Olympic Spirit

The spotlight snaps on yet again to find ring announcer Johnny Weir in the middle of the ring with the microphone in hand.  “Put your hands on your zippers and prepare yourselves for our next match! First, from Fort St. John, British Columbia, he’s 32 years old.  He weighs 176 pounds at an even 6-foot tall. Welcome to the ring Dudley Do-Right himself, Canada’s pretty boy, Denny… Morrison!”


A spotlight illuminates the parting curtains as Denny struts through, pumping his fists and smiling confidently in response to the roar of the crowd. Suddenly sprinting, he bounds up to the ring apron in one long leap, revealing his tight, red and blue briefs emblazoned with the Superman symbol across his crotch. His huge, speed skater legs sport red knee pads and shiny, white wrestling boots laced to his upper shins.

“Denny’s opponent is 31 years old. At 6’2″ tall and 183 pounds, hailing from Heerenveen, Netherlands, this Flying Dutchman is leaving these Olympics with gold, but it’s yet to be seen if he’ll have the title belt around his waist as the 2018 Olympic Wrestling Champ. Pay respect to bulletproof Sven… Kramer!”


Sven parts the curtains and strides to the ring without taking his eyes off of his opponent as the fans cheer. Climbing up to the ring apron, the Dutchman sports bright orange square cuts trunks and tall black boots. Momentarily, the wrestlers arrive in the middle of the ring to receive their instructions from Jake Dalton, the ref, as Johnny leans close to hold the microphone for Jake. Suddenly, Sven grabs Denny by the back of the neck and jabs a vicious knee into the Canadian’s gut. Johnny screams and flees the ring as the ref signals for the bell and overlooks the premature blow. Even as Denny is bent forward still sucking on air, Sven yanks him by his right wrist, sending the Canadian sprinting into and bouncing off the ropes. Sven’s outstretched arm clotheslines Denny across the throat, slamming the shocked skater to his back.  As Denny clutches his throat and gasps for air, kicking the mat to shock himself back to his senses, Sven kneels behind him, pulling him up by his neck to a seated position. Denny’s jaw drops in shock as he feels the Dutchman’s long, right arm lock tight across his throat with a rear naked choke. Denny’s fingers clutch at the forearm pressing against his windpipe. Sven shakes him violently side to side, and then presses his lips against the Canadian’s left earlobe. Denny’s eyes widen in shock as he feels his opponent’s tongue flicker into his ear.

Sven pulls himself up to his feet, dragging Denny in the rear naked choke with him. Slowly, the Dutchman presses his opponent forward into a corner, banging Denny’s chest into the top turnbuckle hard. Swiftly, Sven releases the choke and grabs the ropes on either side of the turnbuckle, pulling on them violently as he drives his right shoulder into Denny’s lower back. Denny’s screams of pain are echoed in random, excited responses from the crowds in the shadows, variously shouting encouragement to one or the other wrestler.

When a third shoulder block to the lower back makes Denny’s knees buckle, Sven drops to one knee, bending his opponent backward, trapping his throat in his armpit in a dragon sleeper. The Dutchman’s fans momentarily grow louder, but a quiet hush falls over the crowd as Sven stretches the palm of his free hand down the length of Denny’s washboard abs laid out before him. Slowly, Sven stretches his arm to its fullest extent, sliding his fingertips inside the tops of Denny’s trunks. A groan of panicked excitement comes muffled from the struggling Canadian as the Superman logo on Denny’s pouch undulates with Sven’s hand manipulating his swelling cock.  Denny’s hands grasp at his tormentor’s wrist, but don’t really make an effort to pull Sven’s hand away.

When Sven finally pulls his hand out, Denny’s trunks are tented dramatically with the Canadian’s erection. Suddenly, Sven shoves his opponent off his knee and stands up, sending Danny slamming to his back with a shocked whimper. The ref moves in to check if Denny is conscious, but Sven shoves him away. Grabbing Denny by both wrists, he drags the dazed Olympian to the middle of the ring and drops to his knees, straddling Denny’s face, staring down his supine body. Crawling forward on his hands, Sven stretches his long, powerful body overtop of his opponent’s, swiveling his hips and grinding his package into the Canadian’s gasping face. His face inches from Denny’s crotch, Sven wraps his right hand around his opponent’s twitching cock through the fabric of his trunks. Tenderly at first, the Dutchman strokes the meat, eliciting more muffled groans from Denny’s face trapped deep in Sven’s crotch. Denny’s hips start to rise, bucking slowly in time with his opponent’s rhythm as Sven begins to roughly throttle his rod. A precum stain darkens the fabric stretched across the swollen cock head.

