I’m slow to get in motion to pour over the BG East Bestie nominations. It appears that the polls are still open, so vote today. Here’s the rundown of the first half of the ballot, with some visual aids to help you make your choices. Without diving too deep into my picks, let me just say that within this stellar field, the numerous nominations for Chase Addams, Kayden Keller, and Ace Aarons are richly deserved!
As many of you have noted, my posts have been extremely sparse over the past several months. This is a result of a number of factors. I’ve been slammed at work, which has become a huge time suck. However, it’s not just that. I’ve also been examining my disenchantment with social media in general, as it has become more and more evident that decisively undemocratic forces have successfully manipulated social media to disenfranchise millions and cause harm in the real world. My contempt for social media has also grown as multiple platforms have campaigned against sexuality, sexual diversity, minority gender identity, and the human body in general (not to even mention eroticism). My ambivalence has caused me to drift away from most social media, and, as my blogging has become so entwined with social media, blogging as well. Frankly, I’m not sure what the future holds for my blogging or social media activity.
That said, I thought I’d send up a signal flare and just let concerned folks know that I’m still alive. I’ve had a few exceptionally well-deserved days off of work, and I’ve been deep sea diving into CMLL (Consejo Mudial de Lucha Libre) on Youtube. I have 3 current infatuations from this federation. While he’s not my top infatuation, I wanted to share some money shots of the most overtly eroticized wrestler I’ve been watching. He was unmasked in September of 2017, and has since continued wrestling, sin máscara, ever since.
On November 27 of 2017,Niebla Roja competed in a 6-man tag team match that you should watch here. Opponents are constantly intimidated by Niebla Roja’s insanely hot, ripped, fuckable physique. In the November 27th match, as in many matches, his opponent, Pierroth, just stops in the middle of the action, to slowly look up and down his mindblowing muscles, and, clearly intimidated, insist on flexing his own merely mortal muscles to try to convince himself and the audience that Niebla Roja isn’t simply 1,000 times more gorgeously built. For his part, Niebla Roja always enjoys that moment immensely, because it demands that he flex back in comparison, and there’s never any comparison.
In most of the matches I’ve watched thus far, Niebla Roja starts the match wearing a sleeveless shirt. When the shit gets real in the match, he rips off his shirt (sort of like turning your rally cap around), to the screeches of delight of the women in the audience. But in this November 27 match, Niebla Roja goes full on Magic Mike and rips off his tear-away skin tight white tights. Particularly poignant is the fact that he takes it all off as he squares off against Gran Guerrero, the same opponent who unmasked him just 2 months prior. The normally ecstatic reaction he elicits from the fans when he shows some skin turns full on rapturous.
He looks fucking incredible in tight, white trunks hugging his squarely muscled glutes. There’s a strong hit of Tommy Zenk, a la the banner to this blog, but more overtly and self-consciously sexual. To drive home the eroticism, essentially his first offensive maneuver after the strip tease is to leap up onto Gran Guerrero’s shoulders, and spin around, face-to-crotch, and fling himself backward, pulling off a headscissors takedown that sends his opponent skidding out of the ring.
This particular brand of lucha libre is holding my attention hard for a lot of reasons, not even close to the top reason being Niebla Roja’s stripper schtick. There’s an old school vibe that is hot as fuck about most of these matches. They usually come out slathered in buckets of baby oil. All of the matches are best 2 out of 3, so even though the pace is frantic and the holds typically brief, everybody has the opportunity to shine, and everybody takes their turn suffering. Most of the matches are 2 or 3 man tag team bouts, with inevitable boatloads of incredibly provocative double/triple-teaming. Everybody (E.V.E.R.Y.B.O.D.Y.) flies, usually over the ropes and outside of the ring. They’re fucking mean, heels and babyfaces alike. And with Niebla Roja as the exception since September of 2017, the masks are so fucking hot! Niebla Roja is merely in third place in my current roster of erotic lucha libre infatuations because I’d donate a kidney to see El Cuatrero and Oro Jr. in a best out of 3 falls rip and strip match until the loser gets fucked, all with their masks on.
It doesn’t hurt that for this November 27th match, Niebla Roja was just a couple days out from the Mr. CMLL bodybuilding competition that year, for which he was as ripped as fuck. The Mr. CMLL’s are also bingeworthy YouTubing. There’s something incredibly provocative about wrestlers, showing off their physiques in posing briefs and masks. The only thing that would make it more erotic for me would be to have the competitors break out into a full on, oil -oaked, pro tan-smeared, muscle bashing match, preferably with Cuatrero and Oro Jr. as the principals, as I’ve mentioned before.
Anyhow, all of that to say that I’m still fully engaged in appreciating the eroticism of wrestling. I continue to love the sport, the more erotic, the better. I enjoy the community of homoerotic wrestling fans, for the most part, though the bullshit guys get into on social media (see, there it is again) gets depressing, with tearing down wrestlers and fellow fans and reporting to platform Gestapo false complaints in order to get each other banned. Seriously, not only is that shit petty, it only serves to reinforce the Leave It to Beaver fantasy that social media platforms are trying to promote, that the world is antiseptic and vanilla, that naked bodies are shameful, and that erotic lust is, in and of itself, a disgrace. Quit that shit out, people. It’s so fucking discouraging to see us do it to ourselves.
I have every intention to post more here, but intentions are not actions, so we’ll have to wait and see. In the mean time, I’ll just be over here combing through the 30th or so lucha libre match that I’ve watched in the past few days. To those who have emailed and messaged asking about my welfare, thanks for your concern. To the wrestling hunk who I completely disappeared on mid-sentence in the middle of an interview online, I apologize profusely and will eagerly submit to being bent over your knee and spanked the next time I see you. To all of the wrestlers and producers who supplied such fantastic homoerotic content in 2018, thank you. If you don’t hear it from me enough, I hope you know that I, like most of your fans, profoundly appreciate your craft more than you’ll ever know.
My boss has been riding my ass hard lately, and not in a good way. When he told me that I needed to come in on New Year’s Day, I considered telling him to go fuck himself. But I have to admit, I do enjoy getting paid. I still hosted my annual New Year’s Eve party, but I kept a lid on my celebrating. Perhaps my self-restraint accounts for the relatively unusual lack of drama. All lips were consensually engaged at the stroke of midnight. There were enough sober drivers to get everyone safely home, or at least to a safe harbor to continue their champagne-fueled hook-ups. I set for myself a firm deadline of 2 am to crawl into bed, having calculated that I could squeeze in 5 hours of sleep and still have 30 minutes to spring through the shower and swipe a Pedialyte from the fridge for the commute back to the grindstone.
