I’ve already alliterated once today, so I’ll keep Thursday’s Thighs to a minimum. Mostly, I just want to point out what I think is an odd convention of photographing hot homoerotic wrestling hunks with stunningly sexy legs from the knees (or even lower thighs) up. Now I love me hot torsos, no doubt. But the seeming aversion to giving loving photographic attention to the beautiful legs of beautiful wrestlers is just plain wrong! Here are just a few classic stunners flexing their gorgeous thighs, and yet the focus of the camera remains riveted above the waist.
Braden Charron has been making some moves. He’s apparently now taking bookings via the hardest working hunk in homoerotic wrestling, Cameron Matthews. He’s also sported an insanely ripped version of his always gorgeous physique in many of his new releases recently. He’s available at Randy Blue, BG East, Thunder’s Arena, and apparently your home wrestling mat! One of his newest appearances is inThunder’s Arena’s recent Custom Video Series 10 release, doing battle with Mr. Franchise, Big Sexy.
Sexy is as Sexy does.
This is, as far as I can tell, the first time the two of these hunks have wrestled on camera. However, the premise is that Big Sexy spikes Braden’s water bottle in order to get revenge. What’s the revenge for? Having meatier pecs than Big Sexy? Rivaling Big Sexy for most fuckable ass at Thunder’s? The narrative isn’t tight enough to make it clear, but the story charges ahead.
Completely different styles, but two of the sexiest asses on the planet!
The drugged homoerotic wrestling scenario is an interesting phenomenon, I think. Custom 10 makes me think of dozens of old PWP stripperboy wrestling matches that hinge upon one mouthwatering hunk starting to get seriously outmatched, but then turning the tables by pulling out a cloth soaked in chloroform. Is that stuff really that readily available?! I’ve never seeen it at my corner drugstore (so, sure, yeah. I’ve looked.). But then again PWP is Canadian, and they get all the good healthcare up there. Anyhow, as in PWP chloroform matches, Thunder’s Custom 10 seems divided into almost equal halves. The first half features decently competitive muscleboy wrestling between two heavy hitting studs that, together, ooze gallons of sexiness.
Braden does not know which end is up once Big Sexy gets his claws in him.
Braden has not impressed me as ready for prime time when it comes to his wrestling skills. I did get a sweet rush of his potential in his BG East Wrestlefest 3offensive against Dick Rick. It’s short lived, but watching those moments when he cockily dominates the vicious pro heel as Braden’s fan club goes nuts seeing him flex over his bashed opponent gets my blood pumping. In Custom 10, he’s a little faster and considerably more aggressive than I’ve seen him before. Big Sexy, who possesses possibly the perfect wrestling arsenal combined with knee-quivering sexiness works over the muscleboy in the early moments, almost instantly peeling Braden’s tank top off (not a moment too soon). He lifts him, carries, him, and slams him to the mat. When Braden tries to counter with a full nelson, no shit, he physically cannot manage to wrap his musclebound arms around the mile-wide shoulders of Big Sexy. So much fucking muscle!
Braden is learning how to leverage all those muscles just right for homoerotic wrestling!
However, Braden delightfully, and convincingly, starts to make it a competition. In fact, Braden takes my breath away just a tad when he abruptly lifts the Sexy One up over one shoulder and rips Big Sexy’s baggy trunks off his legs in mid-air (not a moment too soon). Big Sexy being carried and stripped to his very brief trunks is a sight for sore eyes! I’ve gone on the record repeatedly as deeply infatuated with the extremely hot, hard glutes of Big Sexy. His ass is not the roundest, not the meatiest, but it is astonishingly gorgeous in it’s obvious utility. He’s crafted those glutes from absolute ages of training and wrestling, leaving him with a shelf that you could set your beer can on while you take a lap around his illustrated physique. Mere moments later, Big Sexy pulls off the same over-the-shoulder carry-and-strip maneuver on Braden (not a moment too soon), revealing what has got to be one of the roundest, meatiest, aesthetically mind-blowing asses on the planet! I know, because I’ve checked, that Braden has not always been in possession of glutes as insanely developed as these.
Braden force feeds the Sexy One.
