Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

I haven’t been posting for the past several days because my life is very full right now.  No excuses. No complaining. Just a full life that’s shoved new blog posts to the back burner for a bit. As a result, I’ve missed crowning a new homoerotic wrestler of the month based on the new releases from August.  Let me just get right down to work and rectify that situation now.  The worthy nominees include: perennial hunkbasher Ethan Andrews and sexy Alexi Ivanov for Rock Hard Wrestling’s “Russian Nightmare;” Teen sensation Jason Kane and exotic dancer Aaron Travers (whose bulging package probably merits a nomination of its own!) for Rock Hard’s “Dominance;” an incredibly lean version of Braden (Charron) debuting in Thunder’s Arena’s Rough and Ready 30 (yes, I’m back online with Thunders!); Big bearded Sexy and the epic return of Sebastian (looking hotter than ever!) in Thunder’s Rough and Ready 29; astonishingly handsome rookie Cratos and fantasy body of love machine Lance Romance in Thunder’s Rough and Ready 28; and big bruiser Luger getting a cardio workout in all over former homoerotic wrestler of the month Z-Man in Thunder’s Rough and Ready 27. Can-Am’s newest Pro Sex Fight (volume 9) looks tasty, but I haven’t seen it so I’m saving it to nominate it at a later date.

Some legitimate contenders here. I feel like I’ve been calling out the veterans in the business lately, so I have to acknowledge that my tastes have been for new faces this month. And with that little finger resting on the scales, the decision tips inevitably and decisively in the favor of one particular hunk of muscle who absolutely drained me dry…

5’9″, 200 lbs.
Cratos.

Joe gave a sweet review of Rough and Ready 28 that does the match justice.  As Joe puts it, both of these gorgeous boys are a little wooden, but the match is “hugely entertaining” nonetheless, in large part (huge is probably a better word for them) carried on Cratos’ “large and rippling shoulders.”  Yep, as with 97.36% of the time, Joe and I see eye to eye on this one (which is probably why people constantly mix us up, which I always find very flattering).

Homoerotic wrestling sculpture! Note how, like me,
Cratos can’t take his eyes off of his own bulging body.

Joe also detailed the particularly arousing effect of Cratos’ controlled, noisy nose-breathing technique and gritted-teeth, hissing trash talk.  I swear I get a whiff of the musky sweat, metal weights and rubber mats of the gym, all inspired by the way Cratos pumps out a bear hug or crunches his thighs around Lance’s head with the powerful exhalations escaping his nose. I don’t tend to find myself turned on by “workout” videos, but I strongly suspect watching and listening to Cratos pump out a shoulder routine could easily make me blow my top.  Naked wouldn’t hurt, either.

In through the mouth, out through the nose: Cratos works his sartorius muscles.

I have to say that, despite myself, handsome Cratos’ looks alone keep my eyes plastered on him throughout the match.  I like to think of myself as more complex than to be captured by a hot-looking hunk on looks alone, but Cratos’ has a look that works me incredibly hard.  Lance is a work of art, don’t get me wrong, but fuck me (please!), Cratos is ridiculously handsome! I mean, seriously, it’s ridiculous. Have I seen him somewhere before (but just can’t place where), or is it just that he looks like he belongs on a movie screen? The tat sleeve down his bulging left arm totally turns me on.  His muscles make my mouth water.  And he’s got the face of a comic book superhero! The dimples alone could make me do things I’d totally regret the morning after.

Cannot take his/my eyes off that hot body!

Lance is just asking for it. He’s got the hit of a big bully who has a crazy self-love for flexing his ripped muscles and making lesser men feel woefully inadequate in comparison.  9 times out of 10 in his life, I’m sure that Lance sneers and bounces his pecs and the objects of his derision stare at their own feet, passively acknowledging that he’s far more man than they could ever handle.  Then, I’m guessing, Lance goes home, pulls out some lube, and gets off on replaying that feeling of ego crushing dominance. But then there’s that 1 guy out of 10 with the self-confidence to meet his gaze and refuse to back down.   And then there’s the even rarer specimen of a hunk with the good looks to legitimately compete with Mr. Romance and the muscle and mat skills to tie him up like a bow and make him sorry for ever showing his fine, fine ass on on the mats.

These boys could trade gut punches for hours… if one of them didn’t cheat.

Lance pushes buttons like a telephone operator to start things off.  The contemptuous step across Cratos’ back as the rookie does push ups floors my homoerotic wrestler of the month for sheer audacity.  But like a dog sniffing out a bone, Lance quickly finds the sorest spot in Cratos ego: he seriously, majorly, ferociously HATES to be ignored.  Cratos calls him out, looking for a simple explanation, an acknowledgment of offense.  He’s got the cool confidence that suggests to me that if Lance just said, “Oh, sorry buddy, didn’t see you there. My bad,” then Cratos would likely go back to pumping up his pecs and completely forget the whole thing ever happened.  But remember, Lance’s modus operandi is not to live and let live.  Forgive and forget are two elements that have never appeared in a Lance Romance recipe.

Look at the satisfied smile on that sweat-soaked face! Damn, that’s hot!

Lance flexes and stretches, turning his back on Cratos dismissively.  The longer he ignores him, the more fired up the devastatingly handsome rookie becomes.  Looks early on like he’s stumbled across that 1 in 9 guys who doesn’t just wither and study his toes when Mr. Romance struts and flexes in his general direction.  “I tell you bro,” Cratos warns, “you keep this up, you’re going to be sorry. I swear, bro!”

Almost… yep… just about… yes, right…. THERE!

True to his word, Cratos makes the lover-and-a-fighter reconsider his tried and true game plan.  Lance is a little taller, a bit more shredded than the rookie, but when the rookie locks on a reverse bearhug that’s the closest thing to anal sex you’ll see on Thunder’s Arena, Mr. Romance’s pride and joy muscles are simply not up to the task of extricating himself.  When Cratos really bears down, squeezing a breath-stealing crushing embrace and grinding his crotch perfectly positioned into Lance’s thonged ass cheeks, the look of concentrated effort that contorts his face does nothing but make him about 13 times more handsome. Sign me up, because I’m first in line to ride that ride next, baby! And keep the cameras rolling, because I’ll be reliving the moment time and time again!

Cratos’ glistening muscles make Lance look downright ugly!
So there’s the tat-sleeve, the gorgeous muscles, the ridiculous handsomeness.  I haven’t even mentioned the vascularity that totally drives me wild.  But let me just skip right over to the sexiest element that works me into a lather nearly every time: Cratos works himself into a lather! Sweet sweat shining across Cratos’ boulder shoulders, glistening in the crevice between his pecs, beading across his movie-star brow… hell yes.  Sweat bears witness to a wrestler who’s working his fine body and not just going through the motions, and Cratos is fucking working it hard! Poor, lucky bastard Lance looks like he’s about to have his head ripped off in Cratos’ hands or snapped off between the rookie’s rockin’ thighs over and over, and the shiny sheen of sweat on both their bodies (but particularly Cratos’) makes me swoon.

Cratos is blowing some of Lance’s blood vessels (and my load) with all of those pounds per square inch!

Full disclosure: Lance gives a bit as well.  Cratos’ gets tied up and muscle locked a few times as Lance struggles to make a memory he can jerk off to once he gets home.  Cratos’ body in trouble is absolutely a vision of homoerotic fantasy gold in my book. The look of astonishment and frustration on his chiseled face brings me to my knees, I swear.  But there’s just nothing sweeter than a close-up ready rookie who tells a story from start to finish, and when Cratos tramples a completely rooked Mr. Romance, pacing back and forth across his back and driving home the point that he’s the rarest of rare breeds who’ll not only call Lance on his shit, but conquer him and put him in his place, I… am… sold!

The total package: homoerotic wrestler of the month Cratos
I’m buying whatever this gorgeous hunk is selling. I don’t know where he came from.  I can only hope about where he’s heading.  But here and now, without a doubt, I know where he is: the rare rookie sitting pretty (pretty, pretty pretty!) atop the throne in sole possession of the title of my homoerotic wrestler of the month!

Making the Best of It

Just a quick note to let fans of homoerotic wrestling fiction know that there’s a new chapter in The Cave series, entitled “Thunder Strikes,” over at the Sidelineland group.  Alex has pieced together another incredibly compelling story documenting the fall of The Bat, aka Cody, now forcibly re-dubbed as muscle jobber to die for, Pink Punk.  Inside and outside of the ring, Cody’s wrapping his head around the nature and scope of his penance for past misdeeds, even as his gorgeous muscle-body is wrapped around the ring post.  As Cody comes to terms with where he is in his long journey through purgatory, he seems to be making inroads in patching up his shattered relationship with his former buddy-turned-Bane.  And is it my imagination, or is Cody learning to make the most of getting crushed and abused?  There’s a whole different sort of mojo he seems to be tapping into as the pink thong and white boots grow on him, and one way or another he’s going to work off an astonishingly satisfying load, and I, for one, am right there with him!  Thanks again, Alex!

Evoking Eli

I always feel a little intimidated when I hear from Eli Black, which, frankly, is how I assume he likes it. He’s equal parts over-the-top ego, stunningly hot physique, and seriously devastating wrestler.  He’s a force of nature, I think, and resisting him is a little like shaking your fist at a hurricane.  So when Eli says that if anyone deserves an a-to-z montage of the wonders of his wrestling range, it’s him… well, who am I to argue?  I’ve still got more “Making Jake…” lined up, but in honor of Eli Black reminding us that not only does he read homoerotic wrestling blogs, but he desires, nay, demands the loyalty of his gay fans, I’m more than happy to inaugurate a new series all about the a-b-c’s of Eli Black.  Here’s to evoking Eli’s…
… arrogance.
Appropriately enough, let’s start with the arrogance that Jake Jenkins evokes from Eli.  I have to guess these two hardbodied hunks would have quite the bromance if it weren’t for the deep seated need that they both have to be the undisputed top dog.  Hell, it was Jake who complained last winter when I presented a reader’s choice poll for the hottest, most promising rookie in homoerotic wrestling, but forgot to list Eli on the ballot.  When they first met at Rock Hard Wrestling, Jake came out on top in the end, but all along the way, he managed to evoke from Eli some of the sweetest, most compelling arrogance I’ve seen in the ring in a long time.
… barbarity.
JJ and Eli stirred up still more of that primal chemistry when the mad geniuses at BG East threw these two polecats into the mat room together for Mat Rookies 1.  Sure, it started out nice and friendly-like.  But when the singlets came off and the shit got personal, holy hell if beautiful Jake didn’t evoke in Eli a raw, fierce barbarity that takes my (and Jake’s) breath away!
… consternation.
By no means has it all come up roses for Eli, perhaps suffering his most humiliating defeat at the hands of heel-rising Morgan Cruise in Gut Bash 9.  An accomplished MMA fighter like Eli would have no idea to expect he’d be brutally speared by the Mastodon and then brutalized for an eternity as Morgan targeted Eli’s “picture perfect abs.”  You can just read it on Eli’s face halfway through his utter destruction.  This just wasn’t the way it was supposed to be!  Morgan did a whole lot of things to Eli in that match, but perhaps most delightfully, he evoked Eli’s consternation.
… despair.
Eli Black is not a man familiar with defeat.  Having chatted with the young hunk a couple of times, I’m also convinced that Eli’s sincerest wish is to pair his irrepressible desire to dominate with his fiercely loyal and lustful base of gay fans who study his every move and flex in infinite and intimate detail.  So when shockingly forced to submit, or as when he met Jake for the first time in the ring at Rock Hard, going down in the best out of three falls, the pathos is thick and moving when Eli clutches his battered abs and covers his eyes as if to prevent himself from seeing his own destruction (and from being seen by the Eli loyalists lining up to watch his amazing ass!).  Once again, hand it to Jake Jenkins to draw out something stunning, totally arousing, and perfectly pitched for the wrestling kink audience when Jake so powerfully evoked Eli’s despair!
… euphoria.

Eli’s Wrestler Spotlight collection is a prized possession of mine. Personally, I’ve lingered long and hard on the match in the middle of the line-up, in which stunningly beautiful rookie Victor Paz turns out to be not only bigger than ripped Eli, but nearly as experienced in MMA, making the friendly mat tussle turn into an incredibly arousing display of holds slipped on with grace and then joints stretched to the edge of human endurance mercilessly.  But I’ve heard from at least 5 different people for whom it’s Eli’s 3rd match in that set, against bubble-butted little beauty little Lorenzo Lowe that worked them by far the hardest.   Maybe it’s precisely because Lorenzo isn’t nearly a hardbodied hunk like Eli’s other opponents… perhaps it’s the doe-eyed fearlessness with which he starts the match and make’s Eli scoff… or maybe it’s the surprising success the beautiful babyface has in locking Eli up and planting that gorgeous bubble butt on Eli’s face… but whatever it is, it’s hard to miss the furrowed brow, closed eyes, and awe-struck slack jaw that washes over Eli with Lorenzo’s handsome face finally tucked up so nice and tight between Eli’s steel cable thighs, leaving the scarlet-faced rookie with a super-close-up of that amazing ass (count me majorly jealous!).  Sweet Lorenzo (who I swear looks an awful lot like my first boyfriend) evokes a whole lot from Eli, but what a payoff to see him evoke Eli’s euphoria!

Got your own abc’s of Evoking Eli?  Send them my way, preferably with a pic to illustrate them, and I’ll pass along your keen eye and literary savvy in a future post.  In the mean time, for the record, let me just reiterate the obvious.  This is Eli Black’s world, bitches.  We just (fortunately) live in it!

More Olympic Spirit

There nearly wasn’t a divers’ edition of the fictional homoerotic wrestling competition in my imagination and on the pages of this blog.  But the boys of the boards have some hardcore wrestling fan lobbyists.  In case you’re new to the Olympic Spirit series, keep in mind that this is fiction. I don’t imagine that many/any of the athletes are, in fact, accomplished professional wrestlers.  These characters’ proclivities toward sadism, masochism, underhandedness, petulance, or homoerotic wrestling kink are entirely inventions of my imagination.  With one notable exception in this particular round robin, the actual sexual orientations of the boys featured are unknown or at least largely uninteresting to me.  It’s fiction, and in my imagination, all hot, hard-bodied hunks love homoerotic wrestling as much as you and I do!  So set the pro wrestling ring up poolside, pack the stands with the likes of you and me, and bring out the diving speedo boys. They’re done with diving and ready to throw down for the gold that matters most to us.
American Troy Dumais – 5’6″, 150 lbs., 32 y/o
American Troy Dumais has been a fixture in world class diving for over a decade, but he reached the top tier of homoerotic wrestling divers in just the past three years.  He competed in the final gold medal match following the diving World Cup six months ago, suffering a brutal loss to the Australian megastar, Matt “M ‘n’ M” Mitcham.  Despite the humiliating defeat, it was Troy’s best showing in his homoerotic wrestling career.  The rip and strip match also earned him the nickname “D-Train,” and all eyes are on his biggest bulge in the competition when Troy strolls out of the locker room and climbs into the ring wearing navy blue speedos with a red pouch accentuating his two handfuls of fun stuffed in his trunks.

