It’s Pride Month, and where I am we’re getting ready for the full-on Pride throw down. So to celebrate the occasion, this is a Pride-themed Friday Fashion. Hot wrestling asses packed inside all the colors of the rainbow? That’s right, celebrate the rainbow! Hell, taste the rainbow!
I’m a few days late in taking the crown of homoerotic wrestler of the month off of the handsome brow of Dr. Austin Cooper and placing it on a new honoree. Perhaps I’ve been reluctant to move on from Austin-as-heel. Perhaps I’m afraid he’ll kick my ass. In any case, I’m stepping up to the plate today to peruse the new releases in homoerotic wrestling published in the month of May to pick one wrestler who grabbed me hardest. Without further ado, the new reigning neverland homoerotic wrestler of the month is…
…Chace LaChance.
I’ve been attentive to Chace’s career since I first saw him team up with long-time favorite Lon Dumont over at BG East in Tag Team Torture 12. Chace is nothing… nothing like he was in those early days of his career. For one thing, he’s added another 50% of bodyweight, at least 20% of which is contained in his gargantuan pecs. I used to refer to Chace as a go-go boy, but these days he looks like he swallowed a go-go boy as an appetizer. Over the years he’s grown increasingly illustrated, with ink now extending almost the length of his mammoth right arm. And here in his Hairy He Men match at Muscle Domination Wrestling, he’s put down the razor and let the hair grow on this gorgeous pecs and abdomen. Muscleboy. Ink. Fur. Heel?! I’m just referring to him as Chace “Made to Order” LaChance now!
A word about his opponent. There are moments when I just want to pinch adorable Tony Law’s cheeks. Such is the case when he opens this match by flexing and announcing, “I think I have the best physique in the house. And I want anyone to come challenge that right now!” It’s clear that Tony knows what’s coming from the way he bites his lower lip. He knows he’s full of shit. And he knows he’s about to get pummeled by the mountainous, mouthwatering muscles of Chace LaChance. Everyone. EVERYONE at MDW has beat Tony’s sweet ass, of course. But damn it all if I don’t find myself wishing that the epic farmboy jobber learned a lesson or two and earned some respect along the way. However, it’s not today, my friends. Not today.
The boys slap down their proverbial dicks when Chace calls attention to what I find most eye catching and provocative about his appearance: his awesome coat of hair across his torso. He refers to Tony’s modest patch of upper chest hair as “pussy fuzz” in comparison. “Outrageous!” Tony snarls, his masculinity insulted.
“Outrageously great, I understand,” cocky Chace flexes his mammoth bicep in Tony’s face. Tony seems most intent on proving that he can defy the odds in one test of strength after another. Chace smirks and chuckles each time they lock up and the behemoth swats Tony away like a horsefly. He peppers the story throughout with both physical and emotional attacks, regularly calling attention to Tony’s baby smooth body and suggesting an inherent inferiority in comparison to Chace’s manliness.
There’s so much about Chace’s physique to commend him to this month’s title, but in addition to the aforementioned awesome pecs, biceps, and abs, that massive slab of beef that is his muscled ass is breathtaking. And those gargantuan, hairy legs! Holy crap, what a specimen! Muscleboy wannabe Tony absolutely shrinks in comparison, and when Chace locks those telephone pole thighs around him, Tony wriggles like a helpless fish on the line.
The camera work in Hairy He Men is either too avant garde for me, or else it’s just a bit “off.” There’s a ton of focus on suffering Tony, but weirdly, epically hot Chace is frequently partially cut out of the frame. Perhaps it’s intended to emphasize how huge he is (as in, he’s so big our camera can’t quite capture him all at once!). And of course there are those for whom the turn on is precisely watching Tony’s face turn beet red and twisted in agony, so shortchanging a look at Chace is fine. As someone who tends toward infatuation with the pitcher, however, I’m a bit frustrated for the lack of lingering looks at devastatingly hot Chace.
I’ve been critical of MDW for shortchanging the wrestling in their wrestling matches, as they sometimes tend to favor the drama, domination, and muscle torture more. Chace brings a sweet focus on the kink I love, however. His go-to is, curiously, a sort-of bow and arrow that I swear has got to have added inches to the length of Tony’s right leg and right arm. Mammoth, hairy bear bearhugs and back and gut abuse maintain a pleasing pace in the combat. However, I feel compelled to point out a familiar refrain in my reviews of MDW: this is a total, complete, unadulterated squash. Those left yawning at one-way streets will likely not be provoked by this as much as I am. I think MDW still has more to learn in taping homoerotic wrestling that tells the compelling story of competition that teeters on the edge, of battles that are nuanced and suspenseful.
