I foster an ongoing low boiling lust for Dan, better known as SteelMuscleGod.  SMG has been the subject of several brief homoerotic wrestling fan/fantasy fiction pieces I’ve written for neverland, and the sexy stud was awesome enough to give me an interview last year that gave us all a glimpse into the mind of an online entrepreneur in the muscle worship/gay wrestling kink world.  I’ve also mentioned around here a guilty little pleasure of mine in the form of a recurring supporting character in SMG’s muscle worship and wrestling video collection who SMG affectionately refers to as “Wimpy Boy,” or on special occasions, “Bitch Boy.”  After a hiatus of a couple of years from appearing with SMG on camera, Wimpy Boy returned last autumn for some bedroom wrestling scenes that made me join the chorus of SMG fans pleading to see SMG receive a full-on muscle worship treatment at Wimpy Boy’s hands.  A couple of months ago, the god and his sidekick posted a very fun commissioned muscle worship piece they did for a certain, unnamed German benefactor of the ars erotica.  Like most of SMG’s work, it’s as much performance art as it is in the family of kink or porn.  Nevertheless, it provokes me… hard… like good art is supposed to.

“He’s just one-third of my size!” says SMG.

The context isn’t entirely clear until partway through the video, but there’s apparently a German sugar daddy online with SMG and Wimpy Boy telling the boys what he’s into.  Unsurprisingly, he’s into much of the same things I’m into when it comes to SMG, including SMG playing the role that he’s strongest at: the steel muscle god narcissist.  “Even though he’s taller than me,” SMG explains as the scene opens, referring to Wimpy Boy in a white t-shirt behind him, “he’s just one-third of my size!”  SMG flexes straining the seams of his skin tight white underarmor sleeveless top.  “Yeahhhh,” he groans/growls, “look at that.”  He kisses his own biceps.  “Tastes goooooood,” he nearly purrs.  “Damn, look at that!”

“Yeah, come on, kiss those biceps!”

I’m looking.  You’re looking.  Wimpy Boy is looking.  “Oh yeah….” SMG mutters, in awe of his own power, “so pumped up!”  As always, that accent, that deep rumbling bass of a voice is a large proportion of the total package that makes SMG such a turn on to me.  Finally, he addresses Wimpy Boy when he commands, “Yeah, come and kiss those biceps!”  Wimpy Boy obeys immediately.  SMG muscles the tall drink of water down.  “Yeahhhh, get down on your knees, man! … Oooo, yeah, that’s big!  Watch me put his face right where the bicep is, yeah.  Grab his head, just like that!”  He smashes Wimpy Boy’s nose into his bicep humiliatingly.  Wimpy Boy keeps planting his lips on the mountainous peak of SMG’s right bi.

“Scheisse!… Unglaublich!… Stein hart!”

“Yeah, talk in German, bitch!” SMG commands, apparently filling a special request from the benefactor online with them.  “Tell him how good and strong these biceps are!”  The first words out of Wimpy Boy’s mouth are entirely muffled by the peak of SMG’s left bicep shoved against his lips.  But eventually he mutters, “Scheisse!  … Unglaublich… Stein hart!”  (Shit! … Unbelievable…  Rock hard!) There’s more German, but that’s as far as my memory of my high school German classes go.

Wimpy Boy is still “in training”

There’s a fascinating (for me) subtext in this 22 minute session.  Apparently like me, the German benefactor wants to see tongue on muscle worship action.  However, Wimpy Boy has said no to that.  SMG tries to make up for it by hungrily sucking on his own biceps extensively.  He spits on his muscles and makes Wimpy Boy rub the saliva across his sculpted physique.  But although the German on the other end of the line asks repeatedly for it, Wimpy Boy adamantly refuses.  No licking.  Frankly, it’s a point of near crisis in the fantasy, I think.  Worshippers don’t clench their jaws and say, “Nein.”  Awed, devoted worshippers don’t refuse their gods.  SMG, however, does a delightful pivot, explaining to the camera conspiratorially that Wimpy Boy is still “in training.”  “He will learn how to do it!” SMG explains with a twinkle in his eye, building the tension between his defiant worshipper and the promise of divine intervention.