Braden applies all of that stunning muscle just right, absolutely crushing Big Sexy’s face against one of those mountainous slabs of granite he calls his pecs lately. The muscleboy nearly rips Sexy’s arm off at the shoulder in a hammerlock that makes Big Sexy’s voice lift 20 decibels and an octave and a half, giving away the first submission. That’s right. Braden gets the first submission on Big Sexy, and I’m buying every second.
Braden’s got the muscle to rip that massive arm right off at the shoulder!
To celebrate, Braden downs the last half of his spiked water bottle, and slowly, unfairly, underhandedly, it all goes south for the muscleboy. Big Sexy’s bearhug on the increasingly disoriented stud is just so fucking intimate and intense! Muscles locked against muscles. Braden is lifted off his feet, hanging there, his knees digging into Sexy’s hips as he groans and gasps, struggling to endure the agony. Moments later, growing more and more groggy, Braden finds his face trapped nice and tight high between Big Sexy’s thighs in still another intimate moment, this time a mouthwatering face-to-crotch headscissors. And here’s where Big Sexy really shines in my eyes. He looks over his shoulder at the camera, gauges the angle, and drags Braden’s muscled body, head trapped between Sexy’s thighs, across the mat to provide the perfect, unobstructed view of Braden’s nose shoved up underneath Big Sexy’s balls.
Braden is nearly unconscious on his feet, but Big Sexy just keeps pounding away at that work of art he calls a physique.
Suddenly, there are three of us in this mat room. Big Sexy. Braden. And the customizer who gave Thunder’s the concept for this video. Big Sexy returns every so often to gaze into the camera, wagging his eyebrows, wordlessly asking if he’s fucked up this muscleboy enough yet. He hoists the stud up in his arms, hanging helplessly across his chest, and bashes Braden’s back into the cinderblock wall repeatedly. Braden sells like Wall Street trader, both filled with rage at his humiliating domination, and shock to realize that all of those mountains of muscle just aren’t obeying his commands.
There’s no way to put it other than that Big Sexy has his way with Braden. He pries him apart, flings him to the mat, dragging him back up again and tosses the side of beef around some more. Braden is all-but-out, when the Sexy One ties his wrists together behind his back before rousing the stud, dragging him to his feet, and gut punching him some more. Braden can’t protest. So much power, so much beauty, and he’s turning to mush in Big Sexy’s machinations. There’s a sexy 3-count pin, but who’s counting? Braden is hoisted back up into a Big Sexy bearhug, where he passes out hanging in his opponent’s crushing arms. A nasty slam to the mat rouses the muscleboy, barely.
A short trip.
Big Sexy sleepers the beefcake back out old (it’s a short journey, drugged as he is). Braden finally goes slack in his arms. Big sexy poses over top of his hot body, with Braden flat on his stomach and those stunning globes of glutes lying there, slack, so vulnerably. I’m not sure why Big Sexy duct tapes his unconscious opponent’s wrists behind his back before he flexes his sweat-soaked body, making an “I’m here to please” look at the camera. He wipes the Big Sexy sweat off his face and flicks it onto Braden’s sleeping body with contempt.
Someone’s got a sick, sick imagination to have ordered up this muscle mugging of a match. And I, for one, take my hat off to them. Well played, sir. Well played.
Sure, “hump day” has a nice ring to it, but I know I’m not alone in enjoying taking time out in the middle of the week to appreciate the fine art that is a Tree of Woe. The ToW portrays such vulnerability, such anticipation, capturing so much back story and foreshadowing impending doom on the horizon…. just like most Wednesdays in my life. Here are a few choice ToW’s to put the torture of Wednesday into homoerotic wrestling perspective.
