Throwback Thursday

WordPress tells me that I this is my 1,295th blog post. No wonder I can’t remember what I’ve talked about over the past 6 years. Since I migrated the pages of this blog to a new server just over 2 years ago, over a quarter of a million visitors (statistically measured with replacement) have clicked more than 991,000 page views. For those curious about trivia, the most page views in a single day happened on September 3 of last year, when there were 2,845 views in 24 hours.  Interestingly, the most popular time for people to check out what’s happening here is 11:00 am on Sundays (US Central Time Zone). Fascinating.

What summary cross-sectional statistics can’t say, however, is something about the landscape of the distance we’ve traveled over 6 years.  So let’s do a longitudinal look and see what we may learn about how my attention has evolved.

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Sam Champion & Chris Cuomo. You could see the sexual tension pulsing off of them (Sam).

Exactly six years ago I was obsessing about an enduring topic here, hot newsmen. Specifically, I was bitching about some transparent PR work to make sure viewers knew that hot Italian of my dreams, Chris Cuomo, was straight. Yeah, yeah, yeah.  I was also raising questions about his bromance with weatherman Sam Champion, significantly before Sam came out publicly.  Not like the sexual tension between the two of them, both featured on Good Morning America at the time, was difficult to notice. These days my morning newsmen obsessions tend toward desperately hoping to see more shirtless, soaking wet features starring Gio Benitez and Matt Gutman, preferably together. Oh, who am I kidding, preferably in g-strings and coated in sweat pounding the fuck out of each other in a wrestling ring.  Maybe in 2016…

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Brenn Wyson asks Jack Hammer the eternal question: “Who’s Your Daddy!?”

On August 13, 2010 I was reflecting on how hot verbal banter can make so many near misses a bullseye. This was back when I was actively subscribing, and sincerely enjoying, Naked Kombat. Specifically, their then-recent release of Brenn Wyson squaring off against Jack Hammer was on my mind. I mentioned in the post that I was in a pretty-boy mood, and neither of these battlers were tickling my bone.  Yet it was Brenn’s aggressive, smart ass mat banter that was holding my attention and making me grab my crotch, demanding that Jack “call me fucking Daddy Wyson!” Yeah. Personality has been turning my crank for the duration of my blogging days. I miss those good old days when Naked Kombat had more personality.

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BG East Wrestlefest 1 Battle R’Oil descended into total chaos. The fabulous variety.

If you checked in here this date in 2011, I was deep in homoerotic wrestling metaphor to make sense of riots around the globe.  Sociological theory meets hardcore gay wrestling fetish.  There’s still something bewildering to me about mass violence and killing. Of course, these days we have sanctimonious ISIS nut jobs quelling dissent with beheadings and institutionalized terror. I think, as I did 4 years ago, that there’s something in the human condition that can be pushed only so far, though. Bullies and oppressors are notoriously shit at gauging it, but it’s there, inside each and all of us, ready to go ape shit and fuck conventions and rules and throw our lot in with desperate chaos, when pushed over the line. Revolutions seem to always take us by surprise. But clearly, they shouldn’t.

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Of course Roman Sebrle trashed the homoerotic wrestling decathlete competition. Look at that body!!!

On this date in 2012, my homoerotic wrestling imagination was still running wild from seeing so many Olympic athletes pumped and primed in competition. The summer Olympics were over, but my obsession with translating those stunningly world class bodies into homoerotic wrestling scenarios was still roaring full speed.  August 13 was for crushing hard and imagining the pleasures of watching the Olympic decathletes climb into the ring and work their phenomenal cross training bodies. Damn, I enjoyed writing those Olympic Spirit stories!  For the record, the singles homoerotic wrestling decathlete title went to hot daddy Czech Roman Sebrle, heeling his salt-n-pepper hotness all over golden boy American Trey Hardee.  However, Trey won a taste of retribution, pinning the hot naked Czech ass to the sky for team America. Damn, I can’t wait for Rio 2016!

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Kevin Crows naked back is a work of homoerotic wrestling art!

Two years ago today, I was fixated on hotly muscled backs as wordplay on celebrating being back from vacation and getting back to updating the blog. This reminds me of the way that continuing this blog has been about ebbs and flows, sometimes finding a ton to say and time to say it, sometimes not. Over the years I’ve often emphasized that this is truly just at the edges of what pays my bills. So life often keeps me from musing further. But I always miss it when that happens. And as much as I mull over whether I’ve said absolutely everything I have to say about the topic of homoerotic wrestling, I keep finding more to write.

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Three cheers for Jake’s bro Eli Black for putting Jake out cold!

If you tuned in exactly one year ago, you’d have found my grand finale of my Making Jake series.  It took over a year to work my way through the alphabet, marveling at how pleasurable it is to watch opponents bring out so much, such variety, and every bit of hotness from Jake Jenkins. Of course, the end of the alphabet sucks, but still, I was pretty pleased to call out the joys of seeing opponents make Jake unconscious, vertical, wet, x-rated, yelp, and zealous.

A lot has changed in 6 years.  A lot hasn’t. Looking forward to seeing what next year brings!

More Olympic Spirit

As you’ll see, if you venture into the depths of this post, when I got to writing my homoerotic wrestling imagined vision of an Olympic decathlete wrestling competition, I was quite swept away. Decathletes have been wearing me out since Bruce Jenner (god rest his soul) turned me gay (not really) when he won the Olympics and appeared on boxes of breakfast cereal in 1976.  The all around demands of the decathlon have a way of carving out some of the hottest bodies on the planet.  And somehow, once they reach the level of Olympic competition, only the prettiest seem qualified to compete.  All that gorgeous beefcake! I honestly had no idea who would prevail in this round robin, which probably explains why I went into such detail in this post.  I’m simply infatuated with these guys, and I hope that this installation of Olympic Spirit isn’t too tedious for the casual reader.  In any case, thank GOD that they cleared out the mainstream fans after the closing ceremonies, because it’s time to fill up the Olympic Stadium with the most ardent homoerotic wrestling fans, install the pro wrestling ring in the infield, and let’s see what shakes out with world class decathletes go for gold in the imagined competition that matters much more to me (and you, I presume, if you continue to read).