“He’s nothing but a puppet to these strong biceps!”

“Yeah, rub your face into that fucking bicep!  Grrrrr.”  I don’t know how to put into text the extremely sexy groan, growl, rumble SMG produces from deep down inside that big chest of his.  It’s insanely sexy.  “He’s nothing but a puppet to these strong biceps.”  Not a moment too soon, SMG takes off his skin tight underarmor top.  Wimpy Boy’s eyes go wide, fixed on his god’s gorgeous pecs.  SMG commands his worshipper to stand behind him, giving us/the German an unobstructed view of SMG’s incredibly lovely body. Wimpy Boy’s hands reach out and begin stroking and massaging SMG’s biceps, shoulders.

Wimpy Boy gasps: “Scheisse!”

At one point, just as Wimpy Boys hands roam forward to cup SMG’s pecs, SMG flexes a most muscular, his pectorals flashing rock hard (stein hart!) in the worshipper’s hands.  “Scheisse!” Wimpy Boy gasps, feeling the power pulsing in the palms of his hands.

“Rub it good.  Feel the massive strength and power.  Fuck, yeah!”

Despite their German sponsor pleading again for Wimpy Boy to suck on those biceps, he won’t do it.  He will, however, join SMG in spitting on his god’s huge biceps.  He’ll obediently massage the spit lubricated muscles of SMG’s arms, shoulders, pecs and abs, his long, lean fingers caressing and squeezing every bulge and crevice.  “Rub hard,” SMG instructs his worshipper.  “Rub it good.  Feel the massive strength and power!  Fuck, yeah!”

Hell.  Yes.

I think it’s the German’s idea, but SMG demands that Wimpy Boy take his shirt off.  Hell, yes!  Their German benefactor wants to see a side by side comparison of Wimpy Boy next to SMG.  Both men chuckle at the thought.  And sure, Wimpy Boy is skinny.  He’s incredibly lean.  He’s flat as a pancake.  And still, there’s something about the combo of the two of them, bare chested, side-by-side, that seriously tweaks my kink more so than a solo session of SMG making love to the camera.  I absolutely nurture my own little personal fantasy of some 1-on-1 with SMG, but I’d give that up in a heartbeat for a full-on session of 2-on-1 with SMG and Wimpy Boy in tandem.  SMG groaning and growling and rumbling; Wimpy Boy muttering awe and adoration in Deutsch; me working some tag team action with Wimpy Boy on SMG with me going absolutely anywhere and everywhere Wimpy Boy isn’t ready to, and then perhaps SMG wrapping up Wimpy Boy is some completely dominating holds for me to let my fingers do the walking all over the long twink’s bod.  SMG would be barking instructions to us both, of course.  Yowza.

“This is getting so hot! Ready to finish you off!”

Wimpy Boy won’t go some places, but he’s delightful where he does go.  Obeying their German sponsor, he rubs his long, lean torso against the rippled topography of SMG’s abs and pecs.  Because SMG is a wrestling fetish object at heart, he grabs Wimpy Boy in a bearhug and makes him suffer.  He drags Wimpy Boy to his knees, grinding his pecs into the flat torso of his overwhelmed worshipper.  “This is getting so hot!  Ready to finish you off! Rub… it… in, so … fucking… goooooood!”

“What, you don’t like it?  I’ll make you like it!  I’ll make you love it!”

When Wimpy Boy drops to his knees and kisses SMG’s 6-pack, ripple by ripple, again there’s more than a nod to the wrestling kinksters among us.  SMG crushes Wimpy Boy’s face into his abs to teach him not just to peck, but to linger.  “That’s it, bitch boy.  What, you don’t like it?!  I’ll make you like it!  I’ll make you love it!”  He swallows him with his muscles, smothering him between his pecs, then shoving Wimpy Boy’s face deep in his armpits.  Wimpy Boy’s scalp turns dark red underneath his pale blond hair as SMG crushes his face into his muscles.  He pounds Wimpy Boy’s forehead against his chest and then drags his nose back and forth.