China’s Kai Qin – 5’7″, 143 lbs., 26 y/o
Troy’s opponent is the Chinese terminator, “unstoppable” Kai Qin.  On the 3 meter springboard, at least, Kai’s been dominating the world like a fucking machine!  However, the master of the boards stayed out of the extramural homoerotic wrestling competitions until the World Cup this past February.  Although China’s national athletic program has been determined to dominate the world in everything they set their mind to, Kai went down in a brutally one-sided mauling in the early qualifying rounds in February, choking out a wailing submission with Mexico’s Yahel Castillo Huerta’s cock halfway down his throat.  However here in London, Kai cleared the qualifying rounds easily, and the rumor mill is buzzing that  China has hired top-tier wrestling porn stars to make sure that the gold is their’s this time around.  Kai is cool as ice as he strolls along poolside, slowly but confidently, approaching the ring in minuscule black and red speedos.
The moment he climbs through the ropes, the Chinese superstar sneers across the ring at Troy and flexes his biceps.  He studies his muscles adoringly for several seconds, pumping his arms and making the veins on his baseball bi’s rise to the surface.  Finally, his gaze returns to his opponent, tilting his head inquiringly as if to ask silently, “What do you think of that?”  Troy strolls across the ring and flexes his right bicep directly in front of Kai’s, giving a head-to-head comparison for the applauding crowd.  The American is strong, but there’s no denying that Kai’s bi’s are bigger.  Kai shoves Troy’s arm away dismissively and laces his fingers behind his head, slowly contracting his muscles in a wave extending down his torso and legs.  His peaked abdominals flash rock-hard, his muscles narrowed around his wasp-thin waist.  Rising to the challenge, Troy does likewise in a side-by-side comparison.  Again, the American’s abs are carved beautifully, but his muscle development is less symmetrical, his hips wider, his physique less aesthetically perfect. Kai points his right toe, squeezing his massive quads and slowly rotating his leg back and forth, displaying his gorgeous lower body.  Troy follows suit, again unmistakably falling short in a side-by-side.  The Chinese hunk contemptuously steps in front of him, places his fists on his hips and strikes a beautiful lat spread.  His width isn’t stunning, but his shoulders are molded, his lean pecs become a roadmap of stunning vascularity.  Troy steps in front of him and strikes an identical pose, demonstrating his wider wingspan and slightly broader shoulders.  Like lightening, Kai jabs his heel into the back of Troy’s knees, dropping the American to his knees.  A split second later, the Chinese hunk flings him backward by two handfuls of the American’s hair.  Troy’s head bounces of the mat and he quickly rolls into a ball on his side, cradling the back of his head.  Kai moves as if to pounce on top of his stunned opponent, but the roar of the crowd catches his attention.  One hand behind his head, he flexes his abs and a single bicep and plants the sole of his right foot on Troy’s head. The typically stoic diver cracks a one-sided grin as he soaks in the rising cheers from the stands.  The fans from behind him begin to stomp, and Kai turns around and flexes a double bicep for them, his speedo revealing that he’s turned on by their adoration.  He steps into the nearest corner and climbs to the middle turnbuckle, making his baseball biceps bounce in another double bi.  The gorgeous Chinese hunk is already intoxicated with the taste of victory when he feels the right fist of his opponent pounding his balls. Troy has easily snuck up from behind the over-confident diver and like the calm, cool veteran he is, he makes the most of Kai’s mistakes.  He hoists the Chinese stud across his shoulders for only a second before bouncing him back off and sending Kai soaring through the air and crash landing on his side in the middle of the ring.
Troy is far too savvy to give his opponent even a second to recover.  He drags Kai up by a fistful of hair and then drops him back to his knees with a vicious knee to the balls.  Immediately, Troy drags him back up by his hair, only to drop him again with still another nasty knee lift to his testicles.  A third time up by the hair and down again with a knee to the crotch leaves Kai weeping, leaning limply into the American.  Holding him up by a fistful of hair, Troy digs deep into his own trunks and pulls out his legendary D-Train, hooking his trunks underneath his massive balls.  The crowd is on their feet as the chant begins, “D-Train, D-Train, D-Train!”  Kai winces as he’s humiliatingly dick whipped across the face, each slap making Troy’s cock swell.  A shove to the forehead and the Chinese hopeful topples weakly to his back.  Immediately, Troy straddles his chest, folding Kai’s legs over, pinning his shoulders to the mat.  Troy pivots his hips backward and plunges his hard rod into his opponent’s mouth.  Kai chokes and sputters, but he’s securely pinned as the American slaps down a slow 3-count, playfully sliding his cock in and out with each count.  Victoriously, he climbs to his feet and pumps his fists in the air as the crowd rages, celebrating the American’s win and fiercely appreciative of his fully erect cock pointing toward the nose-bleed seats.
Australian Matthew “M ‘n’ M” Mitcham – 5’9″, 148 lbs., 24 y/o
Aussie rower Sam “Spock” Loch – 6’2″, 193 lbs., 29 y/o
Once the combatants from the first match make it back to the locker room, there’s considerable confusion amid the cacophony that greets the next athletes to emerge.  The Australian contender for the individual gold, “Marvelous” Matt “M ‘n’ M” Mitcham, wearing solid yellow square cuts, is led to the ring by gold medalist homoerotic wrestling rower, and fellow Aussie, Sam Loch.  Sam is in the Aussie national team green warm-ups as he leads the way across the pool deck.  When they reach ringside, Sam firmly rubs down his lean countryman, massaging Matt’s muscles from head to toe while offering last minute coaching.  Matt shakes his limbs loose as Sam climbs up to the ring apron and sits on the middle rope, pressing the top rope up to assist Matt as he climbs into the ring.  Sam reaches through the ropes and lands a sharp slap across Matt’s hot, hard glutes, and then hops off the ring apron to take a seat the in the front row of the stands.  Oddsmakers have put Matt as the prohibitive favorite in this match up, after having largely dominated homoerotic wrestling diving competitions for the past three years.  He’s famously known to have promised that he’d retire from diving if it weren’t for the fact that he’d no longer qualify for the wrestling competitions that follow the world class diving meets.
Britain’s Tom Daley – 5’10”, 163 lbs., 18 years (and 2 months) old
Matt’s opponent is making the most hotly anticipated homoerotic wrestling debut in history.  British it-boy, Tom “The Bomb” Daley has been competing in world class competitive diving since he was 9 years old, and he made his biggest/smallest splash competing in the 2008 Olympics at the age of 14.  The other divers have been circling “The Bomb” like sharks for the past two years, waiting for the minute the babyface Brit turns 18 and is eligible to compete in the homoerotic wrestling circuit.  The magic day occured just two months ago, and the teen dream’s debut in the ring comes in front of the biggest audience in the world in his own hometown. His qualifying  matches packed in standing-room-only crowds as the hometown hero babyface shocked highly ranked Mexican Yahel Castillo Huerta, and then followed up with an equally shocking hogtied humiliation all over Aussie Ethan Warren.  Tanned, toned, and sexy as hell in his bulging white trunks with red and blue trim, for the gold medal match Tom walks the distance between the locker room and the ring like he owns the place. Between the hometown crowd and fans of hot young meat, the roar from the stands is deafening as he climbs up to the ring apron and steps through the ropes.  Matt smiles and nods appreciatively, head tilted as he looks his beautiful young opponent up and down. A quick adjustment to the pouch of his trunks suggests that Tom seems to like what he sees, as well.  The hungry hunks circle the ring briefly before jostling for position in a collar and elbow tie up.  The young Brit takes advantage of his extra muscle to press his opponent, step by step, backward into the ropes.  Matt lifts his hands, calling for a clean break off the ropes.  Tom gently pats the Aussie’s chest good-naturedly and then releases him, taking a step backward.  When Matt pushes himself off the ropes, the Brit prodigy suddenly swings his right fist, driving it deep into the Aussie’s lower abs.  Matt stumbles backward and sags in the ropes, his right arm clutched defensively across his abdomen.  Tom drags him by his right wrist off the ropes and sends the Aussie sprinting across the ring, catapulted off the ropes, and sprinting back.  The Brit dives forward and lands a pounding shoulder block high into his opponent’s chest, knocking the Aussie to his back with a loud bang.  Tom “The Bomb” demonstrates remarkable ring savvy and maturity as he presses his advantage.  He stays focused on the Aussie’s core, dragging him into a corner to use him as a punching bag, then delivering a barrage of knee lifts in the ropes, and finally lifting the Aussie off his feet only to drop him, abs-first, across his outstretched thigh.  His pacing is impeccable. He’s methodical and unhurried, but the teen dream sets up each move well before his opponent has time to recover from the last.  The fans are on their feet and driven wild with excitement for their hometown hero.  No one predicted the rookie could so dominate the most successful homoerotic wrestling diver on the circuit.  Matt is clearly wearing thin from the sustained assault when he finds himself on his knees in front of the teenage phenom, unable to defend himself from having his head locked between the Brit’s lightly hairy legs.  It’s the first element in what has quickly become Tom “The Bomb’s” signature finisher: the powerbomb.

The crowd begins chanting, “Bomb! Bomb! Bomb!” as Tom laces his fingers behind his head and swivels his hips, showing off his hot abs while cranking painfully on his opponent’s neck trapped between his thighs.  His trunks are tented and liberally stained with precum.  He leans forward and yanks on the back of Matt’s trunks, giving him a wedgie as he pulls the Aussie off his knees.  Quickly, he hooks his arms around the Aussie’s waist, lifting him off his feet and rolling him over his shoulder, suspending him across his back by his shoulders.  Matt hangs in a crucifix, fear in his eyes as the ripped teenager parades him around the ring. Tom hoists him high overhead, positioning him for the powerbomb.  He starts to lean forward to drive Matt’s upper back to the mat when he freezes.  The savvy Aussie has hooked his ankles around the top ring rope, just within reach.  Tom’s arms quiver, and suddenly buckle from the strain of holding his opponent up.  Matt drops to his knees behind him, nearly toppling the Brit backward.  By the time Tom rights himself and turns around to face his the Aussie, Matt has gathered his wits and swiftly yanks down the teenage phenom’s trunks.  Tom’s lovely, long cock and hairy balls tumble out, his hot rod hard and pointed directly at Matt’s face.  The Aussie grabs the shaft of the British beef in both hands, and almost instantly Tom winces, nearly doubles over, and then shoots a jet of cum that splashes off the Aussie’s chest and ricochets to the mat.  Matt yanks the teen dream’s feet out from underneath him, and Tom slams to his back just as a second jet of cum erupts, shooting up and over his shoulder and staining the mat next to his face.  His trunks are violently yanked off his ankles and even as an astonishing third pump of cum dribbles out, Matt spreads the Britboy’s legs wide, capturing Tom’s left leg between the Aussie’s legs and prying wide Tom’s right leg with one hand.  With his free hand, the Aussie claws the beautiful Brit’s hairy balls, making The Bomb’s lower back bridge off the mat and a scream rip from his throat.  The teen dream slaps the mat frantically and begs to be let go. “P-p-p-uh-lease!  Oh fuck! I give up!”  The submission instantly subdues the crowd.  Boos and grumblings pepper the stands.  But they grow nearly silent when Matt lets go of the ball claw, but maintains the crotch ripping spread-eagle, stroking his free hand down the length of the Britboy’s lightly hairy, sweaty legs lustfully. The Aussie veteran is taking full advantage of delivering the teen dream’s first humiliating defeat, owning his body and playing him like a musical instrument.  The Aussie’s hand slowly finds its way back to the teen’s still erect cock, and another two minutes of working it strokes Tom to yet another, slightly less productive eruption.  Tom lies in a pool of his own sweat and cum when he feels Matt’s lips brush his own.  He opens his eyes just in time to see the Aussie’s foot stomp down on his chest as Matt flexes his biceps for the reluctantly impressed crowd.

20 minutes later, Troy jogs confidently out of the locker room and arrives for the gold medal match in a navy blue thong.  His pouch swings wildly with each step, and each pendulum swing makes the stands roar that much louder.  Leaping into the ring and pumping his fists in the air, he acknowledges the chants already beginning to pulse through the crowd: “D-Train! D-Train! D-Train!”  He bounces his bulge in the palm of his right hand, shooting the stands a sly wink that makes them chant louder. With the fans solidly at his back, Troy perches atop the top turnbuckle in one corner to await his opponent’s arrival.

Matt’s choice of gear is inspired!
The wait grows awkward as minutes pass by.  The chant of “D-Train” starts to die out when finally M ‘n’ M walks out of the locker room and across the pool deck, once again accompanied by his gold medalist countryman and muscle beast companion, Sam Loch.  Matt has a towel wrapped around his tiny waist as he strolls up to ringside.  Both he and Sam climb up to the ring apron as the crowd grows hushed.  Both Aussie studs slip inside the ring, and the stands erupt into cheers when Sam suddenly grabs Matt’s wrist and pumps his fist overhead. The noise nearly busts eardrums when abruptly Sam yanks the towel away from Matt’s waist to reveal that the Aussie has arrived to wrestle for the gold completely naked.

Sam gives Troy a wink as he steps through the ropes and drops to the pool deck, carrying Matt’s towel across his shoulder as he takes his seat in the stands.  It’s lost on no one that this is a rematch from the gold medal match at the World Cup just a few months ago.  Troy remains perched in the corner, staring impassively down at his naked opponent as Matt stands with his hands on his hips, staring back.  When the American finally hops off the turnbuckle, the action starts fast and furious.  Troy puts Matt to his back with a sweep of his right leg, but he can’t press his advantage before the naked Aussie is back on his feet.  Matt snaps on a side headlock, grinding his knuckles into Troy’s temple for a few seconds before hip tossing him to his back.  The Aussie tries to maintain the headlock on the mat, but the American kicks free and both hunks get to their feet at the same time.  An approach for a collar and elbow is just a feint, as Troy drives the ball of his right foot into his opponent’s lower abdomen.  When Matt doubles forward clutching his gut, the American hanks the Aussie’s elbows backward, pulls him off his feet by his trapped arms, and drives Matt face-first into the mat.  Troy clamps on his own side-headlock, returning the favor for the knuckles to his temple earlier.  The Aussie fights his way to his knees after a couple of minutes and busts free from the hold with two sharp elbows to Troy’s ribs.  Both wrestlers simultaneously sprint toward the ropes on opposite sides of the ring and are catapulted off the ropes toward one another.  Both savvy veterans clearly have the same idea, right arms outstretched and catching one another at exactly the same moment with identical clotheslines across the throat.  They’re both driven hard to their backs, their heads bouncing off of the mat, and neither wrestler moves for a moment.  The crowd is on their feet, now evenly divided in pulling for either stud.  Troy is the first to pull his head off the mat groggily, but Matt is first to climb to his knees.  He dives on top of his opponent, straddling Troy’s chest and slamming the back of his head to the mat by his ears.  Matt’s cock dangles directly over head as Troy’s eyes roll into the back of his head, seriously dazed.  Reaching behind him, Matt rips the navy blue thong off of him with one violent jerk.  Pressing it to his nose, the Aussie breathes in his opponent’s scent, making his eyes flutter.  Then he stuffs the string and pouch into Troy’s mouth.  Before the American is fully aware of what’s happening, the Aussie climbs over Troy’s head, sitting down directly overhead.  He positions Troy’s head between his legs, resting on the Aussie’s swelling cock.  Matt squeezes his opponent’s captured head between his silky smooth thighs and then reaches forward and snags Troy’s left leg by the knee.  He folds Troy up by his captured leg, stretching the American’s hamstring until his ankle is hooked under the Aussie’s arm and Troy’s hamstring quivers in agony.  The American champ is locked up tight, his naked ass rolled up humiliatingly as he desperately attempts to kick his free leg to yank himself free.  He’s going nowhere.  Matt lands a couple of taunting punches to the American’s vulnerable chest.  Troy’s energy is fading and, more importantly, his confidence that he can escape and continue to battle on wanes.  Matt signals for silence, and the crowd obediently grows hushed after about 2 minutes of the stump puller.  “Time to give it up, old man!” the Aussie barks down at him.  “Your ass is, once again, all mine, mate!”  Troy whimpers like a wounded animal, his body convulsing in a fresh wave of desperation.  But when Matt pulls back on his captured leg another fraction of an inch, the American wails, “I submit!!!!”  The Aussie gold medalist releases the leg and scissors and climbs up, pinning Troy’s shoulders to the mat underneath his knees.  The gorgeous gold medalist lowers his naked ass across the American’s face, slides left and right to really shove Troy’s nose up between his cheeks, and then flexes a double bicep pose that brings the crowd to their feet, unquestioningly delighted by the gold medal victory.

Kai is back for another try at China’s first gold medal.
Mexico’s Yahel Castillo Huerta – 5’6″, 146 lbs., 25 y/o

A half an hour later four teams make their way to the ring to determine the tag team gold.  Curious applause greets Kai Qin when he climbs up to the ring apron with his chosen partner, Mexican hottie Yahel Castillo Huerta. Kai passed over his highly accomplished Chinese diving teammates to select the hot Mexican stud who handed him his first homoerotic wrestling defeat.  Standing on the ring apron by their corner, Yahel holds the back of Kai’s head and speaks feverishly in his ear as the Chinese superstar nods.  The two wear matching black and red speedos.

Troy Dumais anchors team America.
American David Boudia – 5’8″, 154 lbs., 23 y/o.

Troy Dumais earns an enthusiastic roar of appreciation from the crowd for his outstanding showing in individual competition when he comes jogging across the pool deck with his young partner, fellow American David Boudia. Troy wears a navy blue and white speedo, and his partner sports a complimentary red and white speedo.

Tom “The Bomb” Daley is feeling the heat for gold.
Britain’s other teen dream, Chris Mears – 5’8″, 154 lbs., 19 y/o

Once again, the loudest welcome is for team Great Britain, as semi-finalist sex bomb Tom Daley trots across the pool deck side by side with Britain’s other teen dream, smoking hot 19 year old pretty boy Christopher Mears.  Both handsome hotties wear matching white speedos with blue and red trim.  They’re the youngest team in Olympic homoerotic wrestling history, and what they lack in ring experience they more than make up for in hometown advantage. The stands are shaking with the stomps and shouts of excitement when Tom and Chris climb onto the ring apron. They pump their fists in the air, acknowledging the roaring crowd.

Australian Ethan Warren (5’8″, 159 lbs., 20 y/o) joins Matt Mitcham in pursuit of team gold.
When team Australia strolls across the pool deck, the crowds are divided in their reaction.  There’s plenty of enthusiastic cheering for the bare naked beatdown that gold medalist Matt “M ‘n’ M” Mitcham dished out all over Troy Dumais, but a furious contingent of Brit loyalists boo the gold medalist, still resenting his crushing defeat of the hopes and dreams of their barely legal Brit champion, Tom.  Going for team gold, Matt has selected his highly competitive countryman, Ethan Warren, to accompany him into battle wearing matching, minuscule green speedos.  As the Aussies take their corner, Ethan glares furiously across the ring at Tom. The proud Aussie is clearly still smarting from his humiliating loss to the teen dream in qualifying rounds, in which Tom “The Bomb” knocked him senseless with a powerbomb, pinned him for the 3-count, and then stripped Ethan on the way to using his trunks to hogtie his arms and legs and leave him in the ring, relying on the medics to extricate him. Glaring across the ring, Ethan points threateningly at Tom and shouts profanities that are drowned out by the roaring crowd.  Matt grabs his teammate’s face in his hands until Ethan calms down.  The gold medalist plants a kiss on Ethan’s mouth, which makes the furious Aussie finally crack a smile. The two embrace, Matt patting the back of Ethan’s head consolingly.
Aussie hunk Ethan has his sights set on revenge.
Handsome young American hunk David is eager to bring home the gold.
Ethan and David square off to begin the 4-way gold medal match.  The two are nearly perfectly matched pound for pound and inch for inch. As they begin circling the ring, Ethan veers toward the Brits’ corner and takes a wild swing at Tom’s face, but the teen dream easily backs away out of reach and smiles coyly as the Aussie continues to circle, keeping his eyes primarily on the American in the ring.  When the game of cat and mouse finally concludes, the two lean hunks crash together in the center of the ring, jockeying for position and leverage.  The Aussie catches David off balance and pulls him forward, dropping the American with a thud to his knees.  A spinning kick to the back of the handsome hunk’s head sends David toppling like timber, clutching the back of his head and writhing on the mat.  Ethan points at Tom and then at the American at his feet, signaling that he’s got the same plan in store for the “The Bomb.”  For the next five minutes, the aggressive Aussie unleashes one devastating, high impact move after another all over his opponent’s beautiful body.  Repeated scoop slams tenderize the American’s lower back.  Leaping knee drops into David’s spine makes his limbs jerk and spasm uncontrollably.  Flung across the ring and bouncing off the ropes, a foot to the gut followed by a rapid fire bulldog leaves the American in the fetal position, far from the reprieve of any corner.  Ethan is like a machine, each devastating maneuver followed by an icy cold stare and wordless promise toward Tom.  His over the knee backbreaker makes David wail, but when he scoops the American back up and drives him down again, and again, and again across his thigh, Ethan nearly knocks the junior partner of the American team out cold from the pain.  Troy climbs the middle turnbuckle and stretches himself over the rope as far as possible, pleading for his partner to tag him in, but even if he could reach, David is bashed nearly to oblivion.  When Ethan yanks the Yank’s trunks down in yet another over the knee backbreaker and grabs hold of his shaved balls, David screams.  After a half a minute of squeezing the claw with the American draped limply over Ethan’s thigh, David passes out from the pain.  Rolling him off his knee and planting his foot on the lovely American’s chest, Ethan counts out a humiliating 3-count while flashing a most muscular pose aimed squarely at the British corner.
Quickly, Troy finds himself without a partner.
Troy dives through the ropes, but comes up short when Ethan crouches low, arms raised, ready to take on the senior American partner.  Matt shouts for his partner to tag him in, and Ethan obediently backs to his corner cautiously, eyes on the American, and tags in the gold medalist for yet another show down between Matt and Troy.
M ‘n’ M is hungry for more

As they begin circling, the American is unmistakably unsettled.  Matt grabs his own crotch and gives Troy a wink.  When the Aussie takes the initiative and charges, the American backs away, clearly intimidated by the gold medalist eyeing him like a steak dinner.  Matt bounces Troy off the ropes and sends him sprinting to the other side of the ring.  As Troy turns and leans into the top rope, preparing to be catapulted back, from the ring apron Ethan lands a brutal kick into the American’s lower back.  Troy drops face first to the mat, his right hand stretched behind his back.  A half a second later, Matt drops a knee into the back of his head.  Troy’s head bounces off the mat and the American rolls to his side, revealing his crushed nose spewing blood like a faucet.  He’s defenseless, but the gold medalist takes the time to drag him across the ring on his back and stack David, still out cold, on top of him.  Straddling David’s ass, the Aussie pumps his finger in the air as the crowd joins in the count.  “ONE! TWO! THREE!”  The American’s are summarily dismissed from gold medal contention.  While the remaining two teams eye one another to decide who faces the imposing Aussie team next, Matt and Ethan drag the Americans from the ring and leave them in a heap on the pool deck.

