More Olympic Spirit

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The Buzz of the 2012 Olympics: Robert Forstemann’s monster quads (r)
Did you see the leg Tweet from London that’s rocked the world? German road cyclist Andre Griepel dropped trou next to German track sprinter Robert Forstemann to compare world class quads. Griepel has won stages of the Tour de France. Stick your head between those puppies and I bet he’d have you screaming for mercy in seconds. But Forstemann’s quads are fucking HUGE! Anything you stick between those beasts isn’t coming back in one piece! Obviously, a road cyclist probably shouldn’t challenge a sprinter to a quad-off… unless his real motive is to get his pants off of him (mission accomplished!). Perhaps more provocatively, this pic demonstrates that even among world class athletes in the Olympic village, each of their bodies likely representing hundreds of thousand (if not millions) of dollars worth of private and public investment, when it comes right down to it, boys will be boys. The real question these boys want to know when they show up with the best athletes in the world? Who’s is bigger?
I’m the first to admit that I don’t follow competitive cycling. I have no idea if thighs that would make a juiced pro bodybuilder weep with envy necessarily translate into gold medal track cycling. But I do know one thing: a homoerotic wrestling competition starring these monster quads would pack the stands with the likes of you and me!

Sir “Golden Thighs” Chris Hoy – 6’1″, 200 lbs., 36 years old, 27″ inch thighs!
Once the IOC awards their medals, let’s get the vanilla crowd out of the velodrome, set-up the pro wrestling ring in the middle, and line up the boys of spandex for a no-holds-barred round robin for national pride, personal glory, and bragging rights.  For the first semi-final, former Olympic champion and legendary monster quad king, Sir Christopher Andrew Hoy (MBE), jogs to the ring in mid-thigh length spandex bike shorts with the Scottish flag emblazoned across his massive muscled glutes. Dubbed by the British press as Sir “Golden Thighs” (I kid you not), the powerhouse Scot has been bringing the competition to its knees on the track. Now it’s time to see how he does in the ring!

Teun Mulder – 6′, 198 lbs., 31 years old

Approaching the ring to face Sir Christopher is the Dutch phenom, Teun Mulder, dressed in mid-thigh orange spandex biker shorts. He pumps his fists into the air as he stands at ringside, staring defiantly up at his heavily favored opponent. Sir Chris grins back, points at his golden thighs, and flexes them, giving the Dutch underdog a wink.

The initial couple of minutes are a game of cat and mouse. The supremely cocky Scot stalks the Dutchman with that cold, steely grin, as Teun dances around the perimeter of the ring, delaying the inevitable lock up. Diving to one knee, he takes a surprise single leg that drops Sir Christopher to his mouthwatering ass. A couple of lightening fast heel strikes to Chris’ hamstrings reveals Teun’s strategy for coming out on top: incapacitate the golden thighs! Sir Christopher didn’t get inducted into the Order of the British Empire for his winning smile, though. As Teun repeatedly focuses on picking away at his powerhouse upper legs, Chris muscles his way out of each predicament before the Dutchman can mount a sustained offense. Teun goes for a single leg once too often, landing him flat on his stomach with the pride of Great Britain riding his muscled ass and cinching on a cross face chicken wing. Teun quickly becomes Chris’ plaything. He’s repeatedly dragged up by the hair and then dropped to his knees with a gut busting battering ram of a knee lift.  “You like being on your knees?” The Scot chuckles. Shoulder blocks and knee lifts in the corner leave the Dutchman breathless and quickly approaching helpless.  Chris drags him back to the center of the ring by his hair, Teun crawling on his hands and knees, before snapping his golden thighs around the Dutchman’s ears and prying his arms straight upward, behind his back, until the back of Teun’s hands press together. The pride of Netherland wails, muffled and humiliated between the big Brits quads, but he doesn’t submit. The Scotsman finally drops Teun’s arms and wipes the sweat from his brow before flashing a double-bicep to the roaring crowd of homoerotic wrestling fanatics filling the velodrome. He lets the Dutchman’s head go free, but seconds later Teun is screaming on the mat, Chris’ golden thighs squeezing his ribs as Sir Hoy laces his ankles together and leans back on one elbow, admiring his world class physique. He flexes a bicep, ignoring the Dutchman’s screams of submission. Teun screams his submission. It’s over, but Sir Christopher doesn’t give a royal fuck. “Say you submit, ‘Sir Christopher!'” he barks at the Dutchman. “Say it!” he snaps when Teun doesn’t immediately respond. “I… submit, Sir Christopher…” Teun gasps.  You’d think that was enough humiliation, but no.  The next 5 minutes are a loudspeaker message delivered to his future competitors. Sir Chris can squeeze those tree trunks long and brutally hard. Teun’s limbs flop in agonized desperation as he wails and weeps, even as Sir Chris shoves his hand down his own shorts, grabs his Scottish beef, and wrestles it to a raging erection stretching long and thick toward his hip. The 3 ribs that crack in the Dutchman have him screeching like a wounded animal for only a minute before he passes out from the pain. Then, and only then, Sir Chris relents, rises to his feet, pumping his fists overhead, and giving the Dutchman a contemptuous kick in his damaged rib cage.

Sir Golden Thighs advances to the gold medal match

The crowd roars frightfully as Sir Christopher Hoy flexes for their enjoyment. When he places his hands on the top of his striated, mammoth muscled glutes and flexes them, the stomping in the stands shakes the entire building. Even after Sir Chris retires to the locker room and the medics scoop up the broken Dutchman, the crowd continues to roar insatiably.

Robert Forstemann – 5’8″, 198 lbs., 26 years old, 32″ thighs!

When the German phenom, Robert Forstemann comes padding slowly toward the ring, they are hushed almost in an instant. Walking up to ringside, fans can’t restrain themselves from reaching out and touching his beasts.

Thrill of a lifetime, as a fan gets up close and personal with Forstemann’s thighs

One worshipper is on his knees, begging the German to let him measure them. Robert looks down at him with a sneer, puts his hands on his hips, and then nods. The fan gasps. His eyes flutter. He leans in, his lips pressing against the bulging quads. Robert plants the palm of his left hand across the worshippers face and shoves him away, continuing his trek to the ring. He’s peels off his skin tight lyrca top once in the ring, leaving him wearing only black and yellow square cuts straining to stretch the circumference of his thighs.

Robert’s upper body is nothing to scoff at, either!

The sight of Robert’s naked torso makes the crowd gasp.  Quadzilla is packing beef above the waist, as well!

Big Dawk – 6’1″, 216 lbs., 21 years old

The lucky bastard who clearly has the cards stacked against him in this draw is New Zealand’s own Eddie Dawkins, or, as he insists on being called, Big Dawk.  When Big Dawk climbs into the ring, he stares down at the German phenom from a 5 inch height advantage. Somehow, the term “advantage” seems inappropriate to describe the Kiwi’s position as the match begins. A collar and elbow tie up results in Big Dawk lifted off his feet and thrown backward into the corner turnbuckle several feet away. He charges at a roaring sprint back toward his superhuman opponent, only to be caught low around the waist, lifted off his feet, twisted in mid-air and pounded crashing to his back with the German crouching overtop of him. Dawk momentarily has no oxygen in his lungs as his mouth gapes open. Robert kneels on one knee, straddling his opponent’s neck, and yanks the Kiwi’s head off the mat by his hair, shoving Dawk’s gasping mouth against the German’s crotch.  The crowd is enraptured with the German’s dominance. A scoop up followed by a ring-shaking body slam back to the mat results in Dawk’s lower back arched high off the mat in agony and the crowd clapping.  A whip into the ropes, Dawk sprinting out of control back toward his opponent, and a vicious elbow to the throat leaves the Kiwi flailing on his back, clutching his throat, choking for air, and the crowd clapping even louder.  Robert once again scoops his opponent up in his arms, cleans Big Dawk up to his collarbone, and then  jerks his human barbell straight-armed over head, parading in a slow circuit around the ring to treat the entire Velodrome to the stunning sight of his power. The clapping rises, punctuated by stomps and whistles, then suddenly silences when Robert slams his opponent back to the mat. The crowd is hushed as the big German strolls hands-on-hips leisurely around his opponent, who’s rolled into the fetal position in the center of the ring, completely at his mercy. Fans scream their requests. “Head scissors!!!” “Pile driver!!!”  But the German acknowledges no one but the groaning mass of battered muscle at his feet. He drags the wasted Kiwi up off the mat by his hair, grinding Big Dawk’s handsome face in his swelling, sweaty crotch once again with the Kiwi on his knees. Then up by his ears, Robert muscles the knee-buckling Kiwi to his unsteady feet. He releases Dawk’s ears, and instantly the Kiwi starts to sag back to his knees, but Robert catches him around the waist, locking his bulging arms around Dawk’s waist and lacing his fingers together in the small of the Kiwi’s lower back. Dawk’s height advantage makes the hold look unlikely at first, but the German has done an expert job of quickly softening up his back, and although his legs are clearly his strongest weapon, Robert’s bulging shoulders and biceps are no less world class than the rest of him. He leans back slightly, squeezing the bearhug tightly and rolling Big Dawk up to the balls of his feet. Dawk groans, his head rolling backward. Robert leans back farther, eliciting a shout of agony from his opponent, whose knees instinctively rise to Robert’s hips and squeeze, trying to lift him out of the most painful position and lessen the backbreaking agony. Robert squeezes harder, his face buried in the big man’s sweaty chest, and Dawk wails. Suddenly he swings left and right, over and over, and the Kiwi’s arms flail limply at his sides like a rag doll. The Kiwi lasts another half a minute of torture with the crowd screaming and roaring their encouragement to the German, and then Big Dawk screams, “I give!,” patting frantically at the German’s mountainous shoulder. Robert flings him to the mat and flexes a double bicep to the insane roar of the crowd. Holy fuck! He didn’t even bother really using his monster quads to completely squash Big Dawk!

Robert looks toward the locker room to see what all the commotion is about.

There’s a sudden change in the tenor of the roaring crowd. From the aisle leading to the locker room, there’s almost a desperate pitch that rises from the stands. Robert drops his arms and looks in the direction of the fevered pitch. Sir Christopher Alexander Hoy is jogging slowly down the aisle toward the ring, looking like he’s ready to eat the German phenom for lunch.