There’s no suspense in Hairy He Men. Chace is THE Hairy He Man this day. Tony Law is ground into dust. Chace LaChance is sexier than I think I’ve ever seen him. And in the field of new releases in May, it’s Chace who grabs not only Tony, but me as well, in claiming the title of never land’s homoerotic wrestler of the month.
I had a moment of OCD wash over me when I noticed recently that I only made it about 2/3rds of the way through the alphabet in my homage to the remarkable range of one of my perennial favorite homoerotic wrestlers, Jake Jenkins. So today I plug away at completing the course in the relatively easy section of the alphabet. Making Jake…
… pose. Lot’s of wrestlers are provoked to pose by a sneering, flexing opponent, but not so much Jake. Jake tends to really pose only when his good buddy Austin Cooper teams up with him for a babyface tag team battle, like they did in Tag Team Torture 15. Jake’s body is a work of art crafted out of just plain hard work, so its understandable that the devastatingly handsome hunk would prefer to save his strength for applying those muscles to the work of pummeling an opponent. But thanks to camaraderie and showmanship, it’s a pleasure to see Austin make Jake pose.
…quit. Then again, it always hasn’t been a blushing bromance between golden boy Austin Cooper and Jake. When they first arrived at BG East, shit hit the fan when egos and mouthwatering muscles were bruised between these two ripped rookies. Across his career, Jake has taken more than he’s given when it comes to submissions. Most of the time, it requires sleeping the stud out cold to decisively score a victory over JJ. But in Ripped Rookies, with sweat pouring off of both of their barely clad bodies, Austin makes Jake quit.
… relax. It’s not uncommon for Jake to showboat, particularly when an opponent has tried to intimidate him, and particularly at Rock Hard Wrestling. But there’s something extremely provocative about those moments when Jake is so totally in charge, seeming to make the art of torture look effortless. It requires an opponent with a loud mouth writing checks his muscles cannot cash, such as when pumped Matt Engel pokes and pokes until Jake cannot resist almost snapping him off at the knee while leaning back on one elbow and looking like it ain’t nothing but a thing. It’s a lesson in the eroticism of humiliation and domination when some cocky punk makes Jake relax.
… scream. Jake typically runs a body temperature around 92.4 degrees (F), because his veins are filled with ice water. Incredibly cool, even keeled, and in control, it’s a rare moment to see him not only submit, not only be manhandled, but to actually break out in desperate screams. The contrast between his seemingly unshakeable calm and self-control and these punctuation marks of panic are deeply moving. Watching shocking rookie Carter Alexander take Jake to the edge in Gazebo Grapplers 16 is pure gold, as the overpowering rookie makes Jake scream.
…taut. If there’s one thing Jake fanatics know, it’s that this stud is a true athlete. That phenomenal physique has been hammered into perfection by a passion for sport, first and foremost among them, wrestling. So in addition to stunning strength, speed and stamina, this gorgeous stud is one of the most flexible wrestlers in the business. As a result, the tolerances that his body can withstand are breathtaking. It requires an extremely firm hand and a lust for pushing the edge for an opponent to wrench Jake’s hot bod to the breaking point. Happily, Kid Karisma is just such a stud, and in Hunkbash 12: No Fear, No Limits, No Mercy, he exquisitely makes Jake’s incredible body taut.
The rest of the alphabet is a little more challenging, so send me your suggestions on U through Z to round out the phenomenal range of Jake Jenkins!
No one seemed to notice that I totally blanked out on reviewing the votes from Friday Fashion a week and a half ago. Or else you were just to polite to say anything. Regardless, I wanted to state the obvious: Wade Cutler was one stunningly sexy wrestler in a vintage red singlet! Wade pulled 77 votes, more than 50 votes ahead of second place Devon Cade, and 60 votes ahead of 3rd place Nick Veloudis (who I’ve got to spend some more time with!). Interestingly, although Corey Evans tied with Devon the week before in the same gear, hunky Corey faded to a very distant 4th place finish. All these numbers to say that homoerotic wrestling fans continue to have a major crush on one of the sexiest muscle boys to get ripped, stripped, and jacked off in the wrestling ring, Wade Cutler. Oh, and of course, on the mat, in Fantasymen 8, he wore it best!