Kai takes coaching from his corner.

Kai finally ducks through the ropes to take up the challenge, as Yahel rubs his shoulders firmly and shouts last minute coaching advice.  Matt eyes the Chinese hunk with a sideways grin as the two begin to circle the ring, but rather than lock up, Matt suddenly tags in his partner instead.  Ethan quickly climbs back in and charges.  He backs Kai into the ropes and drives a stunning knee to the Chinese hunk’s lower abdomen.  A whip off the ropes sends Kai sprinting across the ring and back again.  He smoothly ducks under the Aussie’s clothesline attempt and bounces off the ropes once more.  A second clothesline attempt from Ethan earns the Aussie two soaring feet to the face as the leaping Chinese stud lands a flying drop kick.  The crowds are on their feet cheering the stunning display of athleticism, but as his partner coaches him from the corner, Kai remains focused on capitalizing on his advantage.  He attacks the Aussie’s powerful legs, lifting his ankles and driving heel strikes into Ethan’s hamstrings.  Ethan flops like a fish, trying to kick free, but Kai translates every command from his corner into instant, vicious destruction.  “Side of the knee!” Yahel barks and in a flash the Chinese hunk kicks savagely into the side of Ethan’s right knee.  “Twist the ankle!” the Mexican stud shouts, and instantly Kai drops the Aussie’s left leg and pins that ankle to the mat with his foot, then sharply twists Ethan’s right ankle outward, prying on the Aussie’s toes to add that much more agony.  Ethan reaches for his right knee, whimpering, but another command barked from Yahel results in a smooth, fast transition to a figure-4 leglock, with Kai arching his back to make the trapped Aussie scream.  Bridging off the mat, the Chinese hunk’s trunks are stretched to capacity. He may be a rookie, but he’s clearly got a taste for dominating the competition!

The Teen Dream Team isn’t about to lift a finger to help Ethan.

Ethan strains to reach his partner’s outstretched hand, but they’re miles apart.  The Aussie suffers, his face contorted in silent agony punctuated by wails uncontrollably escaping from his throat.  Yahel applauds his partner from the corner.  It’s all going Kai’s way until the tenacious young Aussie slowly begins to stretch his shoulder off the mat, twisting his torso and slowly prying both wrestlers to the side.  Kai’s hips drop to the mat and he flexes his rock hard thighs, trying to rip Ethan’s knee apart before he can mount any further attempt at a counter.  But the Aussie’s legs are freakishly strong, and he endures the tendon-stretching agony to slowly, finally muscle himself over to his stomach.  Abruptly the pressure on the knees reverses, with Kai’s knee suddenly stretched to the limit.  Ethan lifts his shoulders off the mat, adding leverage to the reversed figure-4 and making the Chinese hunk cry out in anguish.  Slowly, Kai rolls to his side, twisting Ethan to his side with him.  The balance teeters back and forth as they struggle for top.  Suddenly, Kai’s fist drives into the side of Ethan’s quad.  Their legs spring apart and both men struggle to drag themselves across the ring.  Ethan is close to the British corner, and he easily makes it there well before Kai can reach Yahel.  Ethan stretches his hand out, pleading for a tag-in, but the Teen Dream Team fold their arms across their chests and turn their backs on him, both lovely young hunks refusing to take the tag.  Ethan is still pleading when Yahel’s heel drives into the middle of his back.

Dominating an opponent makes Yahel excited!

The Mexican stud stomps the living shit out the Aussie!  From head to toe, Yahel pounds inch by inch down the length of the Aussie’s body, lingering for several nasty stomps to Ethan’s already damaged right knee. The crowd grows hushed at the depth of brutality. Ethan’s limbs bounce and quiver even after his opponent takes a step back for a quick breather.  He’s still well within reach of the British corner, but the Teen Dream Team continues to adamantly refuse to make any attempt to take the tag he continues to plead for.  Yahel places each foot on the back of the Aussie’s knees and laces their ankles together, snags Ethan’s wrists, and pries the Aussie hunk’s upper body rolling off the mat.  Slowly lowering himself to his back, Yahel suspends Ethan overhead, effectively using the Aussie’s own weight to pry apart his shoulders and knees.  The Aussie wails in agony as his teammate pleads with him from across the ring to endure, but it only takes about 10 seconds before he’s screaming, “I GIVE! I GIVE!!!”

Matt’s back to redeem team Australia

Matt dives through the ropes in an instant, but the savvy Mexican diver dumps Ethan and swiftly rises to his feet to defend himself.  Tom and Chris delight in dragging Ethan under the ropes and stomping on him a few more times before dumping him to the pool deck. Inside the ring, Matt and Yahel eye one another warily.  They’re old adversaries, and 9 times out of 10, the Aussie has bested Yahel.  But a quick snag of Matt’s head, and he’s bent forward in a skull crushing side-headlock, being dragged to Yahel’s corner.  A quick tag-in and Kai climbs to the top turnbuckle and drops an elbow down between the gold medalist’s shoulder blades.  Matt drops to his knees, his upper back arched in pain.  Now on the ring apron, Yahel reaches through the ropes and grabs the Aussie by the hair, banging his face into the middle turnbuckle.  Matt is dazed as Kai drags him by his ankles farther into the ring, leaving him flat on his back as the Chinese high flyer leaps over him and climbs to the top turnbuckle again.

Kai’s acrobatics off the top turnbuckle

Facing outside the ring, Kai jumps straight up, spinning in a blur of a double sommersault before splashing down belly to belly on the Aussie.  He quickly hops off, and Matt’s body pikes, his head and feet levitating off the mat as he clutches his arms across his abs breathlessly.  Again, Kai positions himself on the top turnbuckle, pauses, and then leaps.  The double sommersault is stunningly fast and perfectly executed.  His muscled body is a blur as he spins in mid-air and then stretches himself for the splash down.  Unfortunately for Kai, the veteran Aussie lifts his knees to his chest at the last possible second.  Kai’s chest crashes into his opponent’s shins, knocking the air out of his lungs and sending the Chinese hunk sprawling, half inside and half outside the ring, draped across the middle ring rope.

Yahel squats on the ring apron trying to rouse his partner when the Aussie, coated in sweat and breathing like a freight train, is on his feet and dragging Kai back inside the ring by his ankles.  He rolls the Chinese hunk to his back and drops his ass down hard across Kai’s world famous abs.  Kai still struggles for air when he feels Matt’s fingers dig deep at the edges of his pecs, grinding his thumbs into the meaty center of the muscle and pulling hard, threatening to rip him apart.  If he had any air in his lungs, Kai would be screaming.  But he doesn’t, so his mouth gapes open dumbly as the Aussie punishes him, sweat pouring down off of Matt’s brow into Kai’s eyes.

The brutal pec claw lingers long enough for Kai to finally inhale again, the precursor to his scream of pain.  Matt lets gravity do most of his work for him, leaning on his claws clamped tightly to his opponent’s lean pecs as the Aussie recuperates from his own hard knocks.  After a couple of minutes, Matt abruptly releases his claws and swings a vicious right hook cracking into Kai’s left check.  The Chinese hunk’s head lolls to the side.  He blinks rapidly, struggling to hold onto consciousness.  Matt is running close to empty still, though, and the savvy Aussie quickly climbs to his feet and marches across the ring to the British corner.  The Teen Dream Team have managed to stay completely out of the fray, unharmed and at full strength, to the determinant of Matt’s partner.  The Aussie will have no more of that shit, and even as Tom and Chris cross their arms to refuse the tag, Matt swings his fist into handsome Tom’s jaw.  The sex-bomb phenom is stunned, dropping to one knee and clutching his jaw in his right hand.  Reaching over the rope, Matt grabs Tom’s left hand, holds it up, and slaps it disgustedly.  Like it or not, team Great Britain is now officially in the match.

Time for the Teen Dream Team to get into the ring

As Matt climbs through the ropes and walks the ring apron to his own corner, a reluctant Tom climbs into the ring, still cradling his jaw in his hand.  Kai pulls himself up to a seated position, clutching his bright red pecs.  In a flash, the Brit closes the distance and drives his foot into the back of the Chinese hunk’s head.  At first Kai’s upper body is thrust forward, and then he falls to his back, his arms limp and outstretched.  Yahel pleads with is partner, barking commands that the Chinese hunk is too disoriented to understand.  Tom is fresh as a daisy and firmly established as a seriously vicious son of a bitch, so the crowd is on the edge of their seats anticipating his destruction of his opponent.

Tom eggs on the fans to show the love

They aren’t disappointed.  The teenage phenom stomps Kai into senselessness for a couple of minutes before picking the limp diver up by his hair and flinging him into the ropes.  Bouncing off the ropes and nearly collapsing, Kai is quickly snatched up in the young Brit’s arms, lifted off his feet in a bearhug, but then immediately driven to his back in a brutal powerslam.  Kai’s got nothing left.  He can’t even lift his head off the mat, until it’s yanked off the mat in the hands of his tormentor.  Tom shoves it between his lightly hairy thighs and locks it in tightly with Kai kneeling helplessly at his feet.  The crowd is on their feet again as Tom laces his fingers behind his head and swivels his hips, showing off his lovely abs.  He signals to the stands that he wants to hear their encouragement louder, and they obediently comply. The Chinese hunk is just so much dead weight when the Brit hoists him up, rolling him over his shoulder, and suspending him in a crucifix from his back.  Careful to stay clear of the ropes this time, Tom delivers “The Bomb” perfectly, driving the back of Kai’s head and shoulders into the mat.  The Chinese hunk sags, his knees on the mat by his head.  The Brit rolls him to his back, plants his crotch across his face, and slaps down a 3-count.

Yahel is pleased to control the Teen Dream

Yahel dives into the ring and manages to slap on a side headlock before the teenager can reach his feet. A rake across the eyes, makes the Brit drop to one knee and cry out in protest.  A thumb to his throat makes his protests dissolve into choking and sputtering.  Yahel’s foot planted in the middle of his back shoves Tom to his stomach, and the position quickly develops into a standing surfboard as the Mexican diver stretches the Brit’s arms behind his back.  It’s Chris’ turn to plead with his partner to hold out. With a stomp, Yahel releases Tom’s wrists and immediately drops his elbow between the teen dream’s shoulder blades.  The Mexican is on his feet quickly, but he waits for his opponent to climb weakly up to his hand and knees. Chris tries to warn him, but Tom doesn’t see it coming when Yahel lands a nasty kick between the Brit’s legs, actually lifting Tom off his knees a couple of inches and sending the teenager sprawling on his side, his hands tucked protectively over his balls and his knees pulled up to his chin.

The gold medalist wants another crack at possessing Tom’s body

Matt catches Yahel’s attention with a commanding shout. “I”ll take out that trash, mate!” Yahel shrugs and tags in the Aussie, apparently signaling an alliance against the Brits.  For the second time tonight, Matt grabs Tom’s trunks at the hips and forces them down his legs.  “The Bomb” tries to keep hold of his gear, but soon enough he’s once again naked and on his back in the middle of the ring.  “Damn, boy!” Matt laughs, “you can’t keep a good man down, can you!?” True enough, Tom’s cock is swelling even as the crowd strains their necks to get the best view they can of the veal cutlet.  Matt drags the naked hunk to his feet by his hair and yanks on his wrist to send the Brit sprinting into the ropes.  On his way back, Tom gets a knee to his lower abdomen that sends him skidding to a halt on his knees.  Dragging his opponent up by his hair again, Matt whips him into the rope and at the same time sprints backward, using the ropes behind him to launch him back into the ring and clothesline the young hunk viciously across the throat.  Tom’s body is wracked with spasms as he lies in the layers of sweat from so many shattered dreams.  Not satisfied quite yet, Matt drags the boy wonder up by his hair again.  He sends Tom sprinting into the ropes as the Aussie charges backward into the top rope on the opposite side.  But Yahel is hanging from that rope.  Matt just keeps leaning backward until he’s tumbling out of the ring, his right shoulder crashing into the ring apron before the rest of him tumbles in a heap on the pool deck.  Chris and the entire crowd of Brit fanatics scream for Tom to rally as Yahel lands a barrage of kicks to the dazed gold medalist’s head.  Tom has managed to make it up to one knee when the Mexican tosses the Aussie back into the ring by his trunks.

Tom rallies after an assist from Yahel
“The other teen dream” thinks he’s
packing more than the competition can handle.

Both men legally in the ring are brutalized, and it’s another race to make it to a corner to tag someone else in.  But having been stabbed in the back by Yahel, Matt realizes he’s got no where to turn even as Tom’s long arm reaches out and tags in the only man yet to have even lifted a finger so far, Chris.  Chris delivers a rolling series of snap suplexes that pound Matt’s back to the mat as he flops helplessly around the perimeter of the ring.  Taking a taste of retribution on behalf of his partner, Chris strips the gold medalist of his trunks and shoves them in the Aussie’s mouth before sitting on Matt’s face and pounding his fists into the his lobster red core.  The one sided squash goes on for a few minutes before Tom is on his feet on the ring apron.  When he sees his partner drag the Aussie to his feet and lock on a full nelson, leaving Matt hanging limply and totally exposed, Tom dives back into the ring for a 2-on-1 mugging.

The Teen Dream Team brutalizes the Aussie completely unfairly, but in front of this crowd, with Yahel not lifting a finger from his corner to protest, no one but Matt is complaining.  Tom drives fists into the gold medalists abs. He claws his lean pecs.  He uses Matt’s naked scrotum as a speed bag for a minute.  Chris whips the Aussie into the ropes and catches him in a bearhug when he bounces off, twisting and then powerslamming him to the mat.  As he climbs off, Tom drops a leg across the Aussie’s throat.  Chris rolls the gold medalist up, cradling him in his lap as he winds his right arm across the Aussie’s throat.  With his teammate choking the Aussie out, Tom kneels between Matt’s legs and strokes the Aussie’s cock vigorously until, nearly unconscious, his body jerks and quivers as cum shoots up onto his smooth, pale pecs.  Matt’s eyes close. His face goes slack.  Tom lifts the Aussie’s right hand and lets it fall lifelessly back to the mat.  Tom insists on counting the gold medalist out while straddling his neck, his cock shoved in the unconscious Aussie’s slack mouth.

The crowd is roaring and on their feet as the Teen Dream Team climbs to their feet and hug, congratulating one another.  It’s a touching scene for the hometown pretty boys until they both turn just in time to take a double clothesline from Yahel, soaring off the top turnbuckle.  Before the world stops spinning for Chris, he finds himself locked up tight in a figure-4 choke, Yahel’s shin pressing squarely across his throat.  The British fans are screaming in protest, but the Mexican stud simultaneously wraps his right arm around Tom’s neck, clamping on a perfectly positioned sleeper.  Tom is out cold in less than a minute, but it takes another minute to squeeze consciousness out of handsome Chris.  The chorus of boos rises threateningly as Yahel positions the Teen Dream Team side by side in the middle of the sweat-soaked ring.  With one hand planted on each Brit hunk’s chest, he does push-ups, counting out the dream-crushing pinfall. “One!  Two!  Three!”  He hops to his feet and pumps his fists in the air.  Catching sight of Kai on the pool deck, leaning on the ring apron, he helps his partner climb back inside the ring and together they stand hand in hand, fists raised in victory.

Kai climbs back in the ring to celebrate team gold
Yahel makes homoerotic wrestling gold look easy!

