Cross-Pollinating

Joe’s post this morning was serendipitous.  As is so often the case, right about the time something occurs to me regarding homoerotic wrestling, Joe has just posted on the topic.  In this case, I was even thinking of the phrase “cross-pollination,” as I reflected on the tempting allure of playing the game “what-if” with the chess pieces of homoerotic wrestlers from different production companies.  Regular readers will be quick to point out that I’ve bemoaned too much of a good thing in the past.  I’ve been quick to complain about “over-exposure” of wrestlers appearing everywhere at once, showing up simultaneously featured in new releases by competing productions.  But if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times: I see no virtue in constancy, and like so many great men before me, I’m willing to allow that my opinions on important subjects “evolve.”  Whether today’s post is evolution or merely me reveling in my own self-contraditions, only time will tell.  However here’s my theme for today, picking up on Joe’s introduction of the topic of cross-pollination: which brand-loyal (for now) homoerotic wrestlers would I most like to see matched up against each other in cross-production matches?  Considering only the boys who I’ve only seen (or remember) wrestling for one and only one homoerotic wrestling company, here are the dream matches that are making me reconsider the moral good of cross-pollinating wrestlers.

Austin Wolf (6’4″, 235 lbs) v Diego Diaz (6’3″, 185 lbs)

For example, my first pairing for this mental exercise is the hypothetical match that really started me down this path.  Thunder’s Arena has a new stunningly handsome muscle giant by the name of Austin Wolf who grabs me with both hands and turns my crank hard! Wow, just… wow.  His dismantling of fellow Thunder’s rookie Hooper absolutely enthralls me.  It’s a catchweight scenario. Little Hoop is just fucked from the moment he walks on the mat and looks up, up, up at the bottom of Wolf’s chin towering over him.  Wolf’s look completely delights me.  A big, long, giant of a man who can pack on aesthetically luscious muscle mass is just priceless.  And that’s when it hits me.  Austin Wolf will never be fully realized in my mind until he climbs into the ring against BG East Latino beauty Diego Diaz.  I have no idea what would happen next.  Although essentially eye-to-eye, Diego is giving up a reported (but I’m skeptical) 50 pounds, though his conditioning looks far superior to Wolf’s.  I have a hunch that Austin Wolf would not be tossing around Diego like a sack of potatoes!