Sir Golden Thighs doesn’t wait for the gold medal match to start.
The Scot leaps up to the ring apron and leans against the top rope. He holds his arms out to his sides, clearly challenging the German to settle the gold medal competition right here, right now. It seems hardly sporting, since Sir Chris has had some recovery time, while Robert is coated in sweat and standing overtop of his crushed semi-final opponent.  Sir Chris knows full well that the cocky German isn’t about to back down from a direct challenge in front of this crowd.  As the Scot ducks inside the ropes, Big Dawk is crawling as quickly as he can for the ring apron to steer clear of the clash of titans about to explode.
Sir Chris is pumped and ready.
Robert isn’t about to back down from a challenge!
This battle has been brewing for years. In track cycling competition, these competing quadzillas have been clean as a whistle, but it’s been no secret behind the scenes that there’s no love lost between them. Recently when asked about Sir Chris’ popular title as Sir Golden Thighs, Robert laughed, peeled off his pants, flexed his monsters, and sneered, “Then these must be platinum!”  When told about the slight, the Scot promised to “melt that bitch down and sell him for scrap, then!” As they begin to slowly circle the ring, warily keeping their distance at first, the lust pulsing from the stands is palpable. Robert is breathing heavily, his semi-final match just moments behind him. Sir Chris bounces on the balls of his feet, looking decidedly fresher. A quick collar and elbow tie up and Robert is uncharacteristically backed slowly into the corner by the bigger man. Sir Chris sneers down at him, releasing his hold and slapping his face humiliatingly before backing away. Enraged, Robert charges like a bull out of the corner, catching the Scot with his shoulder, lifting him off his feet, and driving him all the way to the opposite corner. The German spears him against the turnbuckle, folding the Scot in half. Grabbing the ropes, he launches his power packed body like a battering ram, using his leg strength to pummel Sir Chris’ lower abdomen with a dozen shoulder blocks as the crowd picks up the count excitedly. When he finally backs cautiously away, Sir Chris falls to his knees, clutching bright red gut. Robert clenches his fists and roars, quickly echoed by the roaring crowd of fans in the stands. When he approaches to continue the offense, the kneeling Brit slams his fist into his balls. Robert’s jaw drops open dumbly. He crumbles to his knees, clutching his testicles. Sir Chris rises to his feet, smiling and nodding to the screaming fans. Spreading his golden thighs in a wide stance, he grabs the back of the young German’s head and crushes Robert’s face into his crotch. The Scot’s cock begins to swell as he pumps his hips, grinding his crotch into the German’s stunned face.  The crowd seems to be turning, beginning to chant, “Sir Chris, Sir Chris!” He nods his acknowledgement to them, but quiets them with one hand signaling for silence. The din almost instantly disappears in anticipation. Shoving the back of Robert’s head downward, he slides the German’s head between his golden thighs and clamps on his gold medal vice around the kid’s ears. No one escapes from those thighs! The roof of the velodrome is nearly blown off as the crowd reacts. Sir Chris flexes his double biceps in answer to the worshiping din of the nearly apoplectic crowd. The German phenom kneels clutching at the Scot’s crushing muscles clamped to the side of his head. Sir Chris milks the moment for several minutes, playing with the crowd, flexing, smiling, winking. Finally, he lifts his forefinger to his lips, signaling for silence, which the obedient crowd responds to in an instant. “Ready to submit?!” Sir Chris shouts at the broad, muscled back kneeling before him. There’s no reply. “I said, ready to submit, you fucking shit!?” Placing the palms of his hands along the outside of his quads, he squeezes that much harder. Robert’s body shakes. His knees rise off the mat and then fall back down as his hands reach around to the back of the thighs capturing him, trying to pry his head free. “Say you submit, ‘Sir Christopher!'” the Scot demands. “Say you submit, Sir Chri…” His words are choked off as the German suddenly pulls his feet beneath him and squats low. With a grunt, Robert presses upward, lifting Sir Chris off his feet, his golden thighs still wrapped like a vice around Robert’s head. The sheer power and pluck of the determined German seems to turn the majority of the crowd back to his side. They cheer for him, pleading with him not to submit. He squats low, his opponent draped across his back, but slowly presses up to stand fully erect. Sir Chris hangs upside down from his opponent’s back, his legs squeezing as hard as they can, but losing position as he slides slowly down his sweaty opponent. Prying at the slick hamstrings clutching at his temples, Robert suddenly pops his head free, and Sir Chris drops in a heap behind him.  Robert is dizzy, still dazed from the brain crushing leg scissors, but Sir Chris is clearly demoralized. No one has ever failed to submit to his leg scissors before! When he climbs back to his knees, he pleads for mercy from the German, whose fierce, fixed gaze makes the Scot’s blood turn to ice. Robert unleashes a brutal attack. He sends Sir Chris corner to corner, splashing down on top of him each time. A whip off the ropes and a knee to the crotch evens the score for the raging German, as Sir Chris flips over entirely in mid-air, crashing to his back and clutching his throbbing crown jewels. As Sir Chris is already nearly out of it, Robert rips the Scottish flag spandex shorts off his body by the seams and throws them into the crowd, causing a near riot at ringside. Dragging the Brit to his knees, he steps his monster quads around Sir Chris’s head and flexes, a tit-for-tat standing head scissors. Sir Chris flails, his screams muffled deep between the mass of muscle locked onto his head. Robert rewards the fan following with an upper body muscle show, flexing his biceps, displaying a massively thick lat spread, pumping out a most muscular. Finally he drops his arms and the crowd again grows hushed in anticipation. The German bends forward, locks his arms around his opponent’s waist, and hoists the former champion to hang upside down, vertically, Sir Chris’ head still locked immovably between the monster quads. Gracefully, the German drops to his knees, spreading his legs and driving the top of his opponent’s head into the mat. Sir Chris bounces and then crumples in a heap, not moving. Robert rolls him to his back, pins his face beneath his crotch, and hooks the Scot’s right knee, folding the big man up and pinning his shoulders to the mat. With his free hand, Robert slaps his palm down as the crowd slowly counts to 3. Robert continues to slap, and the crowd quickly picks up the count to 10. The German continues slapping, and the excitement in the crowd continues to rise as the count reaches 20.  He kneels, his opponent’s face between his legs, and pumps his fist in victory.

Muscles from head to toe!
The tag team competition for track cyclists happens no more than 30 minutes later, so it’s a wonder that both Robert and Sir Chris make it back to ringside for yet another match. Team competition is nothing like 1-on-1, though. The 3-way battle features favored team Germany, led by gold medalist wrestling champ Robert and his big, bruising teammate Stefan Nimke. They sport matching black and yellow square cuts.
The German team in the locker room celebrates Robert’s victory by stripping his rock hard ripped torso, led by tag team partner Stefan Nimke (r)!
Team GB has a clearly winded Sir Christopher Hoy looking for revenge with his teammate and protege, Jason Kenny. Sir Chris has replaced his lost trunks with matching Union Jack square cuts identical to Jason’s gear.

Team GB is ready for some satisfaction.

The final team to make the medal round is from New Zealand. Big Dawk is back, this time with teammate Simon van Velthooven.  They sport green speedos, and as they take up position on the ring apron behind their corner, Big Dawk is feverishly whispering instructions in his partner’s ear.

Big Dawk is looking for redemption.
Handsome Simon is seriously focused on the competition at hand!

The opening match-up is a proxy grudge confrontation between the big German, Stefan and Sir Chris’ protege, Jason.

Nimke is nearly as massive as his teammate!
Sweet Jason looks ripped and ready for a fight.

Stefan dominates the smaller man handily. He backs him into the German corner and drives 3 breath-stealing knee lifts into the kid’s abdomen before tagging in gold medalist Robert. Having already been victorious in 2 matches this evening, Robert looks as fresh as clean laundry. He pummels the kids’ chest with pounding forearms that drive Jason down until he’s sitting on the middle turnbuckle. Then the German claws underhanded at Jason’s lean pecs, lifting the kid back to his feet. Sir Chris screams encouragement and instructions from across the ring, but his junior partner is getting mauled by the Germans. Another tag, and Stefan is back in, brutalizing Jason’ lean abs. Fists, knees, a couple of sharp stomps with the big German holding onto the ropes for balance and leverage. Sir Chris is nearly beside himself screaming for the Germans to let his protege out of the corner. Stefan pauses from delivering a series of knee lifts, allowing Jason to sag back down to the middle turnbuckle, in order to flip the GB champion a middle finger salute. The insult enrages the Scot, who dives through the ropes and charges across the ring. Big Robert is there to head him off before he can rescue his partner.  A kick to the lower abdomen doubles Sir Golden Thighs over, setting him up perfectly for Robert’s arm around his throat, dropping to the mat and bulldogging the Brit. The fans are on their feet. Stefan wraps his big hands around Jason’s throat and lifts the kid straight-armed into the air. Jason kicks and gurgles, hanging by his neck from the powerful German’s hands.  In the center of the ring, Robert takes advantage of his stunned opponent to rip off Sir Chris’ trunks for the second time tonight, once again nearly causing a riot as he flings the shreds of fabric into the stands. Sir Chris is shaking his head, rising to his hands slowly, when Robert leaps into the air, stretches his massive right leg out parallel to the mat, and drops his leg directly onto the back of Sir Chris’ head. Sir Chris’ face smashes to the mat, blood shooting out like a fountain from the Scot’s busted nose. Stefan heaves Jason across the ring, sending the kid skidding to a halt on his back next to his mentor. Stefan is on him in a flash, though, grabbing his waistband and shredding the Union Jack trunks off of him in one powerful jerk. Flinging the fabric into the crowd, Stefan drags Jason to his knees by a handful of hair as Robert does the same to the nearly unconscious Sir Chris. The German’s apply identical sleeper holds, kneeling behind their battered opponents so that the Brits can watch each other being destroyed.  Sir Chris watches in horror as his partner goes slack in front of him. 20 seconds later, he’s joined him in la-la land.

Flinging the Brits to the mat in disgust, the Germans stand and turn to the as-yet completely silent New Zealand corner. If they thought their humiliation and destruction of team GB would inspire fear in the Kiwis, they were mistaken. Eddie and Simon are already sprinting across the ring by the time the German’s have turned around. The Kiwis deliver simultaneous, side-by-side clotheslines that drop the German’s flat on their backs. The lighter Kiwis don’t pack as much power as their remaining opponents, but they’re fresh as daisies compared to the Deutchers soaked in sweat and dazed on the mat. Eddie concentrates on sweet revenge, stomping heel strikes all over Robert’s massive muscle body. Simon concentrates on dismantling Stefan, similarly stomping and dropping knees into the big man’s groin. They don’t give the Germans even a half second to recover, eventually dropping to their knees and pounding their fists into the quivering cores of the German powerhouses. Side-by-side, the Kiwis schoolboy pin their opponents and pound their fists into the fading men’s faces. The stunned Germans are close to knocked out when Eddie calls a halt to the mugging. Barking instructions to Simon that no one else can hear over the eardrum splitting din of the crowd, they scoot backward, down the bodies of their opponents, and yank the German’s trunks down their gargantuan legs. Eddie goes to throw Robert’s trunks into the crowd, but then stops, sneering at the screaming fans, shaking his head and then tucking the trunks into his own waistband to hold onto as a souvenir. Simon does the same, and the Kiwis drag the German’s up to a seated position by handfuls of hair. Kneeling behind them, they lock on sleepers identical to those that the Germans had just used to dispatch the still unconscious Brits lying nearby. Robert is knocked out first, followed about 15 seconds later by a helpless Stefan.  The Kiwis pump their fists into the air to roaring cheers, jeers and boos from the nearly rioting crowds of homoerotic wrestling fans.  Team gold goes to New Zealand!

