Sidelineland

Neverland readers occasionally overestimate my integration within the formal hierarchy of homoerotic wrestling. They ask me to arrange for someone in particular to get an audition with a wrestling producer, or they request that I put in a good word for a particular combination of wrestling opponents to appear in a future match. The truth is, although I write and obsess a lot about homoerotic wrestling, my influence on its production is minimal-to-non-existent. I picture myself more as a part of the press corps, appreciated by a precious few who actually make the news, tolerated by most of the rest of the producers and wrestlers, and despised by a handful of the star players (sometimes for legitimate reasons, I’ll admit).  Although I muse incessantly about my own lusts for particular motifs and tag team partners and opponents, I can think of only two instances when I’ve expressed a detailed wish for a future homoerotic wrestling production that actually ended up being produced.

The first homoerotic wrestling match that seemed to fall like mana from heaven a few months after I wrote about the need to see it produced was BG East’s Sexiest: Breaking Point mat match.  Rusty Stevens and Mitch Colby had traded my loyalties back and forth, each claiming and losing the title of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler to each other repeatedly.  Holy hell, the two of them wore me out for something like a year and a half, turning me on harder and harder with each new release they starred in seperately! What was needed, I mused here at neverland, was a direct, head-to-head confrontation in which the two premiere fantasymen appealing to my fondest homoerotic wrestling desires showed up in the same place to work their magic on each other, proving decisively and indisputably which one of them was the champ of grabbing my cock and milking me dry. This seemed an unlikely item for my wish list, since Rusty had never appeared in a homoerotic wrestling production east of the Mississippi.  They were both Naked Kombat veterans, but I got the impression from somewhere that Mitch was not interested in going down that path again. So when BG East released in the summer of 2010 The Breaking Point, I felt faint at the sight of Rusty and Mitch in sweat-soaked jock straps barreling down on one another on the Florida mats (so okay, I had asked for a Boston ring match, but whadevah).  Was I in any way responsible for this stroke of casting genius? I suspect not, and no one has ever suggested that was the case. But like a prayer to Poseidon, the expression of my heart’s desire was followed closely enough by its realization that I felt a little moment of self-efficacy over the homoerotic wrestling gods.  Maybe, just maybe, I could feel like I had just a little to do with Rusty’s one and only venture (so far) into BG East territory.

The second instance of inspired booking that I probably don’t have absolutely any right to claim…but I’ll imply that I do… is the opening match in BG East’s new release, Wrestlefest 3, pitting my now-reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon Dumont, against his former protege, babyface bruiser and former HWOTM here, Cameron Matthews. In my interview with Lon early in 2011, he mentioned he was Cam’s “original pro wrestling trainer,”  and that in their careers, they’d wrestled one another 3 or 4 dozen times.  “Damn, that would be something I’d like to see!” I replied. “Perhaps we’ll see you two in action through BGE sometime.”  Enigmatically, Lon responded, “Perhaps so.”

Merely 2 and a half years later, BG East released Wrestlefest 3, checking off another fondest wish on my list.  This match sets off a non-stop fireworks-finale in my crotch for the duration of this intensely hot ring confrontation. The word apparently is that Lon’s return to wrestling competition hasn’t entirely been welcomed by his former mentee, particularly not when Lon was overheard boasting that he was “classing up” BG East since his arrival.  As an unabashed Lon-fanatic, I see nothing at all wrong with crediting Lon with bringing a boatload of class, a simply massive ring repertoire, and a melts-in-my-mouth gorgeous physique that’s done nothing at all bad for the BGE universe. Impolitic?  Perhaps. But wrong?  I’m unapologetically on Lon’s side as this drama unfolds.

I’m not the only one on Lon’s side, but it’s close. Fulfilling another of my oft-mentioned longings, BG East filmed this match in front of a live audience comprised of BG East wrestlers. Everyone of them is instantly pulling for red-white-and-blue bedecked Cameron, except for the lusty cheers that Blaine Janus has for my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler, Lon.  The rest of the boys at ringside are fucking relentlessly taunting and insulting Lon, but Blaine is channeling my deepest longing by cheering Mr. Dumont on and making at least a couple undisguised passes at the bodybuilder beauty. Note to self: I need to interview Blaine Janus, because that boy has stunningly awesome taste!

This match is phenomenal! There’s always a danger of the real thing not living up to the hype and anticipation, but Lon and Cameron bring precisely what I would hope to this match: intensely high quality pro wrestling action, stunningly hot bodies squeezed and pried apart from every angle, and about 3 quarts of sweat (mostly produced by Cameron, I think, but liberally lubricating both of these specimens of gorgeous muscle!). The back and forth is fantastically intense, and early going Lon is simply outmuscled and dominated by his bigger, younger, chip-on-his-shoulder opponent. Watching Lon’s hot bod get manhandled ranks as one of the top 10 wonders of the homoerotic wrestling world, as far as I’m concerned.

Full-contact audience participation is achingly sweet, and the Cam-fans at ringside are simply giddy when they exploit every opportunity they can to get their hands on Lon. I understand the impulse. The cocky veteran appears to have a blind spot for an audience inexplicably aching to watch him get crushed, and Skip Vance and Ben Monaco in particular successfully get underneath Lon’s flawless skin and do what audiences do best, assault the oversized egos in the ring and serve as the third man, distracting cocky heels from their appointed rounds.

I don’t think I’ve seen Lon take quite the abuse that his junior colleague dishes out in Wrestlefest 3.  Sure, he got pounded into dust by giant Joe Robbins in Gut Bash 8, but Cameron’s measured delivery of precise quantities of trash talk, blinding speed, acrobatic athletics, and ring savvy moves absolutely stymie my top wrestler-crush throughout a good portion of this match in ways I’ve just not witnessed. Cam catches Lon’s fantasy physique in such compromising positions that this match quite literally requires about 3 times longer than the running time for me to get through the whole thing in one sitting.

If there’s one thing that can raise my temperature hotter than watching Lon’s muscles dominated, it’s watching him muscle his way back into contention and start to apply the pedal to the metal in overcoming a young stud opponent.  Just watching Lon’s chiseled abs pump and flex as he bears down on this babyface beauty in an abdominal stretch is mesmerizing! And don’t think for a minute Lon isn’t a crowd pleaser (despite the complaints of everyone at ringside other than Blaine), because he yanks on those adorably heroic American flag trunks of Cameron’s to show us Cam’s real moneymaker, that mindblowing ass!

The competition is way too close for Lon to own the momentum for long at any one time, and even with seconds left in the contest the victory remains in question.  These two are master storytellers, so the tension is stroked hotter and harder with such expertise, such passion, such a generous spirit for the viewing audience.  The former student’s confident call-out of his former mentor teeters back and forth between folly and fate, and every second Cameron gets to feel Lon’s muscle body constricting around him is another moment I’m insanely jealous.

Praise be to the homoerotic wrestling gods that heard my prayers and made this match happen, because watching these to men who know each other so well, with such a history of mutual admiration as well as a burning grudge, is epic.  BG East is a better place for having both of these highest class of athletes on board. And if you’re wondering whether Cameron knocks his bodybuilder mentor down a few pegs, I’ll just say that I (and Blaine) were intensely pleased to watch the climax of this barely controlled chaos of a pro wrestling match for gay eyes.  So much muscle. So much sweat. Such beautiful wrestling.