Wimpy Boy is due for more discipline!

As I said, this is beautiful performance art and it totally gets me off.  SMG’s physique is a wonder, and his exhibitionism is truly entertaining to watch.  His body is, indeed, astonishingly developed and noticeably bigger and more defined since his early days mattress wrestling with Wimpy Boy a couple of years ago.  I’m also struck with the unseen character in this video, the German online typing instructions, commands, pleas.  I love this guy, despite knowing absolutely nothing definitive about him other than that he speaks German.  But as is so often the case, the element that catches me by surprise in its provocativeness for me is Wimpy Boy.  He may be a Wimpy Boy (I’m beginning to suspect he’s definitely not), but he’s definitely a stud who persistently catches my eye and turns me on.  30 seconds left in the video, he’s watching up close as SMG spits on his arms again.  One last time, the German pleads for him to open wide and taste his god.  SMG backs up, shoving that gorgeous bulge into his face, and playfully asks if Wimpy Boy is ready to take the next step.  “Wanna lick!?” SMG probes.  Determined, with a defiant grin on this face, Wimpy Boy adamantly and immediately states, “No.”  SMG laughs again.  “Train him, bit by bit,” SMG promises.  “He… will… do it!”

“Wanna lick?!”

Let’s keep working on him, SMG.  I predict you can wear him down into total submission, or you possibly could awaken a surprisingly fierce twink badass.  Either way works for me.

“Train him, bit by bit.”

Oh, and two words: baby oil.
Oh, and three more words: wear your glasses.

Video Diary of a Wimpy Boy

I was taken a little by surprise the first time I saw a body worship video.  My surprise was how intensely sexy I found it, even without any explicit wrestling in it, which is typically what I’m looking for.  There’s something powerfully engaging about watching a man treat another man’s beautiful body with the awe and adoration that I, in my mind, am heaping up on him.  The muscled stud flexes his pecs.  I crave to reach out and feel them turn to granite in the palms of my hands.  And then, as if obeying my primal urges, his on camera worshipper reaches out and gives those beautiful pecs a hearty squeeze. For a moment, my lustful imagination and the lucky bastard feeling up his on camera partner meld into one, and that moment becomes intensely intimate and immediate for me.  It’s a sweet, sweet illusion when it’s done right.

Steel Muscle God has just posted a 3-part video series on his membership site featuring himself flexing (of course), but with the additional element of a recurring character buddy of his who he affectionately refers to as “Wimpy Boy” (sometimes, “Wimpy Dude”).  SMG introduced his minions to Wimpy Boy a couple of years ago, using the long, skinny blond kid to answer the question that SMG fanatics are always praying to know: what’s it like to feel those steel muscles crushing you?  Wimpy Boy was featured in several videos getting dominated and pummeled for sniffing around SMG’s belongings, not being respectful enough, or just because SMG had a hankering to humiliate a wimp.

Apparently these two recently reunited, and SMG thought his adoring fans might like to hear first hand from Wimpy Boy what it’s like to witness the evolution of a god over time.  Wimpy Boy (with less hair, but then again, who am I to talk?) is treated to an SMG-style bodyworship session to repeatedly pose the question to the lucky wimpy one: how do you like me now, bitch?

These two are fascinating to watch together.  They both appear completely at ease with one another.  There’s no self-consciousness about discussing the subject matter at hand (SMG’s godly muscles).  There’s a lot of verbal foreplay to start off with as they sit side by side addressing the camera.  Then, at about 2:30 into the first chapter-video, SMG stands up, stretches, and without even glancing at Wimpy Boy, flexes his left bicep in front his little buddy’s face.  Holy shit, the hungry look in Wimpy Boy’s eyes as he sits up straighter is incredibly hot.  His eyes are fixed on that bulging bicep.  He scoots forward in his seat, as his hands twitch.  Without his gaze straying for even a second from the gorgeous peak, his hands start to reach out several times to touch it, but he pulls them back.  Wimpy Boy has clearly been trained well.  “Really huge,” he mutters is testimony to the camera once he’s finally been permitted to wrap his long fingers around the softball.  “Hard like steel… that’s really the right name for you!  Really impressive, those biceps… there’s no way if I try that I can get my fingers in there,” he says, trying to force his fingertips in the deep vertical crease between SMG’s deltoid and bi.

