In Love and War

For quite a while now, I’ve been nursing a fantasy of a wrestling tag team comprised of hot hunk lovers who get sexed up harder and harder for each other the more they dominate their opponents. The seed for this concept was planted by Tag Team Torture 2, in which both tag teams in match #2 signal that they’re partners in more than just the competitive sense of the word. Adorable Liam Ryan and daddy bruiser Brian Powers are as into each other as they climb into the ring as they are cockily confident in the outcome of the match. Brooklyn Bodywrecker climbs into the ring with his cub, Shane McCall, having tamed and claimed young Shane in leather dog-collared body and soul in Dark Knights 5. Both sets of teammates seem to grow hotter for each other the longer they hold the advantage in the match, culminating in BBW and Shane passionately making out in the center of the ring with Brian tied helplessly in the corner and Liam on his back as BBW force-feeds him Shane’s cock. Damn, I’d love to see more of this concept.
In the mean time, I’m left to my imagination, which inevitably turns to writing up my homoerotic wrestling fantasies in the form of fiction. Over the weekend, I posted a new team match in the Producer’s Ring, which continues the story of British beauty Sean Maguire as daddy-in-charge over his cub pack comprised of Scottish hunk Gerard Butler and Henry Cavill.
To my reckoning, Sean bit and clawed his way (mostly bit) on top of Gerard in a 1-on-1 match earlier. The big Scotsman had no idea when he entered the bathhouse arena that he’d be leaving not only conquered, but the willing (dare I say eager?) pup to the wiley English funnyman. The two showed up again in a team match against co-stars Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Henry Cavill (who’d also worked out their own daddy discipline arrangement earlier). Turns out, Sean and Gerard had their eyes on stealing young Henry away from Jonathan from the beginning, which indeed, they do. For his part, Henry seems to need little convincing to join Sean’s pack once he’s been put in his place.

The most recent chapter I posted this weekend has Gerard and Henry in a command team screen test against up and coming True Blood hunks, Joe Manganiello and Mehcad Brooks. This is Mehcad’s debut in the Producer’s Ring, but regular readers will remember that Joe not long ago competed in a three-way bout against Russell Tovey and Taylor Lautner to determine who is top dog among the werewolf actors. Joe made a big impression on the the entertainment industry power hitters (not to mention Russell Tovey), and he could be in line for much bigger and better things, depending on how his screen test with partner Mehcad sorts itself out.

I don’t picture Joe and Mehcad to be lovers. I do picture them both buying into the hype surrounding their worship-worthy physiques, however. They’re both determined to not only defeat their opponents, to not only impress the talent scouts watching, but to claim what is rightfully theirs: the awestruck worship of their massively muscled physiques.

And let’s face it, Gerard and Henry are undeniably outmuscled. Gerard is a big, hard boy, but he hasn’t been in 300 shape lately. Henry is just now filling his physique out, renovating a fashion model body into an action hero body. Both of them are damn, damn hot in my book, but when it comes to raw power, they’re simply outgunned by their opponents. However, they have two things on their side that their opponents don’t, and it’s those two crucial elements that will determine which team saddles up onto their sleepered-out opponents to pump out some side-by-side victory explosions: the cub pack is fighting as only passionate intimate partners can, and they’ve got daddy Sean coaching them ringside.

Good luck, Joe and Mehcad. You’ll need it.

Selling


There was a period of time somewhere between 8 years old and 10 years old when, rather than immediately flip to toy section of the Sears Christmas catalog, I went straight to
the underwear ads. That was probably the most skin I’d ever seen, and I knew that I liked it. A beautiful man modeling briefs is art, whether it’s in Sears or the Met.

Designers of overpriced underwear continue, to this day, exploiting the blatant sexuality of the underwear ad to market a few square inches of thin fabric. God bless him, David Beckham can’t keep his clothes on, it seems, instead displaying his astounding physique over and over and over again for Armani briefs. The classic shot of David wrapped in a huge rope is a fantastically transparent marketing of man-sex. That coiled behemoth hanging between his legs promises that his six pack abs and footballer thighs aren’t the only thing that make David worthy of lust.
Swedish footballer, Freddie Ljungberg, makes my mouth water even more than David Beckham. Freddie tugging at his Calvins makes me irrationally obsessed with buying underwear (must obey Freddie… must buy underwear…). Freddie enjoys the advantage of being Swedish, which gives him an automatic boost in his sexiness quotient. I also get the hit that Freddie is a bad ass, which probably explains his surprise victory in my fictional wrestling match over David. Despite nearly succumbing in David’s crippling figure-4 choke, Freddie managed to knock the Brit out flat.
Towleroad (God bless him, too), recently posted a new ad campaign from Calvin Klein featuring the likes of Twighlight fratboy musclestud, Kellan Lutz. Kellan does more for me in this ad than he’s generally done for me in the past. I think his crotch clawed in one hand and one of those huge pecs clawed in the other could be worth some imaginative energies.
The upcoming Calvin Klein campaign features many more objects of lust for me, though. Mechad Brooks has got to have one of the most stunning torsos ever. It’s a ridiculous oversight on my part that he hasn’t starred in a wrestling match yet. That will be rectified soon.
Japanese footballer Hidetoshi Nakata has been on my card for an All-Stars match for some time. This shot of him with his briefs tugged halfway down his hips reminds me that I must find a suitable opponent for him soon. And finally, I’m not as familiar with Ferndando Verdasco, but I will be now. Just try to tell me that shaggy head of hair isn’t crying out for someone to drag him around by it. Just try.

