Working Difference

I’ve got deadlines coming out of all of my orifices (yes, it’s as unpleasant as it sounds). But I want to muse just a bit over a recent reflection. I was just this morning marveling once again at the wonders of BG East’s recent release, The Science of Scissors. The two wrestlers on this two-match DVD that grab, shake, and drain me dry the most are match #1’s Attila Dynasty and match #2’s Jimmy Gee. As I contemplated the juxtaposition of these two wrestlers, it suddenly occurred to me that as different as these two wrestlers are on many counts, regarding both of them, I’m most enthralled with their gorgeous asses.

NOTHING at all wrong with Jimmy or Rio Garza from the front, either!

Yes, yes, another post about asses. I’ve been fixated on hot wrestling asses for a long time now, I realize. I don’t self-judge such things; I just enjoy my lusts as they move me. In this case, however, I’m fascinated that these two very different wrestlers move me in much the same way, despite sporting distinctly different body types, including very, very different types of asses.

Attila is gorgeous from every angle.

I know I’m not alone in my growing fascination with BG East discovery, Attila Dynasty. I’ve heard from a number of readers craving more of this sweet, acrobatic, fiercely competitive, tightly packed stud puppy. I’ve marveled before, at least a couple of times, at being astonished and provoked by the sight of Attila’s hefty package that he’s sporting throughout his squeeze fest with Trent Blayze. But as I re-watch this match (repeatedly and adoringly), it’s Attila’s ass that’s grabbing me (now that’s an image I’m going to have to sit back and linger on for a while).

I’m incredibly jealous of Trent’s view!

It’s a tight, hard, athletic ass. Attila’s is an ass that belongs to flexible, endurance athletes. It’s all muscle, but that muscle is sculpted in perfect proportion to the extremely lean, taut, no-wasted-mass body that makes Attila such a sight from head to toe. His glutes are round and a perfect handful (at least for me), but they aren’t expansive or excessively massive. Attila is simply beautifully proportioned, and with that acrobatic training he clearly has, my mind wanders helplessly to a whole menu of contortions and physical feats of dexterity that such a supple, hard, rigorously trained physique could bring to some post-match sex (not that Attila has appeared to be overtly aiming for an erotic top off to one of his inspiring matches… yet….).

Kaboom. There I go again…

In some ways, the contrast between Attila’s ass and Jimmy Gee’s makes me check myself. Jimmy’s glutes are a study in the art of building a body huge from obsessive, superhuman heavy weight training. The word “proportional” doesn’t come to mind as I stare in awe at Jimmy’s ass, though that’s not because he’s somehow disproportionate in any way. It’s just that globes so fucking huge, ripped and powerful as his are clearly not the end result of someone searching for anything as subtle as “proportional” aesthetics. Once Rio Garza, bless his soul, peels Jimmy’s lime green square cuts off to reveal the banana hammock underneath, I suddenly cannot, through any voluntary force of will, tear my eyes away from Jimmy’s rocking, awesome, awe-inspiring muscle ass.

Rio’s got to admit that his suffering is so worth the view!

The headscissors that Jimmy applies to Rio make my heart skip a beat. The standing scissors in which he slowly shuffles across the mats, dragging a gasping, dizzy Rio with him as he crushes Rio’s head between those gargantuan thighs, has made me lose my load more than once at precisely the moment that the cameraman FINALLY circles behind for a clear look at Jimmy’s flexing glutes.  When I’m able to keep watching past that point (usually only because I start again watching farther into the match), the sight of Jimmy’s next standing headscissors in which he has Rio bent backward with his face being crushed like a grape, his nose shoved high up between those ponderous hamstrings a mere fraction of an inch away from Jimmy’s granite, hard, gorgeous glutes makes me helpless to resist still another explosive reaction. Seriously, I only know how this match ends because I finally fast-forwarded through to the final moments out of curiosity. Otherwise, Jimmy’s flexing muscle ass crushing Rio’s head would never let me manage to get to the end.

As if with a mind of their own, my hands reach out to grab a couple of handfuls.