New Pro Wrestling’s hunky Viper gets hung out to dry in a ToW in Irish Lads of the Ring 4.BG East’s Cole Cassidy digs that elbow deep into the throbbing, massive bulge of sweaty, suffering stud Derek Da Silva in Cole’s Wrestler Spotlight.Cocky goldenboy Austin Cooper strings lean fighting machine Eli Black up and uses him as a punching bag at Rock Hard Wrestling.Austin seems to have a taste for making an opponent suffer in a ToW, because he does it yet again to bodybuilder beauty Lucas (aptly named) Payne at Rock Hard Wrestling.But Austin learns that Karma’s a bitch when new hardbodied hottie Trent Novak dishes out a heaping helping of what Austin’s been serving to everyone else at Rock Hard Wrestling.Ken Mason learns what’s worse than being stuck between a rock (Kid Leopard) and a hard place (Kid Vicious): being stuck there in a ToW in BG East’s Tag Team Torture 1.BG East’s Kid Vicious has absolutely everything singlehandedly in hand when it comes to exploiting the vulnerable muscles of Jeff Jordan in a ToW in Demolition 2.Rio Garza forcibly puts the breaks on the vicious heel tactics of Jobe Zander with an unapologetic crotch crushing ToW in Can-Am’s Rio’s Revenge.Perhaps the very definition of a babyface beatdown, BG East’s Joe Mazetti kicks the crap out of an achingly young and beautiful Brad Rochelle in Hunkbash 6.Did a Tree of Woe ever turn out so right as when painfully pretty Troy Baker defied the law and snapped those golden thighs around the head of The Sheriff in BG East’s Ringwars 8?!
Cameron Matthews continues to carve out those abs and look more and more dangerous.
Can-Am is previewing in Can-AmMax a new pro wrestling-themed product that looks like it’s yet to be released. At least I can’t find it yet on the main page. I’ve been excited over the past year or two to see Can-Am return to the ring. Ring wrestling certainly isn’t the only thing that strokes my wrestling kink, but it’s the most dependable. This newest yet-to-be-release from Can-Am stars two of the most prolific studs in homoerotic wrestling, Cameron Matthews and Jobe Zander, starring in “Pro Challenge.”
Jobe Zander and his most prominent muscle (hint: not the bicep)
Enjoying photo previews of soon-to-be-released matches feels a little like that giddy moment when you know someone well enough to ask them out on a first date. There’s definitely something attractive about the glimpses Can-AmMax gives of Pro Challenge, but we have precious little to really go on. So, in the meantime, we’re left to fantasize about what’s yet in store, what we’ll learn and witness and, hopefully, fall in love with when we get our eyes on the actual action. I feel confident that we can expect to see some all-in, extremely well-formed homoerotic wrestling characters, because both Jobe and Cameron have resumes longer than my arm proving that they know how to sell a story. Based on the photos, both hunks look like they were in seriously fit shape for this taping. Of course, it seems like a solid guarantee that there will be an abundance of trunk-spectacle, considering Cameron has one of the most eye-catchingly luscious asses in the business and Jobe has one of the most eye-catchingly packed pouches.
The beautiful bubble butt and the notoriously massive dick.
Whether its implied or I’m projecting my hopes and desires, I fully anticipate this to be a highly entertaining, hard hitting, joint wrenching, ball busting, trunk pulling, trash talking extravaganza, considering the aforementioned arm-length resumes these two sport. Cameron has been on a bit of a bid to turn heel, which is an uphill (upheel?) battle for a hunk as babyfaced and bubble-butted as he is. Jobe, on the other hand, has been official heel-in-residence at Can-Am for quite a while now, ripping hot, pornboy musclestuds apart, piece by piece, generally starting with their balls.
Jobe pulls the trunks and batters the babyface from behind. Such a heel…
If it were up to me, I’d love to see Jobe work up another wave of crushing, humiliating, cheating, vicious brutality all over the mouthwateringly hot bod of perpetually babyfaced Cameron for about 25 minutes of jaw-dropping, total-sell action. I’d even give Jobe the green light to ham it up (because, really, who’s going to be able to restrain him from doing so?), even though he frequently tips right over the top into caricature that pulls me out of the fantasy a bit in past performances. Because after that 25 minute steam roll of beautiful Cameron, during which that monster crotch of Jobe’s would absolutely be required to press provocatively against Cameron’s glorious glutes in a ton of reverse bearhugs, back suplexes, and flat-out butt-humping, Cameron would finally get pushed over that elusive edge and go fucking nuts all over Jobe and his bieberesque Hollywood highlights.
Had enough!? Cameron looks like he’s ready to rip Jobe’s face off!