American Trey Hardee – 6’5″, 210 lbs., 28 y/o

The Olympic stadium lights up with camera flashes as American hunk Trey Hardee jogs across the track and approaches the ring in the infield.  The lean blond hunk leaps up to the ring apron and steps through the ropes.  The roar of the crowd jumps a dozen decibels when he climbs up to the nearest middle turnbuckle to shrug his sculpted shoulders out of the straps of his red lycra singlet.  The tallest man in the competition, Trey spent the first few years on the world stage getting his skinny ass beat relentlessly, so he’s in London having packed on more muscle than ever before. His smooth upper body is ripped like an anatomy chart as he slowly peels the fabric down his torso, revealing inch by inch his sweet, golden pecs and rippled abs.  His newly ripped physique directly translates into a supremely cocky attitude.  Bare chested, the smooth stud flexes, bringing the fans to their feet.

Belgian Hans van Alphen – 6’3″, 203 lbs., 30 y/o
When Belgium decathlete Hans van Alphen jogs out from underneath the stands and across the track, the crowd hushes in anticipation. Trey points at him threateningly, towering above from the turnbuckle.  More heavily muscled than his opponent and with a light coat of dark hair across his massive pecs, the Belgian stunner sports square cut trunks, black in front and yellow in back.  When he reaches the ring and grabs the middle rope to hoist himself up to the apron, Trey leaps out of the corner and stands threateningly inside the ring, fists clenched, daring the Belgian beefcake to try to enter the ring.   Hans circles the ring slowly as Trey follows his progress. When he finally leaps up to the apron and begins to duck under the top rope, the American drives a forearm across his upper back, hooks Hans’ head underneath his right arm, and then grabs the waist of the Belgian’s trunks with his left hand. Lunging low, Trey hoists the shocked Belgian off his feet and suplexes him over the top rope and into the ring.  The hairy chested hunk slams to his back, and both men roll to their feet in a flash.  Hans gently rubs his lower back as the two warily circle the ring. They approach for a collar and elbow tie up, but at the last instant Trey ducks under the Belgian’s big arms, grabs him around the waist from behind, and snap suplexes the hunk, pounding his upper back to the mat.  Again, both wrestlers are on their feet in a flash, but Hans is a fraction of a second slower than his American opponent. After circling one another warily for a few more seconds, Hans lunges to one knee and sweeps Trey’s right leg. Holding him by the ankle, the Belgian lands a sharp heel strike to the American’s hamstring before Trey kicks free and rolls back to his feet, massaging his leg.  They continue to circle and trade lightening fast strikes, Trey focusing on quick knee lifts to soften up Hans’ gut, mixed with snap suplexes to wear out his lower back.  The Belgian clearly has his sights set on deflating the American’s wheels with kicks to his thighs and leg sweeps setting up more strikes to his hamstrings.  It’s technical wrestling, strategic and methodical, until Hans once again controls Trey’s right ankle after a leg sweep.  After three sharp heel strikes to the hamstring, the American’s attempt to kick free fails. Swiftly, Hans steps over the captured leg, twisting Trey to his stomach.  Hooking the American’s right ankle under his left arm, the Belgian sits back in a single leg crab that makes Trey pound his fists into the mat in frustration.  A scream of agony punctuates the mat pounding when Hans reaches his free hand down between Trey’s long, smooth legs and clutches at the American’s balls savagely.  The Belgian’s fans in the stands roar their approval, bringing a smile to Hans’ handsome face.   Slowly, Trey strains to lift his shoulders off the mat, pressing his upper body until the shift in his center of gravity makes the Belgian stumble forward. A half a second later, and the American kicks free and climbs to his feet, massaging his crotch and shooting daggers from his eyes at his opponent.  The tenor of the contest has turned distinctily personal.  Hans’ hairy pecs bounce excitedly.  A surprising head-on charge from the American pushes Hans into the ropes.  He’s quickly whipped off the ropes, sprinting across the ring and being catapulted back again.

