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?

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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

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

5’9″, 200 lbs.

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

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

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

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

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

Cannot take his/my eyes off that hot body!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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