Big Dawk brings home some gold after all!
Simon flexes his guns as he stares down at the limp bodies of the outmuscled competition.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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I’ve spent so much time and lustful attention focused on London these past few days.  World class athletes in competition there and in my homoerotic wrestling imagination are certainly entertaining. But I’d trade them all for a hot, sweaty, hard pounding homoerotic wrestling match any day! Nominees for homoerotic wrestler of the month are surprisingly plentiful. There are several new releases from the mainstays, and I’m including a couple of nominees from relatively new productions. I’m no longer on Thunder’s comp list, so I just haven’t been tracking them lately (though new curly haired blond tattooed boy, Archer, gets a double-take from me on the splash page). I don’t think Can-Am has produced a new wrestling vid in a couple of months, so nothing from them on my radar. But even still, there’s an extremely elite and high caliber field of hunks I’m happy to line-up as legitimate contenders of the homoerotic wrestler of the month title for new releases in July.

First up, let’s just get the elephant in the room on the table (which is a very fun mixed metaphor). Eli Black is not only a 2-time homoerotic wrestler of the month (and therefore an instant contender to be the first to 3-peat), but he starred in a mind-boggling 4 matches released in July! In addition to his 3 scorching hot mat scraps in his BG East Wrestler Spotlight, he also appeared in the summer beef fest known as the latest tag team match for Rock Hard Wrestling. He very well may be in a UCW release as well, but I just haven’t worked them into my regular diet yet (check with Joe, who is at this moment featured on the front page of UCW!). Austin Cooper gets a nomination for both his Babyface Brawl with a completely new, granite carved Cameron Mathews (obviously also nominated!), but also for his part of the aforementioned Rock Hard Wrestling Tag Team bash with fellow nominee and former title holder, Jake Jenkins, and long, lovely, sexy Alexi Ivanov.  Rookies grabbing hold of my attention with both hands and stroking what I like are two of Eli’s spotlight opponents, Victor Paz (who looks to me like a more handsome version of A-Rod), and bubble-butted Lorenzo Lowe (who looks to me almost exactly like my first boyfriend, I kid you not). Gil Barrios and former homoerotic wrestler of the month, Christian Taylor get nominations for the 15th incarnation of Wrestle Shack, as do friend of this blog and former title holder Lon Dumont and his opponent Mike Pitt for the inaugural Pec Bash 1.  Now we’ll veer into newer territory with a nomination for Steel Muscle God and his nameless muscle hunk opponent (he’d have a better chance at winning the title if I knew his name!) who provided a fucking fierce self-produced mat muscle tussle last month! And finally, I’m including Morgan Cruise in my first nomination from the NKOTB at Muscle Domination Wrestling for his manhandling of rookie Mateus Shogun.

So much homoerotic wrestling entertainment for what might be mistaken for the lazy days of slow-business summer!  So many favorites for so many reasons, and some genuine, two handed hot wrestling action in these new releases!  This is never easy, but it’s also another reminder about the whole point of the homoerotic wrestler of the month title: highlighting month in and month out the stand-out work of the gorgeous athletes who tell me the stories that I love the most.  So clear the podium. I’m not bothering with a silver or a bronze. The new reigning gold medal homoerotic wrestler of the month is…

Cameron Mathews: 5’10”, 165 pounds, entirely new body, same babyface!
Cam’s on top and in charge against goldenboy Coop

Those who know me well know that I’m often loathe to follow a crowd. There’s buzz over here? I’ll look over there. Well, there has definitely been a roaring buzz since BG East released Babyface Brawl 2, and in addition to the understandable lauds for goldenboy fitness model, Austin Cooper, a whole lot of oohs and aahs have been shed for the unveiling of a new, ripped, bigger body for Cam!

Sweating, sneering, cheating, 3 days past due for a razor: Cam’s the man!

Joe at Ringside at Skull Island, while clearly fixated on the growing range and skill of Coop, has plenty of praise for this newest rendition of the indy pro omniboy, Cam:

“He’s a cold, hard legend in his own right now, with a chiseled physique and a defiant steeliness in his approach to Austin.”

Cam’s power and rage dominate a stunned Coop

One very enthusiastic reader emailed me to share his excitement at seeing Cam’s big boy bruiser body unveiled in Babyface Brawl 2, asserting:

“Matthews has definitely undergone a splendid whole-body transplant that impresses, though it’s hard to convey menace with a little boy’s voice…. At least the era of matches involving Cameron Matthews seeming like child abuse has ended.”

Babyface Cam is all grown up and making both Coop and the rules his bitch.

His voice may still be at a high tenor, but there’s nothing at all childish about Cam’s appearance in Babyface Brawl 2.  The beard doesn’t hurt one bit. Nor do the mile-wide shoulders, washboard abs, carved pecs, or his highly erotic command of the ring and the goldenboy at his mercy much of the time. I’ve long been a Cam fan, without a doubt. When Lon Dumont told me that he and Cam trained together, something clicked in me.  The way that both Lon and Cam own the ring strokes my kink at almost precisely the same frequency. Cam’s sense of humor paired with his unflinching homoerotic subtext in his work across the board, including BG East, Thunder’s Arena, and Can-Am, consistently provide a fantastic, multifaceted character that treats the homoerotic wrestling audience with more respect than a lot of wrestlers.  If all homoerotic wrestling matches were independent and identically distributed random variables, the sheer size of Cam’s body of work up to this point would make it almost certain that he’d be homoerotic wrestler of the month sooner or later, just on chance. And that ass! This boy has always had an ass built for inspiring gay male fantasies.

Cam sets out to emasculate Coop both figuratively and, possibly, literally!

But there I go again, referring to Cam as a boy when he proves, without a doubt in Babyface Brawl 2, that he’s a man with both the power and the ring savvy to make him every ounce as dangerous as he wants to be.  Cam has a presence, a command, a drive to use all of that gorgeous beef he’s packing that makes this match a stand-out among the extensive library of Cam matches available. He’s powerful, poised, and pumped. He rakes Coop across the eyes. He chokes him with the tape around his wrist. He tortures the frustrated goldenboy in the ropes and twists Coop like a pretzel around the ring post.

Cam’s legendary command of every inch of the ring leaves Coop at his mercy

I hate climbing onto a bandwagon. Damn it. I once had a snarky boyfriend enrolled in “abnormal psych” class diagnose me as oppositional-defiant for my relish in taking the other side of any argument. But I’m falling right into line this time around. I’ve always loved Cam’s attitude. I’m completely turned on by his command of the ring. I’m infatuated with his new physique. And I’ve just got no choice but to admit that among the new release performances in July, Cam’s “heel turn” in Babyface Brawl 2 does it to me the hardest. Somebody right now is saying, “It’s about time,” but like a fine wine, I think Cameron Mathews has just this month matured into the hardest, hottest, hunkiest version of himself we’ve ever seen, and he’s a clear winner of this month’s homoerotic wrestler of the month title.

No more fun and games: Cameron Mathews, Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

Joe’s Back(side)

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Superherofan.net caps the scenes that will haunt my dreams from True Blood! 
Get ready. Here comes Joe!
Season 5 of True Blood is shaping up to be all about Joe Manganiello’s superhuman sexy body. Not really, of course. The plot is complex, a little tedious even. Now that I’ve read the entirety of the currently published Sookie Stackhouse series, I’m seeing what story lines they have thankfully changed as well as some key sub plots that they have unfortunately left out. Sexy vampires remain in abundance. They appear to be about ready to pass over yet another superhuman, giant, mouthwatering muscle daddy character from the novels who’s a tiger in the sack, unfortunately. Christopher Meloni’s off the charts sexiness paired with an egomaniacal sex and blood crazed dominator character is a gorgeous improvisation from the original text.  Male stripper fairies are showing up in the background (now THAT’S a plot line that they’re seriously missing out on by neglecting from the novels!). But let’s face it, I sort of forget whatever else is going on in the series when the sight of Joe Manganiello’s undulating, bulging muscle back and lovely naked ass fill the screen!
A rough, physically bruising sex scene is both entirely compatible with the way that werewolves are portrayed in the novels as well as completely consistent with my fondest fantasies of Joe in homoerotic wrestling competition. So, sure, I have to mentally photoshop out the distinguishing characteristics of the woman he’s throwing across the room and pounding into the mattress. I’m completely capable of making that mental adjustment, and the director of this week’s episode largely leaves her in the shadows anyway, so as to highlight the jaw dropping beauty and power of Joe’s 6’5″ of physical perfection (eat your heart out, Olympians!). Those knees in the air with big Joe’s flexing glutes between them could easily belong the hot piece of English ass Joe defeated (and took a shine to) in my homoerotic wrestling fiction when he conquered Russell Tovey to claim the title of the top dog among the werewolf boys.
When Joe next appeared, teaming up with wrestling partner Mehcad Brooks, things went South for this muscle monster.  Some strategic double/triple teaming left Mehcad flat on his stomach with Gerard Butler working off a victory celebration with Mehcad’s bubble butt squeezed in one hand. It also left big, dominant Joe out cold on his back, with Henry Cavill straddling the alpha dog’s waist, worshiping his pecs, and laying down several showers of spunk across Joe’s neck and chin.
Woe be to the poor soul who has to face this brutalized beast in the wrestling ring next! The huge muscleman is ready to reassert his pack dominance by ripping apart some badboy wannabe, obliterating the outclassed hopeful in 3 straight falls, and then flinging the loser across the ring, pouncing on him, shoving his knees apart, and pounding his cock up the loser’s ass for days.  Hunky muscle contenders beware!
Grab hold of something. Things are going to get crazy!

More Olympic Spirit

wrestlebard2 Comments
Popular culture is acknowledging the connection between the Olympics and sex more than ever.  With these games, magazines have been publishing strategically posed naked pinups of the world class physiques heading to London. Even team websites often display the gorgeous muscles and babyfaces of the athletes of the XXX Olympics. I saw a mainstream news piece repeated a couple of times alluding to the outrageous quantity of sex that happens among the stoked, toned, hormonal young lovelies all packed into dormitories for a couple weeks of intense socialization, requiring metric tons of condoms to be supplied to the Olympic village.  Competitive athletics and sex go together like a horse and carriage. Just throw in some hot, homoerotic wrestling action into that formula and you have the foundation of pretty much everything I ramble on about here.
Fabian Hambuecher demonstrates why gymnasts are so sexy
Men’s gymnastics was always the highlight of the summer Olympics for me as a kid.  Babyface boys with zero body fat and masses of mouthwatering beef hanging off their narrow joints? My infatuation hardly requires explanation! Muscle, power, flexibility, and grace… what could be sexier than watching these bulging hunks flex and stretch and then occasionally between events, peel out of their skin tight tops and show off their godlike torsos shirtless?

