I’ve been thinking about asses a bit lately (on many levels). Grazing the internet, I happened across this photo of Twitter wonder Chris Nogiec via homotrophy, and my thoughts turned entirely and literally on asses. The sight of his astonishing ass shelf bulging out the top of Chris’ white briefs is truly beautiful, and it brought to mind a fleeting image in Gino Gotti’s match that I posted about yesterday. Early in Gino’s gazebo tussle with Kieran Dunne, Kieran is on the defensive, getting lifted and dropped to the mat behind Gino’s back. Kieran’s massive pecs inadvertently get caught on Gino’s blue trunks, and as Kieran slides down Gino’s backside, so do Gino’s trunks. For a fleeting moment, we see Gino’s sweet ass exposed as he straddles Kieran, now flat on his back underneath the hairy Italian. I feel just a little bitter toward Gino for instantly grabbing his trunks and yanking them back up before diving on top of his opponent. I forgive him though, because Gino is clearly a rookie learning the ropes. I would hope with some more experience, he’d realize that there’s much more to be sold in letting his cheeks remain free as he single-mindedly focuses on pressing his advantage on his opponent.

In any case, that’s all it took to get me obsessing about asses (in a literal sense) once again. It doesn’t take much. I think a fit, toned ass is one of the most beautiful creations on earth. When a beautiful ass has a particular formula of genetics and hard work, the shape and strength there is simply gorgeous. I could just sit and stare at the aesthetic cheeks of fitness model Jerry East for hours. In fact this image so captured my imagination that Jerry became the physical template upon which I’ve built an entire wrestling superhero character in my superhero series of homoerotic wrestling fiction.

Don’t get me wrong, there are all sorts of delightful things I’d like to do with an ass like that other than sit and stare. The tactile delights of thick, round cheeks are entirely attractive to me. I’m fully in favor of exploring a sweet set of glutes aggressively, using various parts of my own body to leave no mystery uncovered. But honestly, there’s an aesthetic to a beautiful ass that makes me want to soak it in visually, lingeringly and longingly enjoying the simple fact that something so fine and beautiful exists in this world full of so much ugliness.

Which, I suppose, brings me back to the metaphorical sense of asses. I must say I’ve been dealing with more than my fair share of horses asses lately. I tend to prioritize and value politeness and good form, frankly. I find little to excuse blatant rudeness. People who elbow their way across my path are a major irritation in my otherwise well-ordered life. I suppose I’m a little like Hannibal Lector that way (not the cannibalism part, but the abhorrence of rudeness part). I tend to go with the flow up until the point that someone is persistently rude, at which point I’m more than ready to open up a can of whoop-ass and re-establish the natural order of things that I take comfort in. In fact, I think failing to call out rudeness and crack some skulls in response to it is, in its own way, a contributing factor to just more creeping rudeness. So I have a pattern of having two speeds: 1) civil, friendly, polite, accommodating and cordial and 2) nostrils-flaring, knee to your throat, hard to decide whether I’ll be more satisfied if you submit fast or make me kick your ass long and hard before finally acknowledging that you deserved the harsh discipline I just delivered to you.
Which, in its own way, leads back to the beauty of a naked, gorgeous, vulnerable ass again, really. A severe spanking, my ass planted on someone else’s as I threaten to snap their neck off in a camel clutch, my hand shoved just underneath two ripe melons as I reach through and give a commanding claw to his unsuspecting testicles… the ass-kicking of a beautifully assed ass can make the whole circle of life so delightfully satisfying.

Still, I could use with fewer asses (metaphorically) these days.

Potential

I’ve been savoring the new release of Gazebo Grapplers 11 from BG East. There’s a lot to be said for GG11, most of which has already been said more skillfully than I could by Joe over at Ringside at Skull Island. Patrick Donovan’s match against Steven Thomas is both hot, sexy, and a sweet reminder of the last time we got a glimpse of cleft-chinned, BG East legend, Brad Rochelle (the story of the match picks up the day after the two of them were embarrassed by Brad and Jonny Firestorm in Contract 9). But for today, I’d like to linger just a little longer on a rookie I’d like to see more of, Gino Gotti.

