I’m always thrilled to hear from the men who inspire my wrestling fantasies, so count me titillated to have lovely newbie on the scene Charlie Evans reach out and touch me (metaphorically speaking). Noting my appeal to see some evidence of the Halloween hotness that wrestlers and wrestling fans get up to, the hot little red-head sent along some photos of his costume this year, making hearts beat faster as Iceman. Personally, I think it’s a crime against nature to disguise his shockingly sexy red hair, but I get the commitment to the character that led him to look like a brunette for the day. He assures me (because I quickly complained) that it was temporary.
I do adore a hot wrestler who fully commits to his character. I’d like to know where one applies for the job of applying blue body paint across every inch of a game young stud like this. Next year, please keep in mind that I’ve got two free hands to rub in any thing you need. Fuck, I’ll devote more appendages than that to the job.
I consider superhero fetish as kink-adjacent to my deep, throbbing obsession with homoerotic wrestling. But the genres crossover frequently across many different platforms. Given that, can I suggest at hot vs. cold, rip ‘n’ strip battle of the elements between Charlie’s Iceman and Eye of the Cyclone’s fiery hunk hero Fireblade? Eye of the Cyclone’s profile of Fireblade describes him as cocky and self-confident, a bartender by day and a fame-hungry superhero by night (or is that reversed when your “day job” is bartending?). Fireblade’s hands burn fire hot, particularly when he stokes his engine with a tug at his crotch. Fire or ice? Iceman very well may have his hands more than full, and if I had to make a prediction, I’d say someone’s in serious danger of melting at the feet of his opponent. What do you think?
I was chatting with someone last night when the topic of getting choked in the ropes came up (you know, like it does). I know there are wrestling fans who are far more into the fantasy of choking, but I certainly get it. The element of control is so seductive when one hunk is literally rationing the air supply of his opponent. “You’ll breathe when I say you’ll breathe” is such an intimate, inside-out type of corporal domination. In any case the phrase, “choked in the ropes and riding him like a pony” came up, which sent me tracking down that particular moment in homoerotic wrestling archives. So much intimacy. Such control. So much humiliation. Sweet.
This was the first image that came to my mind, of a raging, dominating rookie of the year Brad Rochelle in Wrestlefest 2 choking Patrick Donovan in the ropes, sitting on his shoulders as their fellow BG East wrestlers parade by slapping the wasted jobber in the face.Seems like something about gorgeous Patrick Donovan inspired many opponents to climb on board his sweaty, sexy back and shut down his windpipe. Here Jarret Cole saddles up in Patrick’s Wrestler Spotlight DVD.Beau Hopkins feels the weight of gorgeous Vic Silver bearing down on him in Can-Am’s Canadian Musclehunk Wrestling 5.Less riding the pony and more surfing the sucker, Colt Stevens crushes Gage Cordona’s throat underfoot in Rock Hard Wrestling’s Explosive Encounter.Dick Rick added a little torque hanging from the ring apron while choking the fight out of beautiful Mike Pitt in Ringwars 16.Can-Am’s Rush is the pony here, with Jay Moore reigning him in hard in Lean & Mean.Bodybuilder Larry Janson is as humiliated as can be with irrepressible Brian Maxon holding him place with just one boot in Maxon vs. Janson.
In the face of gross inhumanity, and particularly in the face of religious hyper morality imposed on everyone else, I’m reminded that being gay, adoring homoerotic wrestling, putting all that out there and letting others in the world know that we’re not alone… all of that is a political expression of liberty. In the spirit of loving on the French, let me just acknowledge a few of the Frenchmen I’ve adored.
One of the most wonderful one-hit wonder in homoerotic wrestling history, Philippe Nicolas.Not a wrestler, but Francis Benfatto almost certainly deserves his own chapter in my “What Turned Me Gay” chronicles. Most handsome, beautifully proportioned bodybuilder ever.Golden beauty Damiano is one of my top favorite from the French wrestling producer Wrestlers & Lutteurs.Damien & Fabrice swear at each other in French and I cum.
Speaking of cum, French beefcake Luc Bonay seems to milk everyone he wrestles.Another one-hit wonder that I truly enjoyed was Deni Dupuis’ playful, hotly amorous motel romp against Ty Garrison.And what ever happened to smoking hot Nic Letellier after big Iain Scott got a hold of him?
“What’s your name, you Irish fuck!?” Morgan Cruise asks precisely what’s on my mind as I queue up Muscle Domination Wrestling’s new rookie debut in the inaugural title Gorilla Press. The flaming red head with a handsome face is Charlie Evans. He’s mouthwateringly fresh from the meat counter, with his alabaster smooth skin that burns bright red like a relief map charting every stomp, slam, and squeeze that the Mastodon has in store for him.