This American beast failed to make the Olympic team!? I think he’d fare better in my ring than on the rings!
Well, even better would be seeing these petite muscle men climb into the wrestling ring to put all that muscle, power, flexibility and grace to the best of all uses! While I used to obsess about Olympic men’s gymnastics, I’m pretty much out of the loop these days. I don’t know the all-around contenders from the apparatus specialists from the just-lucky-to-be-here boys. So who will bring home the gold from London for what they went there to win? I have absolutely no idea. But after hours spent sweating over pics of the Olympic gymnasts who are pounding the floor for the XXX games, I have some ideas about how things might sort themselves out in a few days from now, after the gymnastics are over, when the pint-sized muscleboys climb off the still rings and into the wrestling ring.

Dutchboy Epke Zonderland: 5’8″, 152 lbs., 26 years old
I’m picturing the singles round robin as a particularly nasty display of muscle bashing (of course). Dutch gymnast Epke Zonderland’s chiseled smooth body and blond Northern European good looks make him a particularly eye catching competitor, wearing a skimpy speedo (orange, of course) and bouncing his pecs in the middle of the ring as he awaits his opponent.
Brit stunner Louis Smith: 5’10”, 168 lbs., 23 years old
Unfortunately for him, that opponent is Great Britain’s breakout coverboy Louis Smith in blue posing trunks. I’d buy a vial of lovely Louis’ sweat, at a premium price! Hunky Epke has some offense to offer, mind you. He stuns the British bombshell with a whip into the ropes and a clothesline that levels Louis flat on his back to send the message that he’s here for business. But when Epke takes a few extra seconds to preen and flex, an attempted leg drop has his tailbone crashing to the mat as Louis easily rolls out of the way. A half a dozen chain suplexes soften up the smoldering blond’s lower back. On a slow boil, fierce Louis eventually backs Epke into a corner and pummels his rock hard 8-pack. With the blond fading fast, Louis drags the Dutchboy’s sagging hips out of the corner by the front of his minuscule trunks to continue to pound a methodical series of fists deep into his lean lower abdomen. Catching sight of the monster that lies beneath, Louis finally yanks the orange trunks down to mid thigh and squeezes the little dutch boy’s little dutch boy until Epke withers to his knees and weeps out a humiliated submission. Score Great Britain!

American Jake Dalton: 5’5″, 145 lbs., 20 years old
Another qualifying match would pit U.S. teammates against one another. Camera-ready Jake Dalton leaps into the ring first, wearing red, white and blue pro trunks and facing his corner, stretching his massive biceps, psyching himself up to dominate and destroy.
American Sam Mikulak: 5’4″, 141 lbs., 19 years old 
Abercrombie boy Sam Mikulak charges into the ring at a full sprint in his high slit blue running shorts, delivering a spine crunching shoulder block to his unsuspecting teammate’s lower back and dropping muscleman Jake like a sack of potatoes. The ensuing squash lingers a gratuitous 10 minutes of absolute brutality, with Sam delivering one power move after another to send a message to the competition that he plans to crush anyone in his way, and that he’s willing to fuck up his buddy in a heartbeat if it means getting one step closer to the podium. Picture Jake folded in half on his back, his face smashed underneath Sam’s gorgeous ass, his ankles hooked underneath Sam’s underarms, and poor Jake screaming out a muffled, nearly unconscious plea for mercy, admitting his complete humiliation. Sam makes it into the next round.
American Danell Leyva: 5’7″, 161 lbs., 20 years old
Possibly the Olympic athlete with the most naked photos on his resume, dark and handsome Danell Leyva is next up to climb into the ring in a metallic gold g-string. That’s right. A g-string. Papi’s got nothing to hide with his rock hard loveliness from head to toe. He sits on a top turnbuckle waiting patiently for the competition.
German Philipp Boy: 5’8″, 150 lbs., 25 years old
German cover boy extraordinaire, Philipp Boy, would climb into the ring cautiously in yellow skin tight square cuts showing off his muscled ass and heavy ballast up front. Danell’s choice of gear makes the German pin-up boy’s eyebrows arch as the American climbs off of the turnbuckle and adjusts the pendulum swinging between his legs. The most highly competitive of this first round, Phillip and Danell trade turns owning the momentum. Danell’s a high flyer, fearlessly launching leaping body blocks off the ropes from the start. Philipp’s got the speed and flexibility. He’s savvy enough to let Danell overextend himself, ducking out of the way and letting the American take hard tumbles. But as Danell slowly builds a riding time advantage, Philipp’s stamina starts to fade in inverse proportion to the swelling in the American’s pouch. Coated in sweat 20 minutes in, Philipp cries out a screaming submission to Danell’s knee snapping figure-4 leg lock. Not content with just the hard-fought win, Danell cock-pin’s Philipp’s gorgeous face to the mat for a slowly humiliating 5-count pin.
Bulgarian Jordan Jovtchev: 5’3″, 137 lbs., 39 years old
The final qualifier features the “old man” of these games, Bulgarian beef master Jordan Jovtchev, methodically, powerfully sauntering to ringside in his green pro trunks. This salt-and-pepper muscle daddy is stunningly gorgeous and fucking strong! He’s the shortest of the competitors to climb into the ring, and ge may not be bouncing as high off the floor, but when he gets those massive pecs pumping, alternating back and forth, he makes the boys watching at ringside have to adjust themselves!
German Fabian Hambuechen: 5’4″, 137 lbs., 24 years old
Daring to face the Bulgarian muscle daddy is German babyface muscle boy, Fabian Hambuechen, wearing skimpy red speedos. Rosy cheeked, softball-sized biceps, melons for shoulders, Fabian’s M.O. is to look like an angel and fight like a badger. The German has plenty of muscle to ante up, but Jordan repeatedly wins the collar and elbow tie ups in the middle of the ring, shoving the angel-faced muscle boy into the corner and knocking the wind out of him with knee lifts and punches to his wasp-thin waist.  Fabian turns the tables about 8 minutes in, when Jordan attempts a corner-to-corner splash on him. Spinning out of the way at the last second, Fabian quickly rallies to work some muscle ripping pec claws on the thunderous Bulgarian. It’s all coming up roses for the flush-faced German until he throws an unnecessary knee into Jordan’s crotch. The veteran muscle basher has a high level of tolerance for crotch abuse, and it merely inspires him to muscle his way out of the corner, whip Fabian into the ropes and spear him in the gut with a breath-stealing shoulder block. Fabian suffers long and hard for his insult, losing his speedos and getting his nuts and bolt screwed tightly in the viselike grip of the Bulgarian as Fabian suffers for ages in a naked over-the-knee backbreaker before conceding he’s been outmatched. Score Germany!
Louis Smith is ready to slice and dice with his scissors!
Grade A beef Jordan Jovtchev with pecs, shoulders, and arms pumped for a bearhug
Semi-finals find sexy Louis Smith facing the musclebeast Bulgarian, Jordan Jovtchev. It’s speed and quick strikes against muscle pounding strength moves. Louis gets caught in a rib crushing Bulgarian bearhug, and things are looking bleak for the Brit. He presses his knees into Jordan’s hips to relieve some of the pressure. Before Jordan realizes what’s happened, Louis straightens his legs and locks his ankles together, squeezing the petite powerhouse’s midsection in a defensive leg scissors. Jordan squeezes that much harder trying to wear the Brit out, but Louis’ knees grinding into his kidneys sap the Bulgarian’s strength first. When Jordan crumbles to his knees, the end is near, and that end is Jordan being suffocated in a skull crushing face-to-crotch head scissors. First, Louis peels out of his blue posing trunks, locks on the naked scissors, and then pulls on that salt-and-pepper head of hair to choke the Bulgarian out with his meat pressed hard against his lips. The muscle man furiously beats the palm of his hand to the mat in a bitter submission. Louis heads to the finals.
Danell Leyva is ripped from head to toe and everywhere in between!
Sam Mikulak has an upper body for days!
The second semi-final sees Danell knowing better than to turn his back on his U.S. teammate, Sam, for even a moment. Sam’s delivery of a humiliating squash all over Jake has left him relatively fresh and strong relative to the hard fought victory Danell beat out. Like Philipp, however, Danell’s swelling python in his pouch is quite the distraction for Sam. Sure, he’s seen it before in the locker room, but with his teammate crouched for combat and the head of his cock stretching over the waistband of his golden g-string, Sam is both aroused and intimidated. On this world stage, to be intimidated is a dangerous thing. Danell slowly builds the momentum, clawing at Sam’s pecs and squeezing the air of him with body scissors. Sam’s back arches high off the mat with Danell’s legs still locked securely around his waist. Sam’s wearing thin, unable to offer much more fight, but refusing to submit. Danell releases him, peels of his own g-string before slipping Sam’s blue running shorts off. The adrenaline rush of fear gives Sam a short rally, but Danell subdues his teammate with a most intimate, fully erect full nelson, sliding the length of his cock slowly up and down between the sweaty ass cheeks of his shorter opponent. All that muscle locked in such an intimate embrace! Sam’s cock tenses, grows. His neck feels like it’s about to snap off, but somehow his arousal just spikes that much more. Danell parades him around the ring, swinging him from side to side in the full nelson, grinding his hips into Sam’s ass. Pre-cum streams from Sam’s cock. Danell pauses in the middle of the ring, pumping his hips back and forth, and with a gasp and a choked scream somewhere between  agony and ecstasy, Sam’s cock shoots a jet of cum halfway across the ring. He’s wasted, muscles quivering, defenseless as Danell slowly lowers him to his knees and slides his forearm across his throat in a rear choke. Sam’s out for a 10 count in an instant. Danell’s got a date with the gold medal round.
Danell Leyva’s sexy, and he knows it
Louis Smith is sexy, and he knows it, too!
There’s something that seems inevitable about Danell and Louis going pec to pec for the gold. Both boys’ luscious bodies have been snapped in all their naked glory for mainstream mags. Both boys are hot hunks with iPhones. Sex oozes out of both of these boys’ pores, as does a primal, arousing, compelling fire to dominate the competition. They face one another warily in the ring. They test one another carefully, pushing and pulling, feeling each other’s power, balance, and speed. Daniel’s cock, once again not quite contained in the pouch of his golden g-string, swings hypnotically. Danell can’t help but smile as he notices Louis blue posing trunks filling to capacity in one intimate lock up after another. But when Louis abruptly peels off his own posers and tosses them out of the ring to stand naked in front of him, it’s Danell’s whose mouth drops open in complete distraction this time. Louis is swinging pipe to make every Brit proud! It’s no squash, mind you, but eventually it’s Danell, still halfway in his g-string, his arms tied into the top two ropes with Louis outside the ring, bending the American backward over the ropes and straddling Danell’s face buried between his stunningly sexy legs.  Danell shakes and grunts in protest.  He kicks his feet and tries to shrug his shoulders free of the ropes. It takes a couple of long, agonizing minutes, but the American is sleepered out cold, starved for air with his mouth and nose locked immovably up the Brit’s world class ass.  They carry the hunk out on a stretcher, his right arm in a sling with a potentially career ending injury. Louis Smith: homoerotic wrestling Olympic champ!