Evoking Eli

Eli & Jake don’t stay in their singlets long in Mat Rookies 1

I got a message this morning from none other than 2-time homoerotic wrestler of the month and all around homoerotic wrestling stud extraordinaire, Eli Black.  It seems that Blogger was acting up (yet again) and not allowing Eli to post a comment to my recent post on “Making Jake…,” the a-b-c’s of Jake Jenkins in action.  Here’s Eli’s 2 cents on the subject (or, knowing Eli, let’s just agree that the value of his thoughts are priceless):

Hey I got a comment for your Jake Jenkins post! So, ok, it was all nice to give someone else the spotlight, but enough is enough! Eli Black is here to turn your frowns into cheers! I could totally write a book, nay, a bible on the Eli Black abc-to-z’s! 1) It’s Eli Black’s world, in case you forgot. 2) I’m the best there is, plain and simple, and 3) I will be until anyone else can beat me fairly! Finally, 4)(z) my picture perfect abs, followed by my amazing ass! Point proven!!!

The extensive rivalry and, at the same time, grudging respect between Eli and Jake has been extensively documented.  But it seems there’s a limit to the Eli’s willingness to let Jake soak up the attention!  Fuck, I love it when my favorite homoerotic wrestlers grab us by the ears and demand our total loyalty!

Eli puts Jake in his place!

As is my way, I absolutely have to parse out Eli’s comment in agonizing detail.  My first observation is that some smart-ass might try to point out that Eli seems to be confusing a-b-c’s with 1-2-3’s.  I, however, could easily picture me getting my ass kicked for being that particular smart ass, so I’m on board with any way at all that Eli wants to countdown his credentials to utter greatness!

“…Primus, meaning number one!”

I’m also compelled to point out that a wrestler who goes out of his way to trash talk even the mere musing of fans about other wrestlers is h-h-h-ot!  Damn it all, Eli’s ego alone could put a match-ending rear choke on most opponents.  For any poor bastard who hasn’t seen Eli in action, let me just assure you that his wrestling and MMA skills are every bit as devastating as his razor sharp wit and soul crushing banter.

Picture. Perfect.

And finally, I love a man who appreciates his own assets, and Eli’s put his finger on precisely why he’s got an army of homoerotic wrestling fans salivating like Pavlov’s dog the moment we hear he’s got a new release.  Picture perfect abs.  Truly amazing ass.

Truly AMAZING!

Point taken, Eli.  I still plan to continue the Making Jake series, but I’d be completely insane to miss the opportunity to also initiate an “Evoking Eli” series to review even more of the a-b-c’s (or 1-2-3’s) of living in Eli Black’s world!

Eli treats the rookie Namen to an up close look at his amazing ass!  Lucky son of a bitch…

Thanks for the read and the reminder, Eli.  We’re truly awed to have you here to turn our frowns into cheers!

Eli’s watching us to make sure we’re watching him. You’ve got my attention,  Primus! 

I Need A Hero

For those who may be growing a little tired of the Olympic Spirit series of homoerotic wrestling fiction around here, I’ve just posted a refreshing break from Olympic athlete fiction at Sidelineland. Alex has a new chapter in The Cave series, entitled “Meet the (sigh) Pink Punk.”  Alex has been an awesome contributor to the quickly growing collection of homoerotic wrestling fiction at Sidelineland. His Cave series, I now think, should have been filed under the superhero tab, because despite it being about the “performance” of gay themed/superhero themed wrestling, I’m more and more convinced that Alex is tapping quite directly into the melodrama and action that are at the heart of superhero comics themselves.

How far has The Bat fallen!?

And damn it all if he doesn’t find the hottest wrestlers to don a mask and appear on the PPV internet channel, The Cave! I’m still mulling how to classify the main antagonist in this new chapter of the Cave (babyface, heel, hero, villain, beauty, beast…?), but one thing I’m absolutely certain, that ass is going to be starring in my dreams tonight.

With enemies like this, who needs friends?!

If you’re not a member of Sidelineland, and if you enjoy homoerotic wrestling fiction, then sign up!  You can read all of Alex’ stories and many more from other contributors, including me.  And post your comments to the stories in the group listserv, because 99% of authors are more likely to continue to share what they write if they get feedback.  And in the interest of full disclosure, 100% of homoerotic wrestling bloggers make up statistics.  Enjoy!

Making Jake

Jake Jenkins – 5’7″, 155 lbs.
There are a few more Olympic round robins still to post, but in the mean time I’m starting a new series that’s been on my mind for a while now.  The concept is simple. The prep required is exquisite.  It’s inspired by the sell of a former homoerotic wrestler of the month and regular go-to hunk that never fails to turn me on.  These are the ABC’s of Jake Jenkins.  Just complete the phrase, “Making Jake….”  Here are A through E on my list.  If you have additional photos that illustrate more of the ABC’s of Making Jake, send them along!
Making Jake…
… asphyxiate.
Lean, mean, devastatingly handsome Jayden Mayne is sick and tired of being a whipping boy at BG East, and to prove it, he delights in making Jake asphyxiate.
… bend.

The combo of Jake Jenkins barefoot and in white trunks paired with Kid Karisma in black (and in the ring!!!) is nothing short of genius! Kid Karisma does a stunningly beautiful job of making Jake bend.

… cry.

Jake has gone back and forth with nasty grappler Ethan Andrews, and on more than one occasion the lean, mean Ethan makes Jake cry.

… drowsy.

Jake also has a running feud with the always dangerous 2-time homoerotic wrestler of the month and friend of this blog (well, he talks to me…), Eli Black.  In there’s jock strap matroom sweat bath for BG East, Eli turns all of Jake’s cocky swagger and sculpted muscle into so much mush when he makes Jake drowsy.

… elated!

Jake’s got range, mind you, and it’s not all about making Jake suffer.  Joah Bindao is a hot little package who certainly makes jake work, but when he’s racked, bulging, and helplessly across Jake’s soaking shoulders, Noah can’t help himself but make Jake elated!

…to be continued.

More Olympic Spirit

The crowds have already fled London, not the crowds of homoerotic wrestling fans in my imagination.  we’re back in the Olympic stadium again, as I imagine the competition that really counts for fans of hot, hardbodied, horny wrestling action…

Jamaica’s Usain Bolt – 6’5″, 210 lbs., 25 y/o

Usain “Lightening” Bolt sprints across the track and into the infield with a sense of destiny at his back.  The Jamaican sprinter was long ago dubbed the world’s fastest man.  In the track and field athletes’ wrestling ring, however gold has been harder for the world star to come by.  He has the attitude, the competitive drive, the will to dominate, and the raw power to make most any man submit, particularly when trapped between those world famous thighs.  But he’s been plagued with bad luck that’s kept the wrestling gold just out of reach.  The Bolt PR machine has been pumping out the propaganda for months leading up to this contest, though, convincing the world stage and especially his competitors that he’s unstoppable this time around. Oiled from head to toe, the ripped stud climbs into the ring wearing green and yellow speedos.

China’s Liu Xiang – 6’2″, 190 lbs., 29 y/o

Jogging across the track and into the infield behind him is Chinese mega-star hurdler Lui Xiang, wearing his signature red running shorts slit along the outsides up to his waistband.  Long and lanky, Xiang has stunned the world of wrestling track and field athletes for the past 4 years, not only winning gold at the highest levels of competition, but permanently crippling more than one opponent along the way.  He makes even the muscle men from the throwing events experience a shiver of fear when they draw him as an opponent.  If Usain has a claim to destiny, it will have to come through defeating the pride of China. Before Liu has finished climbing through the ropes, Usain is on top of him.  Forearms to the back drop the Chinese hunk to his hands and knees.  Kicks to his side topple him to the mat.  In a flash, Usain climbs up the corner turnbuckles to pump his fists in the air, already celebrating. The celebration is premature, however.  By the time he’s done grandstanding and hops back down to the mat, Liu has gathered his wits and swept Usain’s legs.  Liu delivers a barrage of elbow strikes, punches, knee drops and even a headbutt into the sprinter’s rock hard 6-pack abs.  Usain tries to capture the dangerous Chinese hurdler in his steel trap legs, but Liu wisely steers clear of the Jamaican’s infamous thighs.  Smoothly he scoops up the tall Jamaican in his arms and drops his lower back across his thigh, holding him in the OTK backbreaker in order to drive elbow strikes into Usain’s gut and throttle the Jamaican’s balls.  Picking him up off his thigh, Liu quickly drives his back down again, allowing the Jamaican to bounce off and tumble to the mat.  Liu takes a punch to the gut when he rolls his opponent to his back, but the desperate blow bounces off relatively harmlessly.  Grabbing hold of the Jamaican by the ears and pounding the back of his head into the mat a half a dozen times completely rattles Usain’s cage and leaves his head spinning as his opponent climbs back to his feet.  Lifting the Jamaican’s right ankle off the mat, Liu begins stomping vicious heel strikes into the inside of his knee, clearly intending to add Usain to the long list of world class athletes crippled by the devastating Chinese hunk.  Agony contorts Usain’s face as he reaches toward his quivering knee. Liu smacks his hands away and spits in his face.  Pinning the leg to the mat, Liu kicks his feet upward and bring is right knee swinging, crashing down into the side of the Jamaican’s throbbing knee.  Another quick handstand and knee drop makes Usain’s body jerk and spasm.  The stadium grows hushed, anticipating whether the Jamaican will submit before he suffers permanent damage.  A third handstand from Liu, as he prepares to drop the crippling blow to the vulnerable knee… but something goes terribly wrong.  His hands slide off of the Jamaican’s liberally oiled thigh.  Liu crashes to the mat on his chin, making the Chinese juggernaut see stars.  Just like that, the Jamaican steel trap falls, capturing Liu’s torso between the astonishingly long, devastatingly powerful, sculpted thighs of the Jamaican superstar.  Usain laces his ankles together and leans back on his elbows.  The crowd is hushed in astonishment.  Unbelievably, the Chinese legend screams in agony, but doesn’t submit.  Usain arches his back, adding a fraction more pressure to his body scissors. A long, anguished wail rises like a siren from Liu’s gaping mouth.  Usain licks his lips hungrily, watching his opponent pushed beyond human endurance between his crushing thighs.  Suddenly, Liu’s face twists. He gags and then coughs, blood spewing from his mouth.  Not only has Usain cracked his rib, he’s apparently punctured his lung.  The Chinese star slaps the mat in submission, gasping, gurgling, “give-give-give-give!”  In a flash, the Jamaican is on his feet, fists pumped in the air.  Before the medics can reach Liu, Usain stomps his right heel into the man’s broken rib cage, just making certain that he won’t be back in the ring anytime soon.

German Discus Champ Robert Harting – 6’7″, 280 lbs., 27 y/o

The sight of the biggest man in the competition sprinting into the infield brings the crowds to their feet.  Blond German giant Robert Harting is an astonishingly tall mountain of muscle.  Roaring at the crowd in the center of the ring, the superhuman discus thrower rips his shirt to shreds, pumping his bulging muscles and driving the homoerotic wrestling fans insane.  The pre-match shirt ripping is legend for the German powerhouse, and it’s also well known that if there’s one thing Robert can’t stand more than wrestling in a shirt, it’s leaving an opponent anything but butt naked and trembling in fear.  Once the shirt is shredded, the massive mountain of muscle wears nothing but his black square cut trunks molded to his massive muscle glutes and tree trunk thighs.

 Norwegian Javelin Thrower Andreas Thorkildsen – 6’2″, 200 lbs., 30 y/o

Norway’s Andreas Thorkildsen strolls cautiously across the track toward the ring, watching the freakishly huge German titillate the crowd by flexing his mountainous muscles.  The stunningly handsome javelin thrower is layered in thick, powerful muscle.  His gorgeous glutes are suction packed into skin tight red and blue pro trunks.  His body is gorgeously tan; his broad, meaty pecs bounce as he strides toward the ring. Although he’s massively built and incredibly strong, even the mighty Norwegian is dwarfed by the German beast standing nearly a half a foot taller and 80 pounds heavier. Based on nothing but numbers, things look bleak for the beautiful Norwegian.  Numbers, however, never win wrestling matches.  As they approach one another in the center of the ring, the big German looks like he’s moving in slow motion when Andreas lands a kick to his gut, twists him around by the neck and drops to the mat, slamming the back of the big German’s head into Andreas’ powerful shoulder.  Robert lands flat on his back, his limbs twitching.  Confidently, the handsome Norwegian pins his right shoulder to the mat with is knee and his left shoulder with both hands, lowering his crotch across the German’s dazed face.  “EN!” he shouts, slapping his palm to the mat.  “To!” he counts, slapping the mat again.  “T-” he doesn’t quite finish the count, and well before he slaps the mat a third time, the German muscle beast shoves his opponent off of him so hard that Andreas lands five feet away, flat on his ass.  The Norwegian beats his opponent to his feet easily, however, and before Robert can push himself off his hands and knees, Andreas shoves his hand between the big man’s legs from behind and grabs hold of the German bull’s balls.  With his free hand, he grabs Robert’s thinning blond hair at the back of his head, and astonishingly he drags the muscle man crawling around the ring humiliatingly. Positioning him near a corner, the Norwegian quickly climbs to the top turnbuckle, leaps high and drops his right knee into the small of his massive opponent’s back.  Robert’s hips slam into the mat.  More stomps and knee drops demonstrate Andreas’ world class focus as he pounds the German’s back relentlessly as minutes tick by.  The handsome Norwegian’s tanned muscles glisten with sweat when he finally steps back, hands on hips, and assesses the damage.  He catches his breath as he watches Robert slowly drag his massive shoulders off the mat. The giant German is clearly dazed, using the ropes to pull himself up to his knees.  Once he’s kneeling, facing the corner, Andreas pounces.  He wraps his left arm across his opponent’s throat from behind, grasping his right bicep in his left hand for leverage.  Like a boa constrictor, the javelin thrower flexes and squeezes tighter and tighter, pressing his bulging bicep squarely into Robert’s throat.  The stands begin to pepper with shouts of encouragement, evenly divided between cheers for the Norwegian coverboy and pleas for the German beast to escape.  Andreas’ smooth, tan arm is a stark contrast against the pale German’s blond five o’clock shadow.  Andreas cracks a grin, feeling the captured power of the muscle monster in his clutches.  The grin fades to shock when suddenly Robert shifts, pulling his right knee off the mat and placing his foot underneath him.  The crowds scream with excitement when Robert’s massive frame shifts again, and he jerks his giant body up to both feet, lunging low with the powerful javelin thrower clamped tightly to his throat.  Andreas struggles to squeeze harder on his rear choke, but the German’s neck is just too thick and corded with muscle.  The stadium gasps in awe as Robert slowly muscles his way upward, finally standing erect and lifting his opponent off his feet.  The Norwegian grows desperate, digging his knees into the big man’s kidneys, releasing the choke, and beginning to pound his right fist furiously into the German’s temple.  Robert lumberingly turns his back to the corner and takes two quick steps backward, pounding Andreas’ lower back into the top turnbuckle and crushing the handsome Norwegian with is mountainous body.  Like an avalanche, there’s no turning Robert’s momentum once he begins to build up a head of steam.  A shoulder block into the corner folds Andreas up so tightly that his gorgeous ass bangs into the ring post.  The powerful German scoops him up in a fireman’s carry over one shoulder, sprints across the ring and drives Andreas’ lower back into the turnbuckle, once again using his 280 pounds to flatten his opponent.  Three shocking one-armed choke slams see the Norwegian lifted off his feet by his throat, hung in mid-air in a stunning display of power, and then bashed on his upper back into the mat.  Andreas isn’t moving after the third choke slam, flat on his back.  Robert bends over him, straddling his legs, and peels off the red and blue trunks. It’s his signature move.  He’s stripped a dozen world class athletes naked in the ring, but even the jaded German giant seems seriously appreciative of the gorgeous body beneath him, sweat glistening in the stadium lights.  The otherwise tanned beauty is starkly pale underneath his bikini line.  Coiffed dark curls surround a beautiful, thick penis resting across the Norwegian’s massive right thigh.  The German kneels between his opponent’s legs and lifts Andreas’ knees off the mat. Rolling the handsome hunk up, he slowly lowers his hips as Andreas’ feet are pressed to the mat next to his head.  Perfectly mimicking a muscle pounding fuck, Robert flexes his ass and grinds his crotch against Andreas’ hole.  “Eins!” the mighty German pounds the palm of his right hand down to the mat.  “Zwei!” he pounds the mat again.  “Drei!” he counts his handsome opponent out of medal contention.  Climbing to his feet, he places his right foot on Andreas’ powerful pecs and flexes his right bicep for his adoring fans, holding his vanquished opponent’s trunks overhead in his other hand.

Before Liu Xiang hit the international track and field scene, track stars were just fodder for the throwing giants in the homoerotic wrestling ring.  Put a monster hammer thrower in the ring with a sprinter (or worse yet, a marathoner), and the runners used to seldom manage to even make it close.  But Liu Xiang has tamed all-comers over the past 4 years. He’d even severely sprained Robert Harting’s knee at the world championships just a year ago.  But with Liu out of the gold medal match, it’s anyone’s guess as to whether Usain can pick up the track star mantle, or whether the pendulum is about to swing back to the crushing power of the discus champ.

When the fastest man in the world sprints into the infield and dives into the ring, the crowd roars.  His ebony body shines with a fresh coat of baby oil.  He wears his yellow speedos, and he acknowledges the lauds from the stadium by pumping a “#1” sign over head.