Yes, I harbor a deep longing for Cameron to boomerang around that heel turn with a vengeance! And an epic heel turn like that, in the ring with such a loudmouthed, (quite literally) cocky bully like Jobe, would require some boundaries to be pushed. For example, Jobe’s jackhammer has, as far as I’ve seen, never been seen. In my fantasy telling of Pro Challenge, Cameron goes ape shit all over the bleached blond badass and rips Jobe’s trunks off by the seams. Don’t waist a Cameron heel turn on Jobe-as-usual, damn it! Let’s see the contrapuntal epic jobber-turn for Jobe, crushed, humiliated, stripped, tied up, tied down, spread open wide, and face smothered by the most smotherable ass on the planet. Jobe’s been an oddly demure son of a bitch for having his hand down the trunks of so many hotly muscled pornboys. If ever there was a comeuppance due, I say it would be Jobe’s SoCal tanned bod naked, cornered, and forced to jerk himself off while Cameron keeps him teetering on the edge of being sleepered out cold.
Suck on that, Jobe!
I know, I know. The probability that just about any of my fantasy reading of the preview pics for Pro Challenge actually resembles the product to be released is almost non-existent. Both Cameron and Jobe have kept at least a modicum of modesty (i.e., trunks or, at least, thongs) throughout their careers, again, as far as I’ve seen (please correct me if I’m wrong). While Jobe’s been handily crusheda few times, particularly at BG East, Can-Am has been pushing him as quite the terrifyingly unstoppable heel, so messing with that momentum probably isn’t in the cards.
Cameron’s been building both a fierce attitude and smokin’ hot muscles… but how far will that get him against Jobe?
But it could be. It could be absolutely perfect. It could be the perfect fit to my fondest fantasies. So despite disappointments in the past, I pluck up the courage and ask the hot studs so full of potential and possibility, “Wanna go on a date?”
What’s the instant frontrunner in the competition for my favorite moment of 2013? My dinner last night with Lon Dumont.
A wrestler and a gentleman.
In real life, Lon looks exactly like he does on camera. He just went in for a haircut a few days ago, so picture his coif from Tag Team Torture 15. He’s right in the thick of bodybuilding competition prep, so incredibly lean, tiny waist, angular facial features, slightly hollow-cheeked from months of extreme dieting. This was his first “re-feed” day in a while, meaning that after enduring on significantly low calories to carve out those hot muscles of his, yesterday was an “anything goes” eat anything and everything in sight day. In fact, by the time we met for dinner, he was looking a little green at the prospect of a full dinner. So he limited himself to a massive hunk of chocolate cake instead.
Me, I was just trying not to quiver with excitement the entire time. Look cool. Don’t say something stupid. Wipe that bit of drool from the corner of your mouth! I had a boatload of questions prepared, alternative lines of conversation plotted in case of awkward silences. However, nearly all of my planning went out the window when he not only reached out and shook my hand, but gave me a generous, firm, smiling hug of a greeting. I was instantly reduced to a gaping, wide-eyed Lon-fanatic, mentally trying to sear into my long-term memory the sensation of his hot bod pressing tightly against mine. Fortunately, my instant amnesia regarding all of the witty conversation points I’d prepared was negligible, because Lon is just so fantastically personable!
Our conversation ranged from wrestling and the people we know in common behind the cameras at BG East to politics to life goals to the minefield of negotiating romantic relationships. Happily, Lon and I appear socio-politically closely aligned, so commiserating about particular assholes in office kept us entertained a while. We discovered several unexpected things in common, like we were both history majors in college, and we’ve both had jobs working with older adults. Sure, there were occasional moments when the conversation dropped off and I found myself grinning like a dumbass, thinking to myself, “I’m sitting here chatting with Lon Dumont, for god’s sake!” But I think he took my star-struck fumbling in stride. Of course, I knew much more to expect about him than he did about me. He confessed that he’d had some moments of wondering what he’d find when he showed up for dinner. I’m happy to report that I was not what he expected, apparently in a good way, and that the potential creepiness of sitting down with your #1 homoerotic wrestling fan for the first time face-to-face was apparently a pleasantly enjoyable surprise for him as well.