So much delusional newbie confidence nestled nice and tight between Morgan’s massive thighs.
In the first 45 seconds or so, the newbie is a smart ass, poking the big bear with a stick. He’s all bluster and false bravado, standing there dwarfed in the shadow of a massively beefed up Morgan. Morgan can’t quite believe the kid’s temerity. “Who have you even beaten?” the veteran demands to know where this lightweight gets the balls to predict he can upend one of MDW’s perpetual heels. “I haven’t beaten anybody yet,” Charlie has to admit, “but it’s going to happen!”
Charlie Evans promises, “It’s going to happen!”
Morgan’s fans are treated to a shaggier, more lumbersexual version of the Mastodon than is typical. Sure, the title of the product comes from the four gorilla presses executed over the course of this match, but it could just as genuinely apply to the primal, unkempt, massively muscled and furry body of the heel here. He’s sporting a muscle belly and gargantuan thighs squeezed barely into a grey tights. The contrast with his achingly green opponent is astonishing, really. I’d venture to guess that Charlie’s waist is pretty damn close to the same circumference of just one of the Mastodon’s upper thighs. Charlie is so new he doesn’t have a wrestler profile on MDW yet, so I don’t know exactly what his proportions and vital stats are, but just eyeballing the situation, I’m guessing he’s giving away at least 35 pounds, despite being a couple inches taller than his charging opponent. Honestly, if he scored even one submission on the Mastodon, I’m pretty sure the earth might very well drop out of orbit and crash into the sun, for the seismic upset that would be.
“You want to fuck around with me, boy!?”
As you might have noticed, the earth is still orbiting the sun. And this is MDW. Buckle up and prepare for a breath stealing 20 minutes of unremitting babyface beatdown. When Charlie has the audacity to suggest his biceps may be more impressive than Morgan’s (someone needs to do a mini-mental status exam on the kid, because that’s just fucking delusional), Morgan cannot believe his ears. “You want to fuck around with me, boy!?” he demands, instantly locking the newbie up in a full nelson and parading him helplessly around the ring. MDW has been shaking up their reputation as the squash factory lately, but this, my friends, is a complete and total squash.
It’s called Gorilla Press
But unlike many MDW matches, wrestling takes center stage. When it’s a Morgan match, wrestling fans will appreciate the attention to and breadth of wrestling drama. He introduces the red headed bon bon to surfboards, camel clutches, bearghugs, headscissors, and, yes, multiple gorilla presses. The plot development is less weighted to the psychological domination side of things that so many MDW matches rely on, and Morgan executes some sweet, high impact, breathtakingly painful-looking holds and maneuvers that make a wrestling kinked fan like me sit up and take notice. And alabaster angel Charlie Evans sucks on the agony long and hard, riding the terror like a trooper.
Morgan pauses to stimulate the rookie’s virginal ass.
Two things stand out in this match for me. First, Morgan Cruise wants to fuck… that… ASS! I mean, so much of the homoerotic wrestling universe is relatively closeted itself, relying on innuendo and the imaginations of its audience to bring the eroticism to the table. Morgan is the most explicit I’ve seen him in a while in Gorilla Press, though, and his blunt aching to pound Charlie’s beautiful ass is like a cool, refreshing breeze. He rolls the kid up in a small package, virginal ass to the sky, and slowly pries apart Charlie’s long, smooth legs to expose the big, bouncing bulge the newbie is unsuccessfully smuggling in the front of his trunks. “I”m going to split you right in half and play with those fucking balls,” Morgan narrates as he does just that. First he grinds his boot hard into the newbie’s vulnerable testicles. Then he suddenly starts gently, seductively stroking Charlie’s balls and ass crack with the heel of his boot. Then suddenly he jams his heel hard one more time into rook’s testicles, eliciting a panicked scream of agony. Pain. Pleasure. Pain. It’s a recipe the Mastodon returns to over and over again in this match.
“You know this ass is mine, don’t you?”
“You know that ass is mine, don’t you?” Morgan asks rhetorically, climbing on top of his battered opponent and stroking, then slapping, then kneading the kid’s beautiful butt cheeks. We’re treated to a fleeting glimpse of the lily white glutes when Morgan drags the rookie up off the mat by the back of his trunks and a handful of red curls. He pounds the kid, grinds him, slams him to the mat over and over. Then he crawls on top of Charlie’s back with a hungry smile, sliding his hips back and forth as he positions his crotch resting in the kid’s vulnerable crack, then flexes his ass cheeks as he locks on a deeply intimate full nelson. “You know, I may just take what I want right fucking now!”
Panicked Charlie recalibrates what may be the best he can hope for.