Gino squares off in the gazebo against baby-faced narcissist and long-time BG East battler, Kieran Dunne. While I enjoy watching Kieran get spanked and humiliated like the little-boy with in britches-too-big that he is, Kieran steps up to the plate here and gives Gino the appropriate welcome that a rookie deserves. I’m a big advocate for the rookie beatdown. Didn’t there used to be a rule that rookies, particularly in their first match, had to be rode hard and put away wet? It seems like that doesn’t hold anymore, with a lot of new faces entering homoerotic wrestling stories as seasoned dominators. But in this case, Kieran gives Gino the classic rookie treatment, instructing him in the fine art of self-worship and then tying him up in humiliating knots.

Gino has a lot going for him in my estimation. He packs his trunks quite nicely both coming and going, and I’m particularly a fan of him going. Like a good, hot Italian stud should, Gino possesses a nice coat of body hair whose will has been tamed but not broken. He’s very fit without being overly muscled, and he’s in possession of nipples screaming out to be nibbled on. But make no mistake, Gino is clearly a rookie. He repeatedly dives in way, way too fast for pinfalls, as if an un-refereed gazebo scrap against the likes of sweat-soaked, mirror-gazing Kieran was ever going to be about a three count. He has a relatively nice self-possession on camera for a rookie, but he doesn’t quite sell his own suffering, particularly verbally. It’s entirely possible that his groans actually sound a little bored when he’s genuinely suffering, but that’s not going to sell an audience (at least it doesn’t me). But in the midst of me feeling a bit uncharitable about Gino’s salesmanship, something really fantastic suddenly occurred to me. Perhaps the sexiest thing about Gino is his deep, “fuck you” base voice. With a little more confidence, some swagger, and a willingness to let his ass hang out when his opponent “accidentally” pulls his trunks down in the match, I think a bare-chested introduction between Gino and YouTube phenom, SteelMuscleGod, could be the most homoerotically arousing non-expicit face-off in history.

It’s the pitch of Gino’s voice that brings SMG to mind for me. Both hot hunks possess a deep, bass snarl that sounds like it comes from a half-mile underground. Whereas rookie Gino seems not to be aware of the arousing sensual quality of his words, SMG has been cultivating the double-entendre laced, dripping-with-sex delivery of his deep growl for a couple of years.

I realize this match is highly unlikely to occur in the real world, so I’ll just have to imagine it. I’ll just have to imagine the aggressive pre-bout circling of one another like predators ready to pounce. I can picture in my mind a snarling pose down as they compare physiques, offering begrudging praise but each stud insisting that his body is clearly superior. The way I’d see it, there would be a ferocious opening scramble with tit-for-tat hip-tosses, head scissors, and grunting escapes, Gino would get his licks in, confidently staring down at SMG’s twisted body desperately trying to squirm free from the Italian’s breath-stealing body scissors. “Ooooo yah,” Gino’s hairy chest would rumble. “All that muscle, just helpless between my legs… it feels so goooood…” Gino would purr from the basement in his chest. Frankly, though, I’d have to imagine that SMG would have the power advantage to finally muscle his way free, stalk Gino like lunch on the African savannah, and eventually capture Gino in a skull crushing standing head scissors. “Mmmmmmm…” SMG would groan as if he’s about to climax. “You’ve never felt power like that before, have you? You can’t handle the muscle of a god, can you? Now tell me, who is your Steel Muscle God now?!”

I’m rooting for Gino to continue to develop that hot, gorgeous, arousing raw talent of his, one way or another.

Rookie Delight

I’ve been harping on the notion that homoerotic wrestling may be going to the same well too many times, putting it in danger of growing stale and uninteresting. I can be such a nagging bitch sometimes, can’t I? Just one more blogger who’s ass is firmly planted in the back seat and still trying to drive. Someone needs to give me a knee to the gut, then a headscissors until I just about pass out, followed by a commanding, hard drop across the knee into a prolonged over-the-knee backbreaker (can I suggest Rafe Sanchez would make a good disciplinarian for me?). Sitting here, all smug and certain of myself, it dawns on me that there are actually a lot of new faces showing up in homoerotic wrestling in the past few weeks. I’m not above retracing my steps and giving credit where credit is due. So today, I just want to celebrate a whole lot of new faces that are instantly making my blood pump faster. 