Archer (5’9″, 150 lbs) v Michael Vineland (??)
Another Thunder’s exclusive who demands a double-take from me everytime I run across an image of him is tatted young muscle stud, Archer.  This boy can sweat, and I could spend days studying every carved, cut muscle on his gorgeous body… with my tongue.  I swear this kid does to me what Brad Rochelle did to me the first time I saw him on the splash page of BG East.  Fun and games and fratboy hijinks will surely keep me tuning in for more of Archer at Thunders, but holy hell in a hand basket, just imagine this mouthwatering kid climbing into the Pro Sex Fight ring with Can-Am exclusive, Michael Vineland. There’s some inevitability about that match-up.  For example, at some point devastatingly handsome Archer is going to be sniffing balls with his head trapped in a long, slow face-to-crotch headscissors between Michael’s incredibly huge quads.  And there’s no way Archer won’t, at some point, be tied in the ropes in the corner and getting his sweat soaked muscles alternately stroked and pummeled, most likely with his cock and balls hanging out the front of his trunks.  And sure, someone’s getting fucked, and most likely he’ll return the favor.  But still, the journey along the way with these two would absolutely demand me pull my wallet out.
Victor Paz (6’2″, 172 lbs) v Jimmy Clay (??)
Two more brand loyalists (as far as I know, please correct me if I’m wrong!) that I’d love, love, love to see “cross-pollinate” are BG East rookie Victor Paz and Can-Am sex fighter, Jimmy Clay.  Jimmy talks a good game and has a lovely body, but he’s more pornboy than homoerotic wrestler.  That fact is precisely what makes me absolutely ache to see him step onto the mat against laser-focused MMA hardbody, Victor.  Jimmy would be all about the camera angles (which I’m not knocking him, mind you… a boy who thinks about precisely how sexy this will look on camera is golden in my book).  He might get some early offense, locking up Victor in a sloppy headlock.  But the shitstorm that would rage all over Jimmy’s fratboy porn-body for the next 45 minutes would be absolutely epic! Victor nearly took down Eli Black with legitimate skill, stamina, and strength against a wrestler who epitomizes all three of those!  Poserboy Jimmy?  Holy hell.  But if anyone could grind his ass into Victor’s crotch and get a rise out of the stunning MMA stud, I’m betting Jimmy could make a mat loss turn into a win-win-win (that last win is for me and you) scenario with Victor.
Lon Dumont (5’7″, 150 lbs) v Coupe (6’1″, 215 lbs)
BG East fixture, Lon Dumont + Thunder’s Arena goofy boy: Coupe = Match made in heaven.  Both of these hardbodied hunks are competitive bodybuilders.  They both inspire infinite wrestling fantasies that keep me sated in between actually watching their respective matches.  Lon is not a man who suffers fools lightly, and Coupe, at least in the context of Thunder’s is the classic medieval fool: jokester, self-depracating, silly, out for a laugh.  Now put these two great tastes together, preferably in the ring, and you’ve got muscle bashing beauty with stamina to keep wrestling for days and days!  While Coupe is a half a foot taller and around 65 pounds heavier than Lon, there’s no way in hell that he’s coming out with any shred of dignity left.  The relentless destruction Lon would rain down would be infinitely varied and delivered with the precision and perfection of a consummate professional.  Exactly how it would go down, I’m not sure, but I strongly suspect 2 things: Coupe tied up in the ropes and Coupe balling like a baby.
Cratos (5’9″, 200 lbs) v Kid Karisma (5’8″, 170 lbs)
My reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Cratos, looks incredibly familiar to me, but for the life of me I can’t place where I may have seen this hot and handsome hunk before.  So as far as I know, he qualifies as a Thunder’s exclusive and eligible for this little game I’m playing today.  What brand-loyal wrestler from another company would be my ideal to meet Cratos and do some cross-pollinating?  I can’t think of a more perfect opponent for my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month than my reigning overall favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy, BG East’s exclusively, Kid Karisma.  I’m picturing Kid K welcoming Cratos to his first ring match.  I’m also picturing Cratos totally indignant at the raging ego and contemptuous disdain that oozes from Kid K’s every pore.  I’m also picturing this as a serious battle of muscle and determination.  Details? I have no idea, which is what makes this such a fantastically provocative pairing.  However, I have to believe, right near the end, we’d see the karismatic one’s crotch planted across Cratos lips.  Prove me wrong, Cratos.  Prove me wrong!
Tyrell Tomsen (5’11, 185 lbs) v Alexi Ivanov (6′, 170 lbs)

The final pairing that occurred to me was BG East’s resident adonis, Tyrell Tomsen, facing the Russian battleboy, Rock Hard Wrestling’s exclusive, Alexi Ivanov.  Again, both of these men rock me hard, although in different ways.  Tyrell is just a fucking god, full stop.  I think if I ever actually met this man in person, I’d melt away in a pool of mindless lust.  Alexi, on the other hand, compels me from a different angle.  He’s got a drive and personality that keep me tuning into watch him despite his lackluster performances thus far in the ring.  There’s story in his eyes that begs for more definition and attention, and putting him in the ring with the chiseled muscle god Tyrell seems to me to be a beautiful intervention to aid Alexi’s full emergence into the world of homoerotic wrestling.  Don’t even think this is anything but a rip ‘n’ strip match.  And you know that lovely, rippled, lean Alexi is going to spend hours racked across Tyrell’s thigh in an OTK backbreaker (or 20).  But possibly, just maybe, the divine beauty of Tyrell bashing him from corner to corner might just awaken within Alexi the Drago-within, because you and I also know that this kid is a genetically engineered erotic-wrestling-sleeper-cell left over from the cold war and surely and inevitably designed to go nuts all over some entirely naked muscle boy (aka, Tyrell) and own his ebony body tied up in the ropes and tortured to exquisite perfection.  I swear, that’s all inside Alexi’s hot-yet-wooden wrestling body, just waiting to explode all over Tyrell’s bulging pecs.