Of course, I would have enjoyed milking this momentary brush-with-fame for hours on end, but soon enough the night was clearly starting to wrap up. I finally remembered my agenda, and a little sheepishly asked if he’d consent to give me an autograph. “Sure!” he said in that same big, booming, enthusiastic voice he has in the ring. “How about a few autographs?” I asked, with a hint of pleading in my voice as I pulled out my stack of BG East DVD covers and the choice half a dozen or so photos I was able to whittle down from my favorite hundred of mouthwatering Lon pics. He laughed, and said, “Of course!,” explaining that he hadn’t expected to be giving out autographs on his trip. I gave him my most incredulous look (you know, one eyebrow arched), and told him that he certainly should have expected it! We agreed that being plied for autographs ought to be something he faces everyday.
Having Lon lend his signature to my pics of him was this awesomely intimate moment for me. Showing the object of my infatuation the particular shots, angles, and looks of his that rise to the top of my cherished images felt so fantastically intense! He chuckled and agreed with my choice of a particular shot that’s also one of his favorite images from his BG East work. When he got to the g-g-g-g-g-gorgeous pic of him from behind in Rookie Wreckers, as he’s nearly cutting Morgan Cruise in half with his breath-stealing bodyscissors, Lon laughed out loud. Yep, there’s no disguising precisely why I love that shot: the bulging tricep, that stunningly sculpted back, those beautiful hamstrings flexed like a vice around his suffering opponent… and of course, perfectly centered in this shot, Lon’s hot, flexed glutes!
Lon knows what I like!
The night took a tragic turn right after Lon reminded me that we simply had to get a photo of the two of us with my iphone (as if I’d have to be convinced!). I grabbed my phone, turned the camera to selfie, leaned in for a close up of the two of our grinning faces, and pushed click. And my phone instantly ran out of batteries. Seriously, I was nearly brought to tears. If it hadn’t been too humiliating to weep in front of my #1 homoerotic wrestling infatuation, I’d have been reduced to bawling. Lon suggested that this was certainly proof that if there is a god or gods, they’re cruel bastards. His clear understanding of the magnitude of this tragedy consoled me.
A pleasure to get up close and personal with Lon Dumont!
There’s a reason that Kid Leopard refers to Lon as “one of my favorite people in the world.” Lon is just a delightful guy, smart and thoughtful, kind and generous. Honestly, there’s something almost unsettling about getting to know a bit about the person who has been such a long-time object of lustful infatuation. Knowing what a complex and insightful human being he is almost makes me wonder if I may struggle when it comes to continuing to lustfully objectify him.
Trust me. I’ll cope.
I’ll manage to continue to objectify my favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, as long as he keeps pumping out works of art like this!
My thanks to those of you that gave me some last minute advice yesterday before I headed to my dinner with Dumont. For those of you who offered suggestions regarding what I should ask him, let me give you the quick answers. He wore a hot, tight, beige, 3-button crew t-shirt that nicely stretched across his shoulders and pecs. I’m pretty sure he was on a carbohydrate-induced high from a day of sucking down food, so although he wasn’t actually drunk on alcohol, I suspect he was riding at least a little sugar-buzz. Like I said, I went with a modest stack of photos and DVD covers for his autograph, and fortunately he was game to sign them all. And Alex Miller, Lon had no words of wisdom about your household sponges, that itch of yours, or your water pressure. Sorry!
I’m hoping to convince Lon to forward some new photos of his rocking hot body as he approaches peak conditioning for his upcoming competitions. And I’ve made him promise that we’re doing this whole thing again next time he comes through this way, and I’m bringing 5 cameras and 2 dozen back-up batteries with me!
I have the unprecedented (for me) opportunity to meet up with one of my favorite (well, currently THE favorite) homoerotic wrestlers who is, at this moment, basically in my back yard. That’s right, my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, happens to be in my neck of the woods and interested in being treated to dinner by his number 1 fan (i.e. me. Don’t even think of challenging me on this one).
My heart is racing with excited anticipation, of course. Of course I’ve been obsessing about this non-stop. Of course, I’ll report back here how things go, what we talk about, how hot his abs are (surely, I can work into conversation, “show me your abs”!). But there are a few things I’m less certain about.
1. How many photos is one too many photos to bring for autographs?
2. Is it wrong for me to wish that, despite Lon being a teetotaler, that he gets totally messed up drunk (he is in Wisconsin, after all)?