After I swooned over every captured still of Gio Benitez muscling his way through the surf on Good Morning America on Tuesday, several of you let me know you’re with me. Turns out, a random Twitterer’s mind went to the exact same place mine did: evaluating how pumped Gio compares with Italian Stallion Chris Cuomo:
Fuck and yes! I love that Cuomo, who is a notorious muscle stud, gets called out publicly on behalf of the young pup Gio. Of course, when I read, “the competition is heating up,” I’m picturing muscles soaked in oil, gym bodies stripped to speedos, and a brutal beefcake beach battle of balls out homoerotic wrestling. Now that Chris is on a competing morning show at CNN, I wasn’t sure if he’d even be allowed by corporate to acknowledge that Gio exists. Well, apparently he is, and he did:
See what he did there? Chris feints with self-depracating praise, then slips in that Gio is a novice compared to the veteran newsboy. And just to drive home the point of who would win the “competition,” Cuomo points out emphatically that Gio is a fucking lightweight compared to him. Competition? I’d squash that anklebiter like a fucking bug! Sweet, I thought. But no way Gio’s handlers would let him dip his toes into the newsboy trash talk pool, right? Wrong:
Baby beefcake Benitez climbs into the ring like an upright, earnest babyface, giving his props to the well-known muscle monster Cuomo. Aw, shucks, I’m just honored to be in the same Tweet.
Let’s recap. 43 year old, 6’2″ dynasty spare Chris Cuomo not only periodically and cruelly teases muscle fans with his shirtless fishing exploits, he also writes a column for Men’s Health and is currently video documenting a provocatively named kick ass workout regime with multiple clips of him pumped, sweaty, and working his giant body with a hot, handsome stud trainer barking in his ear. Cuomo says his ideal weight is 210 pounds of rock hard mountainous muscle. He says that he isn’t an MMA boy, but he’ll “try a 5-minute fighting circuit to disturb my metabolism.” I know of a lot of opponents who’d give a left nut to be on that circuit!
I haven’t uncovered any guesses about Gio Benitez’ height or weight, so I’m totally making this shit up when I say he’s 5’10” and a ripped 185 pounds. He turned 28 about 7 months ago. His official ABC bio says that he’s fluent in English and Spanish, and was the first journalist to shoot a segment entirely on iPhone, which is pretty much crap info when you consider that they’ve left out his vital statistics like chest and bicep measurements. His Instagram suggests that the boy wonder likes muscle tees and completely unbuttoned polos, form-fitted to his mammoth pecs and struggling to contain his bulging biceps. He’s not nearly as smooth and confident on camera as Cuomo, but he’s come a long way since his GMA debut about a year ago. Unlike Cuomo’s omnipresent naked torso, and despite his most obvious assets, ABC has yet to unleash full-on Gio shirtlessness. I assume they’re waiting for a desperate sweeps week.
I say liberally baby oiled beach wrestling in South Beach, Chris in a speedo and Gio wearing a posing strap. Entirely televised by both CNN and ABC, with special referee weatherman-turned-celebrity gossip monger Rob Marciano. What are the highlights of that action and who wins? You make the call in the comments.
In the interest of public safety, I’m afraid that Gio Benitez has to re-shoot this segment for Good Morning America. I know that I’m not alone in being unconvinced by his demonstration of the dangers of rip tides. That shirt and those baggy trunks he’s wearing were clearly weighing him down as he swam in the surf, exaggerating the threat of a rip tide. If Gio had done this segment shirtless and in more modest trunks, I feel confident he’d have muscled his way right through that rip tide without breaking a sweat. I, for one, refuse to believe in the dangers of rip tides until Gio Benitez goes back to south Florida, strips down (in HD slow motion) to nothing but a tiny speedo, and does this entire demonstration all over again. If Gio truly cares about public safety, he will make this happen, and he’ll send me photos of him flexing those gargantuan biceps, bouncing those juicy pecs, and I’d pay double for an extended video of him bearhugging that hottie lifeguard who, let’s face it, despite acknowledging how much of “a grown man” Gio is, still questions Gio’s masculinity by “rescuing” him. Then, when Lara Spencer clucks, “and speaking of ripped!” about Gio’s hot body at the end of the segment, it’ll really mean something.
*Events and dialogue reported here may not exactly conform to what actually happened.