First, and possibly most promising in my book, is Angelo Blanco from BG East’s just released Masked Mayhem 7. So perhaps we can’t call him a new “face,” since he’s masked, but I swear I’ve never seen that long, lithe, sweet and sweaty body before… and I’d remember it. Masks are inherently erotic to me, so Angelo Blanco’s debut in a mask would already be a sweet centering of homoeroticism even if his nicely packed crotch didn’t keep getting in the way in his hard, nasty mat tussle with Skull. His cock seems to be nearly as distracting (and impressive) to him as Joshua Goodman’s is to Mr. Joshua. Angelo Blanco is not exactly a muscleboy, but he’s fantastically fit, oozing sex, clearly turned on by the match, and I’d beg on my knees for the opportunity to get squeezed between those legs and run my hands across that sweaty chest.

I’ve already composed a gushing ode to the new face at Rock Hard Wrestling, Travis Storm, so I won’t belabor the point too much here. In this batch of rookies, Travis runs a close second in my hopes to see him in many, many more matches. He’s a good ol’ Southern boy with great timing, sweet salesmanship on both ends of the stick, and an ass in need of a lingering spanking (and I have two hands free as soon as I finish this post).

I’ve only recently been taking a fresh look at Thunders Arena, so I’m not always clear who are the new faces and who are the faces who are just unfamiliar because I haven’t been keeping track. But I think #3 on my list of new faces I’m lusting after in the current homoerotic wrestling line up is Thunder’s muscleboy, Edge. Cam Mathews is once again the high class hottie pushing another hunky rookie into muscle dominating stardom. I’ve just watched a preview, but his bull dog on Cam, smacking the top of the jobber’s head hard onto the mat, makes my head hurt a little and my crotch tingle a lot. If this battle took place in the ring, I’d pop a blood vessel.
Again, in order of who I’m hoping to see more of or fantasize about facing off with myself is BG East’s Gino Gotti in Gazebo Grapplers 11. It seems a little dangerous to beat the crap out of someone named Gotti, but I’m with Kieran Dunne here when it comes to a focus on  laying this hot Italian stud out and making him cry out in pain. It sounds like Kieran is way to up is own ass to be bothered noticing the astonishing rookie specimen that he’s picking to pieces, which is a crying shame. I’m rooting for someone with better taste to make their introductions to Gotti next.

Again, you’ll forgive me if I’ve got the wrong end on this, but I believe Thunders Arena’s gargantuan muscleboy, STL, is another rookie bringing something new to homoerotic wrestling. There’s something both stunningly handsome and fresh-out-of-diapers about STL’s face that makes its placement on top of that thick, astonishingly powerful body deceptive. I’m captured by the image of me in an STL bearhug, squinting through my tearing eyes directly into his kid-next-door face, and being crushed between his hydraulic arms and those hot, sweaty, beefy pecs.

The last in this current line up of rookies who deserve credit (and their producers who deserve my apologies for overgeneralizing about the unimaginative state of the industry) is the enigmatically named D Fuller, appearing in BG East’s just released Big and Beefy 6. At six feet tall and listed at 215 pounds, this is another massively packed babyface. I’m not sure which gods D should be cursing for being fated to make his ring debut (hooray for fresh ring meat!) again Bulldog Barzini. Even a rookie the size of D would have to be the underdog against the beatdown alpha dog, Barzini. The preview pics of this match ignite a recurring fantasy in my mind of me at ringside, watching the big boy rookie beatdown in person, and at the moment that D is battered, subdued, and and stretched vulnerably and helplessly in Barzini’s clutches, the Bulldog gives me a nod and invites me into the ring for a closer look. D is bitter at the added humiliation, but he’s defenseless as Barzini immobilizes him as I appreciately kick the tires, stroke the upholstery, and take a long, deep whiff of that new rookie smell.

So I’m duly corrected by the evidence at hand. There are some delightful, inspiring, sexy new faces keeping me aroused and my imagination fully engaged in the current options in homoerotic wrestling. Full disclosure, I’ve only seen Angelo Blanco’s match and Travis Storm’s match in its entirety of the rookies mentioned above (which probably accounts for why I rank them #1 and #2 in my lusts and fantasies… I recommend them both). But if the rest of these new boys stick around long enough for my wallet to catch up to them, I’ll be happy to tell you more about what I find.