3. What level of specificity about his body can I ask about before crossing a line that I shouldn’t?
4. Given the opportunity to sit down to dinner with your favorite homoerotic wrestler, what would you ask him?
Is it inappropriate to ask him to crush something between his thighs, given that we’ll be eating in a public place?
Let me know what you think (comment by clicking at the top of the post).
Lately, I’ve been drawn repeatedly to a few matches across different producers that keep calling me back. Suddenly, this afternoon, my mind abruptly saw an extremely obvious pattern that I was missing. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees (or the tree trunk thighs). Although it didn’t occur to me initially, each of these infatuation matches of mine has a quite apparent common factor: David vs Goliath.
Naked Kombat’s Doug “the Destroyer” Acre (5’6″, 150 lbs) stares up at Marcus “Titan” Ruhl (5’11”, 210 lbs).
Credit where due, it was Naked Kombat’s description for their Wednesday new release that mentioned David vs Goliath, which was, in turn, what made it click in my mind that I’ve been tokin’ off of catchweight competitions hard lately. Like somewhere around the 3rd season of Lost, I’m no longer even trying to keep up with the narrative of NK’s “Summer Smackdown” tournament, which was bizarre from the start because it was apparently starring 10 men (in a single elimination tournament…. hmmm, math, people), 2 of which apparently had bys until the semi-finals, at which point the final round would be a tag team match. What the hell? When I saw that this week’s match was Marcus Ruhl facing Doug Acre, the holes in the plot didn’t matter to me anymore. A month ago I called this match, predicting that Doug Acre was precisely the giant killer who could fell the mighty Titan.
At the end of round 1, they’re almost even, but holy shit is Doug making the mighty beast work! Sweat is pouring off of Marcus like a waterfall! In round 2, Doug starts to open a lead, primarily banking off of winded Marcus seriously slowing down. The final score after all three wrestling rounds gives Doug a convincing and, as far as I’m concerned, well earned upset victory over the mountain of muscle Marcus.
I don’t know if I’ve ever been quite as thrilled by an NK pony ride as I am to watch Doug use his newfound beast of burden for a leisurely lap. When asked in the post match debrief for his thoughts on the match, Doug’s mouth just gapes open for a moment before nervously chuckling and answering, “Damn! He’s a big guy!” Where it counts, Doug, you’re even bigger! And, as I promised back when I called this match last month, Doug pounding Marcus’ defeated ass in a pool of sweat is now my screensaver!
Can-Am’s Drake Wild (5’4″) stands in the shadow of massive bodybuilder Tyler St. James (6’2″, 240 lbs).
Can-Am doesn’t report the stats on their new big little man, Drake Wild, but elsewhere, he’s reportedly 5’6″ and nearly 100 pounds lighter than 240 lbs, blue-eyed bodybuilder Tyler St. James in Pro Sex Fight 10. When I first saw this match advertised, I thought there was no way I’d get into this. The differential was too much to suck me into the competitive narrative. But just like he does with massive Tyler, Drake grabs me by the balls everytime I push play, and I just can’t tear my eyes away!
Honestly, I typically find myself pulling for the little man in a massively mismatched catchweight contest. However, there’s something almost disturbingly erotic about watching Tyler absolutely manhandle and bully his petite opponent. I’m totally caught off guard by the tension Tyler builds, leaving me to wonder if he’s going to snap the hot little lightweight into at least two separate pieces. The golden bodybuilder is so fucking cocky, so completely dominating, stroking, spanking and kissing Drake’s ass, celebrating his certainty in victory from the moment the match starts. “You don’t stand a chance,” Tyler mutters, not even threateningly, because its just such a flat out statement of fact.
While I’m not sure why I’m enjoying watching this muscle brute mugging quite so much, I’m just that much more deeply ambivalent when little Drake turns the tables. Watching mighty muscles conquered, decisively owned even, is a deeply satisfying scenario 9 times out of 10. And yet watching the lightweight punk get crushed and shot-put all over the ring works me so hard this time out! Like most Pro Sex Fights, the post-victory fucking releases most of the competitive tension anyway, but for some reason I’m left wishing musclegod Tyler could get another crack at putting the lean little scrapper in his place.