Sam Mikulak offers to shake on a new alliance with a cautious Jake Dalton.
The 4-way tag team mash up for the team trophy is shocking all on it’s own. With Danell out of the running with an injury, Sam Mikulak offers to bury the hatchet with Jake Dalton and qualify for a shot at the medal.
Philipp Boy has a plan…
German teammate Marcel Nguyen (5’4″, 119 lbs., 24 y/o)  gets surprise the nod for the tag team competition!

Philipp Boy passes up quarter-finalist teammate Fabian Hambuechen in a controversial call, teaming up instead with still another German sexy boy, Marcel Nguyen. Marcel doesn’t have Fabian’s power, and he looks awfully, awfully precious, but Philipp seems to be banking on the extensively tweezed prettyboy bringing something crucial to the table.

Louis Smith let’s it all hang out!
Britboy Sam Oldham looks so innocent… (5’5″, 137 lbs., 19 y/o)

Gold medal stunner Louis gives a nod to GB teammate Sam Oldham for the tag team competition. Although Sam has the face of a 12 year old, he’s entirely legal at 19, with a shredded muscle body of full grown world class male athlete. Will his boyish innocence unsettle the competition enough for team GB to sweep the golds?

Jordan is, pound for pound, the strongest competitor in the ring!
Italian beef Matteo Morandi (5’5″, 157 lbs., 30 y/o) is the perfect counterpart to Jordan’s crushing power!

The final team for the 4-way mash up stars semi-final singles wrestler, Bulgarian beefcake Jordan Jovtchev, crooking his finger and calling over fellow mature muscle beast, 30 year old Italian Matteo Morandi. These are the beautiful bears among the muscleboys of world class gymnastics, and there are a couple of pretty little things that better steer clear of these two brutes!

A 4-way tag team match is chaos, of course. It’s insanity, with tags happening in crazy places making for curious (and hot!) bedfellows. Each team claims a corner. Jake is eager to start the action against Louis to redeem team USA, but the British beauty smirks and gives the lead-off spot a pass. Big bruiser Jordan is more than happy to pick up the slack and face Jake for the opening volley.  It takes only about 5 minutes for Jordan to deliver an onslaught of ring-shaking body slams on the American it-boy, softening him up quickly for a spine crunching Bulgarian bear hug. Jake moves to lock on a defensive leg lock like Louis managed, but the Bulgarian is having none of that shit this time. He drives Jake into his own corner at a full sprint, pounding the American’s back into the turnbuckle. As he steps back, Jake drops breathlessly to his gorgeous ass on the mat as Matteo tags in. Right back up into a pec-tacular hairy chested bearhug, and Jake is a rag doll in the Italian’s arms within minutes, tapping out and being tossed like the trash out of the ring.  As Jake’s teammate, it’s incumbent upon Sam Mikulak to enter the fray next. He stays out of the Italian’s grasp and leg-tackles the big brute to the mat. A leg lock has the bear grunting in pain, but Matteo tags out with the closest pair of hands reaching for the action from the nearest corner, which happens to German pin-up Philipp Boy.

Philipp leaps over the top rope and like an arrow drives his feet into the American’s sweet pecs, knocking Mikulak halfway across the ring. The German delivers a barrage of stomps to Sam’s vulnerable body, including a couple of carefully placed heels to his crotch. Before Sam knows which end is up, Phillip has tagged in Marcel who drags the American to his feet by a fistful of hair and then delivers an astonishing flat-footed standing drop kick, driving both heels squarely into Sam’s chin. The American is unconscious before his head hits the mat, and Marcel hooks his leg for a smirking count-out before rolling him out of the ring.

With both ends of the all-American team out of the running, the remaining wrestlers look at each other expectantly, waiting for a volunteer to enter the fray against surprisingly dangerous prettyboy Marcel. Louis encourages his teammate, Sam Oldham into action as the freshest man in the mix. Marcel bounces on the balls of his feet smiling as Sam ducks through the ropes. He takes two steps into the ring before an astonishingly fast Marcel has leapt into the air and lands another flat-footed standing drop kick on the chin of another opponent. Sam is thrown back into the ropes, and by the time he’s bouncing back toward the center of the ring, Marcel has tagged Philipp back in who levels the Brit with a nasty clothesline across the Adam’s apple. Sam’s back hits the mat and a second later he’s bounced up into a seated position, his arms clutching his throat as he’s unable to suck in air. Philipp delivers a heel to the temple that sends the babyface brawler sprawling across the ring. Sam reaches up instinctively and tags in the nearest hand reaching out to him.  Big, burly Jordan climbs across the middle rope and flexes a most-muscular pose that stops Philipp in his tracks, wiping the smirk off his face.

As Jordan begins to close the distance, Philipp backs away fearfully. Backed into the Brits’ corner, he grabs Louis’ resisting hand and slaps it before ducking to the ring apron. Jordan smiles wide at the angry gold medalist cautiously waiting for the big man to back away before climbing into the ring for the first time.  He gets only one foot in before Jordan has grabbed him by the neck with both hands, yanked him off his feet, and tossed him corner to corner across the full expanse of the ring. Before Louis realizes what’s happened, Matteo drops to the floor outside the ring, reaches around the corner post, and yanks on each of Louis’ ankles, sliding the Brit across the ring and sending his balls crashing into the metal post. Sam’s yells of protest from the far corner are met with a middle-finger salute from the Italian. Louis’ teammate is still trying to recover from his own near knock out, and he’s nowhere near ready to try to equalize the underhanded double team.

Jordan reaches the gold medalist and drags him back toward the middle of the ring by his hair. He strips Louis of his blue posing trunks, shoves them in the Brit’s mouth, and then drags Louis off the mat by his neck. Louis’ eyes flutter as he is dizzyingly hoisted into the air and pressed straight-armed overhead, Jordan’s left hand squeezing the Brit’s right thigh and his right hand locked tightly across the back of his neck.  Sam groans in protest, seeing his partner hanging helplessly overhead. Jordan growls like a bear, making a short circuit around the ring to display his strength to the remaining competition. Finally he drops his opponent crashing down, catching Louis’ lower back bending backward across Jordan’s knee. Louis screams in agony, but he doesn’t submit… until Jordan wraps his viselike fingers around the Brit’s naked balls and twists. Louis is tossed over the top rope into the shadows.

All eyes turn back to Sam Oldham. It’s his responsibility to pick up where his partner left off. The babyface Britboy climbs back into the ring reluctantly. Jordan charges him, but a lightning fast boot to the lower gut stops the Bulgarian in his tracks. The Bulgarian struggles for air, bent forward with his hands resting on his knees. It’s all the break the babyface needs to wrap his arm around the Bulgarian’s neck, spin him around and drop to the mat, bringing the big man’s chin down across the Brit’s rock hard shoulder. Jordan’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he’s down for a quick 3-count before Sam kicks him out of the action.  Matteo is already sprinting across the ring before Sam sees him coming, however. The big Italian is in a rage. He drives a knee to the Brit’s groin, dropping Sam with a thud to his knees. Matteo rips the trunks off of Sam, yanking at the seams and pulling them away in shreds in the big man’s grip.  Sam whimpers, kneeling on all fours, trying to breath in through the agony in his crotch. His hot, lily white ass looks both stunningly powerful and completely vulnerable. Matteo kneels next to him on one knee, shoving his right hand from behind high between the Brit’s sweaty legs to grab him by the base of the balls and squeeze. Sam screams, grabbing Matteo’s wrists with both hands, his chin dropping to the mat as his face screws up in agony.  Matteo begins to rise, lifting Sam off the mat by his captured balls. It’s just a couple of inches before the second Brit goes down in a wailing submission.

With Sam clutching his testicles and crawling, weeping, for the ring apron, Matteo stands up and looks at the corner of the German prettyboys. The odds are 2-on-1, but Matteo is a bear daddy looking like he’s ready to bring to heel a couple of baby cubs. Philipp ducks through the ropes, taking the lead. It’s a game of cat and mouse for a couple of minutes. Matteo charges in. Philipp dodges out of reach. The swift footed German lands a couple of punches to the kidneys, but he bounces away quickly to keep clear of the big Italian’s brutal holds. When Matteo starts to look winded, Philipp tags in Marcel who continues with the same tactics, forcing the Italian to chase him down, tiring him out bit by bit and tagging in his partner to keep the fresh man on tap. Matteo sees the writing on the wall and makes a desperate lunge for Philipp’s legs while he still has gas in the tank. It’s his last fatal mistake. Philipp dodges the attempt and instead drops his elbow into the center of the Italian’s broad back. Boot stomps, punches, tags faster than Matteo can keep track of. He can’t tell which of the prettyboys yanks off his green pro trunks… at this point they both look the same. It’s definitely handsome Philipp who locks on a leg lock from behind, capturing the Italian’s ankle in the crook of his crotch while reaching forward and wrenching Matteo’s head backward with both hands. He’s tough, though. He refuses to give to this and several further submission holds. But he’s soaked in sweat and nearly out on his feet when Marcel locks on a standing rear choke. Matteo drops to his knees, his arms limp at his sides. He taps his submission even as he’s falling forward with the German strapped onto his back.  Philip leaps into the ring and joins his partner in straddling the sweaty, naked Italian hunk, flashing mirror image victory double biceps and then turning to one another for a deep throated, sweaty, cock rousing make out session.

Philipp Boy loves it when a plan comes together!
Marcel Nguyen, turns out, is both a lover and a fighter!

Team gold: Germany.

The Olympic Spirit

wrestlebard6 Comments
Another quadrennium has passed, and it’s time to ogle the world class physiques of the young and gorgeous athletes who have descended upon the seat of hormones and sexual tension that is the 30th (that’s XXX!) games of the modern Olympics.  The concentration of fitness and hotness is nearly too much to handle at one sitting. As per the particular bent of this blog, of course, we’ll concentrate on the boys who inspire homoerotic wrestling fantasies in my mind.  To start with, you might guess we’d go directly to the wrestlers, but I’ll save them. Bigger hype around the U.S. by far is for dueling coverboys Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte. You can’t take a piss at a checkout stand without hitting one of them in the chiseled abs (try it!). 