In addition to Morgan’s entirely convincing desire (nay, plan) to claim fuck-stakes winner’s rights, the other delightful revelation in this match is Charlie’s sell. There was something deceptively disarming about the kid’s big, broad, bright smile on his handsome face in the opening seconds of this confrontation that makes the stark terror in his baby blue eyes that much more compelling throughout most of this match. When Morgan looks like he very well may twist the kid’s skull right off his spine, I swear you can read Charlie’s panicked thoughts telegraphed through his wide-eyed astonishment as his eyes dart from side to side, as if scanning the scene for any prayer that he’s going to survive.
“There’s one more thing to be done before I have your mouth around my fucking cock!”
Near the end, when Morgan drags his helpless rookie ass off the mat again with a handful of those luxuriously thick red curls, Charlie’s pale white body, riddled with the hand and boot prints of his opponent in stark red relief, glistens in patches with Morgan’s sweat. As Morgan strokes and squeezes that rookie ass, you can watch Charlie renegotiate his bottom line best case scenario. First, he honestly thought he’d show some surprise rookie offense. When that clearly wasn’t going to happen, he thought he’d demonstrate his toughness by holding out against his opponent’s demands to submit. About halfway through the bout, when Charlie is screaming obedient submissions a fraction of a second after Morgan demands them, the rookie looks like he’s just holding onto a determined hope that he won’t be left so wasted that Morgan literally follows through on his promise to initiate him with a post-match fuck. Finally, at the end, I get the impression that Charlie just hopes his ass can take it.
Who does that ass belong to? Morgan fucking Cruise!
“Who’s in control?” Morgan demands as the kid writhes in blinding agony.
“YOU ARE!”
“Who owns your fucking ass?”
“YOU DO!”
“Who’s going to take your ass when this is fucking done?!”
“YOOOOUUU ARE!”
Welcome to our world, Charlie. I hope Morgan didn’t ride your sweet ass right out of the homoerotic wrestling business!
“Who’s going to take your ass when this is fucking done!?” “YOOOOUUUU ARE!!!!!!”
I knew there were a lot of you sexy beasts dressing up/down last weekend. My sincere gratitude to some boys of BG East who sent along photos of their super sexy styles in honor of Halloween. I forgive them for not inviting me to join what looks like a fabulous party, only because I was flat on my back and in bed all weekend (which sounds so much more enjoyable than it was).
This raises for me the ages old dilemma of wondering who would cum out on top if superheroes were to suddenly turn on one another. In this case, Aqua Man, Green Arrow and the Flash throw down in the middle of the dance floor. Whose super sexiness and wrestling skills win the night?
Drake & Ty appear to have made up since their bitter-to-the-cum-slapped-end erotic grudge match in Babyface Brawl X. It was D who reigned victorious on the mat that day, but does this friendliness signal a 2-on-1 in store for big bad Kayden?Of course, we know the score with regard to the 1-on-1 ring history between Ty & Kayden, as well. It was the Wolf who smacked Ty’s ass into line back in Raunchy Rookie’s 7. If Drake joins the fray on Ty’s side, though…I’ve always argued Ty is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, though. He hsd plots and schemes worked out 3 and 4 steps ahead.But, holy shit, Kayden Keller is one big, bad, beautiful HWOTM! And he wears glasses, which instantly increases my attraction to him by a multiple of 10.I worry about blogger bait Drake in this scenario. Since owning Ty’s ass, Drake suffered brutal, bitter, publicly documented humiliation in the clutches of a “mere” blogger. And looks at Ty’s eyes. He’s got plans. Don’t turn your back, Cheshire Cat/Flash.On the other hand, Ty is never one to miss an opportunity to turn his bubble butt backside to the camera.I have it on good authority (i.e., Ty) that Ty designed all 3 super sexy costumes for the three super amigos this year. Which, knowing his eye for fashion, is hardly a surprise. Of course, as sexy as the costumes were, you have to admit, he had fabulously sexy raw material to work with. Thanks for sharing, boys. May I suggest next year a sizzlingly sexy Superman blogger addition to the crew?
I gave up on trying to back track and pick a homoerotic wrestler of the month last month. Too much craziness and phlegm. But I’m on it this month. You know I have opinions about many of the new releases that came out in October. I seriously had my crank turned by several notable matches and remarkable wrestling performances. But I pretty quickly came to the conclusion that one particular wrestler did it for me best. Towering over the rest of a very, very impressive field was just once beefy baby heel that made me sit up, unzip, and take notice. The new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month around these parts is…
Kayden is nothing short of sensational in BG East’s October release of Ring Releases 3. I know, I know, in my review of the match I spent more time marveling at the coming of age narrative that centers on Kayden’s opponent, Leo Tomasi. Count me as highly attentive to lovely Leo’s future balls-out erotic wrestling appearances, because if he has a follow up that does justice to Ring Releases 3, his g-g-g-g-gorgeous ass will be an instant top contender for the title. But there’s just no getting around the fact that it’s Kayden’s 6’2″ domineering, ravishing ring presence that serves up the tasty dish of Leo’s beaten, naked ass to such perfection.