Before climbing into bed, though, I circled the place to lock up and survey the damage. I noticed Paul curled up in the dog bed, snoring loudly. I couldn’t imagine how the studpuppy had failed to bag a bedwarmer for the night. I’d seen half a dozen guys enthralled by Paul’s Auld Lang Syne striptease, and I’d seen him in a heavy groping session with the Rhodes twins, but at the end of the night, there he was, shirtless, pants on, curled into the fetal position in Satan’s bed in the living room. I put a throw blanket over him and gave him a little peck on the cheek, but decided to let sleeping dogs lie, as they say.
I also glanced into the guest room and confirmed that Dan was sleeping soundly. The minor flare of drama for the night had been when he’d found his date with his tongue up Reese’s ass not 30 minutes after sucking face with Dan to ring in 2019. There had been a light scuffle as Dan dragged them both off the guest bed where he’d found them. But Reese beat a hasty retreat with Dan’s toy boy in tow, and Dan passed out in a sulk, stretched across bed.
Satan barked at me bitterly as I silenced the alarm clock 5 hours later. I dragged my ass out of bed like a good worker bee, but I noticed bitterly that Satan just curled up in the body heat I left behind. The shower never quite warmed up. I was in a foul mood as I pulled on the least dirty clothes from the laundry bin with one eye on the clock. I was at full speed as I came around the corner and into the kitchen to grab my liquid breakfast. But I was stopped in my tracks by the sight of Paul, buck naked, staring into my open fridge motionless. That ass. Fu-u-uck.
“Grab me a Pedialyte, buddy. I’ve got to jet to work,” I said, eye-fucking that beautiful ass in front of me.
Paul stepped back from the fridge and closed it, without grabbing my breakfast. Slowly, he turned around, his morning wood bobbing and swaying heavily. With blond bedhead and sleep in his heavily lidded eyes, he grinned at me, noticing my inability to refrain from glancing at his delicious cock. He slid his right hand down his lower abs and gave himself a suddenly rough tug, making his cockhead swell visibly.
“I’ve got your protein shake right here, baby,” he nodded, his thick accent making the cheesy line somehow compelling.
My cock pulsed uncomfortably inside my briefs. “Fuck, if only I had the time, Paul,” I said, working hard to keep my voice casual.
He stepped forward and put his left arm around the back of my neck, pulling me firmly forward as he poked my crotch with his veiny shaft. I could feel my resolve dissolving, until he leaned forward and locked his lips with mine “Jesus, Paul! I spat, pulling away involuntarily. “Brush your teeth, dude, you taste like ass.”
“So you’re saying you’d like to taste my ass,” he chuckled. His spell broken, I sidestepped past him, grabbed my drink from the fridge and tousled his disheveled blond mop. “I’d prefer your ass to your breath right now, buddy,” I said, keeping myself in motion toward the front door to stay out of his gravitational pull.
“Maybe when you come home from work,” he said half-heartedly.
“Darling, I’ve seen your Grindr profile,” I chuckled, grabbing my coat from the front closet. “I won’t hold my breath that you’ll still be here waiting for someone to taste your ass in 8 hours. But if you’re planning on sticking around, put the dishes in the dishwasher and straighten up for me.”
“Did anyone else stay over,” he asked, nonchalantly. As I turned to glance back, he combed his fingers through his hair and then held his hands at the back of his head, flexing in abdominal muscles and making his cock bob up and down, wagging at me.
“I think Dan is still here,” I told him. “But give him some space,” I warned, holding his gaze seriously. “He had a rough night, and I suspect he won’t be in a playful mood this morning.”
He grinned to one side and winked at me. Slowly stroking the palms of his hands down his sides and resting them on the shelf of his bubble butt, he stuck out his lower lip in a faux pout. “Not in a playful mood,” he mused. “I literally have no idea what those words mean in the same sentence.”
I closed the door behind me offering a silent prayer that Paul wouldn’t be too much of a dick to Dan. And that he’d still be there when I got done with work.
I stare at a computer screen for work. My hands do shit on a keyboard. That’s about the sum total of my productivity, for which I get paid pretty handsomely. When I woke my Mac up at the office, I noticed that I’d left the nanny cam window open. The cam was a Christmas present I bought myself to see what shit Satan gets up to when I’m not around. In the week I’ve owned it, Satan has done almost nothing else but sleep on camera. But he has me wrapped around his little paw, so even that makes the investment in the nanny cam seem worth it. The cam sits on a bookshelf in my living room. I’ve got a view of the living room and part of the kitchen.
Just as I was about to close the window, Paul came strolling in from the living room, now in briefs. He sucked down a yogurt without a spoon, and then stretched out on my couch, checking his phone for the soonest possible Grindr hook-up, I was certain. Fuck, he’s so pretty. My crotch pulsed uncomfortably, making me look around the office to see if anyone else was noticing. Of course, there were about 3 people in the entire suite, each of us more bitter than the next to be forced to be there, so no one was giving a shit about me. I decided to leave the nanny cam window up while I started working.
About 20 minutes later, Paul shifting position on the couch caught my eye. I don’t have sound on my nanny cam, but I could see he was talking to someone off camera with that perpetual flirt face of his.
After a few seconds, Dan stepped in front of the camera, giving me nothing but a close up view of the middle of his thickly muscled back. That was enough to make my cock spring to life again. The workout fanatic is a muscled god. I’ve seen him shirtless out at the clubs, but as he stepped forward, I got my first look at his bodybuilder glutes in nothing but briefs. I gasped out loud, quickly scanning the office suite again to make sure no one noticed. Fuck, he has a perfect physique! I instantly knew that the chances of Paul restraining himself from making a play were zero.
Paul’s mouth was still moving as Dan slowly strolled past him toward the kitchen. Whatever European-spiced pick-up line Paul was trying out, Dan wasn’t giving him the time of day. From my camera angle, I could see Dan as he turned to the side and opened the fridge. The side view of his granite ass, pendulous bulge, and tree trunk thighs made my mouth water.