So both Attila and Jimmy have asses inspiring my homoerotic wrestling fantasies and tweaking my wrestling kink very, very hard. As different as they are, their fantastic asses similarly hold my lustful gaze like a vice. Two very different body types drill down to the same spot at the core of my wrestling lust, and Attila’s taut, round, athletic glutes do to me almost exactly the same (fucking awesome!) thing that Jimmy’s powerhouse, superhuman, lived-at-the-squat-rack-for-months rock hard, angular, massive muscle ass does. For some reason, this juxtaposition thrills me and speaks to me about what turns me on quite apart from some Platonic Form of my pro-typical not-quite imagined ideal of the perfectly perfect homoerotic wrestler.

What’s Been Unsaid

After nearly about a month and a half, I can finally spit out the metallic taste of blood from my mouth! When I made my pilgrimage to BG East in August, I was treated to the privilege of seeing photos from all of the catalog 89 new releases. It was a profound thrill, like being told that I, and I alone, could open all of my Christmas presents a week early. But then I couldn’t talk about it! I couldn’t write about it! I couldn’t obsess on the pages of this blog about each and every tantalizing, confidential morsel from catalog 89 that made my mouth water. I’ve been biting my tongue non-stop since August 5th, and I’m overjoyed that BG East has released catalog 89 for purchase. Let the obsessive reviewing begin (and the healing of my bitten tongue)!!!

I’m just hitting a few highlights for today, because there’s just too much that I’ve had bottled up that I’ve got to say about so many of the new releases. So in addition to nearly making want to cry to see Mitch Colby barefoot in the ring in Florida Fights 3, I’ve been aching to comment on match #1 from that same DVD. Hell and damnation! Kirby Stone can WEAR a pair of skintight shiny pink trunks! That ass has most certainly caught my attention!
Pretty much precisely the same thing has to be said about Cain McDonald in his appearance (taking fall #1!!!) against Mikey Vee. The legs and ass on this grappler make me gasp! That face looks just about too juvenile to feel entirely guilt-free about, but that lower body is 100% guilt-free adult male entertainment.
Next up on the comments burning a whole in my belly: Dev Michaels looks like a fucking monster in the ring against slender, unclassically but undeniably handsome newbie, Lucky Loko. Man alive the two of them make for an astonishingly arousing picture! The fact that Lucky didn’t run screaming from the building on sight of Dev makes him a hot commodity in my book.
And speaking of monsters in the ring (I’ve been DYING to use that line!), has it escaped anyone’s attention that Attila Dynasty appears to be smuggling major meat in his trunks in his scissor fest against Trent Blaze?!!! If the summer Olympics have taught me anything, they’ve taught me that gymnasts are sexy as hell, and the pics of Attila’s acrobatics in the ring have caught me completely off guard. I had no idea from his debut to expect either all that Attila can accomplish without his feet on the ground, or the massive ballast in the pouch of those powder blues (I’m heading back to Backyard Brawls 7 right now for another look).
Next up, it simply must be said that the sight of Z-Man clawing Skrapper’s chest and swinging for the rafters makes me just about ready to pop right here and now. If I know Skrapper, however, Z-Man better not count him out a moment too soon!
And I’ve been anticipating the hating for a while, but I call it like I see it. And as much as the sight of Rio Garza’s body getting worked over (and that face crushed between his opponent’s legs) is like icing on the cake, the pics of Jimmy Gee’s slabs of beef that are his muscled ass has got the be the most delicious main course in this match for me.
I’ve also been aching to say that it’s about time for another installment of Wrestle Worship. I love this concept. I need more of this concept. And newbies Magnus and Surge appear to dish up an extraordinary amount of eroticism with delightful proportions of both wrestling and body worship. Does anyone else wonder if Magnus requires his own zip code? And speaking of numbers, does anyone have Surge’s telephone #!?
Again, I’ve been dying to celebrate the return of ripped, rock hard Tyrell Tomsen. I can’t think of a better opponent to pick apart a bodybuilder adonis than the likes of sexy-assed veteran Patrick Donovan.