Kayden gets OWNED early going!
If you know me at all, you know that I occasionally slay my sweet tooth on a lopsided squash from time to time, but what truly nourishes my homoerotic wrestling hunger is the element of competition and an honest suspenseful tension in the ring. So when sweaty, beautiful, delicately vulnerable Leo opens up a major league can of whoop ass on the diabolical, babyface Wolf, I am both screaming, “No shit!” in stunned disbelief and having to do major adjustment of my crotch for the erotic value added of watching big Kayden get knocked out cold about midway through this match.
Suck on that, Kayden!
Not only was I not expecting to see big, bad Kayden get laid out by a lean, babyface beauty who has been steamrolled in every match prior to this one, but I was completely caught off guard by how sincere and stirring it was to witness Kayden going down for the count. Leo works him hard, and as I’ve said, I’m a little enthralled with the Tomasi character arc thus far. But a rising erotic young heel like Kayden who can sell me on getting dangerously distracted by his opponent’s sensational assets and then made to suffer like a simpering little twink jobber (which Kayden most definitely isn’t, but in this moment as Leo bears down on him, fuck…. yes, yes, yes), now that’s a range that I respect and that 110% turns me on!
Sensationally sexy ambivalence.
It doesn’t hurt one little bit that the dastardly heel’s humiliation is tripled by being awakened by having his face shoved up the astonishing rookie’s magnetic ass. Again, kudos to Leo for instinctively taking us (and Kayden) right to the place that his phenomenal ass was demanding from the moment the camera zoomed in on the prize glutes as he arrived ringside. And I believe it when Leo closes his eyes and looks like he could just about lose a load with nothing but the joy of shoving a dominant heel’s defenseless face right where fans are longing for a better look. But the sell here that makes me break out into a sweat is Kayden. Owning ambivalence is a nuance in homoerotic wrestling storytelling that I just don’t see attempted (much less pulled off) often. But as K comes to, the situation only slowly dawning on him, the bitter realization that his heel cred just took a seismic hit at the hands of a boytoy who’s been made mincemeat of by his prior opponents, I’m feeling the Wolf’s humiliation pulling hard in one direction and his erotic attraction to Leo’s bodacious butt driving his face that much deeper between those lush cheeks.
Taking the bull by the balls
If you’re worried about lasting damage to Kayden’s heel cred, don’t. Leo’s choice to celebrate his early going victory by literally shoving in his opponent’s face is epically right for the genre, but oh so short sighted for really nailing down what would be the upset of the decade to ride out this match lording it over the beaten baby heel. No, shoving his tasty morsels in Kayden’s face eventually plays itself out when a once-again clear headed heel grabs hold of the problem by the balls and nearly rips them off. The visual of Kayden slowly climbing back to his towering height as lithe Leo crumples to the mat is sweet, sweet drama that is right up my alley.
How much is Kayden enjoying this?!
I repeat, I love discovering more about Kayden’s range in this match, but the real crotch stirring happens when that sadistic smile stretches across his handsome face the louder Leo screams in agony. With the humiliation of those few moments ago still lingering on the lips, it’s just that much more compelling to watch the heel exact not just revenge, but the spine tingling thrill that a rising master in his field enjoys at making another grown man weep. Kayden taking it to the erotic novice is fabulous, and if Leo has even a fraction of the taste for a return to erotic wrestling that I’m hoping he does, I hope and pray he’s making mental notes about just how to milk me the moment of corporal domination for every ounce it’s worth.
I’m completely blindsided by the true breakout star of this match, Kayden’s ass!
You’ll have to (trust me, it won’t be a chore) watch the match and/or sign onto BG East Arena to savor the slow, seductive, sensational climax. Well, there’s the ring release that many fans will be tuning in to enjoy, but for my money, the real money shot is Kayden (having forced Leo to remove his trunks for him), plants his sexy, naked ass on top of Leo’s face and smother’s him there for days on end. I mean, message received, Kayden. You fucking owned this meat, body and soul, and he was completely your possession as this bout careened to its conclusion.
Kayden’s ass steals the show!