I admit that I consciously weighed the moral dilemma of watching my overnight lodgers without their knowledge. Is that creepy? Probably. I considered closing the window on my computer. But my hand on the mouse refused to obey. I thought it might be fun to give them a call and just let them know that I could see them. I’m sure Paul would have done something salacious, because he’s never met a camera he doesn’t want to make love to. I was still weighing the moral arguments against the pounding pressure in my crotch, when Dan came padding back into the living room.
He looked pissed. Paul sat up straighter on the couch, perhaps sensing that whatever he’d just said may have crossed a line. Dan pointed a finger at the blond beauty angrily. I’m not lip reader, but I’m 100% positive the last word he said was “wanker.” Every magnificent inch of the black bodybuilder communicated physical threat, but Paul was climbing off the couch and walking toward him seductively, anyway. Dan swatted his hands away as Paul reached toward his mountainous pecs. “Back off, Paul,” I muttered under my breath. Of course, Paul leaned in even closer, putting his hands around Dan’s tiny waist and resting them on his massive slabs of muscled ass.
Dan planted one hand across the middle of Paul’s chest and shoved him so hard it literally lifted the blond provocateur of his feet. Paul fell backward onto the couch, clearly laughing with glee. Dan stomped across the room out of camera view.
I tried to get back to work. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paul sitting cross-legged on the couch with his phone out again. A couple of seconds later, my phone buzzed.
Dan says hell eat m ass if u wont cum do it.
Nice try, pretty boy, I thought. I texted back,
Tell him 2 go ahead wout me. Theres plenty of ur ass for both of us.
I saw Paul laugh out loud when he read my text. I had every intention of returning my attention to my work when I noticed him lean back on the couch and slide his left hand down the front of his briefs. He single-handed texted like a champ.
He says 3way now. If ur hom in 15 min, hell let you pick position.
Paul’s left hand moved faster inside his trunks as he watched his screen for my reply.
I took a deep breath, hating my boss, before I texted back.
Im tied up here 4 at least 7 hours. I just hope theres dinner left for me.
The word “fuck,” clearly formed on his pouty lips as he threw the phone to the couch in frustration. After a few seconds, he looked like he raised his voice to say something loudly. He waited for a reply. I don’t know if he heard one, but after a few seconds, he appeared to shout down the hallway a second time, an impish grin forming on his face as he waited for a reply again.
I had to actually work before I was seriously busted. I couldn’t bring myself to close the cam window, but I minimized it. Bitterly, I let my mind focus on work, trying to ward away intrusive thoughts of Dan and Paul’s bodies.
I managed to hold out for 10 minutes before I pulled up the nanny cam window again. Just as I did, I saw Dan shove Paul backward into my living room wall so hard that the dry wall cracked. Oh, fuck. So much for a damage-free New Year.
Paul was still laughing, but a wave of shocked pain washed across his face. Two things grabbed my attention. For one, both hunks were still just wearing briefs. I had been sure that Dan had been going to get dressed and leave after shooting down Paul’s play, but there he was, his divine body still barely clad in designer briefs. The other thing I noticed was Paul’s erection tenting the front of his briefs. Even with a mountain of muscle bearing down on him, the blond pretty boy was ready to fuck. Who was I kidding? Especially with a mountain of muscle bearing down on him, he was ready to fuck.
Dan grabbed Paul by the throat with both hands and pulled him out of the drywall. He clearly wasn’t choking him for real, but a rare look of serious concern washed over the blond bombshell’s face as Dan pulled him close, staring eye-to-eye and shouting furiously. Suddenly, Dan hooked his right arm between Paul’s legs and scooped him up high across his massive chest. He held him there, longer than I was expecting. He still looked angry, but triumphantly so. Finally, he slammed Paul to his back on my couch.
I’m sure it didn’t hurt, but by the look of Paul’s jaw dropping open soundlessly, I guessed he had the air knocked out him. Dan turned and looked around the room. Just when I thought he was going to walk away, he shoved the coffee table and my armchairs to the walls. He turned back to the couch and grabbed Paul by the hair, prying his back off the couch. Paul was slow to get to this feet, but dangling from his follicles kept him in motion. Once on his feet, he seemed to sag into Dan’s gargantuan arms. Out of reflex, Dan caught him in his embrace, holding him up. Paul laced his fingers together around the back of Dan’s neck as if hanging there. But he wasn’t hanging. He was just squaring himself up for a vicious knee lift into Dan’s big, bulging balls.
I couldn’t see Dan’s face, but his back went rigid, even as his knees buckled underneath him. The muscleman fell to his knees, clutching his balls. His forehead leaned into Paul’s lower abdomen, leaving the blond’s big erection staring him in the face. With his hands still entwined behind Dan’s neck, Paul pulled the big man’s face into his crotch, thrusting his hips forward and face fucking him with his tongue hanging out.
This was getting pretty serious. I was trying to decide how to intervene when Paul violently shoved Dan’s head backward. The gasping bodybuilder dropped to his back like falling timber. Paul dropped to his knees across his chest in a schoolboy pin. With his knees next to Dan’s face, he pulled on the back of his head, shoving Dan’s gaping mouth into his crotch.
I’m sure I should have felt concern for Dan, but the look on Paul’s face was consuming. He looked like he could cum at any moment, with one hand burying Dan’s face in his crotch as he pumped out a peaked bicep with his other arm.
Dan was clearly gathering his wits about him, starting to shift underneath his opponent to dislodge him. Instead, Paul rolled to his side, pulling Dan’s head with him, trapped between his flexing thighs. Dan’s face was completely buried. Paul rolled to his back and did stomach crunches, leering down victoriously at muscleman at his mercy.
Dan slowly pulled his knees underneath him. Still struggling with is face trapped between Paul’s thighs, he lunged forward, rolling Paul’s hips off the floor. The look of victory on Paul’s face gave way to concentration as he pulled with both hands at the back of his opponent’s head to hold him in place. Incredibly, Dan muscled up to one foot, and then the other, still folded over and trapped tightly in the face-to-crotch headscissors. His superhuman glutes flexed as he slowly rose, pulling Paul’s shoulders off the floor. Honest fear made Paul’s eyes widen with surprise. Muscling Paul’s back a couple feet off the floor, Dan abruptly reversed momentum, dropping to his knees and pounding his opponent’s back to the floor.
Paul’s knees popped open as he back arched in pain off of the floor. Dan sat back on his heels, his hands on his hips, gasping. His right hand rubbed gingerly at his strained neck muscles. They both seemed to move in slow motion, assessing the damage and marshalling their reserves.