The roar from the stands grows louder when the German mountain of muscle jogs into the infield and climbs through the ropes, instantly ripping to shred the fresh track shirt he’s donned for the occasion.  The muscleman is back in his black square cuts.  Usain is just a couple inches shorter, but at 70 pounds lighter, the Jamaican looks stick thin in comparison.  Robert quickly closes the distance, pursuing the sprinter to get the action moving, but Usain swiftly ducks out of reach.  The discus champ spends a full minute chasing the Jamaican around the ring, always two steps too slow to manage to catch him.  Robert’s frustration grows with the game of cat and mouse.  He stumbles, leaning his forearms against the ropes where a half a second earlier his opponent was standing.  A lightening fast heel to the back of Robert’s right knee drops the big man to his knees.  The Jamaican requires two sharp pulls on the German’s right ankle to finally pull the massive man’s legs out from underneath him.  Robert tumbles forward, his chest hanging from the bottom rope.  Usain suddenly plants his right foot on the German’s muscled ass and his hands on the top rope. He leaps high over the top rope and falls for what seems like forever, finally driving both feet into the back of his opponent’s head and smashing Robert’s face into the ring apron.  Dropping to the infield below, Usain pries the German’s face off the canvas to reveal that he’s crushed Robert’s nose into a bloody pulp.  The discus champ’s face is covered in red.  Usain pries his head up off the mat by his ears and then slams his shattered nose back to the canvas.  Swiftly diving back into the ring, sliding underneath the bottom rope, Usain struggles to drag the German’s mighty carcass by the ankles back into the center of the ring.  Finally positioning him just so, Usain climbs the turnbuckles, turning to face the ring with his feet poised on the top ropes next to the corner.  He waits as the crowd screeches.  He waits as Robert drags his upper body off the mat.  He waits as the German manages to climb up to one foot, and then both feet, blood streaming from his chin down across his mountainous pecs.  When he turns, searching for his opponent, Usain leaps, stretching his long, lean body horizontally to the mat.  Usain’s right foot lands squarely across the smashed septum of the German, while his left foot catches the big man in the throat.  Usain lands on his side with a thud, quickly crouching to assess the damage he’s managed to inflict.  Robert is stumbling backward, but he reaches the ropes and rights himself.  Like lightening, the fastest man in the world bounces off the ropes on the opposite side and sprint into another flying drop kick, this time landing both feet squarely in the center of Robert’s chest.  Again, the German stumbles backward, but uses the rope to prevent himself from going down.  As he Robert pushes himself off the rope, Usain is already bouncing off the rope and flying through the air yet again.  The flying drop kick lands precisely on discus champ’s sternum, and though he reaches frantically for the ropes, this time the giant German drops to his ass.  The Jamaican quickly positions himself directly behind his opponent and shoves Robert’s head backward until the big man is staring up at Usain’s pendulous package.  The steel trap snaps shut around the giant’s temples.  Robert’s face disappears between the sprinter’s superhuman thighs.  The crowd goes wild when Usain flexes his biceps for them while crushing his opponent’s skull as if effortlessly in his standing head scissors.  The mighty giant tries to pry his opponent’s legs apart, but after a minute, even his massive muscles are no match for the deadly dangerous thighs of the champion sprinter.

Even as Usain is flashing a most muscular pose (which is nowhere near the league of the ferocious German), Robert taps frantically, signaling his submission. Usain quickly drapes himself in the Jamaican flag and strikes his signature pose, pronouncing himself the greatest Olympian of all time.

Fans are still debating the ballsy claim to world supremacy by the gold medalist when the tag teams begin to jog out of from underneath the stadium and into the infield.  First to the ring is the Norwegian heart throb, javelin thrower Andreas Thorkildsen, now dressed in very brief blue and red speedos that  are much briefer than Andreas’ stark white tan lines.

South African sprinter Oscar Pistorius – 5’11”, 170 lbs., 25 y/o

Gasps from the stands greet Andreas’ choice for a tag team partner for the finals. South African hottie Oscar Pistorius has been a hot topic on the circuit for a couple of seasons.  The sprinter who is a double amputee had to lobby hard to even attempt to qualify for the homoerotic wrestling competition.  Potential opponents complained that his prosthetic blades were fundamentally “foreign objects” that could be used as a weapon in the ring.  The handsome South African persevered, and with charm that has become in and of itself legendary, talked himself into the pool of potential wrestlers to go for gold.  He didn’t qualify for the individual round robin, but strolling out in green skin tight square cuts, he clearly caught the eye of Andreas to get the nod to join him for tag team glory.

Robert is battered, but back to redeem team Germany.

German finalist Robert Harting jogs into the infield next, ripping off his third shirt of the night as the crowd roars their encouragement.  His nose his badly damaged from his gold medal match against Usain, but the big mountain of muscle is back on his feet, dressed in his signature black square cuts, and flexing to make the fans scream once again.

German discus thrower Martin Wierig – 6’8″, 273 lbs., 25 y/o

Robert is quickly joined on the ring apron by his fellow German discus competitor and sculpted muscle man, Martin Wierig.  A fraction taller and just a few pounds lighter than his countryman, Martin pumps his biceps next to his partner who flashes a dizzying most-muscular pose for the screaming fans.  Side by side, the two massive beasts have terrorized the tag team ranks since they first teamed up 8 months ago.  At a combined weight of over 550 pounds, the German team is by far the largest team to compete in Olympic homoerotic wrestling competition.

Usain can’t wait to get his hands on more gold!

Gold medalist Usain Bolt sprints across the track and into the infield next, freshly oiled and pumped and wearing green and yellow speedos.  He leaps across the top rope and immediately begins posing for the roaring crowd.

Jamaican sprinter Yohan Blake – 5’11”, 168 lbs., 22 y/o

Immediately behind Usain is his partner, fellow Jamaican sprinter Yohan Blake, wearing identical yellow and green speedos.  When Yohan follows his partner in leaping over the top rope and flexing for the fans, Usain snaps at him and shoves him to the corner, demanding Yohan to take his position on the ring apron while Usain continues mugging for the fans.

Canadian sprinter Jared Connaughton – 5’9″, 174 lbs., 27 y/o

Even as the tag team competition is about to begin, legendary homoerotic wrestler Liu Xiang is being transported by ambulance through the streets of London to receive emergency care for his punctured lung.  As a result of his withdrawal from tag team contention, the final team captain is the scorching hot Canadian hunk who just barely missed qualifying for the individual gold semi-finals: Jared Connaughton. Jared sprints out from underneath the stands and across the track wearing a white thong with a red maple leaf stitched across his wildly swinging pouch.  The shaved headed, tattooed, muscle-butted beauty gives a wink and a one-sided grin as he blows kisses to the stands.  When the Canadian rocker coyly looks over his shoulder and flexes his gorgeous, striated glutes, the roar of the crowd is louder than its been all night.

Italian hurdler Emanuele Abate – 6’3″, 176 lbs.,  27 y/o

Jared’s hand-picked hottie to partner with for the gold sprints into the infield to join him. His choice surprises no one who’s followed track and field homoerotic wrestling for the past year.  After burning through a half a dozen tag team partners early in his wrestling career, he found just the right chemistry teaming up with Italian hurdler Emanuele Abate at the World Indoor Championships this spring.  The gorgeous twosome capitalized on the fact that the German team was knocked out of the tag team finals as a result of Robert Harting’s injury in individual competition, and the Canada-Italy connection outlasted the rest for a 2-on-1 showdown against Liu Xiang, once the Chinese superstar’s partner was knocked out cold and pinned earlier.  Although Xiang inflicted damage, Jared and Emanuele eventually neutralized the living legend, thrilling hardcore fans with a rare fuck-and-suck finisher in which Emanuele plowed the Chinese hurdler from behind while Jared force fed him his epic, pierced jackhammer.  The crushing defeat and all-in humiliation has been credited with deflating Xiang’s momentum and, based on the gold medal round robin tonight, possibly signaling the beginning of the end of his domination on the world scene.

Usain insists on starting the tag team mash-up.

There’s a scuffle in the Jamaican corner when Yohan begins to step through the ropes to start off the action.  Usain grabs him by the bicep and drags his teammate back to the ring apron.  There’s a heated exchange happening underneath the din of the crowd as the two hunks bark furiously in each other’s faces.  Finally, it’s Usain who climbs into the ring and pumps a double bicep for the crowd.  It’s his third match of the night, but the fastest man in the world is pumped and ready to go for gold once again.

Larger than life, Martin is predicting team Germany will be #1

When Martin climbs over the top rope he shoots a #1 signal to the crowd before turning and sneering down at his Jamaican opponent. Having demolished the German’s even bigger countryman, Usain rolls his eyes and begins to circle the towering muscleman.  Usain is still lightening fast, landing a sharp kick to the big man’s right hamstring and dancing away before Martin can counter.  They circle again, and again Usain shoots a sharp kick to Martin’s right hamstring before the big German can defend himself.  After another round of cautious circling, Usain feints another hamstring strike, making Martin flinch away defensively, but the Jamaican swiftly changes the trajectory of his kick, bending his knee and driving it viciously into the 6’8″ muscleman’s crotch.  Martin folds forward, his arms protectively placed over his crotch as he struggles to catch his breath.  Usain charges into the ropes and catapults back toward him, lifting his right knee into Martin’s powerful chest.  The big German stumbles backward, his right hand still clutching his balls and his left arm draped protectively across his chest.  The Jamaican takes a page out of his gold medal performance against Martin’s partner to quickly launch a second assault off the ropes, this time leaping into the air for a cross-body take down.  However, the Germans have clearly come prepared from the lessons Robert learned in his gold medal loss.  Martin is clearly not as winded from Usain’s blows as he let on.  Standing up straight and propping his right leg behind him, he easily catches the 210 pound Jamaican missile and cradles Usain across his chest.  Robert claps furiously from the corner, barking instructions at his young partner. The junior German partner takes a leisurely stroll around the ring with his captured prey. He walks slowly by his own corner, close enough for Robert to land a humiliating slap across Usain’s face.  The other teams call him over, so Martin carries Usain first to let Andreas and Oscar land cracking slaps across the gold medalist’s face, then to Jared and Emanuele’s corner.  Emanuele reaches over the tope to land a windmilling swat on the Jamaican’s gorgeous, oiled muscle glutes.  Jared then reaches over to grab Usain by the chin, bark in his face, and then drive a stunning, sharp fist into the gold medalist’s nose. Blood showers down from his broken septum as Martin strolls toward the Jamaicans’ corner, but turns away, tauntingly at the last second as Usain frantically reaches his hand toward his tag team partner.  Yohan doesn’t make any attempt to tag in, turning his back on his partner and crossing his arms across his powerful pecs.  Martin turns to the center of the ring and powerslams himself down on top of his opponent. Bouncing up to his hands and knees, Martin crouches over top of the Jamaican and soaks in the cheers from the stands for a moment before climbing to his feet, dragging a nearly lifeless Usain up by his ears, scooping him up in his arms again and crushing him with yet another 280 pound powerslam.  Usain’s twitching right foot is the only thing moving on the sprinter’s body.  Martin listens to his partner barking instructions in the corner before peeling off Usain’s speedo and tossing it to Robert as a souvenir.  Martin hooks Usain’s right leg, leaning his massive body overtop of the Jamaican and pinning his shoulders to the mat.  “Eins!” the German barks, slapping his hand to the mat.  “Zwei!”  he booms with another slap of his hand.  Usain’s eyes open wide, realizing how vulnerable he is.  He struggles to wrench a shoulder of the mat, but he’s buried beneath his behemoth opponent.  “Drei!” Martin shouts, counting Usain out and quickly climbing to his feet, his eye on Yohan.  Yohan slowly climbs through the ropes, eyeing the huge German warily.  Instead of moving to lock up with him, however, the Jamaican crouches on one knee next to his defeated partner.  He lifts Usain’s head in his left hand, murmuring to him beneath the din of the crowd.  When Usain’s eyes flutter open, Yohan suddenly lands a shocking punch to his partner’s right cheek.  The blow looks like it knocks the gold medalist out cold, but Yohan doesn’t seem to care.  He straddles his knees across his partner’s chest and rains down blows with both fists. Martin seems unsure what to do with the shocking intramural conflict between the Jamaicans, but Robert snaps him back into focus with instructions from the corner. He comes up from behind the oblivious Yohan, locks his right arm across the Jamaican’s throat, and lifts him off his feet, hanging from his throat in the giant German’s massive arms.  Yohan is out cold in a little over a minute, tossed to the mat and counted out.  The remaining two teams look at one another, silently questioning who will face the imposing Germans next.

Jared looks up at the giant German in awe

It’s Jared who climbs through the ropes next and stands with his hands on his hips, looking up at Martin towering nearly a full foot taller than the power-packed sprinter.  Unbelievably, the Canadian lifts his hands, palms toward his opponent, and challenges Martin to a test of strength.  The crowd roars, the Canadian’s fans warning caution and the German’s fans screaming encouragement.  Martin laughs heartily, rolling his eyes before reaching his hands in the air. Tauntingly, he dangles his hands overhead, out of Jared’s reach as the Canadian rolls up to his tip-toes.  Martin’s massive body is shaking with laughter when he finally lowers his hands and laces his fingers in between his relatively diminutive opponent’s.  The mismatch is a stunning sight.  Martin quickly presses Jared’s wrists backward and then uses his height advantage to lean overtop of the Canadian.  Jared’s face contorts in agony as he slowly sinks to his knees.  Abruptly, Martin swings their locked hands wide and wrenches Jared’s wrists backward from underneath.  The Canadian screams in pain as he quickly comes to his feet.  Upward, Martin presses as Jared rolls to the balls of his feet and then gasps to find himself being lifted entirely off his feet by his quivering wrists.  Martin leaves him hanging in mid-air for a half a minute, showing off his dominating power until the mighty German’s biceps begin to quiver with the effort.  Abruptly he swings their arms around again and presses Jared’s wrists down from overhead once more, driving the Canadian to his knees with a thud as a sheen of sweat breaks out across Jared’s shaved head.  Martin rolls his head backward and laughs again as Jared grovels on his knees in front of him at his mercy.  The thermos growing in Martin’s black square cuts tents his trunks.  Emanuele is pleading with his partner not to submit.  Jared leans into his opponent’s massive body, his cheek pressed against the growing bulge in Martin’s trunks.  Jared’s mouth, gaping open in agony, suddenly stretches around the head of Martin’s mammoth cock covered in only a distended stretch of black spandex.  His lips work furiously on what he can grab of Martin’s member, occasionally using his teeth to tease the raging erection.  Suddenly Martin’s face goes slack as his balls contract and pre-cum stains his trunks.  His grip slackens around his opponent’s fingers.  Jared’s hands find their way around his opponent’s hips to slide inside the German’s trunks and squeeze his massive cheeks.  Absent-mindedly, Martin laces his fingers on top of his head and ignores the screams of the crowd and his partner as Jared stokes him closer and closer to ecstasy.  Slowly, Jared peels Martin’s trunks down over his massive thighs, exposing the beast’s thermos cock surrounded by a thick bush of dark curls.  The moment Jared wraps his right hand around the head of the huge shaft, Martin cums, coating Jared’s pecs.  A second later, and Jared yanks the German’s ankles out from underneath him, dropping him in shock crashing to his back and ripping his trunks from his ankles.  A vicious punch to the giant German’s naked balls, and then the sweat soaked Canadian crawls on his knees to the nearest corner, tagging in Andreas.

Andreas stares down at Martin

The powerful Norwegian quickly steps through the ropes and stands overtop of Martin’s head.  He stares down impassively for several seconds, his massive tanned pecs bouncing eagerly as the roar of the crowd rises in anticipation. He bends over and grabs a fistful of the German’s hair, dragging him up to his knees.  Andreas lunges low and hooks his right arm through the German’s legs.  Grunting loudly, the Norwegian muscleman rises slowly to his feet, cradling the 280 pound discuss thrower across his powerful chest.  Andreas’ body shakes with the effort as he takes three short steps toward the center of the ring before hoisting Martin’s legs high with another grunt and slamming the massive man to his back again.  Andreas stumbles backward, clearly winded, his hands on his hips.  He doesn’t try to intervene when the long-limbed German stretches out his arm toward the nearest corner, tagging in an awaiting Emanuele.

Emanuele leaps over the ropes.

The Italian hurdler leaps over the top rope and sprints toward the  Norwegian with his right arm stretched out in preparation for a clothesline.  Not nearly as winded as he appeared, Andreas easily ducks underneath his opponent’s arm and instantly locks his powerful arms underneath Emanuel’s shoulders, cinching on a neck wrenching full nelson.  Andreas can’t help himself but smile as the Italian makes several failed attempts to muscle free.  Shoving him into Andreas’ own corner, Andreas grinds his hips into Emanuel’s ass as Oscar slaps the Italian’s face and shouts insults from across the ropes.  Jared climbs up on the bottom rope and shouts threats across the ring at the double team.  When Oscar reaches through the ropes and yanks the Italian’s trunks down to his knees, Jared bolts through the ropes to rescue his partner.

Jared is determined to muscle his way to victory.

The rescue attempt is short-lived.  Oscar signals to Andreas as soon as Jared is inside the ring.  Before the Canadian reaches them, the Norwegian releases the full nelson on Emanuele and turns to face Jared, his beautiful pecs bouncing eagerly once again. Oscar steps through the ropes to pound Emanuele’s face into the turnbuckle repeatedly while Andreas quickly gets the upperhand as he and Jared square off.  Jared’s head is snapped in between the Norwegian’s right forearm and his ribs, bent forward with his mostly bare ass on display for the adoring fans. Andreas grinds the headlock hard, his powerful upper body making the Canadian sprinter drop to one knee and wail.  Dragging him back to his feet, Andreas hip tosses him to his back.  Two fast elbow drops into Jared’s meaty pecs make the Canadian clutch his chest defensively, totally out of position to defend himself when the javelin thrower drives his right knee into his face.  The Canadian isn’t knocked out entirely, but his hold on consciousness in tenuous, and he doesn’t seem to notice when the handsome Norwegian hooks his huge right leg, rolls him up to his shoulders, and slaps down a ponderous, commanding three count.

Jared’s luscious pecs can’t save him from being counted out!