BG East’s Flavio (5’10”, 180 lbs) faced down Lorenzo Lowe (5’5″, 135 lbs)
And then there’s the grand finale of this unexpected trilogy I’ve been caught up in lately, BG East’s Undagear 20pitting stunning vision of golden, muscled beauty, rookie Flavio against the ever dangerous Lorenzo “Jake” Lowe. LJL is “merely” 5 inches shorter and 45 pounds lighter, so compared to the first two catch weight matches I mention above, this one is relatively neck and neck at the tale of the tape. LJL keeps writing bigger and bigger checks for that hot, lean, lightweight body of his to cash, and you have to wonder when Flavio effortlessly muscles his way free from LJL’s opening assault and, quite literally, picks him up off his feet and throws him into the wall, whether the mat veteran has bitten off way more beef than he can chew this time.
Watching every inch of Flavio’s body bulge and flex as he steamrolls right over top of LJL is powerfully mesmerizing. Those glutes alone could very well displace Doug Acre riding Marcus Ruhl’s ass as my screensaver. He absolutely owns LJL’s hot, lean bod in one humiliating hold after another. The spinning full nelson that leaves LJL’s feet flailing a foot off the floor is an incredibly hot muscle bully moment that makes me doubt my persistent secret wish (9 times out of 10) that the little guy will climb on top of all those muscles and plant a flag in the bully on behalf of all of us who’ve been pushed around.
But Flavio is a rookie. And LJL has clearly been taking notes from the master himself, BG East Boss Kid Leopard. Because it’s KL’s own signature finisher that snatches victory from defeat for LJL, making all of Flavio’s mouthwatering muscles go limp. It’s the look in LJL’s eyes as he puts the gorgeous fitness model all he way out that reminds me just how incredibly moving and sweet it can be to watch the “little guy” make a dominating specimen of physical perfection and arrogance his bitch!
There must be something in the air, because I’ve been hankering for muscle-taming catchweight homoerotic wrestling, and Naked Kombat, Can-Am, and BG East have set such a fantastic feast!
It was a battle of brawn and bulges, but one of the brawniest and bulgiest, Brad Barnes, pounded his way to the top of the poll in last week’s Friday Fashion fight. With 44% of the vote (66 votes), neverland readers gave Brad the nod for having worn those baby blue trunks with yellow piping demonstrably better than runner up Tyrell Tomsen (33%, 49 votes), and decisively leaving pro heel Dick Rickand human mountain Joe Robbins far behind in the dust.
Brad and his opponents make that tiny strip of fabric look so good from absolutely every angle!
Today’s Fashion Friday poll asks you to decide who best wore a certain pair of pink trunks with a 2 inch black strip around the waist. Pink is a tough color to pull off in homoerotic wrestling. It can veer one of at least two directions. A babyface rookie in pink is destined to get his pretty pink ass pounded into oblivion. A cocky heel, however, can turn pink (and his opponent) on its head, signaling such cocky confidence that more classic color tropes (e.g., bad guys wear black) mean nothing to a fashion iconoclast and vicious villain. I’ve noted three homoerotic wrestlers who’ve worn this signature style: Lon Dumont and Kid Karisma wearing the square-cut, boxer-brief variation in BG East’s Pec Bash 1 and Sexy Showdown 5, respectively, and Justin LeBeau sporting the low-rise brief version in Can-Am’s Aryx Quinn Triple Play. This look is, arguably, Lon’s signature heel gear at BG East, so you can also see a direct comparison in the same brief-cut that Justin is wearing by (lovingly) studying Lon’s many appearances in the exact same gear. Personally, I love this look. But which of these hot, homoerotic wrestling studs wore it best? Vote below and leave your comments above as to why.
Lon Dumont is pretty (fucking imposing!) in pink.What’s pink and black and a chiseled sculpture of sexy muscle all over? Kid Karisma.Justin LeBeau has the muscles, the baby oil, and the cocky smirk to make pink the new black for a wrestling heel.
While a massive slice of beef hanging like drapes on the thick, tree trunk thighs of hot homoerotic wrestlers is guaranteed to drive me insane, it’s not just massive telephone poles for legs that stroke me hard. This edition of Thursday thighs highlights that often it’s not how big they are, but what you do with them that makes wrestling legs so damn sexy!
