Truly Sexier and Sexier!

If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a thousands times: winner of “best casting on television” for all time is True Blood. Hands down. The show has fed my homoerotic wrestling fantasies since season 1. My celebrity homoerotic wrestling fiction has featured True Blood sex machine Ryan Kwanten being dominated and milked dry by the likes of Jamie Bamber and Shemare Moore, before pulling his act together and besting giant powerhouse Jason Bruening.

Ryan Kwanten in post-coital existential crisis in last night’s True Blood.

Vampire Bill, aka Stephen Moyer turned out to be quite the nasty heel in his underhanded tag team victory alongside Sam Trammel, risking an English backlash in London taking down one of my long-time personal favorites, Russell Tovey and soon to be Hobbit-dwarf, Aiden Turner.

Stephen Moyer checks out Alexander Skarsgård’s pecs (and who blames him?!)

I hold the belief that, in the aggregate, the sexiest men on the planet are the Swedes, and at the head of the pack is True Blood vampire sex stud, Alexander Skarsgård. This explains why Alexander crushed Ashton Kutcher into the mat, shutting the sexy funny man up for good in the Producer’s Ring (at least in front of the camera). Soon afterward, he settled a score for national pride, showing Chris Hemsworth precisely what he thought about the idea of an Aussie being cast as the Norse god, Thor.  I’m not sure who I could imagine besting the 6’4″ blond bombshell on the rise, but if there was one person in my homoerotic wrestling imagination who might pull it off, it very well could be True Blood’s newest resident hunk, Christopher Meloni.

Low rise is never low enough when it comes to the long, lean, gorgeous body of this Swede!

I simply cannot get enough of Christopher Meloni! He came roaring into my homoerotic wrestling imagination making erotic sculpture out of Milo Ventimiglia and Adrian Pasdar, with a little help from his tag team partner Sendhil Ramamurthy. The scene-stealer that he is, Christopher was quickly cast in a singles competition against fantasyman Teddy Sears, showing that Christopher is born to heel.  Still another match was scheduled that was supposed to see Chase Crawford bring badboy Christopher down a rung, but with charisma like Meloni’s, Crawford was destined to be broken (literally). With Christopher’s ego swelling dangerously, the production team in my homoerotic wrestling universe had to take matters into their own hands, and it was finally gorgeous fitness model Ben Godfre who brought the vicious heel to heel, followed by each member of Eli Brody’s executive team taking their shots and pent up frustrations out on the humbled hunk.

Christopher Meloni brings his Chippendales routine to TB.

Not one of these True Blood hunks has faded from my fantasies, and with Christopher packed so tightly into a muscle-bulging designer suit in the past couple of episodes this season, I was aching to the core to see him unleash the beast. Last night he finally gave a hint of what drives me insane, peeling slowly, teasingly out of his suit coat and tie and making me drool to watch him unbutton his dress shirt and slide it slowly, so slowly off.

Bulging shoulders, powerful pecs, a fantasy body sending imaginations exploding!

Fuck, this man is hot! He clearly worked out just right to get into True Blood shape.  He’s bulging in all the right places, lean and sculpted in the rest. He’s biceps and shoulders are huge, rock hard, and pulsing with vascularity.  Damn, I can guarantee we’re seeing now-company man Christiopher Meloni back in bulging trunks and climbing into the ring again in a homoerotic wrestling fantasy borrowing heavily from the brilliant casting of True Blood!

Christopher Meloni’s days in my homoerotic wrestling fiction are most definitely not over!

True Skin

Joe’s guest post yesterday reminded me that there’s new True Blood skin on display, with the launch of season 4 a couple of weeks ago. The beautiful bodies are all wrapped in darkness and shadow, which is slightly frustrating but undeniably appropriate to the genre. No Joe Manganiello beef yet, but the “next ons” look like he’s showing up soon.

Alexander Skarsgård showed up shirtless at the end of the episode, but let’s face it, he’s sex on a stick whether he’s in one of those skin tight shirts or out.  Alexander has been an unstoppable beast in my homoerotic wrestling imagination, and looking this good makes me suspect he will continue to show up there.

A few weeks ago Joe was marveling at the hot piece of meat that is Marshall Allman, a new addition in season 3 and happily returning for season 4. Not to spoil too much for anyone, but Marshall’s particular skill set requires that he strip naked (now that’s a sweet superpower!). Therefore, we’ve come to appreciate that astonishingly round bubble butt of his on more than one happy occasion.

This last episode delivered more Marshall ass in the shadows. When he gave us a profile, though, I have to say those luscious glutes took my breath away!

Sam Trammell’s character also is required by all that is good and holy to strip naked frequently, illustrating what I believe is precisely the firmly convex belly that Joe was so admiring in yesterday’s post. For me, it’s hard to tear my eyes away from those thick, round pecs of his.