The morning “news” reports it as an epic competition of sportsmanly friends, the only question remaining being who will come in #1 and who will come in #2. Other competitors? Apparently non-existent. Other swimming events than the head-to-heads these two will race? Irrelevant.
Michael’s game face is fierce!
I’m hardly a competitive swimming expert, so I have nothing to back up a critique of this fixation on Phelps and Lochte. And speaking of fixation, fuck! The bodies on these two Olympians are entrancing! 27 year old Michael is an incredibly long torsoed 6’4″ and 185 lbs.   Also at 27 years young, Ryan packs on a little more muscle, at the same 185 lbs but only 6’2″ tall. Stay Puft at Inner Jobber has already started the conversation about what sort of pro wrestler Ryan Lochte would be. My contribution was to suggest that rather than strictly a jobber, a baby face hero, or a heel, he might be simply a douchebag.
Douchebag? Perhaps. Hot as hell? Definitely!
An obvious homoerotic wrestling fantasy is having these two hyped beyond belief young hunks climb into the pro wrestling ring in the skimpiest of speedos to punish each other’s world class bodies until somebody screams out a weeping submission… naked.  Lochte seems to have the momentum of popular attention on his side, but I’m picturing Michael stripping this tanned stud of his speedo and then using it first to aid in choking the punk out in a hot camel clutch finisher, and then wrapping the trunks around Ryan’s neck and dragging his flailing muscle body across the ring before tying him to the ropes and making him suck Michael’s Olympic cock. Gold medal: Phelps.
Micheal screams, “Suck this!”
But really. Anyone could see that scenario through! A Michael v Ryan homoerotic wrestling match seems so… obvious. I think the real drama is the team match-up that happens after singles competition is over. Michael tags up with his tamed teammate to face the really pissed off world class competition who are sick as shit of all the camera flashes pointing at the two of them.  Maybe Michael and Ryan are the shit when it comes to the pool, but I’m seeing some serious beef who just might have other plans in mind for the two pretty boys in the ring.
Team: Coverboys
There are two impromptu teams that I’m proposing for a 3-way tag team mash up in which the world opens up a can of humiliating whoop ass on the Coverboys, Michael and Ryan.  First up, let me introduce you to team Young Guns. Hailing first from South Africa, climbing into the ring at 6′ even and 190 pounds soaking wet: 24 year old Cameron Van Der Burgh.
South African muscle man Cameron Van der Burgh
Cameron may not have the height of Michael or Ryan, but his pride and joy are clearly his biceps. Damn, the boy can’t stop flexing those gorgeous guns!  Muscle stud Cameron has plans to lock those puppies around Michael’s boulder shoulders from behind and lace his fingers together behind the albatross’ neck, back his way into a corner, and climb the turnbuckle in order to shake 6’4″ Mr. Invincible in a neck-wrenching suspended full nelson. Take a look at those guns again and just picture Michael screaming and flailing with those monsters locked on like a vice!
Cameron cannot stop himself from flexing those monsters!
Cameron’s Young Guns tag team partner is 21 year old Australian James “The Missile” Magnussen.
Australian swimming god: James “The Missile” Magnussen
So sure, I could’ve made that nickname up as an ideal homoerotic wrestling handle, but I didn’t need to. James was already dubbed “The Missile” long ago. He can look down his nose at even Michael from his 6’5″ height, and he’s shredded like cabbage at 190 pounds of long, lean, aesthetically ideal muscle. And like all of the field of world class swimming hunks, including Cameron, James likes to flex his blazing guns in victory.
James’ is carrying not-so-concealed weapons of dominating destruction
Ryan Lochte a heart throb? The Missile has plans to pile drive Ryan into semi-oblivion, parade the coverboy from turnbuckle to turnbuckle for a series of septum busting face smashes, and then schoolboy pin the punk and explode his missile all over Ryan’s ruined face… well-before pounding out a 3-count pin or submission.
The Missile is ready to explode!
Cameron requires two hands to handle
I wouldn’t give Michael and Ryan a snowball’s chance in hell of making it past the Young Guns of Cameron and James. But unfortunately for them, they’d have a third team of indignant muscle hunks in yet another corner, with eyes for nothing but humiliating the overhyped Americans. Sure, technically all 3 teams are competing against each other, but nobody’s taking their eyes off of the Coverboys until they’re both beaten all to shit, humiliated miserably, counted out or submitted, AND tossed out of the ring. Team #3, the Sexy Beasts, steps into the ring with a score to settle for getting passed over for the beefcake covers of muscle mags in favor of the Coverboys.
Brazilian muscleboy bad ass: Marcelo Chierighini
First to leap into the ring for the Sexy Beasts is 21 year old Brazilian Marcelo Chierighini.  He’s a baby face muscleboy bad ass with an ego nearly as big as his thunderous delts. That wasp-thin waist, the long, lean 6-pack, his kick-sand-in-the-face of some 98-pound weakling sneer… sure he’s only 21, but he’s raging mad that it’s not been his smoldering, classic good looks on the covers of the magazines. 
Sexy Beast #1 is out to fuck somebody up!
When he’s tagged into the action, he’s got his eye on a crotch assault never before witnessed in international competition, backing Ryan into the corner and pounding his package with a flurry of knees, kicks, punches, and a couple of headbutts that will turn handsome Ryan green.
Sexy Beast #2: Italian pec master, Fabio Scozzoli
Marcelo’s fellow Sexy Beast is 23 year old Italian sexpot, Fabio Scozzoli. He’s 6’2″ and 190 pounds, a whole lot of which comes in juicy, olive oiled breast meat.
Fabio is all business.
Fabio is out for nothing less than knocking Michael’s ugly mug out of competition forever, first crippling the veteran with a tendon snapping figure-4 leg lock, followed by smothering the legend by trapping his face deep in the crevice of the Italian stallion’s massive chest.
Young Gun James: Pow, pow!
Young Gun Cameron: Fist pump for kicking the Coverboys to the curb
So Michael and Ryan have nothing to look forward to other than being crushed and crippled, humiliated and humbled by the world class hunks hot on their tails. Once they’ve taken out the trash, however, which team stands alone? Young Guns are determined to be flexing their double barreled assault weapons with their knees planted on the ample chests of the Sexy Beasts. I strongly suspect that there’s a new generation of homoerotic wrestling Olympic swimmer badboys to be reckoned with, however, and if the Sexy Beasts can bend the rules, isolate one of the big boys with strategically vicious double teams, and bring the big men to their knees, then The Missile may be worshipping a Brazilian ballistic and Cameron could easily be on his back and sucking a mouthwatering nipple on a sultry Italian stud draped overtop of him in final victory. Now that would be a gold medal finish for the XXX games!

Sexy Beast Marcelo raises his hands in victory?
Sexy Beast Fabio gives a thumbs up to more modeling contracts.

Magnificent Black Muscle God

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What else would you do if a gorgeous homoerotic wrestling hunk sent you photographs of his ripped body and monster cock struggling to break free from the confines of his gear? Ask him for an interview, of course. That’s precisely what I did after Darius provided graphic evidence that we should all be pulling for him to come out on top of that schoolboy pin jack-off session in a head-to-head with Steel Muscle God.  Darius offers up some news, some predictions, and just a couple hints of behind the scenes questions that have burned a whole in the crotch of my pants for years.
——–

Darius: 5’10”, 198 lbs., 48″, 18″, 10″
Bard: Hey Darius! Thanks so much for taking the time to answer some questions for neverland readers. BG East fans know you from a couple of matches there, but I’ve seen several pics you’ve posted in wrestling forums and on Facebook that demonstrate that you have a lot more wrestling experience than just those two BG East matches. What’s your wrestling background? How often do you wrestle these days?


Darius Muscle Jobber Magnificent

Darius: I did some wrestling in high school but didn’t get into pro until a friend of mine, Henry, told me that I would make one hot jobber. So we went to Texas and did a couple of matches for Commando Sports Wrestling. First time in a ring for me. Took on one of their veteran heels and their champion. The DVD was called Darius Muscle Jobber Magnificent. Heard the video sold pretty good. From there I was hooked. Now I wrestle around once a week with some good friends.

Bard: Sounds like quite an initiation into pro wrestling! I’m looking up that DVD immediately! Your body is… wow, I don’t even know how to finish that sentence! Your muscles take my breath away, and in every image and video I’ve seen of you, your fitness is phenomenal! Have you had wrestling opponents who get distracted with the irrepressible urge to veer into muscle worship?

Darius: I don’t wear clothing that reveals much of my body. It’s when I strip off the clothing that my opponents’ eyes open up wide. Being a male escort on the side, I get a lot of requests for body worship, which I just love. Not to say that during and after my matches there isn’t some body worship. I guess it’s my posing that caught the eye of one modeling company, which I did a shoot for.

Darius is a Muscle Model, too!

Bard: What part of your physique do opponents or clients seem to fixate on most? Is it a turn on for you to bring a man to his knees just by flexing those pythons you call arms (and don’t even try to tell me that’s never happened!)?

Darius: I think it’s my abs that get the most attention from my opponents. Before the match starts, I can see their eyes focusing on my abs. They seem to love to try to break them down. They work me over good with punches, elbow drops, claws etc. And to tell you the truth, I just love having them worked over. When I do flex my pythons my opponent are mostly like already done on the mat after their defeat.

Bard: Speaking of pythons, thanks again for the pics you sent me recently in response to my fantasy about where things might go in a match between you and internet muscleman, Steel Muscle God. Wow! WOW! I just want to clarify that my fantasy of you on your back and SMG schoolboy pinning you and stroking himself to ecstasy while you palm his pecs was, in no way, meant to suggest that I’m assuming you’d lose the match. What do you think would be your biggest challenge in conquering SMG? How do you think a head-to-head against him would go?

Darius: Would be one awesome match to have with SMG. I think I would be his biggest threat to take him down for the count. No question, I would have to stay away from getting trapped in between his massive legs. Once you are trapped in them, there might not be any escape. On the other side, he would have to watch out for getting crushed by my arms in a bearhug. I have not had anyone get out of my bearhug once applied. I love to see the expression on my opponent’s face as my arms wrap around their body as it’s slowly lifted off the mat and the crushing begins. The expression of helplessness comes across their face quickly as they know they are done.

SMG’s bone crunching scissors vs.
Darius’ rib crushing bearhug!?

Bard: That would be a barnburner and a crowd pleaser, seeing whether it would be your bearhug or SMG’s scissors coming out on top! With the visual aids you sent, I can easily see the scenario I described in my recent post reversed and you turning out on top of that schoolboy pin! The idea of SMG being forced to show some respect and administer a little body worship of his own makes me a little dizzy with anticipation. I think you could very well be the muscleman to make SMG tear his eyes away from admiring himself when he gets a look at your huge pecs! Any more news about whether you’ll have a chance to test SMG’s steel muscles on the mat anytime soon?

Darius: You may think, but I know I will make SMG see for himself who is the true Muscle God. He will be on his knees looking up at this Black Muscle God as I pose before him. Right after this interview I will try to contact him about his visit and the match. Will let you know what he says.

Bard: Fantastic! I’m breathless in anticipation of the news! You both have awesome enthusiasm for wrestling and charisma to match your smoking hot bods! Okay, so I’m finding myself distracted as we speak, as I browse some of your pics! BG East reports that you’re 5’9″ tall and 184 lbs. Is that about right? Are their any other measurements you’d be willing to tell us to help us appreciate your fine, fine body?