Attila Dynasty’s thighs are lean, but packed with breathtaking power!Eli Black is another slice of 0% bodyfat fight stud, but what his legs may lack in girth, the make up for in nearly popping the heads off of opponents.Classic kisser Sean Patrick was long, lanky even, but always knew exactly what to do with those sexy thighs (and mouth).Christian Taylor is a tall drink of water on a hot day, but nobody gets out without a whimper of agony once he snaps those scissors shut.Ethan Andrews has been packing on some luscious muscle lately, but even without bodybuilder thighs, he milks such sublime suffering out of a trapped opponent.Flash in the pan but seared in my lustful memory, Kaya Rydellhad the look of someone who could and should own a homoerotic wrestling wring as relentlessly and he owned muscle boys with those crushing, downright skinny (and not a shade less than insanely sexy) thighs.Kid Leopard demonstrates what years of dance training do when translated to the homoerotic wrestling mat (i.e., drive me insane with desire!).
I haven’t been writing much about it, but that doesn’t mean that my perverse (look it up, it doesn’t mean what you’re thinking) imagination keeps transporting icons and contenders of straightforward popular culture into a hardcore homoerotic wrestling universe. I keep waiting, with baited breath, for ABC to contrive the perfect scenario for muscleboy extraordinaire, Gio Benitez, to go shirtless and flex those luscious pecs. That moment will, I predict, drag my tired ass out of my sabbatical from writing in the Producer’s Ringseries for a new installment in the News Boys.
ABC News needs to unleash this beast!
Other hunks on the “pop” side of the news, however, have been stroking that portion of their audience hungry for beefcake, reminding me about some of the body beautiful boys who have starred in my homoerotic wrestling fantasies and, by all appearances, are staying in shape should their wrestling prowess come into question once again.
Shut up and look pretty.
Zac Efron has been accused of looking too pretty. Too polished. I say that’s the perfect character to encounter a nasty ass heel who wants nothing but to eat pretty for lunch. That explains, I’m certain, the fictional homoerotic wrestling scenario I wrote starring the blue-eyed pretty boy, Zac, squaring off against Scottish sexpot James McAvoy in a gay bathhouse fight pit in my wrestling series Producer’s Ring. For those who haven’t read my Focus Group work, you may not know that I worship James McAvoy. I write him vicious and bloodthirsty and wrestling kinked like a sailor’s knot. Little wonder that he face-plants Zac’s mug into the mat, breaks his button nose, and then pistons off 2 massive cum shots across the babyface’s bloodied face. Holy fuck. Good times.
I don’t want to know. I don’t need to know (much less see the movie).
So the prettyboy is back in pop news starring in a (soon to be released? just out? straight to video?) comedy called Neighbors. He’s also showing his spankable prettyboy ass in a trailer for yet another movie called That Awkward Moment. There’s no denying the kid has put on muscle, and a little fur on the pecs makes me willing to look past the powder blue eyes and made-for(by)-Hollywood nose. But if I do ever come off of sabbatical for the Producer’s Ring, Zac is looking way, way too pretty to think he’ll fair any better in his sophomore match.
Fat kid’s revenge: Jerry O’Connell sexes up the place.
Another pop hunk object of my homoerotic wrestling lust, Jerry O’Connell has also been exposed in a new television series that, in the time it took me to write this post, has already been cancelled. This is a sadness, I think, because I could stare are Jerry’s speedo pouch for the duration of an 8-hour miniseries if given the opportunity. It was obsessing over him in Sliders, however, that propelled him to claw his way into the Producer’s Ring universe and find himself in a ring wrestling match full of surprises against another one of my raging obsessions from way back (yes, I’m talking Popular), Christopher Gorham.
I’ve got dirty laundry that needs a washboard!
Gorham, who’s also consistently showing skin (and a fucking insane 8-pack!) in Covert Affairsshows up to his match (in my imagination) with Jerry with a plan ready to orchestrate. It involves Jerry’s wife, his brother, and a hypnotically magical kiss (not to mention Christopher’s raging erection pressed against Jerry’s body as he milks out the last ounces of a body scissors submission).
Yep, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. I have a one track mind, and I’m okay with that. Whether its my newsboys, my movie stars, or my television hunks, the ones that catch my attention are the ones that I can’t help but picture stripped down and oiled up for a homoerotic wrestling match!
Sidelineland 