I’ve already alliterated once today, so I’ll keep Thursday’s Thighs to a minimum. Mostly, I just want to point out what I think is an odd convention of photographing hot homoerotic wrestling hunks with stunningly sexy legs from the knees (or even lower thighs) up. Now I love me hot torsos, no doubt. But the seeming aversion to giving loving photographic attention to the beautiful legs of beautiful wrestlers is just plain wrong! Here are just a few classic stunners flexing their gorgeous thighs, and yet the focus of the camera remains riveted above the waist.
Lately, I’ve been drawn to strength. What’s getting my engine running is the powerful squeeze that makes a captured man gasp, or the brutal slam that even makes my head rattle just watching it. That said, I’ve also been reminded lately that I’m not a fan of musclebound bodies that are so massively developed that a bodybuilder can’t scratch his own nose because his biceps keep getting in the way. That just seems maladaptive and, frankly, not so sexy.
Flexibility is a grosslyundervalued aspect of physical health in general, and in wrestling, it’s even more important. Tolerances for pain and prying, twisting and turning are calibrated precisely to the hard-achieved flexibility of a wrestler. The same guillotine that makes one man scream a frantic submission may be endured, at least for a time, by a more flexible body not so easily pressed to the breaking point.
When I think of flexibility and the homoerotic wrestler, Paul Perris inevitably pops into my brain first. Paul always managed to work the splits into his matches, and really, why not? It’s like a dog licking his own balls… if you or I could physically manage that feat, wouldn’t we be caught doing it ALL the time, wouldn’t we? Anyway, back to Paul… his splits provided a means of delivering punishment to Paul and receiving punishment from Paul. He frequently seemed to enjoy sliding down into splits, particularly in his oil matches, as he tortured his opponent in, say, a full nelson. I don’t see how the splits really added anything to the wrestling, but they were stunning, nonetheless, and they offered fascinating angles to view his muscleboy bubblebutt. Frequently, Paul would be ruthlessly captured by his opponents who would manage to spread his legs freakishly wide as Paul sold some sweet suffering. On those rare occasions he was matched with an equally flexible musclegod like Roman Stone (which he did 3 times), Paul seemed to relish throwing in some split-torture of his own.
Once I’ve managed to stop fixating on an oiled Paul Perris in the splits, my second fondest wrestling contortionist is Brad Rochelle.
Brad’s flexibility is probably easy to overlook. You aren’t alone in being completely intoxicated by the stunning beauty of his muscled physique. His proportions and power are what can sell a still of Brad any day. And speaking of selling, his salesmanship is second to no one’s as far as I’m concerned. But in appreciating Brad matches, it has to be acknowledged, he was one twist-tie of a man.
This is probably why Brad-as-jobber commands such a fanatical following full 2 years after the last match was released with Brad. His flexibility made his capture and torture astonishing to behold. He could be pried so far past the point of normal flexibility, that you couldn’t help but be amazed and fully on board with the notion that he was suffering well beyond the pale.
All this to say that flexibility has got to be the motor oil lubricating my wrestling kink engine. I like ’em big and powerful, no doubt. But I need to see them bend, too. Clearly, I need to get back into yoga.
It’s like the keen eyes at Towleroad were thinking of me (and you) when they posted this YouTube gem. I don’t speak Spanish, so one of you will have to correct any misconceptions I have about the clip, but from the title and the drama, it appears to me that a Mexican bodybuilder is majorly pissed off with is placing at the end of the day. It looks like he’s disgusted with his, what, second place prize? He rips it up, walks up to the end of the stage and calls out the judges. One hot piece of judge-beef in a polo shirt stands up and invites the sore loser to bring it on.
So Baby Blue leaps from the stage and tackles the hot piece of ass judge. The crowd scatters. Satellite fights break out. Another competitor shows up, pounding a metal chair on the announcer’s table. That’s where the clip ends, but damn… my imagination is just getting started!
The bodybuilding competition as the backdrop to a wrestling match was already dreamed up before Baby Blue ever oiled up those humungous pecs of his. Can-Am was playing up the bodybuilder angle explicitly early on, including Kick-Ass Bodybuilder Feud 1 (it’s a bitter tragedy that Roman Stone didn’t have a longer tenure in homoerotic wrestling). Kick-Ass Bodybuilder Fued 2 doesn’t count, because Billy Vochek can’t pull off the role of bodybuilder. Enough said.
But actually what I was thinking of was Zeus productions Punishment 4, which features the relevant storyline of musclegod extraordinaire, Steve Sterling, getting abducted the night before a bodybuilding competition by Ivan Malek and pro-salesman of the decade, Cliff Conlin. Ivan and Cliff are charged with beating the crap out of Steve in order to spoil him for the bodybeautiful competition the next day. 2-on-1… 1-on-2… in the pro-ring… lots of muscle getting tied up and humiliated in the ropes. Whew! I need turn a fan on…
So I’m all for someone producing the next chapter in the YouTube story, when Baby Blue takes his oiled pecs to the gym the next morning and finds Poloshirt Hunk waiting for him behind a corner. The action simply must find its way into the ring. Baby Blue’s nipples absolutely must be tortured as he squirms, all trussed up in the ropes. The tables must turn… at least twice… and one of these two boys’ muscle-asses needs to get ridden hard in order to determine once and for all which one of them knows quality muscle when he sees it.