about 5 or 6 humiliating submissions get milked out of the beautiful headliner. I love Masked Menace’s momentum, his certainty, his precision. I love how he excitedly rips Biff’s singlet off, hungry for more skin, raging to peel the muscleboy down to the slimmest vestige of modesty. I also love the give and take in this match. Biff is out-hustled and outwrestled by his smaller opponent, but unlike the other two matches in this collection, he fights back.
In fact, Biff gets seriously pissed by his opponent’s repeated punches, and he climbs on top with pupils dilated and lips curled. “This is what we call a wrestling match right here!,” he snarls furiously, sick of the fists pounding into his abs, pecs, groin. “NO HITTING!,” he spits through clenched teeth, using all of that muscle mass advantage to nearly pop his opponent’s head off his neck in a vicious full nelson.
But in the end, Masked Menace has his way with Biff. The crotch-to-face headscissors may be the closest we’ll ever see to Biff sucking dick (but I’ll hold out hope anyway), and Menace milks it like the gay wrestling kink avatar he is. The hip swiveling face pin underneath the masked master’s cock may be the second closest we’ll ever see, as the wasted beefcake helplessly takes it on the chin (and across the lips) while his opponent does slow, quiveringly sexy push ups overhead. Biff’s writhing and wriggling clearly turn Menace on (I’m right there with you, MM). The masked master strokes his own hairy pecs, and he flexes excitedly overtop of the battered specimen at his feet. His Boston crab has Biff choking and weeping in submission, until Masked Menace drops one leg and uses his free hand to claw the living fuck out of Biff’s testicles, for no good reason, just to hear the bruising muscleboy scream. And he does. Fuck, this is sensational wrestling, and the objectification of Biff’s battered, conquered body by a smaller, older opponent is lush.
Biff’s brutal beating at the hands (and knees and elbows and boots) of Guido Genatto is breathtaking. I’ve been struggling with watching pro heel Guido lately, and I’m not entirely sure why. I’d like to see some more variation in his matches, true. Watching him steamroll one opponent after another has felt a little redundant. But I’ve sucked down similar performances of other favorites without growing tired. I think Guido’s brand of heartless viciousness needs a live audience, though. There’s something perplexing about his rage, about his gratuitous violence, that I think would make more sense if he were explicitly playing to the roars of a crowd. In any case, he does to Biff what he does to most everyone, namely, deliver a one sided beatdown peppered liberally with withering trash talk. For someone who, reportedly, has big, big pro wrestling dreams, this is surely exactly what Biff needed, because if he still wants to climb into the ring after getting muscle massacred by a monster like Guido, then I think Biff is going to go far.
I don’t remember ever getting to see as much of Biff’s mouthwatering glutes before, as we do when Guido nearly rips his trunks apart at the seams with a savage wedgie. For that, I’m deeply grateful to Guido. But this match is really all about Biff, with the blond bombshell selling the mother fucking life out of his beatdown. He screams bloody murder. He whimpers and wails. “No more!!! NO MORE!!!,” Biff weeps pleadingly. He’s such a gorgeous slab of beef that Guido literally sinks his teeth into the mountainous trapezius muscle of the muscleboy next door. “Sometimes, you just gotta take a bite!” Guido explains. And I totally understand.
Biff is delicious. He’s gorgeous standing still. With his signature stars and strips and military cut, he’s the perfect July pin up boy for a homoerotic wrestling calendar. I never tire of watching him, despite his repeated humiliating failures thus far in almost all of his matches. Nay, not despite, but perhaps because of his failures, I can’t wait to tuck in each and every time he shows up wearing next to nothing but that crotch warming, earnest smile. He embodies the promise of hard work and fanatical attention to training and aesthetics, and therefore his terrified beatings, screaming in panic, weeping in agony, impotent and owned by one opponent after another, is hypnotic to watch. Well, hypnotic and incredibly sexy. I’d love to see more offense from him. I’m living for the day he seriously gets to muscle bully some new flavor of prettyboy rookie who knows as little about pro wrestling as Biff did the first day he showed up at BG East. In the meantime, set off some fireworks, stand at attention, and salute the flag, wrestling fans. Biff Farrell is unquestionably my homoerotic wrestler of the month.