Stand and Deliver

As I’ve mentioned often in the past, one of my favorite things about summer is seeing hunks showing off their legs. Hot temps require shorts, and finally, after being hidden for months, big, beautiful thighs, and sculpted calves are set free. Someone recently referred to me as a “leg man,” which on the one hand, I don’t think I am, because I also crave big juicy pecs, peaked biceps, roped triceps, crystal cut abs, boulder-like deltoids. I love wide, bulging backs that taper in a V to a muscled ass with a shelf that you could set your martini glass on. Fuck, for that matter, I can get off on strong, sexy hands, beautiful feet, dimpled cheeks, a cleft chin, heavy-lidded bedroom eyes… the list goes on and on. But on the other hand, I have a special joy for summer exposure of powerful, thick, meaty thighs.

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Kid Karisma’s massive rugby thighs know what I’m talking about in Gazebo Grapplers 17.

So today, I’m dedicating this post to a hold that invariably turns my crank and feeds my seasonal fetish for the particular allure of sexy legs. I once enjoyed the opportunity a favorite wrestler of mine offered me, to tell him what moves and holds I hoped to see most in his upcoming matches. I had an immediate answer for this stud in particular: standing headscissors. Like almost nothing else, there’s something so erotic about a dominant hunk with powerful thighs crushing an opponent’s head while just standing there. The inherent narrative is delicious. Standing headscissors require one battered stud to not only be kneeling or seated while his opponent punishes him, but the captured wrestler generally has to be pretty blown away already. They require that the pitcher bears down on the skull between his thighs, which, honestly, means he’s a little precariously positioned, not flat on his feet. The catcher could likely upend his tormentor with a little leverage and effort, so luxuriously long held standing headscissors are the stuff of total control. Like a cat playing with his fatally wounded prey, they signal the ascendency of the erect wrestler.

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Brooklyn Bodywrecker was the master of the standing headscissors.

And speaking of erection, I’m always fantasizing about standing headscissors getting topped off with the controlling wrestler jerking off to the feel of completely owning his opponent. It’s a hands free hold, so sure, flex and preen, trash talk good and long. But what I’d love to see is that standing grappler pounding one out all over the back of the humiliated meatscicle on his knees. Fuck, that would be a skunk in my book, instantly counting for two falls in the column of the cocky thigh master.

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Marco looks ready to get off on crushing TAK between his massively muscled thighs.

In any case, let’s drink a toast to summer, and the hot, powerful, punishing legs that now come out to play.

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Wade Cutler feels the squeeze in Hard Pros 6.
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Standing headscissors look so fine with the sun glistening off of oiled bodies.
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Kickboxer Brigham Bell keeps babyface Tommy Tara in place between his crushing legs with an assist from the ropes.
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Someone is almost as excited to lock on this hold as I am to watch him do it!
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Jeremy Burk grabs hold of Bulldog Barzini’s gargantuan thighs and holds on for dear life.
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Possibly the thickest thighs in the business put to their best use, whenever Mike Columbo did this.
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Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!
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You’ve got hands, you gorgeous hunk. Use them!
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One last shot of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler demonstrating he knows what drives me crazy.

In the Ropes

These days, I’m getting worked over pretty hard. I’m working my ass off, just managing to stay on my feet. And, wouldn’t you know it, just when I find myself backed into the ropes, some nasty heel villain uses those very same ropes to work me over that much harder.
KV v Ken Mason (assisted by KL) – Tag Team Torture 1
Metaphorically, this makes my day-to-day life these days suck. On the other hand, literally, when someone uses the ring ropes to take advantage of an already battered hunk, that does not suck (at least not for the heel or for me, watching). Turning the set into an integral prop to tell the story is, in fact, a major turn on for me, further explaining my particular preference for ring action.
Brigham Bell v Patrick Donovan – Hunkbash 5
Sliced to hell and mean as a king cobra, Brigham Bell pretty much always used the ropes, and most of the time he took full advantage by not only capturing his hunks in the ropes, but then head scissoring them at the same time. Illustrated so delightfully in his ring action with Patrick Donovan, ultra-lean, muscled bodies put on artistic display is the icing on the cake. The cake itself, of course, is the completely gratuitous humiliation of an already suffering hunk. To capture 6’1″ pec-tacular Patrick so defenselessly, so vulnerably, and then to squeeze Patrick’s handsome face humiliatingly between Brigham’s tightly corded thighs… talk about the climax of a story!
Brad Rochelle v Patrick Donovan – Wrestlefest 2
Patrick, Patrick, Patrick… early in his BG East career, Patrick frequently occupied the restraints of the ring ropes. He just suffered so sweetly! It’s no wonder that opponent after opponent reveled in beating him down and then tying him up to not only soak up more punishment, to also have his ego crushed as decisively as his hot, long, gorgeous body. On his way to being awarded Rookie of the Year in Wrestlefest 2 (I vote for more Wrestlefests!), Brad Rochelle slapped Patrick into what I think, objectively speaking, is the hottest bit of ring rope torture ever captured on camera. Hunk-on-hunk, stunning body on stunning body, handsome face squaring off against handsome face, and Brad taking a foreshadowing turn to the dark side to lock Patrick’s throat between the bottom to ropes and then boston crag his legs, sitting his fine (fine, fine, fine, fine) ass down across Patrick’s shoulders to choke him that much more. 