Hans tries to catch his breath

Trey’s right knee catches the Belgian in his lower abdomen, sending him sommersaulting in mid-air and landing with a crash to his back.  Stomps make the handsome hunk bounce of the mat.  A handstand turns into a swinging knee driving into the Belgian’s lower back.  Hans arches on his side, his face contorted in agony.  Shoving him flat to his stomach, Trey hooks the handsome Belgian’s arms across his thighs and pries backward on his chin, sitting low in a camel clutch.  The American’s fans roar to life as he shakes Hans from side to side.  “Give it up!” he demands, but the Belgian is nowhere near empty.  Two solid minutes of the spine wrenching camel clutch, and then Trey flings him to the mat in disgust and stands up, his spandex tenting impressively, stretched across his crotch.  Before Hans manages to climb up to his hands and knees, Trey drags him up to his feet by his hair, hooks his right arm between his legs, scoops him up and immediately slams him down on his lower back.  Hans bridges high, his aching back arching in agony. Perfectly positioned, Trey grabs the Belgian’s black and yellow trunks and jerk them off his legs. Trey swings the trunks from his fingers and winks at the fans who stomp and scream. He tucks the trunks in the waistband of his tights and turns his attention back to his naked opponent, taking aim and dropping to his side, intending to drive his right elbow into his opponent’s lower abs. The Belgian rolls away, resulting in Trey pounding his elbow into the mat and then quickly clutching it in pain.  Hans rallies quickly and drives his knee in between Trey’s shoulder blades.  The American drops to his back, and seconds later Hans laces their legs together and drops to his back in a tight figure-4 leg lock, threatening to snap Trey’s right knee.  The American wails, pounding his fists into the mat.  The naked Belgian leans back on his left elbow and watches his opponent squirm and writhe, his right hand absent-mindedly stroking his big, veiny cock surrounded by a thick bush of dark hair.  Flexing his thighs, the Belgian makes Trey scream as his knee is hyperextended dangerously.  “You are just too pretty,” Hans growls, pumping his quads and making the blond beauty scream louder. Sweat glistens across Trey’s tanned, smooth body as every muscle tenses.  The American’s knee looks disturbingly out of alignment, but minutes into the crippling leg lock and he still refuses to submit.  Hans’ erection is more than a handful as his opponent suffers exquisitely.  Frustrated with his opponent’s resolve, the Belgian hunk finally unhooks the leg lock and crawls overtop of Trey, lowering himself stretched out across the American and slowly pumping his hips, sliding his erection between their sweaty bodies.  “Submit to me now,” Hans coos, “and I’ll let you where my gold medal while I fuck you all night long.”  With a look of awe, Trey stretches his face upward until their lips meet.  The Belgian drives his tongue deep into his opponent’s mouth. Trey slides the palms of his hands up and down the mighty Belgian’s broad, muscled back. His fingers trace down the corded muscles forming a deep ridge down his spine, until the Americans squeezes Hans’ lightly hairy, powerful glutes with both hands.  With his hands on Hans’ hips, he slowly begins sliding the Belgian up and down his body, Hans’ raging cock squeezed tightly between them.  The pace quickens, until abruptly Hans wrenches his mouth away from Trey’s lips breathlessly. His jaw hangs open dumbly; his eyes roll into the back of his head. A cry somewhere between pain and ecstasy explodes from his chest as he rolls his shoulders upward, leaning on straight arms over his opponent, and shooting a load across Trey’s golden pecs.  The look of shock across Hans’ face, streaming with sweat, is complimented by the victorious smile stretching across the American’s face. With a grunt, Trey rolls on top, pinning the backs of the Belgian’s hands to the mat.  Hans attempts to muscle himself free, but he’s spent and the American is just too strong.  Trey laces their legs together and forces the naked Belgian spread eagled. With his left forearm he begins choking him while throttling the decathlete’s deflating cock with his right hand.  Hans bucks his hips off the mat desperately, but he gets nowhere.  His cock begins to swell again in Trey’s hand even as his airway is choked off. “Good boy,” Trey coos.  “That’s what I love about world class athletes!”  Hans’ eyes roll up into his head as Trey begins pumping the Belgian beef in earnest.  “Submit!” Trey shouts. “No, no, no…” Hans mumbles.  “SUBMIT!” the American demands louder, but the Belgian just shakes his head, his eyes drooping as his balls begin to contract.  Abruptly Trey stops stroking his opponent and Hans’ eyes snap open wide. “No!!!” he shouts desperately, “don’t stop!”  Trey squeezes the head of his opponent’s cock tightly and growls into his face, “Submit!”  “I-give-don’t-stop-I-give-don’t-stop…” Hans repeats over and over as Trey obliges, pumping the raging cock until the Belgian lets loose with another explosive finish, this time coating his own hairy pecs.  20 seconds later, and the American’s forearm chokes the big Belgian out like a light, the look of ecstasy still stretched across his slack face. “One!” Trey slaps the mat next to his opponent’s head. The crowd joins the count at “TWO!,” and at the shout of “THREE,” Trey climbs off his opponent and pumps his fists in the air, his singlet stretched taut over his massive erection.  The camera flashes from the stands are blinding, just as the screams of adoration are deafening as Trey takes a minute to soak in the love.

Trey mugs for his adoring fans

Trey personally supervises the medical team as they gently place Hans on a stretcher and walk him toward the locker rooms.

Czech Roman Sebrle – 6’1″, 192 lbs., 37 y/o

15 minutes later, the roar of the crowd again greets another competitor. Veteran Czech decathlete, Roman Sebrle strolls confidently across the track and into the infield to climb into the ring.  The oldest competitor in the tournament, he’s starkly handsome and draws stunned gasps as the crowds see his gear.  He’s wearing a classic posing strap made famous in the old AMG wrestling videos of the 50’s and 60’s.  He stands in the center of the ring impassive, his muscles relaxed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, somehow astonishingly fierce for being so thoroughly calm and cool.

German Pascal Behrenbruch – 6’5″, 207 lbs., 27 y/o
Roman is giving up 4 inches in height, 15 pounds in weight, and 10 years in age to his competitor who comes sprinting across the track and bounding into the ring to the roar of the crowd.  German decathlete Pascal Behrenbruch  is long, blond, stunningly smooth and tanned.  He wears metallic gold bikini trunks that don’t nearly cover the expanse of his hard, athletic ass.  For that matter, his golden pouch is inadequate to keep his shaved balls under wraps as well, particularly as the beautiful goldenboy climbs up the turnbuckle and pumps his right fist in the air to get a rise from the crowd.  Apparently, the German is unaware of the risks involved in turning your back on your opponent, because he never sees Roman slowly stroll up from behind and drive his right fist straight up between the German’s outstretched legs.  The long, lean goldenboy’s knees buckle, but before he falls the powerful Czech quickly hooks his right arm between Pascal’s legs.  He drapes the German’s toned body backward across his broad shoulders.  The stands erupt, a nearly riotous mix of outrage and elation as the Czech muscle man yanks down on Pascal’s legs and neck, bending the gorgeous boy’s back around his neck.  Pascal’s screams are high pitched and frantic.  Roman bounces on the balls of his feet, parading his prey across his shoulders for the viewing of the raging crowd shocked by the speed with which a world class competitor, a semi-finalist in the Olympics, is completely incapacitated and utterly humiliated.  Roman shows off in the center of the ring, doing leg squats with his 207 pound German barbell racked like dead weight across his shoulders.  The Czech adjusts his grip, yanking down on Pascal’s chin with one hand while sliding his other hand underneath the German’s metallic gold pouch to crush his testicles.  The German writhes and kicks, flailing his arms, but it takes no more than a half a minute more before Pascal’s screams of submission are heard punctuating the disbelieving gasps from the crowd.  It’s the fastest victory in homoerotic wrestling Olympic history. The Czech beast simply shrugs his shoulders and lets Pascal roll off, tumbling in heap to the mat behind him, as Roman pumps his fists and roars at the crowd.

