Tag: Lon Dumont

Not My Virtue

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I’ve been assured that my copy of Tag Team Torture 12 is in the mail. Patience is not my strong suit, so I’ve been chomping at the bit. The initial pics from the web tickle me in all the right places.

Primarily, I’m aching for some more Lon Dumont on the big-small screen. This anatomy chart of a man sends me into fits just looking at his stills. His tag partner looks painfully babyfaced, which suggests to me that Lon and his boy are likely heading for some punishment. Frankly, I seriously enjoyed Lon’s domination of Eddy Rey in his debut, so I’m a little skeptical about the satisfaction of seeing his ass kicked. He’s a sweet, sweet salesman, though, so I expect to be entertained regardless.
I hate waiting.

Giveth and Taketh Away

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BG East has some seriously sadistic sickos working for them, and I’m not sure whether I mean that in a good way. Here’s the story: I woke up this morning, and when it occurred to me that today’s is the 15th of the month, I eagerly checked for the BG East Arena update. Truth be told, I look forward to the Arena updates probably a little too much, each 1st and 15th of the month. I get a little disregulated if the updates are late. Today, though, I was thrilled to see that the update was already posted early in the morning.

I felt a little light-headed with excitement when I saw posted an advance peek at catalog 82’s Tag Team Torture 12, because my most recent wrestling boy crush, Lon Dumont, was there. Lon is clad in brief, shiny orange trunks that match his gorgeous tag partner. If anything, Lon looks even more shredded than in his BG debut in Fantasymen 32. I am instantly enraptured at the sight of Lon’s swagger, his polished pro strikes, his timing and tight, shredded body. I checked out a couple of the photos, and then decided I needed some morning caffeine to truly appreciate the beauty of this wonderful find.
When I came back to my computer several minutes later with tea in hand, Lon’s tag match was gone. True, nearly as exciting, Tyrell Tomsen is now up in another tag match, apparently from the same tape. Tyrell is in his competition bodybuilder shape. He’s gorgeous. I’m thrilled to see more of him. But what… the… hell… happened… to… Lon!?!?
You cruel, cruel bastards! Don’t get me wrong. I love your work. I love the quality and quantity of your work. I love your excellent customer service and quick ships. I feel like we’re old friends, considering how much correspondence has gone back and forth between us over the years of me buying your products. But this cut is so deep! What did I do to you? How did I offend you so, to deserve this horrific treatment!? Tag Team Torture, indeed. Is this because I said I’d like to see the behind-the-scenes match-ups that surely resulted from short-tempers as a result of your recent overtime coping with the flooding? Is it because I pointed out that you had some typos in the description of Lon’s products? Why?
My desperate hope is that your webmaster just hit “replace” rather than “add,” and that I will have the opportunity to drool over fresh, hard picks of Lon soon. Please. Please? My pre-order is in hand. I’ll shine your shoes (or whatever else requires me to be on my knees in front of you). I’ll probably hate you just a little for some time to come over this cruel, sadistic move to torment me. But we can make this right. I don’t mind some sweetly erotic suffering from time to time, but this is just vicious!

Words and Silences

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An online collaborator on a writing project recently mentioned to me that he doesn’t always “get” dialogue in wrestling. As for me, I’m always writing in taunting bravado, snarling verbal domination, or humiliating tirades. The dialogue makes it as much a head game as a battle of bodies, and both together are a bigger turn on for me than either one separately.

Similarly, I also recently replied to a reader’s comment by saying that the Enforcer’s epic beatdown on already beaten down Brad Rochelle in BG East’s Contract 4 left me desperately wanting to hear the big baddy say something. He’s creepily quiet as he tosses, slams, pries and pummels sweetly suffering Brad. Brad cries and whimpers, “why…?” as he’s twisted into astonishing angles, but the Enforcer’s silence is somehow even more dominating. He refuses to explain himself, to answer any question, to justify his devastating mugging. Still… if he just once whispered, “‘Cause I want to see you beg…” I’d have spontaneously exploded at the very instant.
Still again, I realize that the topic of dialogue came up in my review on Monday of Rock Hard Wrestling’s latest release. The first match between Cameron and Tommy is technically nice grappling. Two big, gorgeous bodies working up a sweat (perhaps enhanced, nevertheless), is art worth standing up and taking note of in my book. But they’re so eerily silent as they fight. It’s a little more like watching a chemistry experiment than the battle of two cocky studs both believing that they are fated to prevail. Words could tell me that this isn’t just about muscles and skill, but it’s also about balls (and cocks, for that matter), as two big boys play the game that boys have always played throughout time: whose is bigger; who’s badder; who will be the conqueror and who will be conquered.
The dialogue is one of the things that makes BG East’s new Fantasymen match debuting Lon Dumont such a turn on for me. Lon is barking at Eddy throughout the match, demanding that he flex for him. “I’ve seen that one!” he shouts when Eddy pumps out another double bicep in submission. Lon carries off cocky taunting convincingly, wrapping the physical action into a through-story based on Lon’s scene-opening challenge that he doesn’t give away poses of his hot body for free. Lon never accepts a whimpering submission from Eddy without snapping at him, “That’s not good enough!” and demanding a new, stunning flex of Eddy’s sweat-soaked, bulging body. Hell yes, that’s what I’m talking about!
One more example of what’s working for me: Can-Am is unfolding a new product called the Arena in their premium pay site, Can-Am Max,. It stars BG East bad boy, Aryx Quinn, new face Brian Bodine, and g—orgeous Rusty Stevens. After the first match up, Rusty has Brian beaten, fucked, and lying on his stomach in humiliation. Before Rusty can leave in undisputed victory, Aryx charges in, challenging Rusty to an East Coast vs. West Coast battle. They circle Brian’s beaten body, trading insults. Rusty is post-match naked and hard as a board, with that massive muscled bubblebutt bouncing with each stride. Aryx is in shiny gear and boots. Aryx says that if Rusty thinks Brian was competition, then perhaps he should walk across the street to the grade school to find more opponents he could beat up. Aryx is supposed to be the fast talking challenger, but Rusty has a very quick wit and sharp tongue that manages to best Aryx in the head-game of improv taunts, in my opinion. The constant circling of naked Brian, Rusty’s stunning, huge body aroused and on display, and the playground choreography of the taunt, the challenge, and the challenge accepted is by far the most erotic part of this match thus far (including the fuck scene).
I probably write too much dialogue in my wrestling fiction for some. The quotation marks probably serve as little more than a distraction to many fellow kinksters out there groaning to just get on with it, start the tussle, slam some bodies together. But for me, the taunts, tantrums, screams and submissions are absolutely delightful icing on the cake of hardbodies, sweat, and suffering. The talk tells the story of not just physical domination, but the domination of one man’s will over another. It’s about the ante up, the smack down, and the claim at the end of the day when one stud is helpless on his back and the other is reminding him, “I told you so.”