And one last glimpse of True Blood gratuitous nakedness, Stephen Moyer’s character had some shirtless hotness and a bare-assed sex scene this week. While I know many of you don’t have my affliction, I still say the naked woman on the bottom here is a major buzz kill. If I put my hand across her face and squint just a little, though, my imagination is capable of rewriting the body on the bottom into one with a very happy cock.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, I’m sure. Allan Ball is a genius.

Truely Hot

The True Blood season premieres tonight, and I can’t think of a better way to cap off a Pride Day celebration (at least where I am). StayPuft helpfully commented to my recent mention of Joe Manganiello hotness that the True Blood werewolf is not only in GQ, but also in the coverboy for Muscle and Fitness (my very first pre-porn).

The video clip of Joe’s “celebrity workout” is hot. I don’t typically find it so hot to watch even hot guys putting in their time at the gym.  If they’re serious about their workout, it has all the sexual energy of watching someone do their taxes, as far as I’m concerned. But then again, I’m pretty confident that watching Joe do his taxes (like watching him workout) would be sufficient to top me off.

You can also catch a video of his covershoot for the pre-porn rag that launched my muscle fitness fantasies as a boy. This is one huge, incredibly fit specimen. I predict he’ll be making his third appearance in a homoerotic wrestling fantasy match before the summer is out.

And in the man-meat blitz that is the True Blood season 4 publicity campaign, there are also these very tasty shots from Men’s Health of Joe’s co-star, Stephen Moyer, looking harder than I’ve ever seen him in True Blood. Perhaps the superhuman physique of Joe’s season 3 debut has lit a fire under the smoldering Brit hottie.

A scenario I tend to be fond of in my homoerotic wrestling fiction is that of rival costars who have to sort out who’s packing more in a fiercely bitter wrestling match. These scenarios most often result in one cocky hunk hammered down to size and tagged and collared by the victor. Having sorted out who’s on top, they get on with a productive “working”(daddy-cub) relationship.

All I can say is that Stephen Moyer better damn well live at the gym and survive on protein shakes and supplements if he dares decide to take umbrage at the carnal appeal inspiring so many of us to boy down and worship at the feet of Mr. Manganiello.
Bring on the True Blood!

Flexing Our Muscles

Regular readers are aware that I’m a big, big booster of the erotic imagination. Frankly, I think the distinction between “the erotic” and “the erotic imagination” is almost nil. Bodies are mostly just sacks of fluid wrapped up in skin-packages. If you absolutely remove the imagination, even the most gorgeous naked body is… well, mundane. So sex-for-sale airbrushes and pumps and primps real bodies to turn them into imaginary objects of lust. Sex-for-sale writes provocative, impossible stories to allow mundane bodies to inhabit our erotic imaginations, turning them into gorgeous hunks that ignite fantasies of what we would think, feel, and do with said fantasyman right in front of us. Even right in front of us, the bodies we adore, wrestle, fuck and make love to inhabit our imaginations much more evocatively than just our literal senses. Even the most stunningly hot, mouthwatering hunk of muscled physical perfection is – without our imaginations – just a body, with aches and intolerances and acne and skin tags and weird birthmarks and pigeon toes and bow-legs and… well, the inevitableaccumulation of mundane human existence.
But then we imagine. We put a story together. We mentally remove the clothing. We blur out the wonky bits. We apply our tunnel vision to the nice parts. We mute the cringeworthy laugh or the habitual, gross clearing of the sinuses. We freeze-frame on the particularly flattering angles and overlook the odd divots . In short, we lust because we imagine.
The cover of Rolling Stone is popping up everywhere, featuring three of the main characters of True Blood in a 3-way naked, blood-bathed embrace. This is, in itself, an exercise in the lustful imagination. This scene is out of context. It doesn’t appear in True Blood. It’s full of implication and allusion, but it relies entirely on the imagination to give it a story. It’s been meticulously posed in order to make it PG-13-ish, carefully and barely obstructing any glimpse of pubic hair, penis, testicle, or female nipple. But, obviously, those parts are implied and inevitably imagined. Personally, my eyes continue to be drawn down the long stretch of Alexander Skarsgård’s tight, hard abs and into my imagination of his beautiful cock hiding demurely and just barely behind Anna Paquin’s leg. I’ve imagined that fantastic, gorgeous naked body many times, most fondly in fictional wrestling scenarios. Stephen Moyer, while not asmuch an object of my lust, also has made an appearance in my wrestling fiction. Nothing at all against her, but Anna Paquin has never appeared in an erotic fantasy of mine.