Who are the brand loyal battle boys you’d like to see cross-pollinate all over each other?

Pythons

Thunder’s Arena’s newest rookie sensation (aptly named): Python
Damn! Did you see the newest muscle stud at Thunder’s Arena? He wrestles as “Python,” which draws attention to the body part that certainly inspires hard-swallowing awe within me: his beautifully peaked biceps. There’s a lot on Python’s gorgeous physique to appreciate. He’s got a hot, broad upper back, beautiful pecs, very nice abs, and one damn adorably goofy grin. But again I say: damn! The peaks on those biceps are a—mazing! I haven’t seen his rookie debut with Angel yet, but I’ve got a deep down craving to see that right bicep of Python’s slowly wrapped around Angel’s neck from behind and then methodically flexed until the pointed peak of that monster crushes Angel’s throat in a name’s-sake rear choke. Follow that up with the rookie shoving that mountainous muscle in his dazed, battered opponent’s face and making him kiss it, and I’d be wasted (for at least a couple of minutes).

Can-Am’s iconic muscle man: Steve Sterling
Arms do not, as a rule, capture my attention first and foremost on most wrestlers. Not that I don’t appreciate hot, strong arms and especially Popeye-bulging forearms (Jonny Firestorm, I’m looking at you), but my eyes tend to instinctively lock onto other geography. Hot, meaty glutes, for example, or luscious, clawable pecs are frequently tops on my list. Armored abs, a hefty package (a-hem, Mr. Joshua), and thick, bear-trap thighs will tend to be higher on my list than arms. But on some wrestlers, and when I’m in the mood, arms light up my homoerotic imagination and make me feel all creative about the best uses for sculpted arm muscles. For example, I can’t help but picture Can-Am classic Steve Sterling cracking walnuts between his bodybuilder biceps and freakishly huge forearms. Then I tend to picture my cock trapped in the same spot, and with a little oil, working up a frot fantasy that only a musclebound arm like that can satisfy.
Thunder’s Arena’s Muscle Phenom: Coupe
Thunder’s resident muscle freak Coupe’s biceps aren’t as massive as Steve Sterling’s, but holy fuck that vascularity and shape makes me gasp every time I see them. Coupe is a phenomenon. I often throw around the hyperbole of wrestlers sporting 0% body fat, but it’s no exaggeration when it comes to muscle freak Coupe. He’s so cut and sculpted that I have to imagine if Coupe just faced the right opponent, he’d bring a man to his knees by just flashing those double biceps and that cocky I-dare-you-not-to-lick-them grin. This man needs to star in a wrestling match-turned full contact body worship feature like nobody’s business! Thunder’s may not be the company to produce it, but I’ll be the first in line to be that opponent!

Reese Wells and his Magic Biceps

I’ve noted on many occasions the particular magic that Reese Wells (aka Brody Hancock) weaves over me. He’s a living paradox. That pubescent face of his is completely diverting from the fact that the boy sports incredibly mature, aesthetically gorgeous muscle! He seems like one of those genetic freaks who’s probably always complaining about how hard it is for him to put on weight (which, in and of itself, is a reason for a beating in my book). I swear, at the right angle, in the wrong light, Reese would be easily mistaken for a skinny kid. Then BOOM!!!!… the boy flashes a double bicep and out of nowhere he’s got astonishing muscle mass squeezed into his upper arms like surgically inserted softballs. Where the fuck does he hide those guns!?!  There’s a skinny-kid-opens-a-can-of-whoop-ass-on-his-big-bad-bully fantasy just dying to be taped, culminating in Reese flashing one of his Houdini biceps in his former-tormentor’s face while cranking out a load of cum all over the humiliated bastard’s chest.