Dan seemed to rally first. He grabbed the pretty boy by the ankles and climbed to his feet. Abruptly, he drove his knees into Paul’s quivering hamstrings. I didn’t need any sound to know that the scream coming from Paul’s gaping mouth was shrill. Shockingly, Dan dove forward, smashing his forehead into Paul’s vulnerable crotch. Paul was wracked with full-body spasms, his hands clutching his crotch.
I couldn’t help but notice that Dan was stroking a nipple with one hand and throttling his crotch with his other as he watched Paul writhe beneath him. This probably wasn’t the way Paul had pictured this seduction playing out, but fair play, Dan was clearly enjoying himself. If there was any remaining doubt, it was dispelled when Dan stroked Paul’s right hamstring with his fingertips before kneading the blond boy’s beautiful butt cheek hungrily.
I started feeling more self-conscious about spying on them when it looked like things were turning more amorous than aggressive. I would regret the missed opportunity to top Paul off myself, but I wouldn’t begrudge either of them some New Year’s pleasure in each other. But while I could always argue that I needed to monitor a fight breaking out in my own home, it was significantly less defensible to secretly watch them get down to fucking each other.
With my cursor hovering over the button to close the window, I paused just in time to see Dan grab Paul by the hair again and drag him to his knees. Paul was breathing heavily, a bitter grimace on his face. Dan squatted low, wrapping his big arms around Paul’s waist and lunging up to his feet, scooping his opponent up into a brutal bearhug. Off his feet, Paul’s knees pressed into his captor’s hips. Dan slowly turned a tight circle in the middle of my living room, alternately showing off Paul’s gorgeous ass, and then his own powerfully flexing glutes. Dan shook him violently from side to side, making the muscle boy go limp in his arms. The black bodybuilder spread his legs wide and hoisted his prey high, his stunning muscles straining with the crushing power.
Paul’s head rolled backward, his eyes wide in shocked pain. He sagged in Dan’s arms, his head lolling forward and his chin resting across the top of the bodybuilder’s massive trapezius. Fuck, Dan’s arms were gargantuan, his veins roping thickly across the surface of them. Paul looked defeated to me. His legs dropped limply, his toes just barely touching the floor. With his tortured back to the camera, I could see the growing sweat stain spreading up his briefs stretched across his crack. It didn’t make any sense to me when I noticed Dan’s eyes suddenly widen and blink in surprise. His mouth gaped open wide in pain, but it wasn’t until he stumbled to the side that I could see it wasn’t precisely pain. Paul was nibbling at his right earlobe, his tongue sliding around his ear. Of course, leave it to Paul to discover that the demigod’s Achilles heel was getting his ear tongue fucked!
Dan’s bearhug loosened, and Paul settled flatly on his feet. The offensive hold turned into a passionate embrace. The champion button-pusher, Paul made the mountain of muscle in front of him melt. Passionately, Dan disentangled his arms to grab Paul by the face and plunge his tongue into his mouth. Fuck, I was so jealous. I’m still not sure who I was more jealous of, but my face was flushed deep red with the desire to be either part of the scene.
Again, I felt like I should probably give the boys their privacy, but just as I was about to do it, Paul wrapped his arms around Dan’s torso, locked his hands together in the middle of the bodybuilder’s bulging back, and locked on a bearhug of his own. Initially, the aggressive move elicited a playful grin from the black muscle hunk. Objectively speaking, Paul is nowhere nearly as powerfully muscled. But he’s a beefy little beast in his own right, and he’s got plenty of muscle to put a hurt into a fiercely competitive bearhug. The fading grin on Dan’s face, replaced with pain-gritted teeth, bore evidence to the fact that the blond pretty boy was making him suffer. There was a taste of retribution in seeing Paul dominate him in just the same fashion as he was punished moments early. He turned in a slow circle, giving me a 360 degree view of Dan’s divine physique being tortured. And then I saw it coming a half a second before it actually happened… Paul charged forward, driving Dan’s back into the same busted drywall. Fuck, my wall.
Paul took a step back and, no shit, Dan’s huge shoulders were buried a half inch into the surface of the wall. He came stumbling forward, pain twisting across his face. Like the boss I had no idea that he was, Paul hooked his right arm between Dan’s huge thighs and hoisted the bodybuilder off his feet and across his chest. He turned just enough for me to enjoy the sight of his fingertips clawing into the bodybuilder’s massive glutes. Big Dan looked a whole lot less domineering suspended horizontally across his opponent’s chest and completely at his mercy. Even more so when Paul dropped to one knee, drilling his other knee violently into the bodybuilder’s spine and suspending him in an over-the-knee backbreaker.
I’m sure I muttered some sacrilegious profanity out loud, but a quick scan of the office suite suggested no one noticed. When I looked back at the screen, I was disappointed that I couldn’t see Dan’s face, but the camera was positioned perfectly to capture Paul’s hand fishing inside of the bodybuilder’s sweaty briefs and pulling out a massive handful of spectacular cock and balls. Dan’s hips bucked in panic, but the captured beast suddenly went rigidly still when his opponent clawed and twisted at his genitals. The impish grin returned to Paul’s pretty face as he toyed with the slab of beef spread out before him. With one hand he alternately throttled and then stroked the massive shaft in his grasp, while with the other hand he lovingly stroked the bodybuilder’s big pecs and pinched his nipples. The blond beauty licked his pouty lips hungrily. As did I.
Eventually, both of Paul’s hands were working the magnificent rod in his grasp. His upper lip curled in a sneer as he throttled his opponent hard and lifted, prying at Dan’s cock and balls viciously. The bodybuilder must have had his hands on the floor beneath his head, because he arched high, his lower back lifting off of his opponent’s knee. Paul mouth dropped open wide, silently mouthing what looked like climactic ecstasy at his complete control of the helpless muscle hunk in his grasp.
Smoothly, Paul climbed to his feet and let go of his hold at the same time, letting Dan’s back drop hard to the floor. The impact look like it did almost as much damage as the OTK, by the way he arched and instantly shoved a protective hand to his lower back. Dan was in no position to resist when Paul ripped his briefs off down his legs. I, on the other hand, was in perfect position to enjoy the sight of Paul bending over and stepping out of his own briefs, releasing his thickly veined erection. He stepped over his opponent, straddling the bodybuilder and flexing a double bicep pose down at him. I couldn’t see his mouth, but he was obviously monologuing. Knowing Paul, he was promising every bit of carnal pleasure as he was dishing out corporal punishment. I didn’t really need to hear. I could see Dan’s mammoth member twitching in excited reply.