My Netflix account is only about 4 months old, but it’s earned the subscription fee back several times over. For example, I’ve been binge watching Chuck, which I sort of lost track of when it was originally airing around the middle of season 2. The casting director needs an honorary homoerotic wrestling award for packing so much wrestling fantasy meat into one production. In a lottery-style homoerotic wrestling tournament, in which competitors draw names for their opponents in an elimination competition, who would end up in the final round, what genre of homoerotic wrestling, and who would be the Chuck Champ? I know how this celebrity homoerotic wrestling fantasy plays out in my mind. What about you? Comment with your take…
I love a hot battle between gorgeous hunks! Last week’s Friday Fashion poll is a perfect case in point. Babyface boy-next-door Greg Michaels pulled a respectable 25% of the vote, but it was a dead heat as of this morning between Corey Evans and Devon Cade, with 37.6% of the vote a piece. That means in answer to the question “Who wore it best?,” we’re left with a resounding indecision! Now, normally my prescription is to have the top vote-getters thrown into a ring, naked, with the gear in question to be donned by the hunk who makes his opponent his bitch. This week, however, I have a different possible tie-breaker. Since I posted last week, I’ve tracked down another 3 homoerotic wrestlers who ALSO wore this “vintage” red singlet in smokin’ hot action. So let’s see how Corey and Devon fare in the face of this new pack of hunks. Five worthy hunks. They all wore it, but who wore it best?
Marcus Ruhl cements his standing as my favorite Naked Kombatant these days with his new release match against mammoth Mitch “The Machine” Vaughn. Both of these majorly beefy hunks are incredible specimens. Marcus’ ass and legs leave me breathless, and watching them pump and grind at work is phenomenally entertaining. He comes into the match with a 2-2 record, while Mitch is angling to keep his 2-0 record undefeated. Mighty Marcus comes across a bit of an underdog, with noticeably shorter reach and the tide of momentum seeming to favor Mitch. Just look at the size of Marcus upper arms and let that sink in: he’s an underdog!
Mitch hands Marcus his insanely sexy bubble butt in round 1 of Kombat. The Naked Kombat points pile up 15-7 in Mitch’s favor. Marcus is on his back and struggling under the mountain of muscle most of the duration, and he taps out pretty early on from the devastating effects of fingers up his crack (which at NK gets points and, surprisingly, a submission in this case). Gorgeous, tanned, mouthwateringly muscled Marcus is looking in serious jeopardy of tipping into the 2-3 category.
Round 2, the jockstrap round, is fast and furious. There’s no point tally after that round, but I’m estimating that Marcus made up some, but not all, of his early deficit. Mitch looks tired. Well, they both look like exhausted behemoths, but Marcus looks a tad fresher.
Round 3 is an oil round, and I just about lose my self-control just watching golden Marcus slather baby oil across every inch of himself. Massive hunks like these sometimes get seriously ponderous and half-assed around this point in NK, and with the oil making it nearly impossible to get a hold on each other, these studs could be excused if they’d dialed it down from their round 2 pace. But fuck no! It’s a chess match, mind you. It’s not a blitz of throws and holds and scrambling non-stop. But it’s move and hold, attempt and counter, muscles straining against mighty, massive muscles relentlessly. Damn, damn, damn that oil round is a feast!
The match is called early because Mitch takes a scratch to an eyelid. Nearly 420 pounds of combined muscle, but it’s a scratch to the eyelid that stops this titanic confrontation cold! There’s a life lesson in there, I’m sure. The powers that be at NK decide the match is close enough to the end to just tally the points to that point and crown a winner. Remember, mighty Marcus ended round 1 with an 8 point disadvantage. Once the oil is washed off and Mitch’s eye treated with Neosporin, the final points are announced. Mitch: 24 points. Marcus: 26!
Round 4 at NK is the “sex round” in which the winner gets to dominate and call the shots, which 19 times out of 20 is the least arousing round for me. Watching Marcus own this power hitter, though, is pretty fucking sweet. There’s a ton of attention paid to Marcus’ ass, both by Mitch and by the camera. And then there is, by far, the most engaging moment in the match: the post-match testimonial in which both gladiators honestly, almost shyly comment on the experience and give each other kudos. That devastatingly handsome, Clark Kentish earnestness on Marcus’ gorgeous face melts into a beautiful, adorkable smile as he admits that his opponent was nearly too much to handle. Holy crap, I’ve got a gargantuan crush on that guy!