Brad Rochelle v Dom the Dominator – Demolition 3

Brad, Brad, Brad… of course, any regular reader of this blog is already fully immersed in the drama of Brad Rochelle’s BGE career, as his fratboy face and go-go boy muscles went through years of jobbing, suffering like perhaps none other, not infrequently himself trapped in the very same ropes with which he’d humiliated Patrick and won rookie of the year. Dom’s boot in his ass and his back cranked backward over the top rope, Brad’s rope-suffering illustrates what is the tastiest pay off of all with rope work: the stunning body of a hunk displayed so fully and vulnerably.

Rio Garza v Donnie Drake v “Trevor” Mathews – Pro Bashed Triple Threat
I noticed in recent pics from Can-Am’s new (upcoming?) release, Pro Bashed Triple Threat, that Rio Garza is on the receiving end of some tasty hunk rope punishment at the hands of Donnie Drake. This is, perhaps, the best representation of my own subjective experience at the moment. Clearly outmuscled and at the mercy of a nasty, big, brick house bastard, like Rio under the control of Donnie Drake, I’m getting pried backward and pounded on with nothing to do but take it and look pretty (I can pull that off, too).
As I whine, just a bit, about my own woes (I can sell suffering when it’s my turn), I find some comfort in the sight of some beautiful hunks getting tied up and beat down with the assistance of the ropes. Well, okay, so perhaps “comfort” isn’t the word. But it does, somehow, make the nasty heels in my own life a little more tolerable when I spend a little time admiring the aesthetics and erotics of homoerotic wrestling heels taking the picture frame itself and choking the daylights out of the stunning portrait of a musclehunk in the middle.

Message Received


I got the message. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms lately that I should buckle down, get my work done, and finally finish the next match for the Secretarial Pool auditions.

Everyone has been genuinely respectful, not to mention patient, but there’s a little bit of a “tone” in the messages I’m getting lately.
A little less time on the blog, someone has suggested, in order to make time to finish my work and get back to the fiction. Time management… buckle downnose to the grindstone, Bard.
My take away is that it’s great that people are anxious to see the next chapter in the auditions. When I started sharing my fiction about a year ago, I wasn’t sure anyone would be all that interested. So having people smack me around a little and remind me that they’ve been patiently waiting for the next match is a good news/bad news sort of scenario.

The good news is that you’re getting a kick out of my writing. The bad news is that when I’m swamped at work, you’re left waiting. But do understand: I get
the message. I’m working my ass off, and looking forward to the much more enjoyable work of exercising my homoerotic wrestling kink imagination (and looking forward to more of your contributions to Sidelineland!).

Value Added

Facial hair is all about taste. Some have the taste for it. Others don’t. In the abstract, it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with wrestling, per se. It’s like gear. It’s usually secondary to what draws us to watch the action.
Still, I’m a fan of some facial hair. I’m not talking about the exquisitely trimmed pencil drawings on some faces. Joshua Goodman’s “soul patch,” for example, just looks like he needs to wipe his lower lip. It’s not that that the tiny little triangle of hair under his lip somehow makes him anything less than a stunningly muscled hunk worthy of abject worship. I just don’t think it adds anything to the masterpiece that is Mr. Joshua’s gorgeous form.

Same goes for Cole Cassidy. The patch underneath his chin just looks a little odd to me. I’d lick every inch of him until I passed out, mind you, particularly after he locked me up tight in a crippling figure-four leg lock. But his facial hair isn’t so much of an asset to the treasure that is Cole’s body, skill, or charisma.