For some reason, Paul stopped posing and looked around. “What the fuck, Paul,” I muttered out loud. To my sheer contempt, he suddenly dropped his naked ass back onto my couch, picked up his phone, and started talking. That mother fucker was taking a call in the middle of the hottest rip and strip wrestling foreplay I’d ever seen (and trust me, I’ve seen a lot)!
After about 30 seconds, I absent-mindedly did some paid work on the other side of my computer screen. Of course I fucked it up repeatedly, because I kept checking the nanny cam. Dan was pulling his shit together, rolling first to his side, and then up to his hands and knees, clutching protectively at his crotch. Paul seemed not to notice, speaking animatedly into his mobile as if he didn’t have anything better to do.
After a couple of minutes, Dan pulled himself upright on his knees, stretching out his superhuman muscles and repeatedly checking his balls for damage. Paul finally appeared to notice and cut short his call and stand up. They were both still sporting raging erections. There was a pregnant pause as they stared at each other, and, yet again, I couldn’t tell if they were about to resume fighting or start fucking.
Dan’s right hand darted out and swept Paul’s left ankle. Paul dropped to his ass in a controlled fall, but the charging bodybuilder was on top of him. Dan grabbed hold of his wrist and spun on top of him, falling to his back with Paul’s left arm locked up tight and totally extended between his naked thighs. Paul’s hips lifted off the floor uselessly as he squirmed for some position to save his vulnerable right arm. There was no such position. It was a gorgeous armbar, made that much more so by the bodybuilder’s beautiful erection stretching up his abdomen next to Paul’s trapped forearm. I’m sure Paul screamed, and I suspect it was the screams that made Dan smile outright. It was the first full on smile I’d seen on his face since midnight last night. He grabbed his opponent’s fingers and bent them backward at a sickening angle. Paul’s legs kicked and flailed, and he tapped frantically at his captor’s tree trunk thighs in submission.
Moments later, Dan mounted him in a schoolboy pin, his shoulders square to my nanny cam, giving me an unobstructed view of him dick-whipping the pretty boy’s face. It was Dan’s turn to flex, and holy hell, it was a magnificent show. His peaked biceps glistened down at his prey. Even with the relatively poor resolution of the nanny cam, I could see the striations across his pecs as he pumped out a most muscular pose. He was talking to him, with less a look of anger and more one of supreme confidence, self-congratulations maybe. He made his pecs bounce and his cock bob up and down across Paul’s chin without even touching himself.
After a couple of minutes, Dan rose to his feet and strolled off to the kitchen. I could see him pull a bottle of water out of the fridge and chug the entire thing. I had a fleeting thought that I ought to get back to work, but I drove it from my mind. Fuck work. Fuck the boss for making me miss this performance happening in my own goddamn living room. Fuck my life.
By the time Dan returned to the living room, Paul was seated on the floor, his back against the front of the couch, massaging his left arm. Dan offered him a bottle of water, but when Paul reached for it, the bodybuilder pulled it away. Slowly, he turned the bottle of water upside down over his own head. Water cascaded down his spectacular muscles. More words were soundlessly spoken, but the message was clear. Paul knelt before him and began licking the moisture off his glistening muscles. His tongue lapped up his huge thighs. He flicked the tip of his tongue at the bodybuilder’s balls and lapped briefly at the swollen head of his cock, but his tongue continued its journey up the long shaft, across the expanse of his lower abdomen, traversing the deep crevices of his 8-pack abs. Rising to his feet, Paul’s tongue licked the expanse of the bodybuilder’s pecs, briefly nibbling at his hard nipples. Upward, his tongue continued, across his collar bone, up his neck, between his lips.
They made out. I don’t how long. It was just fucking beautiful. Dan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as Paul’s kisses returned to his right earlobe. The blond muscle boy slid behind the demigod, tongue fucking his ear and reaching around, beneath his arms, to massage his gorgeous, thick pecs. Dan was stroking himself, slowly at first, then harder. Paul’s hands slid down to Dan’s hips, holding him tightly as slid his cock up and down between the bodybuilder’s hugely muscled glutes. Dan’s cock was huge, glistening and primed. By the glazed look in Paul’s eyes, he could clearly cum at any second with his jackhammer squeezed tightly between those slabs of perfect muscle.
Abruptly, Dan let go of his cock. It swung like a pendulum. His ripped abs heaved and contracted with deep, powerful breaths. Inexplicably, it looked like Paul had stopped all of the sudden as well. He kept one hand wrapped around Dan’s waist, but reached out with his other hand to pick up his phone from the couch.
His phone!? Holy fuck, if he interrupted this to take another goddman phone call I promised myself I’d go over there and powerfuck him myself until he forgot how to use that goddamn phone! JesusFuckingChrist what the fuck are you doing, you spectacular idiot!?
My phone buzzed on the desk where I’d set it down. It was Paul’s number. What the fuck? Befuddled, I waited so long that it nearly went to voicemail. With a sudden burst of panic that I might miss the call, I answered.
“So how are we doing so far, Bard?”
Wait. “Um. What?”
“Have we given you enough reason to come home yet, baby?”
As I stared at the screen, Paul winked directly into the nanny cam.
Dan grabbed the phone. “Give it here,” I could hear him say from a distance before he put the phone to his mouth. “Get your sweet ass back here,” he snarled, his accent somehow making it sound posh.
Paul took the phone again. “Look, as soon as I beat this bad boy into submission,” he said, landing a loud, cranking spank to Dan’s right ass cheek, “I’m going to need you here to give me a real challenge.”
“What the fuck?!” Dan snarled, spinning around and scooping him back up into a dominating bearhug again. “I’m going to tie you down and make you watch me pin our host to the floor with my cock up his ass.”
I could hear the air come rushing out of Paul’s lungs as he was bounced up and down in the bearhug. “Come home… soon,” Paul croaked, half chuckling, half choking, before dropping the phone to the floor.
I called my boss to explain that I had a raging case of food poisoning and had no choice but to go home. Yes, I assured him. I should be fine to come in to work tomorrow. But, I’d let him know if it looked like this thing might go into extra innings.