BG East Fantasy Man: Tyrell Tomsen
BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen’s arms let loose a flood of lustful fantasies for me frequently. So sure, Tyrell’s got the whole package (that should probably be Package with a capital “P!”). Tyrell’s ass, legs, pecs, tiny little waist, washboard abs… they’ve all been star players in climactic fantasies of mine. But when I watch Tyrell actually wrestling, it’s his gargantuan biceps that frequently have me muttering at the screen. He’s got the raw mass of Steve Sterling and the stunning shape and cut of Coupe. There’s something pristinely paradigmatic about Tyrell wrapping those monsters around his opponent’s back, lifting the lucky fucker off his feet, and squeezing the breath and the will to live out of him while shaking his prey like a rag doll.  This scenario has been approximated, mind you, but I’m hard pressed to see how a lucky opponent in that predicament doesn’t cum with his cock getting crushed and dragged up and down across Tyrell’s washboard, so I’m picturing him tossing the loser to the mat with a pint of cum strung between them, and Tyrell forcing the bastard to lick him clean with some special attention paid to his sweaty armpits.
Can-Am’s Thiago Diaz is built to crush!

Can-Am’s Thiago Diaz has 2 equally prominent objects of my lusts: his fireplace poker cock and his incredibly huge arms! Rip Steve Sterling in the prime of his conditioning out of the past and place him side by side with Thiago, and I’d put money on Thiago as having the bigger upper arms. Steve would have the Can-Am newbie beat for overall body proportions, mind you. Thiago’s lower body lags behind his upper body development pretty dramatically, but those shoulders and arms are like a cartoon drawing of a muscleman superhero. And since we’ve already transported Sterling into the present from the prime of his career, I can’t help but get wildly turned on by the image of Thiago nearly ripping Steve’s head off in a dragon sleeper with his veiny, massive bicep pressed perfectly across the classic bodybuilder’s carotid.

BG East’s Magnificent Mitch Colby

So, sure, I’ve spilled more ink on the pages of this blog over every inch of Mitch Colby’s body than just about anything else, but honestly, those biceps! Sweet Jesus-or-whomever-else-you-pray-to! Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous! Strength, beauty, proportion… I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen it in a Mitch match, but in my mind, I’ve often pictured him with those mile-and-a-half-long limbs clamped around an opponent’s lower abdomen in a rear bearhug, lifting the luckyluckylucky loser off his feet and grinding his gorgeous cock into his opponent’s crack. Mitch-the-man squeezes a screaming submission out of him, then simultaneously takes the loser from behind while flexing his guns hypnotically as he generously jacks-off the overwhelmed plaything.
BG East One-Hit Wonder: Gary Myers’ biceps have biceps!

In hunting for which homoerotic wrestling arms send me shooting the farthest, I came across this image of BG East muscleboy, Gary Myers. I haven’t seen this match yet, but this should be the image next to the dictionary entry for “fantasy man.” So much to soak in, I know, but take a close look at those mind-blowing biceps.  The peaks on those monsters have peaks of their own!  It looks like this muscleboy only wrestled once, but fortunately, it was against the vicious sadist and bodybeautiful heel Jose. I can’t tell from the stills from the match whether Jose captured Gary from behind and locked up all those bulging muscles in a full nelson, but I can hope. And if Jose happened to do a little licking of Gary’s peaked peaks, then all is right with the world. If not, then this fantasy will have to live only in my imagination, though I can always hope to see it born out with one of the bicep-beauties still in the business today.
As I wrap up this small package, I’d just like to make the observation that several of the homoerotic wrestlers who I think of as having massive, gorgeous arms, on closer inspection really don’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with merely mortal muscle arms, of course. It’s the whole package with a sweet dose of attitude and kinetic eroticism that makes homoerotic wrestling my favorite kink and passion.  But when I’m in the mood that Thunder’s rookie Python puts me in, there’s something awfully arousing about the top shelf quality beef of musclebound arms in homoerotic wrestling competition.