So I know why I get so hot and bothered by hunks in underwear. Other than the obvious fact that a gorgeous body in next to no clothes is an instant turn on, the hot stud in briefs has two vectors of allure for me. For one, it’s another transgressive image, displaying for the world to see (in awe) what is ostensibly a private image of a hard man in his undergarments. To see a man on a billboard fifty feet high in nothing but his Calvins blurs the line between private sexuality and public decorum, and that’s a bit naughty and incredibly nice at the same time. For another thing, this all takes me back to being nine years old, running to my bedroom and slamming the door the minute I could get my hands on the Sears catalog, and having my ears start to ring with the pump of blood at seeing gorgeous men in nothing but their underwear.

Gratitude


On a day set aside for giving thanks, I’m counting my blessings. I’m thankful for this bizarre discipline I accepted for myself to write this blog and publish some of
my fiction online. It’s a vulnerable, annoying, enriching and rewarding endeavor.

I’m thankful for ring rookies David Taylor, Tyrell Tomsen, Kid Karisma and Rio Garza who’ve climbed into the ring in the past several months and laid claim to my imagination. For their poundable pecs and astounding asses, for their breathtaking biceps and crushing quads (and BG East’s generous permission to post their photos), I’m truly grateful. And for David and Tyrell’s phenomenal phalluses, I can’t say how happy they make me.
I’m thankful this year that Mitch Colby likes, and likes to pound, men. For all his sweat-soaked suffering and his growing accomplishment at putting younger punks in their place, I’m filled with gratitude.
I’m thankful that Derek Da Silva read and got a kick out of my treatment of his wrestling performances. For his shout out, for the mindblowing tolerances of his fantastic body, and for the amazingly beautiful artistry of all those tatoos, I’m thankful.
I’m thankful that Chris Cuomo went fishing this summer and shared with his twitter fans the beauty of his shirtless body.
For Mehcad Brooks, a resident of Bon Temps for such a short time, baring his irresistible ass and being so generous with displaying his round, luscious pecs, I’m thankful. And for Alexander Skarsgård’s six foot, four inch Swedish gorgeousness, I’m grateful that his eternal character will be with us for more seasons to come.
Finally, for all the kind friends and gentle critics I’ve met online through this blog and my wrestling fiction, I’m thankful. I hope you all are surrounded by friendship and love today.

Eulogy for Eggs


I feel the need to reflect on the season 2 finale of
True Blood, so if you didn’t see it and prefer not to know more about it, you should skip this post.


There was just too much male hotness in that cast. I’m not surprised that they needed to off someone, because frankly, that show has a massive cast and very complicated, multiple plots. One of the recurring hunks was bound to die (it is a vampire story, after all), and I’m sure the writers needed to make room for new characters to be introduced next season.

Moreover, I think they’re having a tough time managing the mind-boggling gorgeousness of their hunky cast. Seriously, there’s been hot male nakedness in at least three out of every four episodes from the start, but the season finale last night gave us little more than Mehcad Brooks and Sam Trammel shirtless.
We saw no more of Ryan Kwanten than the skin-tight sleeveless-t and painted on jeans that he always wears. Alexander Skarsgård was woefully underused. Seeing him thrown to the floor and mounted (plus, plus!), was neutralized by the fact that he was fully clothed and the mounter was a woman (minus, minus…). Stephen Moyer, the weakest link in my opinion, was overdressed throughout the episode. We got a glimpse of Nelsan Ellis, but I’m totally turned off by the “tragic gay” character they’ve written for him so far.
So someone had to die. With Moyer’s weak acting and news that Trammell’s got a new gig, I was so sad to see that it was Mehcad voted of the island. And essentially the ONLY scene in which Mehcad and Ryan Kwanten co-starred was the three seconds it took for Kwanten to off him!? I have a whole different scene in mind starring the two of them, including speedos, lots of sweat, and someone getting tied up in the ropes of a wrestling ring.
It looks like we won’t get to see any more of Eggs in Bon Temps (though, thank God, we got to see everything but full-frontal before he was killed off). My eulogy for him is simple: My sincere prayer is that he’s reincarnated into another HBO series with lot’s of nudity and ass grabbing set in another humid and sweaty climate. The End.