And finally, Mr. Joshua, Patrick, barefoot, in the ring, with Patrick’s testicles getting crushed in Mr. J’s fist… You’ll have to excuse me now. I need to rehydrate after writing those words. I’m sure you’ll be hearing much, much more from me about all of this in the future.

Classic Tales

The double bicep pose: a prerequisite for homoerotic domination hotness. Deconstructing (as is my way), the double bicep is an interesting statement. The explicit point, of course, is to call attention to the size of a man’s biceps. Sweet muscleboy Gary Myers, for example, sported stunning, double-peaked biceps bigger around than his neck. There’s a simple, primal aesthetic to the double bicep. When a hard hunk has the guns and proportions, there’s an amazing, powerful symmetry that’s simply beautiful. These are muscles that have been crafted and carved with insane amounts of sweat and tears and self-worship. A classic double bicep can simply say: stand back and be awed.
Making a run to strip Rusty Stevens of the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Mitch Colby frequently illustrates that a double bicep can communicate much more than just aesthetics. Not that Mitch’s body shouldn’t be under glass, but with his cock planted across his opponent’s chin and his knees pinning his opponent’s arms to the ground, Mitch lifts his arms and crunches out a double bicep to make a statement: I’m your superior. Mitch’s softballs attached high on his upper arm drive home the point of his scrap with his young challengers. His gorgeously tanned, fantastically toned muscles will, without fail, put a lesser man on his back. The gloating look on Mitch’s face in this pic is priceless. You’re owned, kid, he’s saying. And these are the muscles that broke you and made you mine.

Unlike the victory double bi, the buddy double bi seems like it’s frequently the last moment of dignity for a couple of hardbody faces heading into a world of hurt. Freakishly stunning Tyrell Tomsen and his short-lived partnership with Jimmy Gee is a recent case in point. We don’t have to even know who their opponents are to take a look at this pre-match pose and predict that these boys are going to be humiliated. The double bis telegraph the approaching story line. Massive mountain of muscle, Tyrell, is demigod anchor to this tag team. Jimmy, who’s a bit softer and sporting decidedly less impressive guns than in prior outings, is destined to be the weakest link. The double biceps are ostensibly the display of power and confidence here, but the whole text tells a different story, including vulnerability and an inevitable date with humiliated destruction.
I’ve been enjoying the forced flex in more and more recent products out of BGE. Lon Dumont, who must be worshiped in more matches to come, made an over-the-top homoerotic masterpiece with his psychic humiliation of Eddy Rey, forcing the bigger man to flex on-command in submission. Brooklyn Bodywrecker had the same tool in his arsenal of destruction, when he broke cocky hardbody Mr. Joshua Goodman to pieces. The double bicep here is no longer about victory or confidence, but about humiliated defeat. Joshua stepped into the ring banking on his muscles to power down on BBW (the silly, silly fool), so in victory, BBW forces a decimated Joshua to flex. Behind the nearly unconscious loser (and I mean that lovingly, Mr. Joshua), BBW crunches out his own double bi, illustrating that despite not having quite as smooth, ripped, or classically pretty a muscle body, he has exactly what it takes to hammer down on a muscleboy, strip him naked, and heartlessly taunt us by refusing to let us see Mr. Joshua’s owned goods.

Ultimately, the double bicep is always a complicated story of strength and vulnerability. It’s a primal display of power to intimidate would-be challengers. At the same time, the class double bicep pose stretches out and exposes the rest of the muscled body. This isn’t a defensive position by any means. As repeated maneuvers in the homoerotic ring illustrate, a strutting double bicep leaves a cocky stud vulnerable to a strike to the crotch, a surprise full nelson from behind, or an attack on the exposed core. So in the end, the musclegod who pulls off the double bicep tells a fantastically woven tale of power and vulnerability, beauty and savagery, the promise of victory and the haunting foreshadowing of potentially being owned and displayed like a tantalizing piece of meat.