Having already popped my cork in adoration of Leo’s ass, it says something that the lingering image burned into my retinas by the time this match is over is that of Kayden’s meaty, naked glutes perched permanently across his prey’s trapped face. And in the spirit of the best ring releases, I feel like all three of us, Kayden, Leo, and I, want to be nowhere else in the world in that moment.
Pucker up!
Kayden & Leo go precisely where my deepest longing wants them to go over the course of this match. But it’s that uncanny knack Kayden has of grabbing exactly where my eyes are drawn, shoving precisely where I want to see lovely Leo shoved, clawing, stroking, and possessing his opponent as if Kayden is listening to my unspoken cravings and moving for the pleasure of no one else but me. But clearly, that’s not the case. Because Kayden and Leo leave the ring with pleasure quite literally dripping off of them. Please, oh please, tell me that Kayden is even now tutoring his young padawan in the ways of balls out, full throttle, hot, sweaty, cum soaked erotic wrestling. In the mean time, pucker up boys, because there’s a new HWOTM in town, and he knows exactly where your lips belong.
Kayden, Leo and I are good right here, thanks.
Congratulations to Kayden Keller for owning the competition and leaving me dizzy and dehydrated as my new homoerotic wrestler of the month.
I’ve seen photos of many of you hot hunks dressed in mostly nothing, as sexy versions of just about anything for Halloween. As for me, I dressed as a TB patient for the special day. Well, actually I’ve just had a disgusting, rattling chest cold, which did not leave me feeling sexy or in the mood to party with the rest of you hotties. So I missed seeing the gay male festival of flesh and camp in peron, damn it. Send me your sexy Halloween photos if you’re willing to let me post them here, so that I can enjoy second-hand a few tricks to go with all those leftover treats I’ve been binging on as I convalesce.
In the mean time, here are a few of the terrifying masked men who never fail to turn me on. Prizes for those of you with proof you partied as one of these hot mystery men!
Clearly, I’ve got my favorites. I nurse long-standing infatuations with certain homoerotic wrestlers that never fail to get my engine running, time and time again. But regular readers are also aware that another favorite sport of mine is spotting the fresh newbie who instantly turns my crank. Wrestling debuts always excite me. All that potential, the promise, the possibilities of what a new hot hunk might be in the ring or on the mat is a little like wine tasting for me. They won’t all turn into fan favorites (or one of my favorites). The timing, the charisma, the look, the feel, the sound, the sell… any number of factors could be off. But with every fresh debut, all I can think as I settle in to sample the newbie is that it all could be on. This fresh face and hot bod that I’m just meeting for the first time could become a tried and true infatuation for many matches to come.
Van Skyler 5’8″, 185 lbs, potential new wrestling crush Meet Van Skyler. Debuting in BG East’s new release Ripped Rookies 2 (that title alone makes me hard), Van has a boatload of potential to get the time-tested Bard seal of approval. Those luscious lips! That ass. Those massive pecs! That ass. Those mountainous, square shoulders! That ass. Just watching him stretching out that sensational body, wearing nothing but boots and a hopelessly too brief pair of white trunks with blue trim, the possibility that I could be crushing on this dazzling newbie for years to come seems good.
Definitely a hot commodity!
And that name, Van Skyler. Fuck. What is it about the name that makes me want to see this dizzyingly beautiful boy get pounded viciously? Who names their child “Van” without fully intending for their genetically gifted baby boy to grow up and have men lining up to smack the shit out of him? There’s something transparently artistocratic, baldly contemptuous of the underclasses in the name Van Skyler. Of course, I know nothing about his back story, truth be told, so Van could be the child of a dock worker and a prostitute with a Ryan Reynolds fetish, for all I know.
Big Biff Farrell wants to know if this gym bunny can wrestle!
Well, we are treated to a little back story, at least as far as this match goes. From the narraitve, it appears Biff Farrell first caught a glance of sensationally sexy Van at the gym. In a move that only cements my fantaticism for Biff, the big boy sees Van’s magnificent muscles pumping iron and he instantly thinks, “I want to wrestle that!” You know that both of these superhuman hunks get stares for days when they’re working up a sweat at the gym. I think if Van does dumbell bicep curls shirtless, he’s got even the straight boys sprouting wood. So the image of big Biff sidling up and starting to pump iron right next to him, the two of them staring at each other in the mirror, silently sizing one another up,that scene belongs at the start of a gay porn. But this isn’t vanilla gay porn, so Biff follows up some gratuitous compliments of Van’s lush bod with the most erotic come-on of all, “But are all those big muscles good for anything?” Oh, fuck Biff, you are a quick study and a skyrocketing commodity on the Bard homoerotic wrestling stock exchange (BHWSE). They have a posedown, then and there in the gym. Muscles swell; egos bristle. Tongues fall out of mouths, I’d be willing to bet my firstborn, because can you just picture the magnetism of seeing these two gorgeous, built for days, hot young hunks getting up in each other’s face and talking wrestling smack with every gym bunny, cardio bimbo and average Joe looking on? I’ll bet my second born that there were guys hightailing it to the locker room to drop a few ounces of liquid weight with the image of Biff and Van flexing at each other playing on loop in their heads.