Pretty On the Outside has done a sweet mash-up for you and me to blur the lines some more in service of our erotic imaginations. Rather than an Anna Paquin sandwich between two slices of Alexander Skarsård and Stephen Moyer, it’s now a Stephen Moyer sandwich between naked titans Skarsgård and Joe Manganiello. And isn’t this precisely the work of the erotic imagination? To disassemble and reassemble? To recast and and reconfigure. Now, remove Stephen Moyer from the second mash-up and insert me (or you). And then set the scene in motion.

My point, friends, is that a kink is simply a variation on a human theme. Our capacities for the erotic are an extension of our facility in exercising our imaginations. I suspect that you and I probably possess more vivid and well-exercised imaginations than the general population, but the mechanics are basically the same. If anything, perhaps we’re just the finely toned athletes of the erotic, because we flex those muscles more often.

True Skin

Is there anything to be said that hasn’t already been said eloquently?
Squarehippies calls it the best premiere ever. Superhero raves, “Epic and hilarious and damn sexy!” Dlisted says that the season opener of True Blood was produced by his wet dreams.

I say Alan Ball is a genius. Nearly every sweet hunk regular on the show displayed significant amounts of skin. It’s like a hunting ought to be: no wasted flesh. To start with, I need to linger on my favorite scene of the night, and one of my favorite images of all time. 6’4″ Swedish adonis, Alexander Skarsgård, beautifully bare-assed.
The camera was making love to Alexander throughout this episode, which seems appropriate for the 6 hour fuck fest that his character was supposed to have been engaged in. The close ups, the naked rearview, the low-slung leisure wear later on… this man is incredible. The promise of even more explicit scenes to come this season is making me a little numb. He’s also amazing in this character (and not just for the skin). Alexander is skillfully playing both inhumanly cold and calculating with subtle twinges of vulnerability. Alexander has shown up three times in my wrestling fiction, twice in action, but never bare-assed. That must be remedied, and this is just the inspiration to make that happen.
Next, let’s move on to Stephen Moyer and Sam Trammell, co-starring in the homoerotic fantasy of Sam’s character. Pec to pec, this pair is indeed the stuff of fantasies. As Stephen’s character promises that a tandem shower will be a real good time, both Sam and I swoon just a little, entirely convinced. Like Alexander, Stephen and Sam have made an appearance in my wrestling fiction fantasies, appropriately enough in a tag team match taking on werewolf and vampire buddies on Being Human, Russell Tovey and Aidan Turner. There was no tandem shower scene in that fantasy, so True Blood yet again drives my imagination to new heights.
Finally, let’s linger a while on the ridiculously gorgeous bubble butt of Bon Temps favorite muscle slut, played by Ryan Kwanten. In the season premiere, Ryan is unable to get it up for two naked women working him over simultaneously. There’s a whole story line that makes this sensical, but I think a much better story line would be to see Moyer and Trammell show up after their steamy shower and satisfy blueballed Jason like only two big, hard hunks can. And just to round out my homoerotic wrestling fantasy fascination with the golden cast of True Blood, Ryan appears in three of my fictional wrestling matches, starting with losing all self-control as Jamie Bamber bearhugged Ryan into a frot frenzy.
Hell, True Blood is employing the talent so well, the real thing is starting to catch up with my homoerotic imagination! I predict that I will be up to the challenge, though, with more full contact, full frontal wrestling action to come for every single one of the True Blood regulars. And did I mention that Alan Ball is a genius?

True Anticipation

Work is a buzz saw for the next few days, so I’m going to try to pace myself on my posts. Small bites. Less phenomenology. More sane time for me. With that in mind, I want to concisely marvel in anticipation at a new promo shot for the third season of True Blood, which will premiere in a couple of months.

I’m still bitter about the completely unnecessary execution of Mehcad Brook’s character at the end of season 2. The promise of new hotties to come is sweet, though. Sweeter still is Alexander Skarsgård looking hotter than ever.
Thank God for Swedes. Thank God for a little less bleach in Alexander’s hair, also. And while we’re at it, thank God for his gorgeous, giant, muscled body, and in particular those rippled, mile-wide shoulders. As if True Blood requires any more fantasizing, I have been unable to resist writing in several of its stars into my celebrity wrestling fiction. Alexander, of course, has made two appearances, showcasing himself as even stronger and more merciless and sadistic than Eric Northman. Stephen Moyer and Sam Trammell tag teamed for a sweet match that garnered little attention from the fans, but it’s one that I actually enjoy quite a lot. Ryan Kwanten required some personal tutelage in the demanding world of homoerotic wrestling in the Producer’s Ring. What can I say? Alan Ball keeps picking the beef that I’ve got a hankering for. Can…. not… wait… until June 13.
Enough for now.