With a quick glance to confirm that the Germans are staying out of the fray, Andreas turns to his partner.  Without a word, Oscar yanks Emanuele by his hair out of the corner, spins him around, and sends him stumbling toward Andreas.  With a growl, the Norwegian hooks his big arms around the hurdler’s waist and hoists him up in a kidney bruising bearhug.  Oscar takes a seat on the top turnbuckle as he taunts the Italian, keeping a wary eye on the German corner.  Andreas is coated in sweat as he bears down on the bearhug.  His mighty pecs will not be denied, as second by second he wrings a louder wailing cry of agony from the lovely, lean Italian.  “I give!” he finally gasps, but Andreas squeezes a fraction harder. “Beg me!” he snarls in the Italian’s ear.  “Please, please, please…” Emanuele stammers, “please let go, please….”  Andreas laughs and drops him like a dead weight.  He backs his way into his corner, sliding between his partner’s thighs.  Oscar begins kneading his teammate’s massive shoulders and neck.  From across the ring, the Germans stare at them, ignoring the muscled bodies littering the mat between them.  Oscar’s hands slide down his partner’s sweaty pecs, massaging them and playfully pinching his nipples.

Robert challenges Oscar personally

Finally, big Robert Harting ducks through the ropes and points directly at Oscar.  “You!” he barks.  Andreas leans his head back and whispers furiously with his partner.  The debate lasts about 15 seconds,  but finally the South African sprinter hops off the top rope and steps in front of his partner.  It’s Andreas’ turn to shout encouragement and massage his partner’s shoulders as Oscar shifts from blade to blade, flexing his arms and psyching himself up.  Finally Andreas slaps him on the ass hard and ducks out of the ropes as Oscar begins to circle the ring, stepping gingerly over the fallen contenders.  Robert doesn’t bother stepping over them, slamming his feet into stomaches, heads, crotches… whatever.  When he thoughtlessly grinds his heel into Usain’s crotch, the Jamaican gold medalist’s eyes snap open in shock and agony.  He bellows a cry of pain and grabs Robert’s ankle.  It takes Robert no more than about 3 seconds to glance down in surprise and figure out who’s grabbed him and why.  In just those three seconds, Oscar flings himself into the ropes, uses them to catapult across the ring and leap through the air, clotheslining the German giant across the throat.  Already off balance and completely flat footed, Robert tumbles backward like a felled tree.

Oscar’s packing heat as he stares down at his opponent.

Oscar is on top of him in a flash, pounding a furious flurry of fists into the German’s face.  It takes just a couple blows for the sprinter to bust open Robert’s crushed nose all over again.  Oscar’s fists and Robert’s face are coated in blood within seconds.  Sliding forward, Oscar locks his thighs around his opponent’s head and falls to his side, squeezing him in a high and tight face to crotch headscissors.  His prosthetics suddenly snap perfectly together like a lock, and he leans back on his elbows, squeezing the discus champ in the temples and smothering him with his mouth shoved underneath the South African’s balls. Blood soaks Oscar’s trunks where the crushed septum of the German is gushing.  Robert lands a half a dozen sharp fists into his captor’s thighs, but his fists suddenly go slack.  His eyes roll into the back of his head as Oscar tugs at his own swelling cock through the fabric of his trunks.  Martin screams for his partner to remain conscious as Andreas shouts encouragement to Oscar.  30 seconds later and Robert is out cold.  Oscar climbs up to his blades and bends over the behemoth German’s waist, peeling off the massive man’s black square cut trunks and then stuffing him in humiliatingly in his mouth.

With his right blade resting on Robert’s slack pecs, Oscar flashes that heart melting smile at the crowd and pumps his index finger in the air.  “ONE!” the stadium shouts back as one.  He pumps two fingers in the air.  “TWO!!!” the crowd screams.  He pumps three fingers over head, but before the crowd has even started to recite “THREE!” Martin dives through the ropes and tackles the South African to his back.  Oscar instantly wraps his thighs around his naked attacker’s waist and slips his blades together in the locked position once again.  The pain makes Martin momentarily lean back and grimace, but he finally jabs his massive right fist toward his opponent’s face.  Oscar deflects the blow and grabs his wrist.  A left jab from the giant German and Oscar deflects it and grabs that wrist as well, effectively neutralizing him.  Martin’s rage is boiling over as his face turns bright red and he howls like a rabid animal. He leans backward, pulling Oscar’s shoulders off the mat and then driving him back down hard.  A second time, and Oscar loses his grip on the German’s left wrist.  Martin doesn’t get a third time.

Andreas shows that tag team gold is all about teamwork

Andreas’ knee flies into Martin’s left cheek.  As Martin’s head snaps to the side, blood flies across the ring from his split lip.  The big German is dazed as Oscar releases his body scissors.  He’s not quite tracking as it takes both Andreas and Oscar to drag the massive man to his feet.  But he seems to suddenly understand his predicament when the handsome Norwegian hooks his arm between the discuss throwers legs and, with a considerable effort and an assist from his partner, hoists all 273 pounds of him across Andreas’ shoulders.  Back on his blades, Oscar slaps the German’s face, taunting him.  The stadium is rocking with stomps and applause and screams as Andreas shakes and stretches the giant man draped backward across his powerful shoulders.  Oscar stands directly in front of his partner and kisses him passionately, one hand squeezing Andreas’ ass and the other sliding down the front of his blue and red speedo.  The two appear lost in lust until suddenly Andreas begins to claw savagely at Martin’s balls, even while continuing to make out with his partner.  The German screams incoherently at first, but finally whimpers, “I quit! Enough!” as tears stream down his cheeks.  Instantly Andreas shrugs his shoulders and sends Martin rolling off of him and crashing in a heap to the mat.  The gold medal winning tag team partners embrace, kissing deeply.  Oscar cradles the back of Andreas’ head in his right hand. Andreas’ hands slide down his partner’s back and underneath his trunks to squeeze the sprinter’s powerful glutes.  The camera flashes would blind the partners if they weren’t fixed entirely upon one another for a full minute of “private” celebration.  Finally pulling away, Andreas’ grabs Oscar’s hand and pumps them into the air in victory, their opponents littered at their feet.  The masters of the tag team track and field competition are the perfect, hot combination of both track and field hunks.

Gold medalist tag team: Norway’s Andreas Thorkildsen…
…and South Africa’s Oscar Pistorius.

More Olympic Spirit

As you’ll see, if you venture into the depths of this post, when I got to writing my homoerotic wrestling imagined vision of an Olympic decathlete wrestling competition, I was quite swept away. Decathletes have been wearing me out since Bruce Jenner (god rest his soul) turned me gay (not really) when he won the Olympics and appeared on boxes of breakfast cereal in 1976.  The all around demands of the decathlon have a way of carving out some of the hottest bodies on the planet.  And somehow, once they reach the level of Olympic competition, only the prettiest seem qualified to compete.  All that gorgeous beefcake! I honestly had no idea who would prevail in this round robin, which probably explains why I went into such detail in this post.  I’m simply infatuated with these guys, and I hope that this installation of Olympic Spirit isn’t too tedious for the casual reader.  In any case, thank GOD that they cleared out the mainstream fans after the closing ceremonies, because it’s time to fill up the Olympic Stadium with the most ardent homoerotic wrestling fans, install the pro wrestling ring in the infield, and let’s see what shakes out with world class decathletes go for gold in the imagined competition that matters much more to me (and you, I presume, if you continue to read).

American Trey Hardee – 6’5″, 210 lbs., 28 y/o

The Olympic stadium lights up with camera flashes as American hunk Trey Hardee jogs across the track and approaches the ring in the infield.  The lean blond hunk leaps up to the ring apron and steps through the ropes.  The roar of the crowd jumps a dozen decibels when he climbs up to the nearest middle turnbuckle to shrug his sculpted shoulders out of the straps of his red lycra singlet.  The tallest man in the competition, Trey spent the first few years on the world stage getting his skinny ass beat relentlessly, so he’s in London having packed on more muscle than ever before. His smooth upper body is ripped like an anatomy chart as he slowly peels the fabric down his torso, revealing inch by inch his sweet, golden pecs and rippled abs.  His newly ripped physique directly translates into a supremely cocky attitude.  Bare chested, the smooth stud flexes, bringing the fans to their feet.

Belgian Hans van Alphen – 6’3″, 203 lbs., 30 y/o
When Belgium decathlete Hans van Alphen jogs out from underneath the stands and across the track, the crowd hushes in anticipation. Trey points at him threateningly, towering above from the turnbuckle.  More heavily muscled than his opponent and with a light coat of dark hair across his massive pecs, the Belgian stunner sports square cut trunks, black in front and yellow in back.  When he reaches the ring and grabs the middle rope to hoist himself up to the apron, Trey leaps out of the corner and stands threateningly inside the ring, fists clenched, daring the Belgian beefcake to try to enter the ring.   Hans circles the ring slowly as Trey follows his progress. When he finally leaps up to the apron and begins to duck under the top rope, the American drives a forearm across his upper back, hooks Hans’ head underneath his right arm, and then grabs the waist of the Belgian’s trunks with his left hand. Lunging low, Trey hoists the shocked Belgian off his feet and suplexes him over the top rope and into the ring.  The hairy chested hunk slams to his back, and both men roll to their feet in a flash.  Hans gently rubs his lower back as the two warily circle the ring. They approach for a collar and elbow tie up, but at the last instant Trey ducks under the Belgian’s big arms, grabs him around the waist from behind, and snap suplexes the hunk, pounding his upper back to the mat.  Again, both wrestlers are on their feet in a flash, but Hans is a fraction of a second slower than his American opponent. After circling one another warily for a few more seconds, Hans lunges to one knee and sweeps Trey’s right leg. Holding him by the ankle, the Belgian lands a sharp heel strike to the American’s hamstring before Trey kicks free and rolls back to his feet, massaging his leg.  They continue to circle and trade lightening fast strikes, Trey focusing on quick knee lifts to soften up Hans’ gut, mixed with snap suplexes to wear out his lower back.  The Belgian clearly has his sights set on deflating the American’s wheels with kicks to his thighs and leg sweeps setting up more strikes to his hamstrings.  It’s technical wrestling, strategic and methodical, until Hans once again controls Trey’s right ankle after a leg sweep.  After three sharp heel strikes to the hamstring, the American’s attempt to kick free fails. Swiftly, Hans steps over the captured leg, twisting Trey to his stomach.  Hooking the American’s right ankle under his left arm, the Belgian sits back in a single leg crab that makes Trey pound his fists into the mat in frustration.  A scream of agony punctuates the mat pounding when Hans reaches his free hand down between Trey’s long, smooth legs and clutches at the American’s balls savagely.  The Belgian’s fans in the stands roar their approval, bringing a smile to Hans’ handsome face.   Slowly, Trey strains to lift his shoulders off the mat, pressing his upper body until the shift in his center of gravity makes the Belgian stumble forward. A half a second later, and the American kicks free and climbs to his feet, massaging his crotch and shooting daggers from his eyes at his opponent.  The tenor of the contest has turned distinctily personal.  Hans’ hairy pecs bounce excitedly.  A surprising head-on charge from the American pushes Hans into the ropes.  He’s quickly whipped off the ropes, sprinting across the ring and being catapulted back again.

Hans tries to catch his breath

Trey’s right knee catches the Belgian in his lower abdomen, sending him sommersaulting in mid-air and landing with a crash to his back.  Stomps make the handsome hunk bounce of the mat.  A handstand turns into a swinging knee driving into the Belgian’s lower back.  Hans arches on his side, his face contorted in agony.  Shoving him flat to his stomach, Trey hooks the handsome Belgian’s arms across his thighs and pries backward on his chin, sitting low in a camel clutch.  The American’s fans roar to life as he shakes Hans from side to side.  “Give it up!” he demands, but the Belgian is nowhere near empty.  Two solid minutes of the spine wrenching camel clutch, and then Trey flings him to the mat in disgust and stands up, his spandex tenting impressively, stretched across his crotch.  Before Hans manages to climb up to his hands and knees, Trey drags him up to his feet by his hair, hooks his right arm between his legs, scoops him up and immediately slams him down on his lower back.  Hans bridges high, his aching back arching in agony. Perfectly positioned, Trey grabs the Belgian’s black and yellow trunks and jerk them off his legs. Trey swings the trunks from his fingers and winks at the fans who stomp and scream. He tucks the trunks in the waistband of his tights and turns his attention back to his naked opponent, taking aim and dropping to his side, intending to drive his right elbow into his opponent’s lower abs. The Belgian rolls away, resulting in Trey pounding his elbow into the mat and then quickly clutching it in pain.  Hans rallies quickly and drives his knee in between Trey’s shoulder blades.  The American drops to his back, and seconds later Hans laces their legs together and drops to his back in a tight figure-4 leg lock, threatening to snap Trey’s right knee.  The American wails, pounding his fists into the mat.  The naked Belgian leans back on his left elbow and watches his opponent squirm and writhe, his right hand absent-mindedly stroking his big, veiny cock surrounded by a thick bush of dark hair.  Flexing his thighs, the Belgian makes Trey scream as his knee is hyperextended dangerously.  “You are just too pretty,” Hans growls, pumping his quads and making the blond beauty scream louder. Sweat glistens across Trey’s tanned, smooth body as every muscle tenses.  The American’s knee looks disturbingly out of alignment, but minutes into the crippling leg lock and he still refuses to submit.  Hans’ erection is more than a handful as his opponent suffers exquisitely.  Frustrated with his opponent’s resolve, the Belgian hunk finally unhooks the leg lock and crawls overtop of Trey, lowering himself stretched out across the American and slowly pumping his hips, sliding his erection between their sweaty bodies.  “Submit to me now,” Hans coos, “and I’ll let you where my gold medal while I fuck you all night long.”  With a look of awe, Trey stretches his face upward until their lips meet.  The Belgian drives his tongue deep into his opponent’s mouth. Trey slides the palms of his hands up and down the mighty Belgian’s broad, muscled back. His fingers trace down the corded muscles forming a deep ridge down his spine, until the Americans squeezes Hans’ lightly hairy, powerful glutes with both hands.  With his hands on Hans’ hips, he slowly begins sliding the Belgian up and down his body, Hans’ raging cock squeezed tightly between them.  The pace quickens, until abruptly Hans wrenches his mouth away from Trey’s lips breathlessly. His jaw hangs open dumbly; his eyes roll into the back of his head. A cry somewhere between pain and ecstasy explodes from his chest as he rolls his shoulders upward, leaning on straight arms over his opponent, and shooting a load across Trey’s golden pecs.  The look of shock across Hans’ face, streaming with sweat, is complimented by the victorious smile stretching across the American’s face. With a grunt, Trey rolls on top, pinning the backs of the Belgian’s hands to the mat.  Hans attempts to muscle himself free, but he’s spent and the American is just too strong.  Trey laces their legs together and forces the naked Belgian spread eagled. With his left forearm he begins choking him while throttling the decathlete’s deflating cock with his right hand.  Hans bucks his hips off the mat desperately, but he gets nowhere.  His cock begins to swell again in Trey’s hand even as his airway is choked off. “Good boy,” Trey coos.  “That’s what I love about world class athletes!”  Hans’ eyes roll up into his head as Trey begins pumping the Belgian beef in earnest.  “Submit!” Trey shouts. “No, no, no…” Hans mumbles.  “SUBMIT!” the American demands louder, but the Belgian just shakes his head, his eyes drooping as his balls begin to contract.  Abruptly Trey stops stroking his opponent and Hans’ eyes snap open wide. “No!!!” he shouts desperately, “don’t stop!”  Trey squeezes the head of his opponent’s cock tightly and growls into his face, “Submit!”  “I-give-don’t-stop-I-give-don’t-stop…” Hans repeats over and over as Trey obliges, pumping the raging cock until the Belgian lets loose with another explosive finish, this time coating his own hairy pecs.  20 seconds later, and the American’s forearm chokes the big Belgian out like a light, the look of ecstasy still stretched across his slack face. “One!” Trey slaps the mat next to his opponent’s head. The crowd joins the count at “TWO!,” and at the shout of “THREE,” Trey climbs off his opponent and pumps his fists in the air, his singlet stretched taut over his massive erection.  The camera flashes from the stands are blinding, just as the screams of adoration are deafening as Trey takes a minute to soak in the love.

Trey mugs for his adoring fans

Trey personally supervises the medical team as they gently place Hans on a stretcher and walk him toward the locker rooms.

Czech Roman Sebrle – 6’1″, 192 lbs., 37 y/o

15 minutes later, the roar of the crowd again greets another competitor. Veteran Czech decathlete, Roman Sebrle strolls confidently across the track and into the infield to climb into the ring.  The oldest competitor in the tournament, he’s starkly handsome and draws stunned gasps as the crowds see his gear.  He’s wearing a classic posing strap made famous in the old AMG wrestling videos of the 50’s and 60’s.  He stands in the center of the ring impassive, his muscles relaxed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, somehow astonishingly fierce for being so thoroughly calm and cool.

German Pascal Behrenbruch – 6’5″, 207 lbs., 27 y/o
Roman is giving up 4 inches in height, 15 pounds in weight, and 10 years in age to his competitor who comes sprinting across the track and bounding into the ring to the roar of the crowd.  German decathlete Pascal Behrenbruch  is long, blond, stunningly smooth and tanned.  He wears metallic gold bikini trunks that don’t nearly cover the expanse of his hard, athletic ass.  For that matter, his golden pouch is inadequate to keep his shaved balls under wraps as well, particularly as the beautiful goldenboy climbs up the turnbuckle and pumps his right fist in the air to get a rise from the crowd.  Apparently, the German is unaware of the risks involved in turning your back on your opponent, because he never sees Roman slowly stroll up from behind and drive his right fist straight up between the German’s outstretched legs.  The long, lean goldenboy’s knees buckle, but before he falls the powerful Czech quickly hooks his right arm between Pascal’s legs.  He drapes the German’s toned body backward across his broad shoulders.  The stands erupt, a nearly riotous mix of outrage and elation as the Czech muscle man yanks down on Pascal’s legs and neck, bending the gorgeous boy’s back around his neck.  Pascal’s screams are high pitched and frantic.  Roman bounces on the balls of his feet, parading his prey across his shoulders for the viewing of the raging crowd shocked by the speed with which a world class competitor, a semi-finalist in the Olympics, is completely incapacitated and utterly humiliated.  Roman shows off in the center of the ring, doing leg squats with his 207 pound German barbell racked like dead weight across his shoulders.  The Czech adjusts his grip, yanking down on Pascal’s chin with one hand while sliding his other hand underneath the German’s metallic gold pouch to crush his testicles.  The German writhes and kicks, flailing his arms, but it takes no more than a half a minute more before Pascal’s screams of submission are heard punctuating the disbelieving gasps from the crowd.  It’s the fastest victory in homoerotic wrestling Olympic history. The Czech beast simply shrugs his shoulders and lets Pascal roll off, tumbling in heap to the mat behind him, as Roman pumps his fists and roars at the crowd.