The Battle to Be the Best Heel could not have turned out more competitively and suspenseful! Brooklyn Bodywrecker and Kid Leopard traded the lead in voting at least a dozen times. Every time I checked the poll, momentum had swung a different direction. BBW opened up some distance relatively early on, and I thought KL was about to be buried under all that hairy, horny muscle like all of the rest. But holy fuck, do NOT count the Boss out prematurely! It’s been two days of heavy voting, though, and I’m calling it as of this moment. With not quite 51% of the vote, there’s just one vicious son of a bitch left standing. Check out David’s blow by blow in the comments, but in the end, his version of the match equivalent of voting did not end up the way the voting did. Because nobody, but NOBODY pulls off a gut check homoerotic badass heel beatdown like The Boss, Kid Leopard.
Maybe someone can write a new blow by blow of the match equivalent of this balls out slug fest. As for me, I picture them 45-minutes into this non-stop battle, gear ripped to shreds and discarded. Both sadistic masters are soaked in sweat, exhausted, and fully erect. BBW has been exploiting his weight advantage, and he now has KL torture racked, doing laps in the ring as he wrings KL’s neck with one hand and crushes his balls with the other. KL’s big, beautiful cock is bobbing back and forth. As has happened so many times in this match, BBW locks down a finisher that’s turned every other opponent into a sniveling, begging, bitch boy ready to pledge allegiance to their new master, but KL refuses to submit, despite his dire straights. Minutes of ripping at him, slowly circling, BBW keeps growling and barking, demanding the submission, growing frustrated that his opponent just won’t acknowledge the truth that he’s helplessly conquered. BBW’s beefy legs quiver, and he suddenly stumbles over his own feet, abruptly dropping to his knees as KL rolls off of his back. BBW pounds the mat furiously, enraged, with growing self-doubt. KL writhes behind him, struggling to pull his gasping face off the mat. His gorgeous, smooth body is marked all over with angry bruises and rope burns. Just as he pulls himself up to his hands and knees, BBW is standing next to him, driving a vile place kick into his ribs that lifts KL off the mat and sends him sprawling to this back. BBW is snarling and spitting, promising to take the title, to take KL’s magnificent dancer’s ass, to take possession of his will, and to take over the homoerotic wrestling empire KL has built.
It was that last bit the make’s KL’s eyes widen, his nostrils flare, and his arm jut out and sweep BBW’s leg out from underneath him just as he’s about to drive another place kick into his opponent’s ribs. Exhausted, BBW lands hard, flat on his back. Slowly, but faster than his opponent can counter, KL slides in between BBW’s spread-eagled hairy legs. Snapping his legs around one leg and prying BBW’s other leg open wide with this shoulder, KL spladles his rival violently. BBW reaches his hands down toward his quivering inner thighs with shock on his face. “No, no, no,” he begs, a moment before KL rabbit punches him in the balls. “Let’s see how those balls of steel hold up now,” KL snarls like the villain he is. Fists rain down. Elbow strikes dig deep into BBW’s swollen testicles. At first, there’s a masochistic grin stretched across his face as he savors the ball abuse, his jackhammer swelling that much harder, stretching magnificently over his hairy lower abdomen. But as the onslaught wears on, BBW’s grin is interrupted by twangs of suffering, as even his notoriously high pain threshold is approached and then exceeded. KL throttles his sac. He twists and pries it away from BBW’s body. He crushes it in one hand, and as BBW starts groaning in pain, KL begins sliding his other hand slowly up and down BBW’s throbbing shaft. BBW’ hips rise off the mat as he approaches orgasm. His eyes roll into the back of his head as his neck arches and his mouth gapes. KL’s hand slows precipitously, eliciting a gasp of desperation from his quarry. “Oh, fuck, no,” BBW mutters. KL cranks on his shaft harder and faster again, turning his opponent’s protests into purrs. A few second later, as BBW’s lower back is arched high, his cock pulsing in anticipation, KL lets go entirely and slaps the straining, captured cock dismissively. “Fuck,” BBW mewls, reaching down to put himself over. KL swats his hands away from his cock, refusing to permit him to satisfy himself. “Who’s your fucking daddy now,” KL asks, slowly wrapping the fingers of one hand around BBW’s cock again and flicking its head with his thumb. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL demands, his hand perfectly still but at the ready. “Please,” BBW mutters. “Please,” he whispers. “Who’s your daddy, punk,” KL barks at him, shaking his cock violently once.
“You are, you are,” BBW whispers, self-loathing in his face. “Say it for all the boys to know, once and for all,” KL barks, slowly starting to massage his cock again. “Who is it? Who’s your daddy, punk?” BBW swallows hard, his eyes closed, his glutes flexed and his lower back arching off the mat. “It’s Kid Leopard,” BBW gasps, his voice spiking an octave. “Kid Leopard is my daddy!”
… or at least that’s how I see it. Congratulations to BBW on an incredible run, but all hail the king, the heel in charge, The Boss himself, Kid Leopard. The Best Heel.
Woah. I haven’t seen Cage Thunder manhandled so completely since Mitch Colby stripped him naked and smothered him in his massive pecs. Brooklyn Bodywrecker rolled right over him, and I think David sums up the defeat perfectly with his description of Cage Thunder battered unconscious, hung in a tree of woe, and taken advantage of in his helplessness.
Again, I ask, is there anyone who can knock BBW’s muscle ass off the throne? There are plenty more heels in the business, but we’ve nearly cleared that top shelf of sadistic masters who I think could pose a serious challenge. The only heel left who I can think of who is vile enough to put BBW in his place is heel daddy himself, the magnificent hunk who basically invented the homoerotic heel, Kid Leopard.
On the left, sitting pretty and smirking, muscle heel daddy Brooklyn Bodywrecker (5’9″, 190 lbs) vs. on the right, the prototype, the Boss himself, Kid Leopard (5’8″, 160 lbs).
This is an epic showdown, so consider carefully. Vote wisely, and comment below how you see this clash of legends coming to it’s historic climax.
I thought Kid Vicious was going to dethrone Brooklyn Bodywrecker, when he jumped out to an early lead in the voting. But BBW started to slowly pull away, and KV just wasn’t able to reel him back in. I don’t weigh in so forcefully most days, but I have to say that I voted full heartedly for KV, and I have a searing image of him pounding the fuck out of BBW’s back in an OTK, and working his cock and balls with both hands and his mouth until he’s drained him dry. Since submission by emission isn’t spelled out in the rules, however, I suppose I can forgive KV for prematurely celebrating the victory, dumping BBW off his knee and backing into a corner to demand BBW service his monster cock in return. BBW plays along with the misunderstanding, climbing out to stand on the ring apron and wrap his arms around KV from behind, violently throttling his Louisville slugger, before he suddenly snaps on a sleeper and rag dolls KV until he’s knocked out cold.