Roadmap

Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe shows off his vascularity
As I mentioned in my last post, there’s a lot about Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe that turns me on. I could go on for days about the intoxicating brew of his freakish physical development mixed with self-depracating humor and a strong chaser of insecurity. I could linger for hours at a time over the gargantuan slabs of beef that are his glutes. He sports the proportions of a superhero, ripped from the imagination of some barely suppressed gay comic book artist. But for today, I’m captured by the effect that Coupe’s vascularity has on me. The ropes of thick veins stretched across his arms and shoulders drive me nuts!
BG East’s Lon Dumont is shredded!
In Rookie Wreckers 1, Lon Dumont is in astonishing shape. His body is straight out of my college anatomy and physiology textbook. On the road to competing in several bodybuilding competitions soon after his humiliation of the beefy beauty, young Morgan Cruise, Lon had already whittled away every gram of body fat, until there was just nothing left but his gorgeous, smooth skin stretched across his skeletal muscles. With simply no padding, you can clearly see the sharp edges of his joints, the lay of the muscle fibers themselves, and the spiderweb of veins feeding his awesomely pumped muscles. With hunky Morgan tied up helplessly in the ropes and forced to watch, Lon took an opportunity to practice some of his mandatory poses. Admiring his own side chest pose, Lon marveled at the roadmap of striations and veins carved across his cut pecs. “Look at that!” he demands of Morgan, in awe at the sight of his own astonishing fitness.
Thunder’s Arena’s King Conan: built to impress (and crush)

Aussie pro bodybuilder, Conan at Thunder’s is nearly too big for my tastes. If I had a man this size inviting me to worship his physique like the god he most certainly is, I almost wouldn’t know where to start. However, I think I’d figure it out, and veiny ropes bulging just beneath the skin would hold my attention for quite some time. And speaking of holding, I’d go deep into debt to pay every penny it would be worth to have Conan lock my head between those veiny thighs in a deep, suffocating face-to-crotch scissors and have him dick whip my face.

BG East’s recent masked muscle freak discovery, Magnus, left me nearly as much in awe of him as that lucky bastard gym bunny, Surge. All that beef hanging from Magnus’ legs require thick, bulging veins to supply his quads, hamstrings and calves with the nourishment they need. Damn, that’s hot!

Can-Am’s Steve Sterling – tags and bags his opponents with
his overwhelming muscle development

Can-Am’s classic muscle beast, Steve Sterling, had a gorgeous… well, a gorgeous everything! But in the heat of competition, when he’d strain and flex and inevitably outmuscle the lambs led to slaughter in front of him, the veins in his arms would swell to the surface and bring me, like so many of his opponents, to my knees.

Thiago’s muscles look ready to explode as he counters
Jobe’s oh-so-tight rear bearhug

Can-Am’s Thiago Diaz‘ upper body is jaw-droppingly sculpted. The muscle mass he carries on his arms, shoulders and chest is almost unbelievable. I almost wonder if he’s wearing some blow-up muscle suit to explain his astonishing thickness (not to mention the muscle that’s challenging the seams of his trunks!). When Thiago flexes, straining to power out of a fiercely intimate rear bear hug by sadist cockmaster, Jobe Zander, the vascularity that flares up across his upper arms and shoulders pushes me right to the edge of self-control (and frequently right over the edge).