Sensing his opponent approaching orgasm, Sven abruptly climbs off and stands, straddling Denny’s head and staring down into his dazed face. A hush falls over the crowd. “Submit to me!” Sven shouts loudly, lacing his long fingers behind his head and hypnotically swinging his hips side to side. The look of longing on Denny’s face draws the ref close, his ear poised inches from the Canadian’s slack lips.

Slowly an angry fire rises behind Denny’s eyes. He suddenly rolls to his side as he grabs his opponent’s right ankle and yanks Sven’s legs out from underneath him. Sven drops to his ass even as Denny climbs to his feet, forcefully twisting on the Dutchman’s ankle and stepping over the captured leg. Hooking Sven’s right foot under his armpit, Denny squats low, leaning backward and cinching tight a single leg crab. Sven shouts in pain and pounds his right fist against the mat in frustration. The crowd breaks out into applause, appreciating the gut check reversal of fortune.

The ref asks if Sven want to submit. “Fuck you!” Sven snaps back. Denny leans backward, pulling with his free hand on Sven’s knee to crank up the pressure. Sven screams in pain. Shouts of encouragement distributed equally for the two wrestlers start to rise from the bleachers. Denny finally cracks a smile, catching his breath and riding the advantage hard.

Finally, Denny stands up, pulling his opponent’s ankle up with him. The Canadian’s stained, tented pouch bounces excitedly. Violently, he drives the captured leg down, pounding Sven’s knee viciously into the mat. Sven cries out in pain, cradling his injured knee to his chest as Denny steps away. Hands on his hips, the Canadian makes a slow circuit around his opponent, stomping bitingly into random exposed body parts, making the Dutchman spasm and flinch.

With Sven’s cries still echoing through the hushed auditorium, Denny bends low and drags his opponent up off the mat by his neck. Hooking the Dutchman’s head underneath his left arm, Denny reaches down Sven’s back and grabs a handful of the back of Sven’s orange trunks. Squatting low, with a grunt, Denny yanks his opponent off his feet. Arching backward, he suplexes Sven, violently pounding the Dutchman’s lower back to the mat. While Denny climbs back to his feet, Sven bridges high off the mat, his right hand clutching at his throbbing coccyx.

Again, Denny yanks his opponent off the mat by his neck. He shoves Sven in the chest, sending him stumbling backward and then bouncing back off of the ropes. Denny scoops him up in his arms, lifting the Dutchman off his feet and twisting, power slamming him to his back. The crowd roars approval as Denny climbs back to his feet, waving to the stands in acknowledgment, his raging erection bigger than ever.

Cleary winded, but buoyed by the whiff of imminent victory, Denny drags his writhing opponent off the mat once again. Again, he shoves him in the chest. Sven catapults off the ropes and finds himself immediately scooped up in a bearhug. Denny’s fists grind into the Dutchman’s battered lower back, crushing Sven’s lean torso. The Canadian powerfully hoists the bearhug high. Sven screams in pain, his knees instinctively lifting and squeezing his tormentor’s hips to alleviate a fraction of the pressure. Denny’s straining pouch juts out prominently from between his opponent’s ass cheeks. Reflexively, the Canadian’s hips pump forward, pressing his swollen cock head up against the base of Sven’s balls.

The ref starts to move forward to assess the Dutchman’s resolve, but stops in his tracks when he sees Sven grab Denny’s face in both hands and lock lips. Denny’s eyes close as he opens wide, his opponent’s tongue flickering inside his mouth. The Dutchman’s lips press persistently, making Denny’s head slowly lean backward. Distracted, Denny’s bearhug lightens, allowing Sven to straighten his legs, his toes sliding down to reach the mat. The Dutchman flexes his world class quads, trapping Denny’s raging erection tightly.

A look of desperation fills Denny’s face as he eyes flutter open. Suddenly his arms are limp at his sides, and it’s Sven’s arms now locked around his waist. Denny’s knees buckle, but his cock, pinned between his opponent’s monster quads, and Sven’s firm, but not punishing arms holding him up. Denny’s fans scream for him to come to his senses, but Sven’s lips hold his sagging opponent under his spell.

Slowly, Sven presses Denny’s back against the ropes. Instinctively, the Canadian’s arms brace themselves across the top rope as Sven releases his embrace. Their lips part with a wet pop. The Dutchman yanks upward on the middle rope, trapping his opponent’s arms. Stepping backward, Sven watches Denny sag. The Canadian’s jaw hangs open hungrily as tears stream down his cheeks.

Sven steps through the ropes to stand on the ring apron directly behind Denny. With his left hand, he reaches around and begins kneading the Canadian’s right nipple. Then he slides his right hand down Denny’s sweat soaked lower abdomen and inside his trunks once again. He nibbles on his opponent’s left earlobe as he firmly, almost violently begins stroking Denny’s throbbing cock in his hand.