Roman flexes in victory!
Pascal doesn’t know what just hit him.

With the camera flashes exploding throughout the stadium, Roman turns, rests his hands on his hips, and stares down at prone Pascal. As the German begins to move, pushing his shoulders off the mat, Roman squats next to him, helping the humiliated athlete sit up. He pats Pascal’s back consolingly, murmuring something into his ear as the crowd continues to rumble in aftershocks from the shocking defeat.  Pascal nods in response to Roman’s assurances, swallowing hard and getting his bearings. Leaning on the Czech’s broad shoulder, Pascal unsteadily climbs to his feet.  Roman lifts the German’s hand in the air, and the show of sportsmanship generates appreciative applause from the crowd.  Pascal leans heavily on the Czech as they slowly make their way to the ropes.  As the bashed German begins to duck through the ropes, suddenly Roman locks his arms around the goldenboy’s narrow waist from behind, lifts him off his feet, and drives Pascal’s head and shoulders backward into the mat in a vicious suplex.  Screams of protest and a low rumble of boos from the stadium greet Roman as he climbs back to his feet and pumps his fists in the air once again, spitting on the humiliated German.  Dropping to one knee, he grabs Pascal’s bikini at the back and rips the minuscule fabric apart at the seams.  He stuffs the golden fabric in the German’s mouth, making the now naked hunk gag. The Czech strolls slowly but directly out of the ring, hops down to the infield, and walks at a leisurely pace toward the the locker room, waving his hands over head, intentionally misinterpreting the rumble of boos from the stands to be cheers for him.

Fantasy hunk, Trey Hardee, is ready to claim Gold for the US
When Trey Hardee comes trotting into the infield 30 minutes later, the stadium is rocking and ready for the gold medal contest.  Climbing gingerly up to the ring apron and ducking through the ropes, the American competitor is draped in an American flag. As he jogs around the perimeter of the ring, he pulls off the flag, revealing his tanned, sculpted torso. He’s wearing his singlet again, the shoulder straps peeled down to his narrow waist.  As the cameras flash and the crowd roars, he backs into a corner, draping the flag over the ropes and awaiting the arrival of his opponent.
The disgust from the crowd sounds like music to Roman’s ears.

A wary show of sportsmanship.

Long minutes pass before Roman Sebrle finally strides slowly across the track toward the infield. The chorus of boos that greet him are deafening. Smiling brightly and waving at the stands, the Czech acts as if the ire emanating from the stadium are lauds. His gorgeous glutes are all but completely bare as he strolls to the ring in his classic gay flick posing pouch.  Climbing up to the apron, he looks warily across the ropes at the American.  Seeming satisfied that Trey will permit him to enter the ring unmolested, the Czech ducks through the top two ropes and climbs inside. The world class decathletes stare at one another, motionless for nearly a minute as the tension in the stadium swells.  Chants of “Trey! Trey! Trey!” begin to pulse underneath the general din.  Finally, Roman extends his right hand toward his opponent and slowly begins to walk across the ring toward him.  Trey pushes himself out of the corner and approaches his opponent warily, slowly extending his hand.  The crowd screams words of caution at the American goldenboy as the two athletes grasp hands and shake.  With a quick jerk, Trey pulls Roman forward and reaches around him, embracing the Czech muscleman in an intimate embrace. Roman returns the hug. The crowd is hushed in anticipation, but the show of sportsmanship seems to unfold without an ulterior motive. They step backward, still shaking hands, and then suddenly Trey yanks his opponent toward him again and clotheslines the Czech savagely across the throat.  Roman slams to his back and takes a half a dozen lightning fast stomps to his chest and head within seconds.  Every homoerotic wrestling fan in the stadium is on their feet and screaming.

Trey goes on the offensive.

The Czech is stunned, but hardly down for the count.  He rolls away from the American and up to one knee smoothly, rubbing his throat.  As he climbs back to his feet, the two men begin to circle, both clearly respecting the danger they face. A collar and elbow tie up positions the powerful athletes to test their strength and balance.  Suddenly pulling the American close, Roman lifts his right knee into Trey’s crotch, making the American drop the clench and clutch his balls.  A forearm to the handsome American’s face flings him to his back, followed quickly by a Czech elbow drop to his gut.  Stunned but relatively fresh, Trey rolls away and up to his feet, one hand testing his bashed nose and the other adjusting his crotch.  Roman gets back to his feet, and the two circle one another once again.  They move toward one another for another collar and elbow, when Trey grabs the Czech’s right wrist, ducks underneath his arm and twists Roman’s arm behind his back.  The American’s height advantage works to his favor as he pries the forearm up the middle of Roman’s back, forcing the Czech to rise on the balls of his feet.  Smoothly, Trey releases the arm and captures his opponent by the neck, hip tossing him to his back and maintaining the headlock as both men crash to the mat, Roman flat on his stomach and Trey sitting by his shoulder.  Trey pries his opponent’s neck backward until the Czech groans, and then the American reaches back with his free arm and snags Roman’s right ankle, pressing it down across his left ankle and pulling the Czech strongman’s knees off the mat.  A few years ago and the lean American wouldn’t have had the power to make this hold count, but today he’s able to fold Roman’s back up sharply. The chant of Trey’s name continues to rise from the stadium. He leans back, spreading his long legs wide, his mastery making his tights tent.  “I’ll rip your fucking head off!” he shouts, but the Czech refuses to submit. Two minutes roll by in the excruciating assault on the Czech’s back, as both men break out into glistening sweat, but Roman defies the potential finisher.  Finally Trey releases the hold, dropping Roman’s head and sliding to his back. Catching Roman’s ankles against his crotch, the long American leans forward and grabs his opponent from behind by his chin, folding his back backward again and making the Czech wail.  “I’m going to break you in half, old man!” Trey barks threateningly, but again Roman refuses to submit as the back breaking hold grinds his spinal column, chants of “Trey! Trey! Trey!” pulsing from the stadium.  What was a sprint for the Czech in the first round has become a marathon of torture in the second, as Trey milks one hold and then the next, sliding forward and slapping on a sweaty camel clutch, then dropping knees into the Czech’s lower back on the way to spinning around and locking Roman’s ankles underneath his arms and sitting back in a boston crab.  The minutes crawl by for the Czech, as the offense belongs exclusively to the American for another ten minutes of back torture. The Czech seems to be nearly out on his feet when Trey drags him  up by his chin, scoops him up in his arms, and drops his lower back across the American’s thigh as Trey goes down to one knee.  He rolls the back-battered Czech off his knee only to drag him to his feet again, bend him backward with his left arm wrapped across Roman’s throat, and drop to one knee again, bending the big Czech backward and choking him at the same time.  The stands are roaring, but when Trey slides his hand down the length of his opponent’s lightly hairy torso and inside Roman’s dripping wet pouch, the noise is deafening.  The cock claw finally gets a rise out of the generally impassive big Czech, who rouses from semi-conciousness to wail deeply, his back arching in agony off of his captor’s thigh.  The wail makes Trey chuckle.  “There we are,” he says, satisfied.  “That’s where it hurts deep down!”  His forearm flexes as Roman’s pouch writhes.  “This is it, old man,” he announces.  “Time to announce your retirement and put you out to stud, big boy!”  But although the Czech thrashes in the backbreaker and cock claw, he refuses to submit.  Frustrated, Trey finally dumps him to the mat and stands up, hands on hips, sweat dripping from brow.  His powerful pecs heave as he catches his breath.  Both this match and his semi-final match have turned out to be tests of endurance, and although few men in the world could claim his level of fitness, the minutes ticking away under the stadium lights are clearly taking their toll.

His opponent, more 10 years his senior, appears even worse off… until Trey bends forward to drag him off the mat and suddenly finds the Czech’s right claw latched to his testicles.  As Roman slowly stands up tall, Trey’s shoulders slouch forward as he clings to the Czech’s forearm with both hands.  A deep roar of boos from the crowd washes through the stadium. The young, handsome American seems to shrink as Czech savagely twists his claw, dropping Trey to his knees.  Shoving Trey in the forehead, Roman sends the hunk falling to his back.  Quickly grabbing both of Trey’s ankles, the Czech spreads his opponent’s legs wide and drives his heel into his balls, making Trey’s shoulders levitate off the mat as shock and agony contort his face.  Savagely, the Czech drops to his knees, driving his forehead into his opponent’s crotch.  Trey’s hips bounce off the mat and he twists to the side, pulling his knees up to his chest with his hands clutched protectively around his pounded balls.  Pools of sweat cover the center of the ring. Streams of it pour off of the handsome Czech’s brow.  He takes his time catching his breath and clearing his head, but his opponent continues to writhe and jerk in agony.  Climbing back to his feet, Roman grabs Trey’s ankles again and lift his legs off the mat.  The American begs him to spare his balls further insult, pleading, nearly crying in desperation.  With expert precision, the Czech bends Trey’s long left leg and laces their legs together, locking on a vicious figure-4 leglock with precisely the same placement that nearly broke the American in his semi-final match.  Roman arches his back and bridges, lifting his upper body off the mat and resting on his hands. The added pressure on Trey’s knee makes him scream, incoherently at first, but then the clear wail of words escape his mouth. “I-I-I-I G-i-i-i-ve!!!!”  The Czech releases the hold and kneels next to his conquered opponent, pumping his fists in victory, as the chorus of boos from the stadium rain down on him.

Gold medal for the Czech!
30 minutes go by as the homoerotic wrestling fans in the stadium are treated to slow motion replays on the massive screens, documenting the key moments from the individual rounds.  When the screens go black, a fresh wave of enthusiasm washes through the stands as they see Trey Hardee trotting back out of the locker room, clearly favoring his right knee.  He waves in response to the outpouring of support, but the once invincible American champ is clearly humbled heading into the tag team competition.

Trey is looking to redeem his individual match loss.
Once again, Trey wears his skin tight red singlet with his shoulder straps hanging from around his waist, the American flag draped across his bulging shoulders.

American Ashton Eaton – 6’1″, 181 lbs., 24 y/o
Ten seconds behind him comes his American teammate, Ashton Eaton, wearing a matching red singlet.  He’s also left his shoulder straps off, displaying the long, lean muscles that have made him the rising new star on the world stage.  As they take up position behind one of the corner posts, the two are strikingly handsome and clearly fan favorites.

Belgian Hans van Alphen
Next to come sprinting out of the locker room and into the infield is the Belgian beauty, Hans van Alphen.  He’s cleaned up and rehydrated from his semi-final humiliation at the hands of Trey, and he’s somehow reclaimed the black and yellow trunks that he lost to the American.

Brit Daniel Awde – 6′, 181 lbs., 24 y/o
For the team competition, Hans has reached across the channel to team up with the Brit wild child, Daniel Awde.  Known for his high flying outrageous risk taking, Daniel has been a wild card on the homoerotic wrestling decathlete circuit.  When the punk rock fanatic lands on top, he’s devastating. When the high risk moves don’t pay off, he frequently knocks himself out of the competition.

Roman Sebrle
When gold medalist Roman Sebrle saunters across the track and into the infield toward the ring, his reputation proceeds him.  Every fan is on his feet, booing and hissing at the vicious champ.  Food and cups are thrown onto the track after him in disgust, but the Czech champ remains above it all, smiling confidently.  For his tag team appearance, he’s dressed only in his signature posing pouch, leaving his gorgeous, lightly hairy glutes bare.

Mihail Dudas – 6’2″, 198 lbs., 29 y/o
Roman has teamed up with the Serb heart throb, bodybeautiful Mihail Dudas.  Mihail’s success on the circuit has been limited, but his ego seems to only exponentially grow regardless of whether he’s on the medal stand in the end.  He’s powerful, vicious, and has been mentored by the gold medalist for the past year, making him simply more of everything that comes natural to him: powerful, merciless, cocky, underhanded. He sports red square cuts with the outline of white palm prints accentuating his astonishingly bubbly muscle butt.
Pascal Behrenbruch
The humiliated German wrestler, Pascal Behrenbruch, is the captain of the final team in the 4-way gold medal match.  The look on his face as he strides across the track toward the infield communicates with crystal clarity.  He’s back to redeem his shockingly pitiful showing in the individual competition.  His smooth, tan body is oiled; his muscles are pumped; and he’s replaced his destroyed golden trunks with a more modest baby blue speedo.

Latvian Darius Draudvila – 6’2″, 198 lbs., 29 y/o
When Pascal’s teammate comes jogging across the track into the infield after him, the gasps from the crowd are audible.  Pascal has passed over his long-time tag team partner, a fellow German heath throb and world class contender, and selected Latvian muscleman Darius Draudvila to join him in his corner. Darius is a long-time world class competitor, but has had only limited success in the ring, making his selection by Pascal that much more mysterious. As he leaps up to the ring apron in a matching baby blue speedo, Pascal grabs him by the back of the head and plants a possessive, lingering, wet kiss, perhaps solving the mystery.
Mihail starts for his team.
Ashton is out to redeem team USA

Kicking off the action, Mihail and Ashton climb into the ring and begin to circle one another.  As they approach one another, the Serb feints as if to go for a collar and elbow but then drives a vicious right hook into the American’s crotch.  Ashton doubles over, setting him up for Mihail’s signature bulldog, driving him face first into the mat.  Roman claps and cheers for his “boy” as the stands roar their disapproval.

Cocky Mihail flexes for the fans.

The young Serb flexes his right bicep as he shoots a cheesy, toothy smile toward the stands, pointing at his muscle. “Look at this gun!” he shouts at the crowd, who drown him out with boos.  When the din dies down, the Serb grabs his crotch and tugs at it. “I’m packing more heat than the rest of these chumps can handle!” He throws his head back and laughs.  His grandstanding is remarkably premature, however, as he’s given Ashton plenty of time to gather his wits and climb to his knees behind him.  Hooking his arms around the Serb’s waist, Ashton lifts him off his feet and then drops him down across his outstretched right thigh, bashing the Serb’s balls and bruising his tailbone.  Mihail is launched forward, landing on his stomach in humiliation, to the roaring cheers of the crowds.  Trey commands his teammate to tag him in, which he does obediently.  Sliding his right foot up between Michail’s legs, he presses against the boy’s bruised balls, making the Serb’s hips rise off the mat and inspiring applause from the stadium.  Trey drags him by his ankles to the center of the ring and twists him to his back.  His eyes riveted on Roman watching helplessly from the corner, Trey pries wide the Serb’s legs and begins methodically stomping his heel into the boy’s balls as the crowds pick up the count.  At “10!,” the American abruptly drops to his knees and pounds his forehead into the Serb’s crotch, bouncing up to his hands and knees to stare furiously at Roman watching from the outside.  Mihail isn’t moving, almost certainly blacked out from the pain, but Trey refuses to count him out.  Instead, with his eyes never leaving Roman’s handsome face, he steps across the ring and tags in Pascal.

Pascal has something to prove

Pascal leaps across the top rope and squats next to Mihail’s head, staring across the ring at Roman.  He rouses the Serb with sharp slaps to his face as Mihail’s eyes flutter open.  The German drags him to his feet by his ears and shoves him back into the ropes.  Pascal traps his arms in the ropes and pounds his fists into his opponent’s abdomen.  After a couple minutes of the mugging, he drops to his knees and yanks the Serb’s flashy red square cuts off his lightly hairy legs.  Pascal shows the trunks to Roman, sneers at the Czech gold medalist, and then stuffs them into Mihail’s mouth. Leaving the Serb trapped in the ropes, Pascal strolls across the ring and tags in Hans.  The Belgian sprints into the ropes opposite Mihail, is catapulted off of them and leaps across the ring, splashing his body into the helpless Serb.  A quick tag to the American corner and Ashton is back in, clawing the Serb’s smooth pecs.  All of the competitors appear united behind the singular purpose of brutalizing the naked Serb.  Ashton tags in Darius who uses his big, bulging shoulders to spear the trapped hunk. Darius quickly tags in Daniel who completes an acrobatic back handspring on his way to leaping high and driving his elbow down into the Serb’s battered pecs.  Roman barks at Mihail, pleading with his protege to resist the temptation to submit.  With his arms bound and his mouth stuffed with his own trunks, it’s not as if Mihail could submit if he wanted to.  10 minutes into the one-sided brutality and Trey tags back into the action.  He finally releases Mihail’s arms from the ropes.  The Serb instantly collapses in a heap at Trey’s feet, spitting the trunks out of his mouth.  Dragged back to his feet by his hair, Mihail gasps when he feels the American’s long, powerful arms wrap him up from behind in a neck wrenching full nelson.  Trey turns Mihail to face his partner, suffering out of arms length, tormented helplessly in front of the gold medalist.  He endures the torment for a full minute, but when the powerful American begins to shake him side to side, Mihail wails, finally forming the words, “I submit!” Roman’s shouts of encouragement to his partner fade as the writing is on the wall: this has turned into a 6-on-1 against the unpopular champ.