Darius: Right now my stats is 5’10”, 198lbs. My chest is 48, arms 18, and 6 pack abs. And another muscle part at 10 inches… and thick. And one smooth ass.

One fine, fine, fine smooth ass!

Bard: My, oh my! Somehow getting a run down on your numbers has failed to do anything about my complete distraction! I hope a measuring tape is involved when you and SMG go at it! So far at BG East, you’ve only faced two opponents. First you went pec to pec with the subject of frequent posts here at neverland: Mr. Joshua Goodman. The website description for the match mentions that you’ve boasted about your capacity to take just as impressively as you can give, and you definitely deliver on that promise against Mr. J. The sight of you suffering in the ropes is just… so… damn… hot! What do you think it is that makes fans of homoerotic wrestling so turned on by seeing such a powerful physique like yours vulnerable and dominated?

Darius: When I first contacted BG about doing a match for them, Kid Leopard already knew in his head that I would make one hot jobber. In my mind, you don’t see many black muscle men that can make a hot jobber. The sight of my body getting worked over and pinned or submitted is a turn on for my opponents, and, you know, for me also. No question, in my match with Joshua he just loved working me over. The scene with me trapped in the ropes and him working me over was dam hot. And as you can see he didn’t hold back from smashing his fists and forearms into my abs and pecs. You could hear the sound of his fist slamming into my abs all over the room. My body was so red after the match. Got many emails from fans telling me how much they love seeing me lose my matches. They tell me I sell it so well, my facial expressions, the pain… they can’t get enough of it. That makes me feel good and willing to oblige my fans.

Darius suffers in the ropes as Mr. Joshua hammers down

Bard: Without a doubt, you are nothing short of breathtaking when all of those muscles of yours are tied up and suffering sweetly! And I love your attitude. Your commitment to your fans is probably what makes you sell so well! I think you’re the first wrestler I’ve interviewed who’s faced Mr. Joshua in the ring. You got an extremely up close and personal look at that legendary package of his. Are his balls as behemoth in person as they look on DVD? Please tell me you got a behind the scenes look at what Mr. J packs in those trunks!

Darius gets an up close look at Mr. J’s package

Darius: Not one tells what goes on behind the scenes, but just let’s say that what they say about him is true. But I can honestly say that mine are bigger.

Bard:  I’d like to be judge of that! Mr. Joshua has been teasing us for years with that pendulous package of his, shoving his hand down his trunks, shoving his balls in opponents’ faces, nearly spilling out of the confines of his gear. But we’ve never actually seen his pride and joy in the flesh, and the only opponent who has managed to conquer and strip him of his trunks refused to share what he discovered lurking under there. From what I’ve seen of the pics you shared with us here, cock watch fans would bust a gut to see in action that lead pipe you’re swinging! Is there any chance we’ll ever see you wrestle naked?

Darius: Well, first let me say I’m glad you like the pictures that I sent you. Been asked by a few companies to do some naked wrestling; Naked Kombat was one (which I heard is now out of business), BWN out of Atlanta, and of course BG. I have said no to all of them. I guess I’m just not ready to go that route just yet. Not saying it will not be possible in the near future. I did my first photo shoot for Paragonmen, and it was the first time I did nude shoots, which I am sending to you right now. So maybe nude wrestling might come along soon. For now you just have to use your imagination.

Bard: I pride myself on having an extremely capable wrestling imagination, so there’s no problem there. But I’m latching onto the words “just yet,” in your answer, and I’m officially lobbying hard to convince you to tackle a strip stakes match! The only other appearance that BG East has released so far of your work is your backyard brawl against that skinny boxer punk, Jayden Mayne. This match truly astonished me, first of all because the contrast between you and Jayden is just breathtaking. I’d swear you could snap the kid like a twig without breaking a sweat. But the second astonishing thing is that, although you fucking own Jayden for most of the scrap, he drops you with a couple of low blows and then, shockingly, chokes you out cold with those long, lithe legs of his. Fuck! What were you thinking when you woke up from that one?

Darius: Yeah, you would never think by looking at our pictures that the skinny punk would ever have a chance on taking down a muscle man like me. But that’s what makes wrestling so much fun. The fantasy of someone like Jayden taking someone down, someone like me, could only happen in pro wrestling. And that makes it so much fun for me and my fans. Of course you knew the only way he was going to do it was to cheat, and cheat he did. I believe it was his very first win for BGE. I have to give it to him, his legs are long and skinny, but they are powerful. He had me trapped in good, and I knew it was only a matter of time that this muscle man was going to go out cold. After slowly coming too, could only think that what I thought was going to be an easy win didn’t happen, and my losing streak continues for BGE.

“…fucking hot!”

Bard: I definitely find Jayden to be a hot little fucker who comes across as dangerous, which he demonstrates in taking you down! His figure-4 choke on you is extremely hot to watch, and hearing what it was like from your perspective is simply scorching! So, I hope you don’t mind me saying that as much as I’m infatuated with your gorgeous body from head to toe, your ass has played a starring role in several wrestling fantasies of mine! The moment that you had Mr. Joshua’s head locked-in high and tight between your legs, and then you rolled up to your knees and leaned back… damn, chisel that image in stone and install it in the Louvre, because that’s nothing but a world class work of art! Among the current roster of cocky egos and hard bodies at BG East, who do you think is most deserving of getting a humiliating, up close view of your muscled glutes like that?

Darius: Man, the sight of Joshua trapped between my legs, moaning as I put on the pressure trying to get a submission from him was fucking hot. I just wish I could have heard his submission. The BGE roster is full of hunks that I would love the chance to take down and pose over their defeated bodies. Bulldog Barzini, the cocky Cole Cassidy, The Enforcer (someone you just mentioned recently on your blog). Kid Karisma is one heck of a wrestler, and on the top of my list Tyrell Tomsen. You don’t see many matches pitting one Black Muscle God against another Black Muscle God. This would be one hell of a match. Shit, I would pay to get it done.

Tyrell Tomsen vs. Darius: Black Muscle God vs. Black Muscle God!

Bard: I’ll pre-order 3 copies today! I’ve seen your comments in chat forums calling out big Tyrell. Damn that would be a dream match up! Good god, all that gorgeous muscle locked in combat! As a fan and frequent reviewer of homoerotic wrestling, it seems to me that the industry has often neglected to feature men of color. Would you agree, and if so, why do you think that is?

Hoping we see more of Darius being a Magnificent Muscle Jobber!

Darius: They are neglected because there are not many around. Black guys like to wrestle, but I think it’s mostly in private and not in public. I think there is a big opportunity for black guys to show what they got and let many fans of black men see them. I have wrestled many black guys in private, but mention to them about taking pics or doing video and it’s a big “no.” I, myself, have no problem showing off my body and letting guys fantasies come alive. Maybe someday that will change.

Bard: Fascinating! I hope that both the audience calling for more black wrestling hunks and the roster of said wrestlers grows. I know that I speak for a whole lot of wrestling fans when I say that I’m absolutely aching to see more of you, and to see more of your wrestling, in the future. Are you slated for any more work with BG East? Is there anywhere else fans can go to enjoy you in wrestling action?

Darius: Right now I have nothing planned, but things do change quickly in this business. BGE has 3 more of my matches in their vault, hopefully they will release another one soon.

Bard: Is there anything else you’d like Darius fans to know?

Wrestle that!

Darius:  Not really… well maybe one. If you ever dreamed of taking on a muscle black stud like me in a wrestling match, I am available for a fee to do private matches. And that would include any type of fantasy match you have in mind, including nude wrestling. Lastly I would like to take time to thank all my fans out there. I truly appreciate all of you who take the time and effort to watch me wrestle, sending me emails, which I do like and do respond to. And if anyone has a request for me, they can send it to my email at DARIUSBLKMUSCLES@YAHOO.COM.

Bard: You are a gorgeous man, a thrilling wrestler, and quite a gentleman for your willingness to chat with me today. I wish you many, many, many more scorching hot wrestling matches to come, and I hope that you get all of the encouragement that you need to convince you to go on camera and wrestle naked! I’d love to see the look on your opponent’s face when he sees what he’s up against! Best of luck, and stay in touch with us at neverland. 

Darius: Bard, you know I do enjoy reading your blog and responding to them also. Keep up the good work.

I’ll Buy That

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Here’s a winning formula to sell gear: photographer Tom Cullis, underwear designs by Timoteo, and two hot, sweaty muscle models in wrestling singlets. Sold!
Justin James and Dan Von Houtz, photographed by Tom Cullis for Timoteo

I count this as eye-catching evidence of my long-time thesis that homoerotic wrestling kink has a secure place in mainstream marketing. Timoteo clearly aims to appeal to the likes of you and me, but I have to conclude that hot wrestling images like these are calculated to speak to a broader audience as well.  The number of people with a particular kink for the homoeroticism of wrestling frequently surprises me. There are a whole lot of us! But I don’t think our numbers on their own justify marketing campaigns with solely us in the cross hairs.

Dan Von Houtz locks on a muscle flexing armbar, but Justin James doesn’t look to concerned.

The tall dark and tattooed muscleman on the left, above, is reported to be Justin James. A quick scan of his twitter feed suggests that Justin is a 26 year old alpha dog who works out a lot. He doesn’t have a ton of shots in his portfolio yet, but in the hands and in the eye of a homoerotic genius like Tom Cullis, surely we should see more of this tall, dark and handsome hunk.

Justin cops a feel of Dan’s quad, while Dan struggles to control the power of  Justin’s slick, flexing python

The blond grappler in blue is reported to go by the name Dan Von Houtz. With such a distinctive name (outside of Holland), I’m surprised to be unable to find anything else about the sweaty, sexy musclebeast, but a cursory search nets me nothing but disappointment. Get this man a model mayhem portfolio and a starring role in a homoerotic wrestling match, pronto!  The thick, low hanging heads on his quads alone guarantee him a fierce following.

When the singlet straps come down and the headgear comes off, a test of strength gives way to intense, deep, lustful stares and let’s-finish-this-in-the-locker-room smirks.

The sight of Justin James and Dan Von Houtz testing each other’s muscles and clearly enjoying the feel of each other’s sweaty bodies reminds me that I’m about halfway through writing a new fictional wrestling match in the Secretarial Pool series in the Producer’s Ring. This is a novel new venture for me. I’m trading stories with another author, each of us having provided the cast of characters and a rough outline to get a story going, and then handing off our unformed fantasy to each other to finish. As with all of the Secretarial Pool matches, it features hunks who are male models in this universe, and male models in this universe always inhabit the highest levels of corporate power and intrigue in the Producer’s Ring universe. It’s nice to be writing again, and it’s awesome to be collaborating with other writers!

Re-Writing My Fantasies

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Do you read the comments to this blog? You should. Sometimes the hottest, most interesting stuff happens there! For example, when I recently waxed poetic again about the allure of Steel Muscle God in wrestling action, Darius of BG East fame commented that he and SMG are trying to arrange a rendezvous to compare scissor holds!  Sweet!!!