A hush spreads across the enraptured crowd again. As the ref leans in close to listen, Sven whispers, “Submit… to… me.” Denny’s face twists in a mockery of pain. His hips press forward, as if trying to force more of the dizzying pleasure from Sven’s hand down his trunks. “Oh, God,” Denny whispers. Then, “OH, GOD,” he shouts as if in panic. “I…” he gasps. “I… submit!”

Jake signals for the bell, which quickly rings three times. The hushed crowd erupts in applause. Unceremoniously, Sven yanks his hand out from Denny’s trunks. Unhooking the Canadian’s arms from the ropes, the victor shoves him in the back of the neck, sending Denny sprawling face first to the mat. The Dutchman climbs back into the ring and plants a boot onto Denny’s lower back, flexing his leanly muscled arms in victory as the ref holds his left wrist over his head. Denny’s ass cheeks flex rhythmically as he grinds his achingly unspent erection into the mat in humiliation.

TVM Schaatsploeg 2010

Copyright foto: MVWN/TVM

Round 1:

Steve Langton (USA) def Jesse Lumsden (CAN)

Pita Taufatofua (TON) def Chris Mazdzer (USA)

Sven Kramer (NLD)  def Denny Morrison (CAN)

Year in Review – Favorite Moment #4

The Vancouver Winter Olympics come in at #4 on my list of my favorite blogging moments of 2010. I particularly appreciated the trend this year to cast scantily clad hardbodies athletes in magazines in order to promote the competition, national pride, and team spirit.

I also appreciated the opportunity that the Olympics provided me to learn from so many readers who are much better informed concerning winter sport than I am. I had several tips come in that helped me suss out where to focus my attention in order to catch the hottest meat on snow and ice.

Speed skaters continue to be my most anticipated winter Olympic eye candy. The massive, mounded, shredded thighs packed into lycra are just unbeatable. When there’s an unmistakable bulge at the crotch screwing with the aerodynamics, so much more the better.

I confess to getting a little caught up in the patriotic melodrama of the event this time around. Typically, I’m teflon when it comes to “for the motherland” plots. But even I, a guilt-wracked, privilege-ambivalent American, had to admit that seeing Canada win hockey gold was awfully satisfying.  And I still say Canadian hockey man-of-the-moment, Sidney Crosby, looks like Brad Rochelle!

The best moment of moments, and I predict a precursor of things to come, was boarder hotty Scotty Lago getting caught on camera with his bronze medal wrapped around his tiny little waist, pulling up his shirt to reveal his sliced-to-shreds abs and hip tat, in order to allow an eager fan to lick the bronze medal dangling in front of his crotch. Scotty was rushed out of Vancouver in a flash. Apologies and recriminations were made. There was an official gasp of scandal. But I think Scotty is just ahead of his time. The Olympics are bound to get more overtly sexy in the future. The victorious competitor with a body built for worship is all about sex. Sure, there’s national pride. Sure, there’s the profound satisfaction of being the best you can be, and that being better than anyone else. But let’s face it, like all animals, we compete to determine which buck gets first pick in mating season. I say leave Scotty alone, and if he ever needs his bronze medal shined again, he can give me a call any day.

While I still say that the cards are stacked against the Winter Olympics when it comes opportunities to lust over the world-class athletes (too much gear!), I had a fun time keeping one eye on Vancouver and the other eye combing the internet for more exposés on the hot, hard bodies of winter sport. For the monster thighs, massive bulges, and hi-tech lycra bodysuits of the future, the Winter Olympics rank #4 for my favorite moments in blogging in 2010. I raise a glass to toast the drama, the thrill of competition, and most of all, the world class bodies.

More Olympic Spirit

I swear, I won’t obsess about the Olympics ceaselessly. But I can’t help myself but comment on the Dutch Olympic champion 5,000 m speed skating gold medalist, Sven Kramer.

This is precisely why I’m an occasional consumer-fan of speed skating. If a sport requires you to be covered neck to toe, at least make it so skin tight that we can tell if you’re circumcised. 6’1″ (isn’t that short for the Dutch?), 23 year old stunner Sven was incredible to watch yesterday. Those tree trunk thighs pumping smoothly as his notable package was pressed side to side with each stride… I was hypnotized.
This pic is from a different competition, but offers another pleasing view of the wonders of speed skating gear. I could seriously get into some gear fetish with Sven packed into his cat suit like that!

Apparently, Sven is a promoter of bread products back at home. I love that the ad boys had the wisdom to oil Sven up for this shot. Yeah, bread… that’s what this shot is selling.

Less oil, more bread in this shot. The sly smile on his face here is filling me with the Olympic spirit. I’d like tickets to the after-party where dimpled-face Canadian Denny Morrison, frustrated with his 18th place finish, lures Sven on the back patio and pearl harbors him from behind. Some speed skater on speed skater crotch abuse is surely in order. I’m not sure who would win, but bones could surely be snapped if the tussle turned to scissors.