Shaved for Your Pleasure

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So let’s get this straight: I do not believe consistency is, necessarily, a virtue. I’m unashamed by self-contradiction. Take, for example, my obsession with hair pulling. Love it. Totally into it. Write it into just about every wrestling match I write. A nice, thick head of hair waiting to get yanked around is sweet in my book.

Then I go and find myself obsessing about wrestlers with shaved heads. Lon Dumont (I keep wanting to call him Lou, for some reason), got me careening down this path. I just saw him in his debut match for BG East, and I’m instantly a fan. He tells an awesome story, with a lot of smart banter. He sports genuine swagger. He has a fantastic whimper when he’s suffering. And when he’s in control, he’s brutal. But it’s that sweat-soaked scalp that’s sending me over the top. I must see more of this savage warrior!

Finding myself obsessing about Lon’s shaved head makes me take stock. I’m a fan of a lot of shaved heads in the ring, when I think about it. Kid Vicious has been looking beefier and balder in every new product he puts out for BG East. My desperate hope is that KV’s giving Lon some sadistic heel training behind the scenes, and someday we’ll see the both of them destroying and dominating helpless hunks side-by-side.
Can-Am classic, John Thor was a hairless musclegod built for worship. With a metabolism of a tit-mouse, he always worked up a dripping sweat instantly in the ring. And he was very generous with letting us admire every corner and crevice of his astonishing anatomy.
Mikey Vee was a handsome bastard with a full head of hair. Now that he’s shaving it, he’s metamorphosed into a fantastically sexy beast. Mikey will surely merit his own edition of “Bodies Over Time.” It doesn’t hurt, in my book, that his bold and beautiful ink has also been growing. But I’m sure it does hurt (a lot) to have that massive man clamp his python arms around your neck from behind and smile Zen-like as you pass out.
There are plenty of pros that could always capture me with their perfect pates. Tyson Tomko and Bobby Lashley pull off the shaved head masterfully.
So as much as I’m enamored with the moment when a hunk gets hoisted up by his long locks, I’m also entirely into shaved-heads as well these days. Life is a paradox. That’s what makes it interesting.

The Title Changes Hands

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BG East Catalog 80 has been posted, and I’ve had my first look at Mitch Colby’s Wrestler Spotlight and Fantasymen 32. I’m blown away by new fantasyman Lon Dumont: gorgeous body, fantastic ring presence, and captivating persona that tells me this guy is no rookie. But the performances I’ve been most anticipating come from the newly re-crowned homoerotic wrestling pornboy champion: Mitch Colby.
Yes, Mitch has narrowly unseated Derek da Silva for my “affections.” It was not Mitch’s match with pornboy-pornboy Peter Stallion that made him recapture my loyalties. That match was, as I was concerned it might be, a little disappointing. It’s primarily a series of leg scissors and preening schoolboy pins. Mitch ups the heat with some nice ass grabs and some decent intensity, but Peter lacks ferocity. I think the director realizes that this just isn’t quite selling, because the match is over very quickly.
Mitch’s match with newcomer Marc Rion definitely did contribute to Mitch’s successful challenge of Derek da Silva for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler. BG East’s description of this product is right on the money. Marc looks star struck and gives every impression that he’s just stunned by his luck in having a chance to worship Mitch. I feel like I’ve been peeping in the window, catching Mitch bringing a date home. Marc shows up ready to worship, but Mitch demands some mat action first. The wrestling only fires up these boys more, with stolen kisses and stroked cocks showing up from go. The wrestling isn’t much more creative than Mitch’s match with Peter Stallion, frankly, but unlike Peter, Marc is intensely present and committed to adoring Mitch’s body. Marc and Mitch and Mitch on Marc are pleasing.
But honestly, it’s Mitch’s match with BG East veteran, Patrick Donovan, that forced me to remove the crown from Derek’s head and replace it atop Mitch’s 6’2″ frame. Patrick is clearly in league with Satan, since he does not age. He sells himself and Mitch throughout this match. He suffers. He snarls with contempt. The boys sell this match as a closely fought competition: competition of bodies, competition of wrestling, competition of bearhugs. Sweat pours off both of them in streams, and the longer the competition goes, the fiercer and nastier they get. This match offers even portions of the homoerotic and the wrestling, and I’m thrilled with that recipe.
Derek remains the top contender for another chance at the crown that goes to my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. But it needs to be said, Lon Dumont could get a title shot very early in his career if he’s ready to take that humiliating domination a little more to the homo side of things.