Everything bulges on Biff
Biff was also a first-glance crush not so long ago. I love his look. His blond hair and blue eyes, that superhero square jaw. He looks so much like a barely legal musclefreak babyface who grew into that phenomenal physique so fast that he’s still figuring out the capacity and limits of all that beautiful muscle. He’s so incredibly solid. Everything, and I mean EVERYTHING bulges so beautifully on big Biff. And he possesses my favorite wrestling character trait for an ambitious babyface musclekid: he’s earnest. Biff wants to be a pro wrestling star so bad he can taste it, and all that pumped sincerity makes me think he could very easily realize those humungous dreams.
Biff wants this to be victory #1
Biff has also had his fantasyman dream ass handed to him by some of the nastiest heels in the homoerotic wrestling business. Whatever the assests (admittedly impressive) that come with the body of a comic book superhero and the aspirations of a pro wrestling newbie, Biff learned the hard way that experience counts for a lot in the ring. A blatant disregard for human decency doesn’t hurt either. Earnest-as-fuck Biff got those big bulging muscles crushed and manhandled by the smarts and ring savvy of guys arguably nowhere near as massively put together as he is. So I’m digging Biff picking out his own next opponent, scanning the gym bunnies for just the right combo of mouthwatering muscle, overinflated ego, and no apparent wrestling credentials whatsoever. Yeah, I see you working it, Biff.
Van’s got plans of his own
The mat action in back of the BG East compound outside of Boston catches me (and, clearly, Biff) by complete surprise. Not only does hotty Van know how to wrestle, but he’s aggressive, putting his foot on the gas pedal and taking the offensive convincincly from the start. If Biff honestly wanted to know if all of Van’s “big muscles are good for anything,” the unequivocal answer 3 seconds into their match is, “Fuck, and Yes!” Van slams all that beef to the mat with authority. He snaps those lightly hairy muscle thighs around Biff’s torso and makes the hunk suffer instantly. He’s rolling big Biff around the mat like a total chump, and then suddenly, smoothly, he takes the comic book superhero’s back and locks on a sexy, sexy, sexy rear naked choke, pressing that massively peaked bicep hard across Biff’s throat. Holy fuck, holy fuck, gym bunny Van can wrestle, and he’s OWNING Biff’s beautiful butt!
Biff shows off the sweaty gym bunny beauty
Happily for all parties involved (well, you and me, mainly) the action is hotly contested, and with so much massive muscle hanging off the bone, nobody is going to count this as a cake walk. Biff flips the script with his own bodyscissors, really making Van’s groans jump an octave when he adds a hammerlock, pinning a massively muscled arm hard and high up Van’s gorgeous, sweaty back. Thank the homoerotic wrestling gods that Biff enjoys exploiting his advantage by locking down a long, luxurious full nelson that stretches Van’s phenomenally muscled bod out seductively for the camera. Van’s big, low slung pouch bounces and quivers as he’s hung out to dry. It’s not like we’ve never seen offense from Biff before, but damn, when he’s got momentum, all that muscle looks unstoppable.
Ripped rookie perfection from the front
It’s probably testimony to my shallowness, but there’s one particular moment in this match that makes me gasp, push rewind, and watch again and again. Van’s fought back for riding time. He’s put big Biff on his back and slowly, but surely, slid into place to lord over the sophomore hunk in a sensationally sexy schoolboy pin. Van’s dangling participle rests heavily on Biff’s square chin as Van hoists his incredibly meaty arms in the air and flexes his biceps domineeringly. “Who’s the champ now, buddy?” the ripped rookie demands to know. As the camera slowly circles the men, we can see that the top of Van’s incredibly muscled ass cheeks have popped out over the top of his sweat soaked trunks. The cocky schoolboy pin, the newbie trash talk, Biff getting an up close look at the meat market and you and me taking a long, lingering look at those exposed cheeks and crack… what a fucking perfect moment.
Ripped rookie perfection from behind
Gym bunny versus pro wrestling hopeful is a fantastic set-up for a match, and I’m so thrilled to see a second chapter in the Ripped Rookies genre. Van and Biff are ideal competitors to take the house-burning hotness generated by the inagural ripped rookies, Jake Jenkins and Austin Cooper, and make it all their own. And you know for a fact that JJ and Dr. Coop own hours and hours of ongoing wrestling adoration from me, years running. Biff has the instincts and the ambition to make me sit up and take notice anytime, and as of now, I’m certain that I will be first in line to watch any match in which Van Skyler sweats through his miniscule trunks and gets that gym bunny muscle butt beat viciously.
