It’s still August, but where I am, summer is starting to sputter. One of the finest side-effects of hot summer weather is the excuse it offers hunks who’ve been working on their hard bodies all year to show some skin. In particular, I’m already feeling some anticipatory grief about losing sight of sweetly muscled legs once cooler weather lures those gorgeous thighs under wraps. There’s nothing about well-worked legs I don’t like. From the front, the back, the lead-in to hard, muscled asses… At this very moment, though, I’m feeling particularly randy for some low-slung, mounded, muscle thighs.
It’s been way, way too long since I took anatomy and physiology to really appreciate the technicalities of how muscles are attached so beautifully to joints. What I do recognize is that our bodies are wonderfully diverse, and even men who share precisely the same diet and workout routine develop muscle shape and size differently. When quads are huge, separated, and encasing the knee like plate armor (like classic muscle jobber Ed Harte) I’m breathless.
And speaking of fine muscle jobbers, huge legs, and me being breathless… Troy Baker was a work of art who absolutely adored his own massive, powerful thighs. It’s not like there was any inch to that blond bombshell that didn’t deserve complete worship, but he seriously got off on scissoring his opponent until they were gasping. His mat battle with Nick Archer in Undergear 9 remains a favorite go-to for me when I’m desperate for some freakish thighs put to good use in a match (and some blond muscleboy humiliation thrown in at the end).
With a catalog a mile deep, Mike Columbo at BG East is also exactly what the doctor ordered for a bad case of leg lust. Honestly, it’s hard for me to take my eyes away from his ass, even when I try…
But when I can manage it, I’m awed by his astonishingly massive thighs (not to mention his gorgeous upper body and sweet, sweet babyface). Derek D’Amore (no slouch himself) thinking he could stand side-by-side with Mike in a pre-match posedown for Fantasymen 21 is just a little sad. Mike is in a league of his own, and it isn’t the last time he humiliated Derek that day.
Aesthetics are as important as size for me. In fact, some beautiful muscle trumps a side of beef in my book. Fortunately, there are plenty of gorgeous wrestlers like Can-Am’s classic battler, Troy Lucas, who had both. As I’ve mentioned before, I think that Troy was one of the most handsome musclemen to dip his toe in the homoerotic wrestling pool, and I’d have paid money to feel those legs squeezing the breath of out me. Just watching him do it to someone else still makes me gasp.
When Tyrell Tomsen is in his competition-ready shape, he can give Troy Baker a run for his money when it comes to worship-ready muscle, inch for inch. Tyrell simply needs to put someone on their knees and mesmerize them with his sculpted physique. Then he needs to shove an awestruck face between those tree trunks and squeeze until the lucky bastard cries.
The hot hunks at the park will be putting their long pants back on soon enough, damn them. Fortunately, the finely crafted physiques of homoerotic wrestling are ever at the read to display the goods and put huge thighs to the very best possible use they could be: making one another suffer in a hot, hard fought, power vs. power wrestling match.
I’m fascinated by the concept of bodies over time. There are plenty of flashes in the pan who wrestle once or twice then disappear from the scene. Those guys are forever captured in my homoerotic memory in a static state. But much more fascinating to me are the workhorses who perform for years, permitting a study of their aging bodies as evolving objects of lust.
There are a lot of cases in point, especially in the pros, but today my thoughts are lingering on the Can-Am star who is nothing if not a homoerotic wrestling ring veteran: Jimmy Dean. Jimmy was featured in 46 Can-Am products over the course of about 14 years, clearly proving himself to be a profitable commodity well past his late-adolescent early days. Early on, Jimmy seemed most notable as a skinny kid with a bad attitude and a simply astoundingly round ass.
He quickly earned his own feature tape taking on all-comers. The mutual manhandling of Jimmy and one of my fave-classic hunks, Troy Lucas, is a cherished image. The story was all about the skinny, bad-ass, bubble-butt punk who defies appearances in holding his own against a thickly muscled (man of my dreams) hardbody.
At 5’10”, some of his early matches put him at 155 pounds (counting the coat of baby oil, I’m sure). The description to Hard, Young & Hung 2 gives a little of Jimmy’s exotic dancer roots. Jimmy’s “bubble butt” is also frequently the point of reference for many of his early bouts. Sometimes smooth from head to toe, sometimes with some groomed body hair (love me some hairy legs!), it seemed to always be that round, round (did I mention round?) ass that garnered the most comments.
Somewhere along the way, Jimmy started filling out. In my mind, his match with pornboy turned dabbler-wrestler, Brian Maxon seemed to feature noticeably more heavily muscled Jimmy. This was a serious mis-match on many counts, which in many ways makes for a very hot exhibition, but it’s Jimmy’s freshly toned body getting used and abused that sells this match. He was always a sexy little punk, but with an emerging six pack and seriously bulging shoulders, this was clearly not some lately adolescent kid any longer.
With more meat, Jimmy’s wrestling persona took on more dimension. When he got the tummy tat of “the artist formerly known as Prince,” I think he went from skinny, bad-ass punk to seriously sadistic heel. His sneering, savage dismantling of two gym bunnies at once in Supermatch 18 was an early telling of a recurring story Jimmy would be part of from then on: the crafty, irrepressible ring veteran teaching a lesson and delivering a beat down on the ring rookies.
Todd Mane’s Intense Initiation was another example of this theme early in Jimmy’s tummy tat days. He was dabbling with fiendish facial hair and getting astonishingly shredded (actually looking a little smaller than in his Maxon match due to an impressive lack of a single ounce of body fat). Jimmy’s “initiations” got more and more savage, seemingly in direct proportion to the development of his hunky body.
Betrayal featured a developed storyline, with character development (!?!) and stunning bodies in back and forth beatdowns turned wince-worthy ball torture. By this time, Jimmy was, by all means, a full grown beast. I can’t find his stats listed anywhere at this point in his career, but I’m feeling confident that he was most certainly not 155 pounds (I’m thinking we need to add at least 30-40 to that number). He was thick from head to toe (including the muscle between his legs), and he had the physically dominating body to go with the bad-ass attitude that was always his trademark. I don’t know if Jimmy’s stunning muscle development was owed in any part to substances that might get him banned from the Olympics, but regardless, he was seriously working hard and his muscles were swelling before our very eyes.
Jimmy did several Superhero motif flicks for Can-Am, which I won’t go into too much, other than to say “bad-ass beast” is obviously a short step from “dominating supervillain.” But my favorite Jimmy moments have to be in his 3 Way Rubber Revenge with the stunning bodies of Lincoln Lode and Andrew Lane. Personally, I wouldn’t pay a surcharge for rubber outfits in my homoerotic wrestling, but I’m ready to pay top dollar for these three boys (well, two boys and one man) fighting mean, stripped naked, and playing for fucks. When Jimmy was the age of Lode and Lane, he would’ve looked like a stick figure in this 3-way. But with seriously thick, mature muscles, the hip and tummy tats, and a bubble butt accentuated by basketball glutes, Jimmy is a perfect match (and teacher in the ways of sadistic homoerotic wrestling) for the young muscle studs. Lincoln and Jimmy in belly-to-belly, naked bearhugs is an image that ought to be framed and on the walls of the Met.
Youth and beauty are sweet commodities that Jimmy Dean possessed in abundance in his early Can-Am days. But Jimmy teaches us the lesson that aging bodies are an infinite source of delights. In any particular match up, Jimmy always told a sweet and convincing story. But I’m even more impressed with the through-story of Jimmy’s transition to adulthood in the homoerotic wrestling biz, proudly displaying a maturing body, a fierce attitude, and always and forever, a rockin’ ass.