Darius has plans for the Steel Muscle God

Compelled by this tidbit, I repeated the rumor in a subsequent post last Friday. I also described a personal fantasy that this inspired, in which SMG has Darius in a schoolboy pin, stroking his gorgeous cock hovering over Darius’ face while Darius grabs a couple of luscious handfuls of SMG’s beautiful pecs. Again, Darius responded, assuring me of the real possibility that he might very well be the hunk on top of that schoolboy pin rather than the other way around.  In that case, Darius promised he’d be the one stroking his “massive rod.” To drive home the point that his cock easily merits the starring role in my homoerotic wrestling fantasies, he sent me some pics (with permission to post) to hint at what things would look like with SMG flat on his back, palming Darius’ mountainous pecs, with Darius’ rod pumped hard and exploding in victorious ecstasy!

Darius might require an extra pair of hands to tame that python! Yes, I’m volunteering.

YOWZA! Does that require a concealed weapon permit, because Darius is packing major league heat!?

Is this the view SMG would see staring up at a victorious Darius?

If SMG finds himself conquered and staring up at that beast, even the godly one will have to admit that’s nothing short of divine! Someone has got to capture that moment on a digital recorder, package it up, empty my wallet, and send it to me pronto, regardless of which of these fantasymen ends up flat on his back. It’s a win-win-win as far as I’m concerned!

Reach up and feel the power of those pecs flexing in the palms of your hands!

I’m delighted, humbled, and titillated that Darius reads and comments on neverland. Adding fuel to the fire of my insatiable homoerotic wrestling imagination does nothing but skyrocket this fantastic muscle warrior up the line-up of wrestlers who I want to see showing up in my mailbox and who will most definitely be appearing in a wrestling fantasy in my mind soon and often!

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Thunderstruck

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Co-Homoerotic Wrestlers of the Month: Cage Thunder & Lightning Rod

Typically, I enjoy writing a retrospective of the wrestling career of my current homoerotic wrestler of the month during his reign.  Despite having, for only the second time, co-owners of the title this month, it’s a little tough saying more about either Cage Thunder or Lightning Rod that hasn’t already been said exceedingly well already. In the case of masked sexy man Lightning Rod, he’s appeared only once, so a career retrospective would be pretty much what I’ve already written about him. I’ve lobbied the boys at BG East to get me in touch with LR to do an interview and explore more behind the mask of the curiously expert sex wrestler, but we’ll have to see what comes of that.

Wrestler, writer, philosopher: Cage Thunder is the total package.

With Cage Thunder, however, the challenge is just the opposite. Choosing a homoerotic wrestler of the month who is also an acclaimed and published author who keeps his own deeply self-reflective homoerotic wrestling blog leaves so many questions long ago answered. If Thunderdome isn’t already on your regular reading list, it should be. You’ll enjoy reading more about what goes on in the ring, on the mat, and inside the mind of Cage Thunder than I could ever manage to catalog here.

Wade Cutler: 5’6″, 165 lbs., a perfect choice to be destroyed by Cage Thunder in the ring!

Case in point, in response to my interview with him earlier this month, Cage Thunder posted a series of blog posts at Thunderdome answering some of my questions in artistic detail and greater depth than we discussed in the moment of the interview. He posted a 3-part series on BG East wrestlers he hasn’t faced yet, who he’d like to put at the front of the line for getting his hands on (and legs around!).  Some of his picks, and his explanations of what he’d do to them, leave nothing left to be said.  Classic, bubble-butted muscleboy Wade Cutler vs. Cage Thunder… there are just no further words necessary or relevant!

Dante Rosetti: 5’11”, 210 lbs., chisel-chinned, muscle beast!

The same goes for another classic muscleboy that Cage Thunder mentioned, Dante Rosetti. Personally, I think Cage Thunder is never sexier than when he’s testing the limits and then ultimately beating into whimpering submission gorgeous, powerful muscleboys like Wade and Dante!

Tony Cosenti: 5’9″, 180 lbs., looks that could kill, but since they can’t, he’d be Cage Thunder’s plaything before long!
He also named “sexy god Tony Consenti” on his list of dream matches.  Holy fuck! Tony vs. Cage Thunder in the Wrestle Shack. Cage Thunder sitting on Tony’s beautiful babyface, stripping him of his trunks, licking Tony’s pits, force-feeding him his cock…. Exquisite!
Beau Nasty & Shane Styles: Come on, Cage! Own both these badboys at once!
He listed a total of 21 fantasy matches with current and former BG East wrestlers he’d enjoy facing.  Each one is a feast for the homoerotic wrestling imagination. Of Cage Thunder’s most authoritative list, in addition to Wade, Dante, and Tony, I’d also pull out my wallet and unzip my pants to see him in the ring against the Nasty One, Beau Nasty. Beau made Cage Thunder’s list for his “nasty attitude, beautifully proportioned lean, muscular body, a smoking hot ass,” and his “evil sneer.” I’d also add that Beau could pack the front of his trunks with the bet of them. However, here’s where I’d expand on the potently hot pick that Cage Thunder made on his blog.  Sure, Beau would exact some sublime suffering, but I it’s inconceivable to me that Cage Thunder would fail to end up with one hand wrapped around the base of Beau’s cock and balls and the other squeezing Beau’s luscious ass. Now, that works for me, don’t get me wrong! But throw in Beau’s frequent tag team partner, Shane Styles, for a 2-on-1 ring romp, doing his best to defend his buddy’s vulnerable junk, and then we’d have likely one of my top 5 favorite matches of all time. I suspect Cage Thunder wouldn’t mind too much the extra effort of taming both boys at the same time!

The Enforcer: 5’11”, 210 lbs., chisel-chinned, muscle beast!

The Thunder in the “Thunder and Lightning” reigning champs asked for comments naming which wrestler fans would put at the very top of the list of fantasy matches for him. You know me. I’ve always got an opinion. It only took me about 30 seconds to decide, but I really can’t imagine who else I’d rather see in an all out brutal battle of masked muscle destruction than a heel vs. heel ring match in the BG East ring room against undefeated god of the underworld, the Enforcer. Just the idea of a battle of brutal muscle bashing between these two makes me weak in the knees.  Either Enforcer would finally crush and tame Cage Thunder, or my co-owner of the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month would tame the silent beast and, if my fantasies were to come true, unmask the granite chinned hunk, rip his trunks off of him, and turn the Enforcer into a quivering mass of sweat and cum trapped in the corner. I’d be pulling for the latter scenario!

Mitch Colby punishing Cage Thunder!? Oh, if only this were more than “just” art!

All this said, of course, skips the obvious. Whatever genius devised a photoshoot of pro wrestling holds between Cage Thunder and Mitch Colby but failed to book an actual match between them produced an epic fail of mind boggling proportions. The heat generated just by my mentioning lovely Mitch to Cage Thunder is enough to prove that this match is absolute gold just waiting to be unearthed!

Crisis of Faith

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Steel Muscle God breaks his opponent soon.
“Come on, guy. Let’s see if you can break me soon. Try to snap me!” The English is just a little dodgy, but Steel Muscle God’s opponent manages to communicate loud and clear. To start chapter 4 of his backbreaker series with SMG, the smart-assed skinny guy slaps down an indefensible challenge. This is Steel Muscle God, buddy! You’re a mere mortal. Of course he’s going to snap you… soon!  

SMG’s spine snapping torture rack makes his opponent’s toes curl
SMG looks incredible, of course.  The backbreaker series demonstrates some of the sexiest aspects of homoerotic wrestling. SMG’s gorgeous physique flexes powerfully, stretches beautifully, bulges perfectly. The body, the voice, the supremely confident, domineering, humiliating domination… I continue to maintain that SMG has an intimate and intuitive understanding of homoerotic wrestling kink.  This 4th chapter of back abuse on skinny loudmouth punk means that members on SMG’s site can see 75 minutes of delightful Steel Muscle God domination dished out all over this guy’s lucky body.  And as I’ve mentioned before, his skinny opponent has a surprising certain something about him as well. I’ve already noted that his taunting, kamikaze verbal challenges both make me laugh and turn me on in anticipation of what SMG will have to do to mete out divine retribution. Watching more of this “match” (aka, mauling), I also noticed that the skinny lamb-to-slaughter also has a delightful way of flexing and curling his toes just when SMG is pouring on the back torture the hardest. Wrapped around that divine neck, he hangs limp and helpless. But when SMG pulls hard on his leg and throat, bending him around his neck in a way that a human body just wasn’t meant to bend, the skinny punk’s toes start squirming, poignantly punctuating his helpless agony. The boy is hurting, and even his toes can’t hide it!
Just try to take your eyes off of those divine thighs!

SMG repeatedly points out to the outmatched punk in chapter 4 the magnificent muscles that made this match a mission impossible for the mere mortal from minute one. He points at the flexing, bulging head on his left quad, demanding that his audacious opponent look, marvel, contemplate the perfection in front of him.

You can look, but don’t touch without divine permission!

As if he can’t restrain himself (I’m with you there, buddy!), the mere mortal reaches out, slack jawed, to stroke the divine, flexing beef in front of him. Over and over, SMG slaps his hand away in disgust. You don’t just reach out and grab divine muscles like this. You have to be found worthy to worship that body. Speaking of, I think it’s about time somebody was found worthy!  If there was someone destined to star in a Wrestle Worship match, it’s Steel Muscle God. I can think of a few opponents that I’d like to see him face in a wrestling match with body worship stakes. I’m first in line. My second choice?

Darius is eager to feel the steel!

Darius commented on my last post about SMG, breaking the news that he’s been in contact with SMG and they’re trying to work out the details for the two of them to meet for a match when SMG visits the US this summer.  This strikes me as a potentially epic pairing of two of the sexiest wrestling musclebodies to be found! Just thinking about them trading rib crushing bear hugs and crotch-to-face head scissors makes me pop! If they sell tickets, I’d like to buy three, because I’m going to have to spread out, and this is going to get really, really messy.

Steel Muscle God swings a lead pipe

In my interview with SMG this spring, he declared his commitment and delight to please his fans. Whether it’s rounding up a friend and convincing him to get crushed, twisted, and humiliated on camera, or if it’s working his divine steel muscle rod into a raging sledge hammer, he’s not about to shrink from doing what it takes to satisfy his worshipful fans.

Time to see ALL of these steel muscles in wrestling action!

This fan, for one, is aching to see SMG go toe-to-toe and cock-to-cock with a homoerotic wrestling hunk like handsome muscleman Darius!  I’ve watched Darius in action, and I wouldn’t dare to presume who would wring out the first or the final grunting, humbling submission. But I can’t help myself but picture post-match extra curriculars that include SMG schoolboy pinning Darius’ mountainous deltoids, grabbing his steel muscle rod in both hands, and cranking out a beautiful shower of ecstasy while Darius strokes SMG’s luscious pecs and pinches his nipples. This is my hope and prayer. Now I will sit back and wait to see if there is a god.