Roman flexes in victory!
Pascal doesn’t know what just hit him.

With the camera flashes exploding throughout the stadium, Roman turns, rests his hands on his hips, and stares down at prone Pascal. As the German begins to move, pushing his shoulders off the mat, Roman squats next to him, helping the humiliated athlete sit up. He pats Pascal’s back consolingly, murmuring something into his ear as the crowd continues to rumble in aftershocks from the shocking defeat.  Pascal nods in response to Roman’s assurances, swallowing hard and getting his bearings. Leaning on the Czech’s broad shoulder, Pascal unsteadily climbs to his feet.  Roman lifts the German’s hand in the air, and the show of sportsmanship generates appreciative applause from the crowd.  Pascal leans heavily on the Czech as they slowly make their way to the ropes.  As the bashed German begins to duck through the ropes, suddenly Roman locks his arms around the goldenboy’s narrow waist from behind, lifts him off his feet, and drives Pascal’s head and shoulders backward into the mat in a vicious suplex.  Screams of protest and a low rumble of boos from the stadium greet Roman as he climbs back to his feet and pumps his fists in the air once again, spitting on the humiliated German.  Dropping to one knee, he grabs Pascal’s bikini at the back and rips the minuscule fabric apart at the seams.  He stuffs the golden fabric in the German’s mouth, making the now naked hunk gag. The Czech strolls slowly but directly out of the ring, hops down to the infield, and walks at a leisurely pace toward the the locker room, waving his hands over head, intentionally misinterpreting the rumble of boos from the stands to be cheers for him.

Fantasy hunk, Trey Hardee, is ready to claim Gold for the US
When Trey Hardee comes trotting into the infield 30 minutes later, the stadium is rocking and ready for the gold medal contest.  Climbing gingerly up to the ring apron and ducking through the ropes, the American competitor is draped in an American flag. As he jogs around the perimeter of the ring, he pulls off the flag, revealing his tanned, sculpted torso. He’s wearing his singlet again, the shoulder straps peeled down to his narrow waist.  As the cameras flash and the crowd roars, he backs into a corner, draping the flag over the ropes and awaiting the arrival of his opponent.
The disgust from the crowd sounds like music to Roman’s ears.

A wary show of sportsmanship.

Long minutes pass before Roman Sebrle finally strides slowly across the track toward the infield. The chorus of boos that greet him are deafening. Smiling brightly and waving at the stands, the Czech acts as if the ire emanating from the stadium are lauds. His gorgeous glutes are all but completely bare as he strolls to the ring in his classic gay flick posing pouch.  Climbing up to the apron, he looks warily across the ropes at the American.  Seeming satisfied that Trey will permit him to enter the ring unmolested, the Czech ducks through the top two ropes and climbs inside. The world class decathletes stare at one another, motionless for nearly a minute as the tension in the stadium swells.  Chants of “Trey! Trey! Trey!” begin to pulse underneath the general din.  Finally, Roman extends his right hand toward his opponent and slowly begins to walk across the ring toward him.  Trey pushes himself out of the corner and approaches his opponent warily, slowly extending his hand.  The crowd screams words of caution at the American goldenboy as the two athletes grasp hands and shake.  With a quick jerk, Trey pulls Roman forward and reaches around him, embracing the Czech muscleman in an intimate embrace. Roman returns the hug. The crowd is hushed in anticipation, but the show of sportsmanship seems to unfold without an ulterior motive. They step backward, still shaking hands, and then suddenly Trey yanks his opponent toward him again and clotheslines the Czech savagely across the throat.  Roman slams to his back and takes a half a dozen lightning fast stomps to his chest and head within seconds.  Every homoerotic wrestling fan in the stadium is on their feet and screaming.

Trey goes on the offensive.

The Czech is stunned, but hardly down for the count.  He rolls away from the American and up to one knee smoothly, rubbing his throat.  As he climbs back to his feet, the two men begin to circle, both clearly respecting the danger they face. A collar and elbow tie up positions the powerful athletes to test their strength and balance.  Suddenly pulling the American close, Roman lifts his right knee into Trey’s crotch, making the American drop the clench and clutch his balls.  A forearm to the handsome American’s face flings him to his back, followed quickly by a Czech elbow drop to his gut.  Stunned but relatively fresh, Trey rolls away and up to his feet, one hand testing his bashed nose and the other adjusting his crotch.  Roman gets back to his feet, and the two circle one another once again.  They move toward one another for another collar and elbow, when Trey grabs the Czech’s right wrist, ducks underneath his arm and twists Roman’s arm behind his back.  The American’s height advantage works to his favor as he pries the forearm up the middle of Roman’s back, forcing the Czech to rise on the balls of his feet.  Smoothly, Trey releases the arm and captures his opponent by the neck, hip tossing him to his back and maintaining the headlock as both men crash to the mat, Roman flat on his stomach and Trey sitting by his shoulder.  Trey pries his opponent’s neck backward until the Czech groans, and then the American reaches back with his free arm and snags Roman’s right ankle, pressing it down across his left ankle and pulling the Czech strongman’s knees off the mat.  A few years ago and the lean American wouldn’t have had the power to make this hold count, but today he’s able to fold Roman’s back up sharply. The chant of Trey’s name continues to rise from the stadium. He leans back, spreading his long legs wide, his mastery making his tights tent.  “I’ll rip your fucking head off!” he shouts, but the Czech refuses to submit. Two minutes roll by in the excruciating assault on the Czech’s back, as both men break out into glistening sweat, but Roman defies the potential finisher.  Finally Trey releases the hold, dropping Roman’s head and sliding to his back. Catching Roman’s ankles against his crotch, the long American leans forward and grabs his opponent from behind by his chin, folding his back backward again and making the Czech wail.  “I’m going to break you in half, old man!” Trey barks threateningly, but again Roman refuses to submit as the back breaking hold grinds his spinal column, chants of “Trey! Trey! Trey!” pulsing from the stadium.  What was a sprint for the Czech in the first round has become a marathon of torture in the second, as Trey milks one hold and then the next, sliding forward and slapping on a sweaty camel clutch, then dropping knees into the Czech’s lower back on the way to spinning around and locking Roman’s ankles underneath his arms and sitting back in a boston crab.  The minutes crawl by for the Czech, as the offense belongs exclusively to the American for another ten minutes of back torture. The Czech seems to be nearly out on his feet when Trey drags him  up by his chin, scoops him up in his arms, and drops his lower back across the American’s thigh as Trey goes down to one knee.  He rolls the back-battered Czech off his knee only to drag him to his feet again, bend him backward with his left arm wrapped across Roman’s throat, and drop to one knee again, bending the big Czech backward and choking him at the same time.  The stands are roaring, but when Trey slides his hand down the length of his opponent’s lightly hairy torso and inside Roman’s dripping wet pouch, the noise is deafening.  The cock claw finally gets a rise out of the generally impassive big Czech, who rouses from semi-conciousness to wail deeply, his back arching in agony off of his captor’s thigh.  The wail makes Trey chuckle.  “There we are,” he says, satisfied.  “That’s where it hurts deep down!”  His forearm flexes as Roman’s pouch writhes.  “This is it, old man,” he announces.  “Time to announce your retirement and put you out to stud, big boy!”  But although the Czech thrashes in the backbreaker and cock claw, he refuses to submit.  Frustrated, Trey finally dumps him to the mat and stands up, hands on hips, sweat dripping from brow.  His powerful pecs heave as he catches his breath.  Both this match and his semi-final match have turned out to be tests of endurance, and although few men in the world could claim his level of fitness, the minutes ticking away under the stadium lights are clearly taking their toll.