I’m on the record for being turned on by a diversity of bodies. It isn’t that the details don’t matter to me, but that I’m a fan of all sorts of packages for each set of sweet, provocative details they have. By no means do my wrestling turn-ons require bodybuilders to satisfy what ignites my erotic tastes. Lean meanies, beefy bruisers, tasty twinkshairy, smooth, pretty boys and ugly mugsfratboy loveliness, perfectly seasoned maturity… I’m blessed by all sorts of buttons that ignite my homoerotic wrestling fantasies. Gorgeous, bulging, pulsing veins rising to the surface of a rock hard body is right up there with some of the qualities that turn me on the most.

The Biggest Loser

Coupe’s back! This makes me happy. Coupe is a muscle freak that rocks me every ounce as hard as his stunning body is (hard, that is). His arms and chest are like a road map of thick, blue veins. His 6’1″, 215 pound body is tanned a freakish mocha that convinces me he’s got to be yet another competition bodybuilder-turned-wrestler. His quads look thicker than his waist, and this minuscule fraction of body fat is probably not indicative of an entirely healthy, happy diet. There are some elements to the package that is Thunder’s Coupe that could go either way for me. Too much a vascular muscle freak, too many monster veins and synthetic skin tone can become more than I can get into. Somehow, Coupe stays just within the lines of homoerotic wrestling fantasy material for me.  His personality may be the piece of the puzzle that tips the scales the right direction. Some of his on camera banter with Cameron Mathews from a ways back was fantastically charming. He’s got a sense of humor. His wrestling persona is oddly self-depracating when packaged in that superhuman physique. He loses… a lot. And there’s something intoxicating about watching all that mind-blowing muscularity manipulated, exploited and owned. That he’s back at Thunder’s for more makes me happy not only for the eye candy, but the enjoyment of witnessing both his Superman assets paired with an adorable vulnerability.
Coupe and Dallas meet for Bodybuilder Battle 48 as they both lounge around the Thunder’s Arena living room. They start a little pissing contest about who’s been brutalized the worst. It’s a homoerotic wrestling take on “biggest loser,” as both notorious whipping boys take ironic pride in boasting their most humiliating defeats. In a battle of jobbers, who’s the jobberiest?
Aptly named Big Sexy shows up to light a fire under these boys. I appreciate the sentiment. While I find a distinct allure to a squash or a destined-to-job muscleman, if there’s no pretense of an ego on the line, then it’s just not very homoerotic for my tastes. Eye candy is nice. Pretty bodies on display are pleasing. But if the wrestling has no heart, it doesn’t tweak my wrestling kink. So Big Sexy offers $500 to whichever notorious loser can finally chalk up a decisive victory. Coupe is eager to take the challenge. Dallas looks less  hopeful.
On the Thunder’s mat, Dallas cannot take his eyes off of Coupe’s sculpted pecs. “You’re huge!” he mutters with a dumbshit grin on his face.  Big Sexy leans toward Coupe conspiratorially. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to win…” he confides to Coupe. Then he turns his attention to his former chore boy to explain, “…cause you’re shitty.”
Dallas mutters, embarrassed, “Me too.”  As the action finally commences, there’s more than a helping of the typical Thunder’s camp that bounces off of me like rubber. Dallas, in particular, is about 3.5% wrestler, 96.5% ham sandwich from start to finish in this match up. Reminiscent of many a “fight” between me and my older brother when I was about 6 years old (which was just not homoerotic), Dallas goes for an “Indian burn” early in the match. The boys laugh at themselves uncomfortably for the first 10 minutes or so. Personally, I’m attracted by a build up of tension, but with each snort and nervous chuckle, they frustratingly release the tension and reduce my satisfaction.
Back to the issue of eye candy, however, Coupe looks amazing. Returning from the awkward cuts showing extensive need for editing the original tape, Coupe is frequently found flexing his muscle freak physique for no other reason than he knows he looks so fucking hot. It’s the eye candy aspect that keeps me watching when Dallas’ ham makes me just feel uncomfortable for these big boys. Slowly, Coupe settles firmly into character. He easily puts Dallas on his back and forces him to strum his washboard abs. They trade bear hugs that show off Coupe’s munchable striated glutes. When Dallas manages an improbable schoolboy pin and then cradle, Coupe’s mind-blowing muscles are stretched and displayed from nearly every angle. Spread-eagled and bridging, it makes me long to offer another $500 to Dallas if he’ll just keep Coupe locked up long enough for me to seriously study his captured crotch up close… with my hands… and my tongue.
Coupe eventually hits a note that turns me on without reservation. It’s his crowing, gloating muttering of the phrase, “All day…” that finally sells me. He pounds Dallas’ soft tummy. He claws his pecs. He scoops him up like absolutely nothing and parades the unemployed pizza delivery boy around the mat with growing pleasure at the feel of being in charge. “All day,” he mutters with each compromising position he lays down on his continually clowning opponent. “All day,” he says, slamming Dallas to his back.  He seamlessly transitions from the body slam to an armlock, cranking Dallas’ elbow backward painfully. “Is that not the way it’s supposed to go?” Coupe asks, chuckling, this time not in nervous self-consciousness, but in cocky confidence.  “This is called ‘Getting Fucked Up,’ man,” Coupe gloats.
When Dallas wrestled for Naked Kombat as Parker London, he was hot, intense, and all business. So I know that he can do something other than clown around. He also rode his NK opponent like a pony before force feeding him his cock and plowing his ass, so I’m ready to cut Dallas some slack and not over-interpret his clownishness here as contempt for his audience. But it takes some considerable heat on the part of Coupe to avoid being doused by the cold shower of Dallas’ screwing around and laughing.  When Coupe literally beats a final submission out of him, stretched backward across his thigh and pounding Dallas’ soft core like a sledge hammer, it’s an erotic relief/release for me to see something that looks like powerful, beautiful physical domination. If the rest of the match was as gorgeously sold, if Dallas just channeled a little of his pornboy Parker persona to put a little ego on the mat, this could have been a thoroughly rousing scrap.
As it is, I’m just happy to see Coupe in action again, and I can generate some serious enthusiasm for the moments of wrestling kink allure that he works himself into. Now, if he’d peel off those canary posing trunks and ride Dallas around the mat like a pony, this fun little 27 minute diversion would be seriously epic!