Van’s assets are hard to overlook!
I don’t know if I’ll be obsessing about Biff and Van a few years from now, if they will have taken up residence in my roster of persistent infatuations that draw me back time and time again to replay the oldies and break a sweat over their new releases. But, so far, count me as an enthusiastic fan of both. Particularly of Van’s bare ass. Have I mentioned that?
If Biff keeps this up, he’s well on his way to pro stardom!
I think my favorite homoerotic wrestling superheroes are Power-Pecs and Flex from Eye of the Cyclone. Both sizzling hot superstuds have gone through “transformations” (shall we say), being reincarnated by different model/actors in the tradition of so many superhero franchises. And both babyface beefcakes have been brought back from the dead, thank the homoerotic wrestling gods, to titillate fans who are never satisfied with an unhappy superhunk ending.
To save the world, Power-Pecs let his foe snap his neck, leaving all of that mouthwatering muscle limp and lifeless. RIP Power-Pecs.
The newest return from the dead features Power-Pecs, who managed to thwart evil villain Cobra’s diabolical master plan in the issue “Sometimes They Come Back,” but only at the cost of his own life. It was one of those agonizing, deeply unsatisfying martyr climaxes, as gorgeous Power-Pecs let himself be killed in service to humanity. His phenomenal physique stripped, that huge lead pipe he swings hanging lifeless, the death of Power-Pecs was a bitter pill for his fans to swallow.
“The Clone Arranger” witnesses the return of Power-Pecs 3.0.
But this is a comic book plot. EotC got the beautiful blond beefcake model/actor back on the payroll for another go at the iconic character, with his super-geneticist doc finding a bit of body fluids on the fallen hero’s gear to clone a new, perfectly equally sensationally sexy superhero back to full form.
I’ve got another shot in the ass to make Power-Pecs feel better!
The newest chapter in “The Clone Arranger” has the handsy doc needing to check out how perfectly he managed to replicate every inch of Power-Pecs, because I’m sure he knows fans like I am would throw a fit if there’s even a hair out of place or an ounce of muscle mass difference in the Power-Pecs we’ve grown to know and adore.
Bulging biceps? Check.
Happily, everything about Power-Pecs, every last, luscious, mouthwatering inch of him is in place. You know that fantasy of the fabulously hot muscle hunk who’s tamed into compliantly allowing a mere mortal to feel, handle, and document every fabulous bulge? Yeah, this chapter of “The Clone Arranger” hits those notes fabulously.
Massive, perfect pecs? Check.
A less kind critique than I might knock the doc for being a bit too thorough in his examination. I’m sure there’s a harsh commentary on the objectification of the male body in there somewhere, a dangerous social signal of the decline of humanity in the perverse pleasure I take in the calculated, domineering measuring the geneticist engages in, reducing Power-Pecs to just the sum of his sensational body body parts.
Pendulous, swinging cock hanging halfway to his knees? Check.
But somehow any social critique and critical self-reflection I might ought to embrace flies out the window the moment Power-Pec obediently drops the sheet and the doc kneels down with a tape measure to assess the size and scope of this supersexy cock. I am a shallow, predictable man, aren’t I? Shut up and don’t answer that. I’m busy zooming in on that last pic.
Squeezable muscled ass? Check.
The implication is that doc has brought Power-Pecs back from the dead to get that fine, fine ass back into action defending the innocent and the good. So this detailed physical exam is merely a salacious diversion from the heart of my kink, watching a hunk like Power-Pecs wrestle.
Gorgeous, babyface hero in bulging-sucking tight singlet ready to throw down? Check.
This week’s chapter of “The Clone Arranger” ends by squeezing all of those gorgeous, bronzed muscles into an N2N wrestling singlet a size too small. Power-Pecs punches the heavy bag, reminding his clone muscles of what this sensational bod is re-built for. The plot points thus far in this issue are few, so I’m hoping that there’s a hunktastic sparring partner in Power-Pecs near future to really show what that superhot physique can do when tested in pec-to-pec combat. And if there’s a homoerotic wrestling god out there listening, that sparring partner will be as turned on by the prospect of winning control of this newbie-all-over-again beef steak. …TO BE CONTINUED…
Scott “Man-of-my-Dreams” Williams
Someone reminded me this weekend of my simmering wrestling crush on BG East classic hunk Scott Williams. Similar to how I recently mentioned that I have this distorted perception of Kayden Keller’s height (he always seems smaller in my mind), I think of Scott has having a much longer wrestling CV than he actually does. He stars in just 5 products between catalogs 14 and 25, including his ensemble appearance in the spotlight feature on Philly’s gay amateur wrestling club, Meet theSpartans.