His opponent, more 10 years his senior, appears even worse off… until Trey bends forward to drag him off the mat and suddenly finds the Czech’s right claw latched to his testicles.  As Roman slowly stands up tall, Trey’s shoulders slouch forward as he clings to the Czech’s forearm with both hands.  A deep roar of boos from the crowd washes through the stadium. The young, handsome American seems to shrink as Czech savagely twists his claw, dropping Trey to his knees.  Shoving Trey in the forehead, Roman sends the hunk falling to his back.  Quickly grabbing both of Trey’s ankles, the Czech spreads his opponent’s legs wide and drives his heel into his balls, making Trey’s shoulders levitate off the mat as shock and agony contort his face.  Savagely, the Czech drops to his knees, driving his forehead into his opponent’s crotch.  Trey’s hips bounce off the mat and he twists to the side, pulling his knees up to his chest with his hands clutched protectively around his pounded balls.  Pools of sweat cover the center of the ring. Streams of it pour off of the handsome Czech’s brow.  He takes his time catching his breath and clearing his head, but his opponent continues to writhe and jerk in agony.  Climbing back to his feet, Roman grabs Trey’s ankles again and lift his legs off the mat.  The American begs him to spare his balls further insult, pleading, nearly crying in desperation.  With expert precision, the Czech bends Trey’s long left leg and laces their legs together, locking on a vicious figure-4 leglock with precisely the same placement that nearly broke the American in his semi-final match.  Roman arches his back and bridges, lifting his upper body off the mat and resting on his hands. The added pressure on Trey’s knee makes him scream, incoherently at first, but then the clear wail of words escape his mouth. “I-I-I-I G-i-i-i-ve!!!!”  The Czech releases the hold and kneels next to his conquered opponent, pumping his fists in victory, as the chorus of boos from the stadium rain down on him.

Gold medal for the Czech!
30 minutes go by as the homoerotic wrestling fans in the stadium are treated to slow motion replays on the massive screens, documenting the key moments from the individual rounds.  When the screens go black, a fresh wave of enthusiasm washes through the stands as they see Trey Hardee trotting back out of the locker room, clearly favoring his right knee.  He waves in response to the outpouring of support, but the once invincible American champ is clearly humbled heading into the tag team competition.

Trey is looking to redeem his individual match loss.
Once again, Trey wears his skin tight red singlet with his shoulder straps hanging from around his waist, the American flag draped across his bulging shoulders.

American Ashton Eaton – 6’1″, 181 lbs., 24 y/o
Ten seconds behind him comes his American teammate, Ashton Eaton, wearing a matching red singlet.  He’s also left his shoulder straps off, displaying the long, lean muscles that have made him the rising new star on the world stage.  As they take up position behind one of the corner posts, the two are strikingly handsome and clearly fan favorites.

Belgian Hans van Alphen
Next to come sprinting out of the locker room and into the infield is the Belgian beauty, Hans van Alphen.  He’s cleaned up and rehydrated from his semi-final humiliation at the hands of Trey, and he’s somehow reclaimed the black and yellow trunks that he lost to the American.

Brit Daniel Awde – 6′, 181 lbs., 24 y/o
For the team competition, Hans has reached across the channel to team up with the Brit wild child, Daniel Awde.  Known for his high flying outrageous risk taking, Daniel has been a wild card on the homoerotic wrestling decathlete circuit.  When the punk rock fanatic lands on top, he’s devastating. When the high risk moves don’t pay off, he frequently knocks himself out of the competition.

Roman Sebrle
When gold medalist Roman Sebrle saunters across the track and into the infield toward the ring, his reputation proceeds him.  Every fan is on his feet, booing and hissing at the vicious champ.  Food and cups are thrown onto the track after him in disgust, but the Czech champ remains above it all, smiling confidently.  For his tag team appearance, he’s dressed only in his signature posing pouch, leaving his gorgeous, lightly hairy glutes bare.