When I think about how I present myself online, I think about this blog. The depths of my confessionals in the well over 1,000 posts I’ve composed over the past 5 years pretty much leave me feeling naked (and hungry). So when someone approaches me in a different online format, who has clearly never read the pages of this blog, it’s always a little disorienting. “You into wrestling?” someone asks on Facebook. Seriously? I mention BG East or Can-Am on Twitter and someone asks, “What’s BG East?” Whaaaaa?
So today’s post explaining the do’s and don’t’s of chatting me up on Facebook and Twitter is probably pitched to the wrong audience (because, obviously, you’re reading this blog). However, after several cease and desists and “unfriending” (aka, “fuck off, bitch”), I thought I’d just clarify how I manage who I am and how I socialize in the most misnamed technology in history: social media. First of all, I am an unapologetic gay man. If you try to strike up conversation or ask me to accept you as a “friend,” but you appear to be presenting yourself as a straight man, into just women, with a total lack of style and a frequent use of homophobic slurs, I will ignore you. Some of my closest friends are straight guys, mind you, but my quota of token straights in my life is filled at the moment. Same goes for the boobulous women complementing me on my abs. Wrong tree.
Now, an overt nod to wrestling in your profile or chatter is a major plus. Assuming you’ve made it through the first round of exclusion criteria above, I almost universally acknowledge those who approach me with an explicit connection to wrestling. The gay guys who approach me who seem to hold no fascination for wrestling tend to have about a 0.50 probability of me ignoring them. Which side of that coin you fall on probably depends on whether I’m already inserting you into a wrestling fantasy of mine by looking at your profile photo. Yeah, it’s all about me.
Speaking of which, regular readers of this blog know well that I’m a major fan and booster of hot asses and succulent dicks. Honestly, I’ve dragged you all along on quite a few rounds of “Name that Ass” and “Name that Cock,” so it should come as no surprise that I love asses and dicks. I’m still planning a revival of the “Name that…” games at some point, because, let me repeat, I love asses and I love dicks.
That said, metaphorical asses and dicks frequently make it through my initial two rounds of exclusion criteria above, and then get my boot later on. What qualifies one as a metaphorical ass who I don’t have time for? Rabid, right wing, Tea Party, misogynist, internalized homophobic, guns in every hand but save fetuses at all costs, racist, anti-immigrant bullshit qualifies one instantly as the sort of ass that I have no time for. That’s right. You may be gay and a wrestling freak, but if you shove your politics in my face and I find them abhorrent, I’ve moved on. I’m fine with you believing your wing-nuttery, but I’m not about to see it in my feed on a regular basis.
What qualifies one as a metaphorical dick that I can’t stand? There are a few signals to me that someone is a dick. “Hey fucker, I’m going to beat your ass and you’re going to take it,” is a pick up line that does not work for me in the sphere of social media. Buy me a couple of drinks, strip your rock hard body down to a jock strap, and serve up some sweet trash talk and sure, you’re back to being the sort of dick I love. Come on way too strong and insist on dominating without a basis of consensual amiability, and you’re coming across to me as the sort of dick I don’t have time for. Another signal of a distasteful dick is trashing people I care about and respect. Bitchy take downs and critiques of the bodies of homoerotic wrestlers in the business, for example, merits a “see ya,” from me. Thoughtful critiques of the homoerotic wrestling industry are lovely, but one-dimensional flaming of a particular company or product is just dickish.
I don’t tend to respond much to “hey, stud, let’s cyber wrestle.” That doesn’t usually merit a delete from me, but I’ve said way too often that my dance card is full up at the moment. It comes close, but typically doesn’t quite cross the line when someone asks to share pirated homoerotic wrestling products. Again, if you read the pages of this blog, you know that I’m a big, big booster of the industry and want it to thrive and prosper. Intentionally pirating copyrighted material is awfully damn close to dickishness that I don’t have time for. You probably won’t get deleted, but I’ll try to pretend you didn’t just ask me that.
Want to chat about your favorite homoerotic wrestler? Want to comment on dicks and asses (the good kind)? Want to steer me to a new company or product because you’re fucking love it to pieces and think I will too? Let’s virtually socialize! Care to offer a different opinion or take me to task because you think I’ve missed some essential hotness in my meanderings and musings? Love it. Be classy, gay, and within the brotherhood of homoerotic wrestling fans, and let’s connect. The other type of asses and dicks, keep moving.
Sidelineland 