Still, it’s not as if I think facial hair is categorically negligible. It can significantly enhance the story in a match. Young whipcord, Brigham Bell, was deceptively babyfaced when clean shaven. Blond and pretty, Brigham could frequently tell the story of the underestimated skinny kid who then opens a major can of whoop-ass on his unsuspecting opponents.
I actually liked his goatee later in his BGE appearances. He looked more vicious and needing to be reckoned with. After being the underestimated babyface over and over, a darker, more threatening persona is nice character development.
BGE icon, Brooklyn Bodywrecker, early on sported a fantastic 80’s stash. It’s fantastic not because I think it was particularly attractive, but it was so entirely apropos of a burly, bearish Brooklyn thug bent on erotic domination.
I’m an even bigger fan, though, of BBW’s goatee. It does just as much to tell me the story of his sadistic, kinktastic persona as does his leather harness and chaps.

And frankly, between you and me, his greying goatee stokes me even more. A huge, muscled, savage, egomaniacal sadistic heel daddy decimating and claiming his baby-bottom-smooth opponent (yes, Mr. Joshua, we’re looking at your ass) is hot stuff.

Overly coiffed adds nothing for me. A heel with a goatee is definite value added.

In Your Face

What is it that’s happening when a wrestler grinds his opponent’s face into his crotch?Okay, I mean, besides the obvious. What’s the story line there? I’m NOT complaining, mind you, I’m just taking a second look at something that I typically take for granted.

PWP has just posted a couple of new matches. Pretty dancer boys are tossing and squeezing one another predictably. A beautiful, long pale hottie, White Angel, takes his turn working over and getting worked on in “The Challenge Series“. This image of him schoolboy pinning Mario, with what looks like a big smile on Mario’s face, brings the topic to mind. Part of the story, at least, is humiliation. Dominating your opponent so completely that you can drop your most vulnerable parts across his face with impunity has got to send a message: You are owned.
Can-Am’s Tom Flex was constantly planting his abundant package across his opponents’ faces. This position is repeated multiply throughout Flex’s wrestling history, both clothed and naked. Here, Beau Hopkins turns his face away to avoid Flex’s testicles pressed against his lips. Clearly, part of the story is also the allusion to forced oral sex. The dominant muscle stud possesses such command over his helpless opponent that he can force feed his cock and transform his opponent into his sexual toy.
Like Tom Flex, BG East’s Mr. Joshua Goodman frequently smothers his opponents with his overstuffed package, and like Flex, Joshua frequently puts his own stunning body on gorgeous display while he does it. Joshua is a case in point of another aspect of this crotch-to-face story. Joshua’s massive, low hanging balls are ALWAYS a feature of his matches. He’s gorgeously muscled, handsome, and has a nice, cocky persona, but let’s face it, it’s hard to associate Mr. Joshua with much else other than his pendulous package. The crotch-to-face is the exclamation point at the end of the sentence: Mr. Joshua’s balls are huge! His figure-four crotch-to-face is the unspoken (often spoken) message that Mr. Joshua is hyper-masculine, unstoppable, and irrepressible.

Mitch Colby, current top contender to take back the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, reaches that moment in pretty much every match where he has his opponent’s head wedged high between his thighs. He takes both hands and grasps the down man’s head, and presses his opponent’s face into this crotch. Mitch tells the whole story explicitly that so many only imply. Invariably, Mitch’s head rolls backward, his eyes are shut in ecstasy, and his face is enraptured by this moment of sexual domination. I swear, I expect to see Mitch cum in his jock strap every time he does this. Mitch is getting off on this, and for that particular story he tells so well, he remains firmly ensconced in the pantheon of my absolute favorites. To have a muscle hunk’s face crushed against your cock and balls should absolutely be about sexual gratification.

Speaking of pale, skinny white boys,
Brigham Bell always did it for me in a way that never ceased to catch me by surprise. With zero bodyfat, Brigham was a walking anatomy chart, with every muscle, tendon and bone in clear relief. He was so skilled at using that whipcord of a body to beat down, conquer, and humiliate his bigger opponents. Squeezing a hard boy’s head into his crotch was standard fare for Brigham, using the maneuver to hammer home the point that it’s not always how big the muscles are that determine the tale. This pale, skinny white boy that you completely underestimated is suddenly planted across your shoulders, driving your chin into his balls. Whatever you thought was going to happen in this match, however you thought you’d overpower and dominate the skinny kid, it was always fated that you’d be flat on your back with his cock slapped down across your lips.

As always, I love the muscled bodies, the erotic, dominating positions, the enthused salesmanship. But it’s the arc of the story that I find most erotic. It’s the plot of two men staring one another down, untested and cock-sure of themselves, and all the fantastic elements that go into one of them ending up lying flat on his back, defenseless, with his opponent’s crotch shoved into his face.