The ranks of heels who could seriously challenge Brooklyn Bodywrecker are shrinking. One challenge he hasn’t faced yet is the diabolical mystery of a notoriously nasty heel in a mask. I’m pulling out the signed photo of Cage Thunder I possess and kissing his crotch for good luck as he climbs into the ring and lowers the boom on the reigning champ.
“We have a problem,” Eli Brody said to two of the hunks from his TV talent pool. Sitting in front of Eli in his Vancouver office was Sendhil Ramamurthy and his co-star Milo Ventimiglia. They were both original components of a running series that started strong, but was slowly bleeding its audience ever since the conclusion of the first season. “The show is heading into the toilet unless we shake things up and grab the audience’s attention. We’ve tried pulling in new talent. We’ve tried changing settings, turning the good guys bad and the bad guys good. The last hope to save this show is that someone big needs to die.”
Both men shifted in their seats, seeing where this was going. Milo interjected, “It’s the writing, Eli. They need to get back to storylines like we had in the first season.”
“It’s not just the writing, Milo,” Eli corrected. “The ensemble has gotten stale. I have a strong intuition about these things,” Eli said with his hands crossed over his crotch. “Someone needs to die, and it’s going to be one of the two of you.”
“Look, Eli,” Sendhil said quickly, “I want this. I need this. What do you want in order to convince you to keep me on board?”
“I need to see some passion,” Eli reponded. “One of you needs to step up and show some rage. Someone needs to show me that he can let loose and tap into something primal. If the show survives, it will be because we’ve reconnected our market with what they deeply desire. And what your market desires is to see one of the two of you start to color outside the box, to show some ferocity, to really convince them that you’re someone that kicks ass.”
Both men glanced at one another nervously. Neither was certain what rage might lay beneath the surface of the other.
“Your contracts are mine, and they’re both up for renewal. I need to see your ferocity today, right now. I don’t want to see your classical training or your method acting. I need to see you, laid bare and in touch with what gets your blood pumping, not to mention what gets my blood pumping. Follow me,” Eli said commandingly. Milo and Sendhil followed Eli out of his office and down a deserted hallway in Eli’s warehouse headquarters.
Stopping at an unmarked door, Eli explained, “Inside you’ll find some gear to change into. When you’re dressed, you’ll go through the door at the end of the room. This is going to be a battle between the two of you. No one else is watching. Your task is to convince me, just me, that you have the fighting spirit to keep your job. The man who can show me today that he’s a warrior will have a role in next season’s show.”
Milo angrily shoved open the door and walked in to discover a conventional gym locker room. Sendhil followed Milo. On either side of the locker room were unmarked boxes. Milo walked directly to one of the boxes and opened it. Inside he found solid black wrestling tights. He immediately began to strip down out of this street clothes. Sendhil silently watched Milo unbotton his flannel shirt to reveal his slender, tightly muscled torso. Milo’s ripped pecs weren’t huge, but they were deeply cut and lightly covered in dark hair. His abs flexed and stretched as he removed his shirt, revealing a light trail of hair extending from his bellybutton down to the top of his jeans. Milo noticed Sendhil watching, and Milo flashed him a contemptuous smile. Eyes fixed on Sendhil, Milo squared his shoulders to stand directly in front of him. Slowly, Milo’s hands unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped his fly. Milo’s right hand touched his rippled abs, and then slowly rubbed down his lower abdomen. His hand slipped underneath the top of his underwear and disappeared up to the top of his wrist, expanding the tight fabric. Sendhil could see Milo’s hand flexing beneath the surface of his underwear, rubbing his cock and balls sensuously.
Suddenly, Milo turned away from Sendhil and grabbed both his jeans and underwear at his hips, and slowly pulled them both down his legs. Straight-legged, Milo bent over, peeling his clothes off his legs. Sendhil watched as Milo’s muscled ass stretched as he bent forward. Milo then slowly stood up straight, running his hands up the back of his naked legs and ass as he came upright. Then still with his back to Senhil, Milo picked up the black singlet, stepped inside the legs, and put his arms through the shoulder straps. Milo turned around to face Sendhil again and smiled at him, as Milo snapped the straps across both shoulders and then adjusted his cock and balls, naked beneath the taught fabric.
Sendhil swallowed loudly, and then walked to the other box. Upon opening it, Sendhil pulled out the solid white singlet that were inside. Milo chuckled, “I guess we know who’s the jobber in this match.”
Sendhil looked at Milo sideways, then pulled his pink polo shirt over his head while Milo watched. Sendhil’s torso wasn’t as muscled as Milo’s, but he was wiry and looked strong. Sendhil’s chest was broad and covered in a layer of dark hair. Not looking at Milo, but facing him, Sendhil unzipped his khaki trousers and pulled them off. Stepping out of his trousers, Sendhil stood still for a moment, looking down at his bronze body and his white bikini underwear. Then turning to the box, Sendhil picked up the white singlet and stepped inside the legs, pulling his arms through the straps and adjusting the taught material over his slender body.
Milo grinned contemptously, slowly looking down and up Sendhil’s body. Then Milo turned and walked across to the end of the room and through the door, with Sendhil following silently. They entered into a large open warehouse with a pro wrestling ring in the middle surrounded by empty raised bleachers on all sides. In a wooden chair next to the ring apron, Eli sat with his arms crossed, one ankle resting on the other knee.
“It’s time to start, gentlemen. I call you gentlemen, but what I need to see is for the two of you to become something other than gentlemen, now.” Waving to the ring, Eli concluded, “Let the games begin.”
Both fighters walked confidently to the ring, hopped up on the ring apron, and stepped through the top two ropes. Milo began to swing his arms in broad circles to warm up. Sendhil remained still, staring at his opponent. Milo began twisting his torso, popping his back and stretching his core. Then he began running in place, pumping the blood to his legs. Milo turned to the corner and stretched his legs out to either side, stretching his hamstrings and bending forward in a graceful stretch of his lower back.