Mihail Dudas – 6’2″, 198 lbs., 29 y/o
Roman has teamed up with the Serb heart throb, bodybeautiful Mihail Dudas.  Mihail’s success on the circuit has been limited, but his ego seems to only exponentially grow regardless of whether he’s on the medal stand in the end.  He’s powerful, vicious, and has been mentored by the gold medalist for the past year, making him simply more of everything that comes natural to him: powerful, merciless, cocky, underhanded. He sports red square cuts with the outline of white palm prints accentuating his astonishingly bubbly muscle butt.
Pascal Behrenbruch
The humiliated German wrestler, Pascal Behrenbruch, is the captain of the final team in the 4-way gold medal match.  The look on his face as he strides across the track toward the infield communicates with crystal clarity.  He’s back to redeem his shockingly pitiful showing in the individual competition.  His smooth, tan body is oiled; his muscles are pumped; and he’s replaced his destroyed golden trunks with a more modest baby blue speedo.

Latvian Darius Draudvila – 6’2″, 198 lbs., 29 y/o
When Pascal’s teammate comes jogging across the track into the infield after him, the gasps from the crowd are audible.  Pascal has passed over his long-time tag team partner, a fellow German heath throb and world class contender, and selected Latvian muscleman Darius Draudvila to join him in his corner. Darius is a long-time world class competitor, but has had only limited success in the ring, making his selection by Pascal that much more mysterious. As he leaps up to the ring apron in a matching baby blue speedo, Pascal grabs him by the back of the head and plants a possessive, lingering, wet kiss, perhaps solving the mystery.
Mihail starts for his team.
Ashton is out to redeem team USA

Kicking off the action, Mihail and Ashton climb into the ring and begin to circle one another.  As they approach one another, the Serb feints as if to go for a collar and elbow but then drives a vicious right hook into the American’s crotch.  Ashton doubles over, setting him up for Mihail’s signature bulldog, driving him face first into the mat.  Roman claps and cheers for his “boy” as the stands roar their disapproval.

Cocky Mihail flexes for the fans.

The young Serb flexes his right bicep as he shoots a cheesy, toothy smile toward the stands, pointing at his muscle. “Look at this gun!” he shouts at the crowd, who drown him out with boos.  When the din dies down, the Serb grabs his crotch and tugs at it. “I’m packing more heat than the rest of these chumps can handle!” He throws his head back and laughs.  His grandstanding is remarkably premature, however, as he’s given Ashton plenty of time to gather his wits and climb to his knees behind him.  Hooking his arms around the Serb’s waist, Ashton lifts him off his feet and then drops him down across his outstretched right thigh, bashing the Serb’s balls and bruising his tailbone.  Mihail is launched forward, landing on his stomach in humiliation, to the roaring cheers of the crowds.  Trey commands his teammate to tag him in, which he does obediently.  Sliding his right foot up between Michail’s legs, he presses against the boy’s bruised balls, making the Serb’s hips rise off the mat and inspiring applause from the stadium.  Trey drags him by his ankles to the center of the ring and twists him to his back.  His eyes riveted on Roman watching helplessly from the corner, Trey pries wide the Serb’s legs and begins methodically stomping his heel into the boy’s balls as the crowds pick up the count.  At “10!,” the American abruptly drops to his knees and pounds his forehead into the Serb’s crotch, bouncing up to his hands and knees to stare furiously at Roman watching from the outside.  Mihail isn’t moving, almost certainly blacked out from the pain, but Trey refuses to count him out.  Instead, with his eyes never leaving Roman’s handsome face, he steps across the ring and tags in Pascal.

Pascal has something to prove

Pascal leaps across the top rope and squats next to Mihail’s head, staring across the ring at Roman.  He rouses the Serb with sharp slaps to his face as Mihail’s eyes flutter open.  The German drags him to his feet by his ears and shoves him back into the ropes.  Pascal traps his arms in the ropes and pounds his fists into his opponent’s abdomen.  After a couple minutes of the mugging, he drops to his knees and yanks the Serb’s flashy red square cuts off his lightly hairy legs.  Pascal shows the trunks to Roman, sneers at the Czech gold medalist, and then stuffs them into Mihail’s mouth. Leaving the Serb trapped in the ropes, Pascal strolls across the ring and tags in Hans.  The Belgian sprints into the ropes opposite Mihail, is catapulted off of them and leaps across the ring, splashing his body into the helpless Serb.  A quick tag to the American corner and Ashton is back in, clawing the Serb’s smooth pecs.  All of the competitors appear united behind the singular purpose of brutalizing the naked Serb.  Ashton tags in Darius who uses his big, bulging shoulders to spear the trapped hunk. Darius quickly tags in Daniel who completes an acrobatic back handspring on his way to leaping high and driving his elbow down into the Serb’s battered pecs.  Roman barks at Mihail, pleading with his protege to resist the temptation to submit.  With his arms bound and his mouth stuffed with his own trunks, it’s not as if Mihail could submit if he wanted to.  10 minutes into the one-sided brutality and Trey tags back into the action.  He finally releases Mihail’s arms from the ropes.  The Serb instantly collapses in a heap at Trey’s feet, spitting the trunks out of his mouth.  Dragged back to his feet by his hair, Mihail gasps when he feels the American’s long, powerful arms wrap him up from behind in a neck wrenching full nelson.  Trey turns Mihail to face his partner, suffering out of arms length, tormented helplessly in front of the gold medalist.  He endures the torment for a full minute, but when the powerful American begins to shake him side to side, Mihail wails, finally forming the words, “I submit!” Roman’s shouts of encouragement to his partner fade as the writing is on the wall: this has turned into a 6-on-1 against the unpopular champ.