Roman is determined to beat the odds

Flinging the Serb violently to the side, Trey sends Mihail rolling underneath the ropes to the ring apron.  Darius hooks his toes underneath the Serb’s shoulder and sends him rolling the rest of the way, tumbling off the ring apron to the infield.  Trey pumps his fists and roars his challenge at the gold medalist.  Slowly, deliberately Roman climbs through the ropes, cautiously keeping his back to the corner as he leans on his knees and glares at the hunk he crushed so humiliatingly 45 minutes earlier.  Trey approaches; they tie up in a collar and elbow.  The American backs the gold medalist into the corner and quickly drives his knee into the pouch of the Czech’s posing trunks.  A hip toss out of the corner sends Roman sliding on his ass into the center of the ring as the stadium roars encouragement to the beautiful American.  Dropping behind the Czech, Trey presses his right knee between the champ’s shoulder blades as he pries Roman’s muscled arms backward.  Roman’s lightly hairy chest stretches painfully as he clenches his eyes tightly, breathing through the pain.  Ashton and Hans shout their encouragement from their respective corners, while Pascal demands to be tagged in.  The American remains focused on exacting revenge on the Czech’s hard body. Abruptly dropping his arms, Trey grabs the spandex fabric of his right shoulder strap and stretches it over Roman’s head.  He chokes the Czech with the shoulder strap, bending Roman backward across his knee.

Pascal just can’t wait to get his hands on Roman!

The Czech’s attempts to pry the strap from this throat slowly weaken. His arms sag to his sides, as he looks like he’s losing his last grip on consciousness.  Unable to resist getting his own revenge for the Czech’s devastating humiliation, Pascal suddenly dives through the ropes and shoves Trey, sending both the American and the Czech tumbling to mat.  In a flash, all 7 remaining contestants are in the ring in a decathlete muscle melee.  Pascal goes to work on Roman while Darius fends off the approach of Hans and Daniel.  The German drags the gold medalist up to his hands and knees, kneels at his side, and reaches his right arm between the Czech’s legs from behind and claws at Roman’s balls.  Roman roars in rage and agony as his hips rise in his opponent’s control.  Controlling the Czech from behind, Pascal directs Roman unsteadily to his feet and then quickly drapes the gold medalist backward across his shoulders. He bounces Roman on top of his shoulders while yanking the gold medalist’s cock and balls out of their pouch.  He yanks so hard on the Czech’s balls it looks like they’re about to rip off; the gold medalist wails and flails.  Darius has managed to fend off the attack of both Hans and Daniel for the moment, locking up the Belgian beefcake in a side headlock while circling away from the stalking Brit.  But he’s out of position to defend his partner once Ashton has done a quick wellness check on Trey and then turned his attention to Pascal.

A stunning heel to the back of Pascal’s right knee drops the German violently to his knees.  Roman rolls backward off of his shoulders and curls in a ball behind him, clutching his testicles. The American takes a wide stance and wraps his right forearm across the German’s throat from behind.  Clutching his left bicep in his right hand, Ashton flexes and quickly presses shut the flow of blood to the blond adonis’ head.   Pascal’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he slips into unconsciousness.  Dropping him to his back, Ashton slaps down a decisive three count to signal that the German is out of the competition.

Darius wails like a wounded animal when he sees his partner kicked unconscious to the infield.  Distracted, he fails to see Trey back on his feet, positioning himself carefully behind him, and then leaping high into the air.  The standing drop kick catches the Latvian muscleman squarely between the shoulder blades. He lunges forward, losing his grip on Hans’ head, and running nose-first into Daniel’s swinging elbow.  Blood gushes down across his lips as he collapses on his knees and elbows.  Ashton joins the fray to drop his leg across the back of Darius’s head, smashing the bashed hunk face first into the mat.  Daniel straddles Darius’ legs and yanks the Latvian hunk’s baby blue trunks off, pressing them to his nose and inhaling deeply.  Trey stands nearby, his hands on his hips, instructing Hans to control Darius’ right ankle and Ashton to grab the hunk’s left ankle.  The boys obediently do so, flipping the Latvian to his back on Trey’s command.  Daniel needs no instruction to instantly schoolboy pin Darius’ shoulders to the mat and dig out his own British beef, shoving his excited head into the Latvian’s gaping mouth.  Darius grunts in desperation, his mouth full of the Brit’s excitement.  Trey takes a leisurely stroll around the triple-teamed competitor before placing the ball of his right foot on Darius’ shaved balls, pressing them firmly to the mat.  Darius’ muffled wails rise an octave in panic.  With four men holding him down, he’s completely immobile. Trey finally taps Daniel on the shoulder from behind. “I think he’s trying to tell us something.”  Daniel reluctantly slides his now fully-engorged cock out of the hunk’s mouth, and instantly the Latvian screams, “I give!!!”

Hans flexes his devastating muscles

Somehow the boys have managed to forget that the dangerous Czech is still in the ring and going for another gold.  While they’ve been working over Darius, Roman has rallied his strength, caught his breath, and climbed to his feet.  The crowds begin to scream in panic to warn the others, but the remaining competitors mistake their cries of warning for praise for their exquisite manhandling of the Latvian.  Roman slides his thick thighs out of this posers and sneaks up behind Trey.  A half a second after Darius submits, Roman wraps the sweat-soaked fabric around the American’s throat and drags him backward, as the Czech backs defensively into a corner.  Daniel remains gleefully ignorant of what’s happening as he dick-whips Darius’ face, but Ashton and Hans are cautiously approaching the two gold medal finalists.  Roman frantically twists the fabric in his hands, making Trey’s face blanch as the American drops weakly to his knees.  In a flash, Hans dives overtop of Trey and drives his shoulder into Roman’s upper abdomen. As Ashton drags his partner out of the way, Hans yanks Roman out of the corner by his right wrist and sends him sprinting across the ring.  Roman’s back crashes into the far turnbuckle, and a moment later Hans his whipping him out of that corner and sending him crashing into the opposite corner.  A third whip into the corner sets up the Belgian to charge in afterward, lunging low to spear the gold medalist in the abdomen, but the Czech manages to lift his right leg at the last moment and let Hans’ momentum sending him chin-first crashing into Roman’s heel.  The blow whips the Belgian’s head backward violently. He crashes to his back with a bang, lying motionless. Gasping, the sweat-soaked, the Czech drops to his knees and crawls over top of the Belgian hunk, slapping down a 3-count and knocking him out of the competition.

Trey screams for Daniel to stop playing around!
Daniel lusts for making somebody suffer

The Americans are on their feet and screaming at Daniel to toss Darius out of the ring and focus on Roman.  Ashton grabs the naked Czech and drags him off of Hans, pulling him on his hands and knees into the center of the ring.  Daniel is finally back on board having disposed of his Latvian plaything.  Trey barks instructions as Ashton applies an immobilizing full nelson on the Czech, stretching his torso vulnerably.  Daniel starts using the gold medalist as a punching bag, landing a barrage of fists that slap wetly into the muscled core of the Czech.  The smile stretching from ear to ear testifies to the Brit’s joy at bullying the veteran bruiser.   Abruptly the Brit stops the pounding to grab Roman by the chin and spit in his face. Trey barks commands for Daniel to resume the beating, but the Brit takes a moment to slide his tongue into the Czech’s gaping mouth.  Ashton and Trey are both barking furiously at the Brit now, and Daniel pulls away reluctantly. “Okay!” he snaps at Trey angrily.  Cocking his fist next to his right ear, Daniel takes aim for a savage jab into the Czech’s nose.  As his fist shoots forward, the exhausted Czech slides downward, lubricated by streams of sweat, slipping out of Ashton’s full nelson.  Daniel’s fist connects with Ashton’s chin, knocking him to his ass as his eyes roll up into his head.  Trey angrily shoves Daniel in the pecs, screaming at him, which only serves to spark the Brit’s short fuse.  Daniel ducks low, wrapping his arms around Trey’s waist and lifting the American off his feet before spearing him to the mat.  The Brit lands a barrage of fists to Trey’s handsome face as he straddles the American’s waist.  Ashton is fighting to hold onto consciousness, unable to come to his partner’s defense.  Daniel beats the shit out of Trey for over a minute before he feels the hot, sweaty bicep wrap around his throat from behind.  Roman kneels behind him, falling backward and pulling Daniel on top of him in a rear choke.   A minute later, the Czech tosses the once raging Brit to the mat and slaps down a 3-count to signal he’s out of the competition.

Roman’s gorgeous body glistens as he climb to the top turnbuckle.

The Czech is still facing a 2-on-1 showdown, but his odds have improved considerably from earlier in the match.  Both Americans are sitting up, trying to clear their heads, as Roman has already reached his feet.  His sculpted, naked body glistens in the stadium lights.  His chest heaves as he struggles to oxygenate his overtaxed muscles.  Like the champ he is, however, he fights through his exhaustion to stumble to the nearest corner and climb slowly, unsteadily, to the top turnbuckle.  The Americans are oblivious as they both struggle slowly to their feet at the same time, bending foward and resting their hands on their knees as their lungs heave.  The stadium is screaming warning at them, but they have no idea where to look.  Roman crouches, poised on the top ropes, waiting.  As they stand up straight and turn toward Roman’s corner at the same time, the Czech leaps off the top turnbuckle, catching both American’s across the throat with a double clothesline.  All three men slam into the mat and lie there motionless for nearly half a minute as the stadium seems close to a riot.  Slowly, Roman drags himself overtop of Ashton, pinning the American’s shoulders to the mat.  Ashton’s eyes snap open in surprise and he tries to lift his shoulders, but Roman counts him out relying on gravity to keep the exhausted American flat on his back.

Trey cannot believe it’s back to just him and Roman!

The Czech has been defying odds and expectations all night long, and despite the ill-will he generated from the fans earlier, a growing contingent are slowly picking up the chant of his name, signaling their hard-won support.  “Ro-man! Ro-man!” a minority in the crowd pulses as both Trey and Roman struggle to peel themselves off the mat for the final submission or count out.  Shockingly, it’s the iron-willed veteran who makes it to his knees first.  Roman lunges on top of Trey, shoving the American to his back and slapping down a quick 2-count.  The powerful American throws his opponent off of him before he can be counted out.  Once again, Roman beats him off the mat and pins Trey’s shoulders down, hooking his right leg this time.  Again, he manages to slap down a 2-count, but Trey kicks free of the cradle and lifts his shoulder before he’s counted out.  Frustrated, the Czech climbs, stumbling, to his feet and begins to drag Trey up by a fistful of hair.  Before the American makes it to his feet, he manages to yank Roman’s feet out from underneath him, dropping the Czech to his back.  Trey slides around to straddle the Czech’s face, folding Roman’s legs upward and hooking the gold medalist’s ankles underneath his arms.  Roman’s exposed, lightly hairy ass glistens with sweat as the stadium roars still louder.  His face is pinned underneath Trey’s muscled ass.  His legs are spread eagled and folded up over his head.  He tries to kick free, but the crowd joins the American in finally, exhaustingly, counting out the Czech muscleman.

Trey celebrates an exhausting, tag team victory!

Hans quickly dives back inside the ring and helps both Ashton and Trey up to their feet, lifting the American’s hands in the air in victory.  As the team gold medals are handed into the ring, it’s Hans who takes the liberty to drape them around the champion’s necks.  The stadium crowd roars their approval, having witnessed tonight both the shortest and the longest homoerotic wrestling matches in history.  The celebration continues for several minutes.  Beneath the roaring din of the crowd, Trey leans over and shouts something into Hans’ ear.  The Belgian beefcake blushes and then nods.  Bending forward, he peels off his trunks and tosses them into a corner. His big Belgian cock is already semi-erect.  Taking himself in hand, he strokes himself fully erect as Trey and Ashton surround him.  Trey squeezes his ass and Ashton delightedly pinches the Belgian’s nipples.  When the three men step away to stand side by side again, Trey’s gold medal is hanging proudly from the Belgian’s rod.  The camera flashes are blinding as the roaring stadium celebrates world class Olympic-quality homoerotic wrestling.

Team Gold Medalists: Americans Ashton Eaton and Trey Hardee
Hans van Alphen gets to wear gold, after all!

Olympic Spirit Newsbreak

Gold medalist wrestling gymnast, Great Britain’s Louis Smith

The final rounds of my homoerotic wrestling fantasy from the Olympics are still to come, but for today let’s recap the standings and review some related news.  First, the medal count as it stands today:

German team wrestling gymnasts are still gloating over their smoking hot gold medal performance.
Italian Fabio Scozzoli owns 1/2 of the gold medal for tag team wrestling swimmers.

Tied for the lead are the hometown boys, Great Britain, sharing the top spot with the Germans.  Since it’s my imagination, I can award half-golds to Italy and Brazil, because I tossed Fabio and Marcelo into the ring together despite being from different countries. It’s my imagination, after all.

Gold medal wrestling swimmer, Michael Phelps, showers off after owning punk ass Ryan Lochte!

Yesterday was also a gold medal day for neverland.  QueerMeNow included the Olympic Spirit series in their list of the softcore pornification of the Olympics (woo-hoo!).  Thanks largely to that upstanding referral source, this blog had more than 4,700 hits yesterday! Thanks, QMN for introducing homoerotic wrestling kink to more of the main stream gays.

German cyclist Robert Forstemann is looking for more hunks to crush with his monster quads after winning wrestling gold.

The Olympic Spirit series has generated a lot of positive feedback. Thanks for that! I was just discussing with another author how the default with homoerotic wrestling writing (and other writing, for all I know) is no feedback, good or bad, which is hard not to interpret as bad.  I assure you that a little praise goes a long way, especially with my woefully weak ego strength!

This is Henrik Rummel not excited… just imagine…

In addition to the excitement of our very own homoerotic wrestling Olympics, some of the Olympians have been making mainstream news for all the right reasons. Take this extremely entertaining tid bit (or should I say, tid monster) from the rowing mens-4 podium, in which American Henrik Rummel has been seen (over, and over, and over again thanks to YouTube), packing a spare oar in the front of his skin tight trunks.  Hilariously, Henrik (who seems to have an extremely hot sense of humor), has publicly assured the world of two key facts: 1) he didn’t stuff his trunks AND 2) that’s not an erection. The boy assures us that he’s just that fucking big even when flaccid. Rock on, Henrik! If I’d known the tools you bring with you, there’s a good chance you’d have been a semi-finalist in my homoerotic wrestling imagination!

Danell Leyva consoles himself after losing the gymnastics wrestling gold medal by publishing pics of his world class physique.

Further news that has delighted me is seeing American gymnast Daniel Leyva  everywhere on the net and in most instances shirtless.  It seems that Danell gets his kicks by sending pics of himself naked/nearly so to people (okay, reportedly he sends them to women… whatever) that he doesn’t know.  Call me Brenda and put me in your cue, Danell!  An over-the-shoulder mirror shot of your naked ass could easily earn you a rematch with Louis Smith!

Matthew Mitcham enjoys taking an intimate shot at/with Danell.

Clearly, you and I aren’t the only gay men with a crush on (or a desire to crush and/or be crushed by) exhibitionist hunk Danell.  The only openly gay male athlete competing in London (if you don’t count equestrians… which I don’t… someone can convince me that equestrians are athletes if I see evidence of their athletic bodies naked), Australian diver Matthew Mitcham seems to have been very pleased to cuddle close with Danell for a pic in the Olympic village.  Mattie tweeted this shot with the status “Boom! Just bumped into Danell Leyva in the dining hall!”  Keep booming and bumping, Mattie!  Somehow, I’m guessing Matthew would like me to forward the ass shot that Danell texts me.

Out, sculpted, powerful, flexible… Matthew Mitcham is an instant contender for gold.

Speaking of Matthew Mitcham, I’ve had a couple of requests for specific divers to show up in an all-divers homoerotic wrestling fantasy round robin.  Initially, I’ve resisted this because I’m helplessly writing more and more detail with each competition, and diving just wasn’t in my top tier of sports to feature.  But between ogling Matthew and having a reader strongly recommend a close up feature of Troy Dumais’ massive package, I’m working them into circulation.  When it comes to homoerotic anything, however, I’m just putting the field on notice: it doesn’t require much imagination at all to figure that adorable Mattie is inherently world class.

American hunk and Greco Roman wrestler Ellis Coleman (r) makes Matt Lauer beg.

The final news in this wrap up is a fluff piece (so to speak) from this morning’s Today Show.  Newboy hunk Matt Lauer and weatherman Al Roker have made quite a schtick out of having Olympic athletes demonstrate their expertise at the expense of Lauer and Roker’s dignity.  Today, the Today Show boys hit the mats to learn about Greco-Roman wrestling (yes, my homoerotic wrestling radar just alarmed!).  This spot introduced me to one of the most adorable faces I’ve seen in London, American wrestler Ellis Coleman and his heart-melting dimples.  The schtick plays stripper music as Coleman and his heavyweight teammate peel out of their warm-ups and adjust their junk in their skin-tight singlets.  Ellis is paired up with Lauer to show him some moves.

Matt Lauer a few years back, showing off a hairy, hunky beach bod.

Lauer asks why Ellis is known as “the flying squirrel,” and in response, without a word, the world class wrestler leaps over the newsboy’s back, slides down to his feet, hooks his arms around Lauer’s waist and hoists him off his feet in an inverted reverse bearhug, looking for everything like he’s inches away from piledriving the anchor.  Lauer screams like… a… bitch, begging for Ellis to let him down.  Holy fuck!  Ellis’ rocking, lean body is every inch matched by a fantastic pro-ready personality.  Near the end of the bit, he effortlessly hoists Lauer off his feet and drapes the newsboy across his shoulders. When Lauer doesn’t seem to be feeling it enough, the Olympic hottie bounces up and down and yanks down on the big anchor’s trapped body until Lauer is, yet again, begging in humiliation for Ellis to let him go.  A newsboy and an Olympian wrestling fantasy?!  This piece has “Bard” written all over it!

Gorgeously handsome Ellis surrounds himself with shirtless hotness.

The piece also immediately propels adorable Greco Roman wrestling hunk Ellis into the lead to compete in a homoerotic wrestling wrestler fantasy in the near future.  It took just about 30 seconds of screen time to convince me that Ellis is ready for the big time. I haven’t yet scoped out his competition, but I have to think a wink and a flash of those dimples could make the difference between gold and also-ran in my homoerotic wrestling imagination.  Look for more from gorgeous Ellis soon.

Ellis grabs the homoerotic wrestling world’s attention!