Adoring the Assets


I’ve been re-reading my recent posts (is that narcissistic?), and noting a pattern. A couple of weeks ago I was infatuated with pecs. It appears that I’ve now become fixated on butts. I’m not always all about big muscle butts. Lots of times a tight, compact caboose is entirely satisfying. But from recent posts, I’m starting to put my finger on (“ON” I said!) big, solid, muscular asses as my new body-part obsession.


In wrestling, a muscled ass can provide nice leverage… or a helpful handhold. More than a couple of the matches in my wrestling fiction feature face-sitting. I wrote Brad Pitt exacting a particularly humiliating face-sitting submission from Sean Faris well before I’d heard that Brad won “best celebrity butt” in some online poll. I’ve adored his ass ever since A River Ran Through It.
A beautiful reverse, face-first head scissors is, of course, an opportunity for a nice, wrestling butt to come in handy. Chris Geary has a nice variation on a figure-4 head scissors that makes me envy the jobber.
Of course there are more gorgeous butts than there are gorgeous butts wrestling, so we just have to use our imaginations. Here are just a few of the butts I find exemplary, which I’d love to see getting put to good use in the ring. First, I once again wax poetic as I ponder Mehcad Brook’s bodacious butt.
Sexy Black Dudes has several exposés (so to speak) on ample asses. I like this angle on model Brandon Parker.

Mario Lopez sports a fantastic ass (thank you Nip/Tuck). His dimples just cry out for someone to beat him senseless in the ring, though. I enjoyed writing a match between Mario and his Broadway rival, Nick Adams. The two of them got press for a muscle-off a couple of years ago, so I wanted to throw them both in the ring and see who came out on top. Personally, I’d be happy to just see the two of them walking away (slowly).

True Pump


Thank God that
Andy Towle has his eyes peeled for gratuitous photos of Mehcad Brooks shirtless and soaked in sweat. These shots reportedly come from Mehcad’s participation in a celebrity triathalon. So THAT’S what one does to craft a mind-boggling body like that! The profile pic of his pecs just about can’t be believed. Can man meat that massive cause back injuries? Does he need any help showering off, or perhaps a full-body massage to work out the lactic acid from those pumped muscles (or any other bodily fluids)? I’m just here to help…

Poundable Pecs


Do you ever get fixated on one particular body part? I do, and it varies. These days, I’m entranced by big pecs. Sometimes I’m more obsessed with legs (often, specifically, calves). Sometimes it’s asses. Occasionally it’s packages. But these days, it’s all about the pecs. In my surfing for pecs, I came across a
Sexy Black Dudes blog with some very fine men, many of whom sport fantastic pecs. I’m absolutely mesmerized by this photo (above). My only complaint about the blog is the lack of detail on the models or sources of photos. As for the photos themselves: fantastic.

And speaking of fantastic and entrancing pecs, Mehcad Brooks once again delivered a spellbinding performance on True Blood last night, literally ripping his t-shirt off and getting into some kinky rough stuff (with a woman, but still, in my imagination it’s easy enough to remove her from the scenario and insert me). I’m thinking there may be a strip-wrestling match in my gay wrestling fiction sometime in the near future…
And finally, in this stream-of consciousness posting I conclude by commenting once again on Alexander Skarsgård’s appearance in True Blood last night as well. In his skin tight muscle shirt, he wasn’t showing off his pecs, but his muscled, broad back and shoulders were simply stunning. He is one huge, 6’4″ mass of svenska beauty! He also, finally, shared a scene with Ryan Kwanten’s character (whose most notable feature has to be his ass, though he has a beautiful chest as well), which only fuels my fantasy of a Brooks/Kwanten/Skårsgard ménage à trois. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. The casting director of True Blood deserves a raise (and our profound gratitude)!

True Bonus

One of the few downsides of my recent vacation was being out of the country for the beginning of season 2 of True Blood. Season 1 frequently left me breathless. Ryan Kwanten naked in nearly every episode was enough for the cost of an HBO subscription. The rest of the male cast are also gorgeous, including Sam Trammel, Stephen Moyer, and especially Alexander Skarsgård. I finally caught up with the first three episodes of season 2 yesterday, and was thrilled to see that Mehcad Brooks is showing up more frequently and in fewer and fewer clothes. Mehcad is one stunning specimen! I don’t know if I could decide between Ryan and Mehcad, if I were forced to choose between the two hunks (now that’s a nice fantasy!). The casting directors for this show have GOT to get a raise!