Roman is determined to beat the odds

Flinging the Serb violently to the side, Trey sends Mihail rolling underneath the ropes to the ring apron.  Darius hooks his toes underneath the Serb’s shoulder and sends him rolling the rest of the way, tumbling off the ring apron to the infield.  Trey pumps his fists and roars his challenge at the gold medalist.  Slowly, deliberately Roman climbs through the ropes, cautiously keeping his back to the corner as he leans on his knees and glares at the hunk he crushed so humiliatingly 45 minutes earlier.  Trey approaches; they tie up in a collar and elbow.  The American backs the gold medalist into the corner and quickly drives his knee into the pouch of the Czech’s posing trunks.  A hip toss out of the corner sends Roman sliding on his ass into the center of the ring as the stadium roars encouragement to the beautiful American.  Dropping behind the Czech, Trey presses his right knee between the champ’s shoulder blades as he pries Roman’s muscled arms backward.  Roman’s lightly hairy chest stretches painfully as he clenches his eyes tightly, breathing through the pain.  Ashton and Hans shout their encouragement from their respective corners, while Pascal demands to be tagged in.  The American remains focused on exacting revenge on the Czech’s hard body. Abruptly dropping his arms, Trey grabs the spandex fabric of his right shoulder strap and stretches it over Roman’s head.  He chokes the Czech with the shoulder strap, bending Roman backward across his knee.

Pascal just can’t wait to get his hands on Roman!

The Czech’s attempts to pry the strap from this throat slowly weaken. His arms sag to his sides, as he looks like he’s losing his last grip on consciousness.  Unable to resist getting his own revenge for the Czech’s devastating humiliation, Pascal suddenly dives through the ropes and shoves Trey, sending both the American and the Czech tumbling to mat.  In a flash, all 7 remaining contestants are in the ring in a decathlete muscle melee.  Pascal goes to work on Roman while Darius fends off the approach of Hans and Daniel.  The German drags the gold medalist up to his hands and knees, kneels at his side, and reaches his right arm between the Czech’s legs from behind and claws at Roman’s balls.  Roman roars in rage and agony as his hips rise in his opponent’s control.  Controlling the Czech from behind, Pascal directs Roman unsteadily to his feet and then quickly drapes the gold medalist backward across his shoulders. He bounces Roman on top of his shoulders while yanking the gold medalist’s cock and balls out of their pouch.  He yanks so hard on the Czech’s balls it looks like they’re about to rip off; the gold medalist wails and flails.  Darius has managed to fend off the attack of both Hans and Daniel for the moment, locking up the Belgian beefcake in a side headlock while circling away from the stalking Brit.  But he’s out of position to defend his partner once Ashton has done a quick wellness check on Trey and then turned his attention to Pascal.

A stunning heel to the back of Pascal’s right knee drops the German violently to his knees.  Roman rolls backward off of his shoulders and curls in a ball behind him, clutching his testicles. The American takes a wide stance and wraps his right forearm across the German’s throat from behind.  Clutching his left bicep in his right hand, Ashton flexes and quickly presses shut the flow of blood to the blond adonis’ head.   Pascal’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he slips into unconsciousness.  Dropping him to his back, Ashton slaps down a decisive three count to signal that the German is out of the competition.

Darius wails like a wounded animal when he sees his partner kicked unconscious to the infield.  Distracted, he fails to see Trey back on his feet, positioning himself carefully behind him, and then leaping high into the air.  The standing drop kick catches the Latvian muscleman squarely between the shoulder blades. He lunges forward, losing his grip on Hans’ head, and running nose-first into Daniel’s swinging elbow.  Blood gushes down across his lips as he collapses on his knees and elbows.  Ashton joins the fray to drop his leg across the back of Darius’s head, smashing the bashed hunk face first into the mat.  Daniel straddles Darius’ legs and yanks the Latvian hunk’s baby blue trunks off, pressing them to his nose and inhaling deeply.  Trey stands nearby, his hands on his hips, instructing Hans to control Darius’ right ankle and Ashton to grab the hunk’s left ankle.  The boys obediently do so, flipping the Latvian to his back on Trey’s command.  Daniel needs no instruction to instantly schoolboy pin Darius’ shoulders to the mat and dig out his own British beef, shoving his excited head into the Latvian’s gaping mouth.  Darius grunts in desperation, his mouth full of the Brit’s excitement.  Trey takes a leisurely stroll around the triple-teamed competitor before placing the ball of his right foot on Darius’ shaved balls, pressing them firmly to the mat.  Darius’ muffled wails rise an octave in panic.  With four men holding him down, he’s completely immobile. Trey finally taps Daniel on the shoulder from behind. “I think he’s trying to tell us something.”  Daniel reluctantly slides his now fully-engorged cock out of the hunk’s mouth, and instantly the Latvian screams, “I give!!!”

Hans flexes his devastating muscles

Somehow the boys have managed to forget that the dangerous Czech is still in the ring and going for another gold.  While they’ve been working over Darius, Roman has rallied his strength, caught his breath, and climbed to his feet.  The crowds begin to scream in panic to warn the others, but the remaining competitors mistake their cries of warning for praise for their exquisite manhandling of the Latvian.  Roman slides his thick thighs out of this posers and sneaks up behind Trey.  A half a second after Darius submits, Roman wraps the sweat-soaked fabric around the American’s throat and drags him backward, as the Czech backs defensively into a corner.  Daniel remains gleefully ignorant of what’s happening as he dick-whips Darius’ face, but Ashton and Hans are cautiously approaching the two gold medal finalists.  Roman frantically twists the fabric in his hands, making Trey’s face blanch as the American drops weakly to his knees.  In a flash, Hans dives overtop of Trey and drives his shoulder into Roman’s upper abdomen. As Ashton drags his partner out of the way, Hans yanks Roman out of the corner by his right wrist and sends him sprinting across the ring.  Roman’s back crashes into the far turnbuckle, and a moment later Hans his whipping him out of that corner and sending him crashing into the opposite corner.  A third whip into the corner sets up the Belgian to charge in afterward, lunging low to spear the gold medalist in the abdomen, but the Czech manages to lift his right leg at the last moment and let Hans’ momentum sending him chin-first crashing into Roman’s heel.  The blow whips the Belgian’s head backward violently. He crashes to his back with a bang, lying motionless. Gasping, the sweat-soaked, the Czech drops to his knees and crawls over top of the Belgian hunk, slapping down a 3-count and knocking him out of the competition.