It wasn’t always trash talk and derision between Shane McCall & Scott Williams
When I had the titillating pleasure of interviewing and being provoked by classic hunk Shane McCall, I mentioned my slackjawed crush on Scott, knowing that the 2 of them horsed around together in the Spartans. My reference to “Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams” got quite a rise out of Shane, who couldn’t resist dishing out some trash talk for his former rival. But I stand by the statement of fact that I have held, for quite a long time, and continue to hold a fanatical infatuation with the beauty, power, and wrestling style of hotty Scotty.
Classic wrestling hunk
Having been sent down memory lane, I’ve been browsing clips and pics of Scott and instantly getting that swelling feeling in my crotch. Aesthetically, physically speaking, there’s something both classically handsome and atypically tantalizing about his appearance. I say classically handsome because of his gorgeous proportions, his thick, ultra lean muscle mass, the jaw and chin of a Hollywood leading man and the nose of a toga clad Roman aristocrat. My tendency (certainly not 100%) to prefer smooth, lickable muscle men notwithstanding, there’s an effortless, masculine perfection about Scott’s thorougly coated, impeccably groomed hairy torso.
Hair, muscles and sweat in all the right places
At the same time, I say Scott speaks to me as an atypical wrestlng fantasyman mostly because of his bare pate, which is a downright novelty in homoerotic wrestling circles. There’s something effortless and real about a sizzling hot wrestling hunk with a bald head. Scott’s calm, sneering, underspoken confidence translates into over the top hypermasculinity, not just because of his rocking hot muscled body, but also because of that unapologetically muscledaddy smooth scalp. My hunch is that Scott isn’t all that much older than I am, but premature baldness made him always, from my earliest introduction to his wrestling, a mature, wise, worldly fantasyman that has always and will continue to make me infatuated with any “seasoned coach” wrestling character (hello, Mitch Colby).
Scott makes it hurt!
I’m sure I’ve mentioned Scott’s sell before, but fuck, I’m on a roll now, so I’m mentioning it again. I absolutely love the way he milks a hold. There are a lot of wrestlers (or at least guys wrestling) for whom I struggle to suspend disbelief. They apply an armbar or wristlock and we can all plainly see there’s no actual pressure on the joint. I never had to suspend anything other than my impulse to pull my hair trigger watching Scott Williams wrestle. He puts his opponents’ joints through their range of motion, so that when abruptly the lucky stud in his clutches goes from halfheartedly groaning to suddenly choking out a cry of pain an octave higher and 20 decibels louder, you can believe that shit just hurt. When any part of some fortunate fuck gets trapped between his wiry, crushing thighs, Scott works every inch of his body into screwing down those crushing scissors as tight as humanly possible. His hips twist to add pressure, he transitions his upper body from angle to angle to dig his legs as deep as possible into every available inch of flesh and muscle.
I can’t help but pucker up!
And then that face. Holy fuck, that face. When he purses his lips in concentration and effort, I’ve got a ravenous need to lock lips with the handsome hunk. He’s not the most demonstrative in his sell. There’s a slow simmer about him that doesn’t rely on a bullhorn to convey his emotional state. Rather, steering with such an even keel, every subtle smirk or gasp, every gutteral grunt speaks louder than most wrestlers’ screams and incessant monologues. You can see every fucking muscle fiber on his fabulous body because he’s just that amazingly lean, so Scott doesn’t need to growl like the Incredible Hulk to signal with complete clarity that he’s flexing, squeezing, pressing, or crushing.
Talk about a babyface hero!
And then that smile knocks my knees out from underneath me. Completely disarming. The kind of face that young, ambitious bucks would bust a nut to get the chance to see deliver an approving look, a nod of respect, a seriously appraising eye.
Like me right now, Scott looks like he needs to towel off
I’ve heard from the grapevine that Scott continues to wrestle in private, or in front of custom cameras in command performances only these days. Which is a crying shame, as far as I’m concerned. Because I’ve so many Scott Williams wrestling fantasies, and he’s got such an abridged catalog. So, yeah, I’m a big, big fan (getting bigger by the second just thinking about him). In a 2nd golden age of homoerotic wrestling, with classic comebacks like that of Christopher Bruce and Shane McCall, and the long-rumored return of the likes of Liam Ryan to competition, this fanatic will always carry a torch for one of my first, longest lasting, and instantly provocative classic wrestling infatuations, Scott man-of-my-dreams Williams.
Sidelineland 