Asses Named

No one posted a perfect score for this week’s installment of Name That Ass. I’m still looking for teacher’s pet. Keep studying, gentlemen. Adoring homoerotic wrestling asses requires intense, exhaustive study. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do well. I grade on a curve, and preparing for the next quiz should be it’s own reward. In the meantime, here are the answers to the quiz:
Ass #1 belongs to:

 BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen.
Stunning size and gorgeous proportions, when Tyrell is naked and soaked in sweat in the wrestling ring, he can strike one of the most lustworthy still life’s on record. As pictured, Tyrell was playing dominating bully to opponent Braden Charron for Strip Stakes 1. It was Tyrell’s Summer Sizzler against Bobby Horton that convinced me that Bobby deserved the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month last summer.  Tyrell has definitely been out-wrestled in his brief tenure with BG East, but he’s never been out-muscled or out-classed when it comes to his picturesque physique.
Ass #2 belongs to:
BG East’s Kid Karisma.
Kid K has captured me in his gravitational pull lately, and I’ve found myself circling back to marvel at his performances over and over again. His ass, in particular, is simply astonishingly beautiful. This particular shot is from his face off with Rocco in Gear Wars 1. I’ll gush soon about his Wet ‘n Wild appearance with Christian Taylor, but in the mean time, marvel a little longer at those glutes…

Did ass #3 pose a challenge? It belongs to none other than…
Can-Am’s pornboy extraordinaire, Mark Wolff.
Blake Onassis would have also earned you full marks for this one, since he’s cross listed under both names. This particularly fun shot is of Mark getting his face smashed into the lockers by Billy Herrington (also AKA’s Billy Marcus) for Lords of the Lockerroom. He was always a pornboy musclegod, with an ass for days and nipples the size of half dollars. Frankly, it wasn’t really Mark’s wrestling that ever sold me, but I’d buy some full contact moving pictures of that body anyday.
I imagined ass #4 might have given some students trouble. It belongs to…
Naked Kombat’s John Magnum.