Trey screams for Daniel to stop playing around!
Daniel lusts for making somebody suffer

The Americans are on their feet and screaming at Daniel to toss Darius out of the ring and focus on Roman.  Ashton grabs the naked Czech and drags him off of Hans, pulling him on his hands and knees into the center of the ring.  Daniel is finally back on board having disposed of his Latvian plaything.  Trey barks instructions as Ashton applies an immobilizing full nelson on the Czech, stretching his torso vulnerably.  Daniel starts using the gold medalist as a punching bag, landing a barrage of fists that slap wetly into the muscled core of the Czech.  The smile stretching from ear to ear testifies to the Brit’s joy at bullying the veteran bruiser.   Abruptly the Brit stops the pounding to grab Roman by the chin and spit in his face. Trey barks commands for Daniel to resume the beating, but the Brit takes a moment to slide his tongue into the Czech’s gaping mouth.  Ashton and Trey are both barking furiously at the Brit now, and Daniel pulls away reluctantly. “Okay!” he snaps at Trey angrily.  Cocking his fist next to his right ear, Daniel takes aim for a savage jab into the Czech’s nose.  As his fist shoots forward, the exhausted Czech slides downward, lubricated by streams of sweat, slipping out of Ashton’s full nelson.  Daniel’s fist connects with Ashton’s chin, knocking him to his ass as his eyes roll up into his head.  Trey angrily shoves Daniel in the pecs, screaming at him, which only serves to spark the Brit’s short fuse.  Daniel ducks low, wrapping his arms around Trey’s waist and lifting the American off his feet before spearing him to the mat.  The Brit lands a barrage of fists to Trey’s handsome face as he straddles the American’s waist.  Ashton is fighting to hold onto consciousness, unable to come to his partner’s defense.  Daniel beats the shit out of Trey for over a minute before he feels the hot, sweaty bicep wrap around his throat from behind.  Roman kneels behind him, falling backward and pulling Daniel on top of him in a rear choke.   A minute later, the Czech tosses the once raging Brit to the mat and slaps down a 3-count to signal he’s out of the competition.

Roman’s gorgeous body glistens as he climb to the top turnbuckle.

The Czech is still facing a 2-on-1 showdown, but his odds have improved considerably from earlier in the match.  Both Americans are sitting up, trying to clear their heads, as Roman has already reached his feet.  His sculpted, naked body glistens in the stadium lights.  His chest heaves as he struggles to oxygenate his overtaxed muscles.  Like the champ he is, however, he fights through his exhaustion to stumble to the nearest corner and climb slowly, unsteadily, to the top turnbuckle.  The Americans are oblivious as they both struggle slowly to their feet at the same time, bending foward and resting their hands on their knees as their lungs heave.  The stadium is screaming warning at them, but they have no idea where to look.  Roman crouches, poised on the top ropes, waiting.  As they stand up straight and turn toward Roman’s corner at the same time, the Czech leaps off the top turnbuckle, catching both American’s across the throat with a double clothesline.  All three men slam into the mat and lie there motionless for nearly half a minute as the stadium seems close to a riot.  Slowly, Roman drags himself overtop of Ashton, pinning the American’s shoulders to the mat.  Ashton’s eyes snap open in surprise and he tries to lift his shoulders, but Roman counts him out relying on gravity to keep the exhausted American flat on his back.

Trey cannot believe it’s back to just him and Roman!

The Czech has been defying odds and expectations all night long, and despite the ill-will he generated from the fans earlier, a growing contingent are slowly picking up the chant of his name, signaling their hard-won support.  “Ro-man! Ro-man!” a minority in the crowd pulses as both Trey and Roman struggle to peel themselves off the mat for the final submission or count out.  Shockingly, it’s the iron-willed veteran who makes it to his knees first.  Roman lunges on top of Trey, shoving the American to his back and slapping down a quick 2-count.  The powerful American throws his opponent off of him before he can be counted out.  Once again, Roman beats him off the mat and pins Trey’s shoulders down, hooking his right leg this time.  Again, he manages to slap down a 2-count, but Trey kicks free of the cradle and lifts his shoulder before he’s counted out.  Frustrated, the Czech climbs, stumbling, to his feet and begins to drag Trey up by a fistful of hair.  Before the American makes it to his feet, he manages to yank Roman’s feet out from underneath him, dropping the Czech to his back.  Trey slides around to straddle the Czech’s face, folding Roman’s legs upward and hooking the gold medalist’s ankles underneath his arms.  Roman’s exposed, lightly hairy ass glistens with sweat as the stadium roars still louder.  His face is pinned underneath Trey’s muscled ass.  His legs are spread eagled and folded up over his head.  He tries to kick free, but the crowd joins the American in finally, exhaustingly, counting out the Czech muscleman.

Trey celebrates an exhausting, tag team victory!

Hans quickly dives back inside the ring and helps both Ashton and Trey up to their feet, lifting the American’s hands in the air in victory.  As the team gold medals are handed into the ring, it’s Hans who takes the liberty to drape them around the champion’s necks.  The stadium crowd roars their approval, having witnessed tonight both the shortest and the longest homoerotic wrestling matches in history.  The celebration continues for several minutes.  Beneath the roaring din of the crowd, Trey leans over and shouts something into Hans’ ear.  The Belgian beefcake blushes and then nods.  Bending forward, he peels off his trunks and tosses them into a corner. His big Belgian cock is already semi-erect.  Taking himself in hand, he strokes himself fully erect as Trey and Ashton surround him.  Trey squeezes his ass and Ashton delightedly pinches the Belgian’s nipples.  When the three men step away to stand side by side again, Trey’s gold medal is hanging proudly from the Belgian’s rod.  The camera flashes are blinding as the roaring stadium celebrates world class Olympic-quality homoerotic wrestling.

Team Gold Medalists: Americans Ashton Eaton and Trey Hardee
Hans van Alphen gets to wear gold, after all!