At that moment, Sendhil rushed forward, knelt one knee to the mat, and with his right hand reached between Milo’s outstretched legs and locked his grip around Milo’s balls. Milo fell foward on his knees awkwardly, crying out in pain and grabbing at Sendhil’s hand squeezing like a vice. With his left hand, Sendhil grabbed a handful of Milo’s dark hair, and controlling him by both the hair and the balls, Sendhil lifted Milo jerkingly to his feet. Squeezing Milo’s balls even harder and pulling on his hair, Sendhil drew Milo up to the balls of his feet, Milo’s hands clutching Sendhil’s right hand flexing control over Milo’s balls. Suddenly Sendhil shoved the back of Milo’s head forward and downward, plowing Milo’s face into the turnbuckle with the full weight of Sendhil’s body crashing down behind him. Releasing both grips on his opponent, Sendhil stepped backward as Milo’s face richoted off the turnbackle and he fell flat on his back onto the mat, with blood spurting from his broken nose.
Milol’s left hand cupped his throbbing balls while he raised his right hand to his broken nose. Pulling his right hand away from his face, Milo looked at the blood dripping from his fingers with shock. “You fucker!” Milo screamed hoarsely through the pain in his balls and the swelling in his deviated septum. Milo turned his head to the side and spit out blood that was pooling down the back of his throat from his broken nose.
But before Milo could roll completely to his side, Sendhil leapt into the air and stretched out his legs over top of his opponent’s prone body. Falling with his full body weight, Sendhil brought his right leg squarely across Milo’s bloody face. Rolling over Milo’s body, Sendhil hopped back to his feet and leapt again in the air, dropping his right leg again across his opponents face that was bleeding profusely now and swelling quickly.
As Sendhil stood again, he felt a cold, wet sensation on the back of his bare right leg. Pausing from his onslaught, Sendhil felt the back of his leg with his right hand, and then brought the bloody hand in front of his face. Looking at his opponent’s blood dripping from his fingers, Sendhil’s eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment. Bringing his hand to his lips, he licked the blood from his middle finger.
Turning his attention back to his bloody opponent, Sendhil leapt again in the air to drop his leg across Milo’s broken face one more time. Milo had gathered his wits by this time, though, and at the last moment he rolled away, leaving Sendhil to land solidly on his tailbone, sending a shock of pain up his back and through his limbs. Sendhil’s hands went reflexively to his lower back.
Milo jumped unsteadily to his feet, and straddling his opponent’s outstretched legs, Milo grabbed a handful of Sendhil’s thick black hair with his right hand. Drawing Sendhil up by the hair, Milo pulled his opponent to his feet. Just as Sendhil reached his feet, Milo ducked under Sendhil’s right arm, wrapping his wiry arms around Sendhil’s midsection and lifting him in the air in a brutal bearhug. Still stunned from his injuries, Milo focused his full effort on squeezing his opponent’s torso with every ounce of strength left in his arms and chest. Sendhil screamed out in pain, straining to touch to mat with his suspended feet. Milo leaned backward, pulling Sendhil further off the ground and not allowing him to relieve the pressure on the small of his back.
Squeezing furiously, Milo buried his bloody face in the white tights stretched across his opponent’s upper abdomen in front of him. After a few seconds, Milo felt his adrenalin fueled fury waning, and he leaned forward under the weight of Sendhil’s body clutched in front him. Slowly, Sendhil slipped lower through Milo’s grasping bearhug, Milo’s face dragging upward to rest on Sendhil’s chest.
Still caught in Milo’s weakening bearhug, his face a half inch from his opponents bloody and swollen face, Sendhil’s eyes again fluttered shut as a wave of both pain and pleasure shot through his core. Sendhil drew his arms up, and brought his hands to cup each side of Milo’s face in front him. Sensing a new tactic, Milo squeezed again with all his strength, but his strength was largely spent. After momentarily drawing his hands away under Milo’s crush, Sendhil smiled and held Milo’s face again in his hands. Still held in Milo’s loosening grip, Sendhil leaned his head forward and licked the blood from Milo’s right cheek.
Shocked by this unexpected move, Milo dropped Sendhil to the ground, released his grip, and shoved him away. Sendhil took two steps backward, then with a blood curdling scream ran forward, lowering his shoulder into Milo’s midsection and lifting his opponent off his feet. Rushing forward with his opponent on his shoulder, Sendhil drove Milo’s back into the turnbuckle, spearing him further in the abs with his shoulder. The air came rushing out of Milo’s lungs with a “whoosh,” and his shoulders slumped forward as he clutched his stomach.
Sendhil grabbed Milo’s right arm, and forcefully placed it over the top rope, then did the same with Milo’s quivering left arm. Then grasping Milo’s right knee with both hands, Sendhil lifted Milo’s right leg up and over the middle rope, twisting his ankle in the rope to trap him in place. Finally, Sendhil muscled Milo’s left leg up and over the middle rope, leaving Milo spread-eagled and suspended in the corner, completely vulnerable.
Standing in front of his trapped opponent, Sendhil reached down with his right hand and grabbed Milo’s cock through his black singlet. As Sendhil squeezed, Milo squirmed and moaned in pain. Still grasping Milo’s cock, Sendhil then reached down with his left hand and grabbed the base of Milo’s balls through the fabric. Milo’s head rolled back and forth on this neck, as if warding away his tormentor. But as Sendhil began to squeeze and pull Milo’s balls and cock apart, a gutteral growl began to rumble in Sendhil’s chest. His eyes wide with fury, Sendhil stretched Milo’s cock and balls until Milo was sure that Sendhil would rip them both from his body.
Screaming out in pain and desparation, Milo cried, “I give, I give!” as clear tears poured down his bloody red face.
Sendhil released his grip and stepped away, as a quivering post coital sigh escaped from his parted lips. Shrugging his shoulders, one at a time, out from his mostly bloody white tights, Sendhil stood with his torso bare in front of Milo’s body still trapped in the corner. Then grasping Milo’s face with his hands again, Sendhil rubbed at the blood and tears caked on Milo’s face. Sendhil then turned away from his defeated opponent and walked to the side of the ring where Eli sat transfixed by the battle. Sendhil then wiped his opponents blood across his own cheeks and then across his darkly hairy chest, and clenching his fits and flexing his arms, Sendhil’s head tilted back and he let loose a primordial scream.
Then panting, Sendhil dropped his arms limply to his side and stood erect, staring into Eli’s eyes.