I’m positive that I’ve seen Magnum wrestling somewhere else, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where. He blew my socks off (pants, too!), when I saw him in his one and only (to date) appearance at Naked Kombat in a nail-biter against Phillip Aubrey. Phillip nearly took the big muscle brute in this match. If there was ever a tie, in the gestalt sense, these two boys were perfectly, evenly matched, despite having distinctly different styles and builds. John’s personality, though, is absolutely kink-stastic. He’s 110% present. He delights in every second of domination, and he struggles to free himself from absolutely ever nano-second under Phillip’s control. He’s a beautiful man, and although I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy much more wrestling from him, I get a little contact high off of his tweets now and then.

I didn’t hear from any advanced players who correctly identified the monster muscle glutes of ass #5 as belonging to…
Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe.

I’ve marveled before that Coupe is a muscle freak. That does not always equate to homoerotic gold, but just like his trunks in his poolside back-and-forth with Cameron Mathews, Coupe is indeed homoerotic wrestling kink gold in my book. If ever there was a body that absolutely required comment, even awe from his opponents, it’s Coupe’s. But that’s not really what Thunder’s does, sadly. It’s much more frat house romp than full on homoerotic body worship. I haven’t seen him at Thunder’s in a while, but I’ll just put it out there here and now, if ever Coupe is looking for some homo muscle worship to make up for all the neglect the boys at Thunder’s have made him suffer, I’m first in line with the baby oil.

So how did you do? I put more weight in progress over time than any individual quiz grade, so I hope that you’re finding that you’re performance is improving as you take more Name That Ass quizzes. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do as well as you’d hoped. We both know that you love the subject matter, so devoting yourself with renewed enthusiasm to your studies should be no burden at all.

Rare Beef

I’m pretty sure that Mr. Mike at Thunders Arena believes me when I say that I meant no harm in prior comments about Thunders seeming like a side dish of wrestling (rather than a main course). At least, Mr. Mike tells me that I have permission to post Thunders Arena pics on my blog, and that seems friendly enough to me. And frankly, after Joe’s interview with Mr. Mike and wrestler Ace Hanson over at Ringside at Skull Island, I’ve been taking a fresh look at Thunders after a couple years away from them. Since the last time I really took a look, Thunders Arena has been setting a much more well-rounded table. And there’s a particular beef entree that’s making my mouth water.
I like this. I like this a whole, whole lot. There’s no turn of phrase that’s going to communicate quite authentically how much I like this, so let me just repeat myself for emphasis: I like this.
This is Coupe. You know that I’m frequently going on about muscleboys, muscleheads, musclebutts, etc. But Coupe is a different animal entirely. Coupe is a muscle freak. Not all muscle freaks are guaranteed golden in my book. There’s a point at which too much vascularity, too little body fat, and a physique that essentially has GNC tattooed across the ass crosses over into curiosity-rather-than-sexy territory for me. Coupe, however, is millimeters shy of that line, meaning that I’m simply captivated by every image and every clip I find of him.
He’s done some adorable behind-the-scenes clips on Thunders TV, several hamming it up and gratuitously throwing down with Cameron Mathews. Coupe has a self-possession, sense of humor, and humility about him that makes me completely at his mercy. And, of course, there’s that phyique…  speaking of being at Coupe’s mercy, he’s lately been launching a barrage of arousing wrestling fantasies in my imagination that involve me getting squeezed, tossed, pummeled and squeezed (I know I said that twice…) by every limb of that muscle freak physique. Take me for a ride, Coupe!
I could chew on that for days.
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