I have seen body worship videos that I’d evaluate as being in the “not done right” column.  There are several possible reasons for a body worship video to strike me as less than fully erotic, most of which I’d just sum up as involving a lack of “chemistry.”  Although chemistry is, technically speaking, an exact physical science, when it comes to erotic chemistry, there’s a whole lot of a “I know it when I see it” vagueness about it.  Generally speaking, if no one appears to be getting any particular thrill out of the body worship, then I say there’s lack of chemistry.  Personally, I like seeing the object of worship with a clear pay off, obviously enjoying being adored.  But at the very least, the worshipper needs to be into it, making that imagined connection between my lust and his hands clear.  There are moments when Wimpy Boy seems too nonchalant, a little too comfortable with his musclebuddy next to him.  However, there are many more moments when Wimpy Boy communicates with wide eyes, a fixed gaze, a stutter as he tries to obey SMG’s command to verbalize what he feels, that he’s awestruck.  He appears to seriously get into the task of trying to dig his fingertips into SMG’s thick muscles, letting us on this side of the camera know that it feels like trying to claw granite.  I have no idea what SMG or Wimpy Boy’s sexual tastes include, but there’s no doubt in my mind that Wimpy Boy is getting a major kick out of getting his hands all over his studly, condescending, gorgeously handsome buddy’s body.

Did I say “claw?” Why yes, yes I did.  And if there’s one thing that SMG wrestling kink fans like me know, we know that SMG’s mind is never far from the topic of wrestling.  Wimpy Boy obediently does his best to claw SMG’s steel pecs, biceps, and quads.  SMG orders him every step of the way like a drill sergeant, raining down condescension and complete psychological domination.  And all of it, inevitably, leads to SMG’s core need to use those muscles the way they were intended to be used.  He suddenly wraps his arm around Wimpy Boy’s head and squeezes until the veins on Wimpy Boy’s scalp pop out.  He adjusts his grip, sliding his arm down around Wimpy Boy’s neck and flexing that point peak of his bicep across the wimpy one’s carotid artery.

When an object of body worship seems to barely even notice the gnat buzzing around feeling him up, there’s something pretty hot about it.  There’s sort of a sense that the muscle hunk is so massive and above it all that he doesn’t notice the intimate treatment he’s getting.  That, however, is NOT this story.  SMG dominates Wimpy Boy a half a dozen different ways, from talking about his own devastating physique, to demanding that Wimpy Boy talk about it, to shoving his muscles in Wimpy Boy’s face, to using the self-same muscles that Wimpy Boy is in awe of to then exact punishment on him.  When you’re honored with the opportunity to enjoy such intimate proximity, you’re gonna get physically controlled to go along with all of that psychological domination.

A couple of things that would have made this an even tastier treat: 1) if SMG had demanded Wimpy Boy strip him, rather than doing it himself, and 2) tongue.  That said, there are some delightful moments that go above and beyond my expectations.  For example, SMG decides to use Wimpy Boy’s skull to demonstrate how hard his washboard abs are, pounding Wimpy Boy’s head over and over into his rippled gut.  Wimpy Boy starts to look a little disoriented soon enough, and suddenly SMG holds his head pressed firmly against his lower abdomen, forcing Wimpy Boy into position to check out the muscle stuffed inside those crazy hot trunks of his.  
I also have to say the pec smothering turns me on in a way that totally catches me by surprise.  Again, add tongue and this would’ve been outrageously hot.  Even sans tongue, with Wimpy Boy’s muffled grunts starting to fade as he’s smothered deep in those mountainous muscles, there’s something in the definitely “done right” category about this!

Again, I say, there’s some hot, genuine chemistry here that turns me on.  Wimpy Boy isn’t fawning.  But there are just some wonderful moments that capture me when he’s so clearly marveling, his eyes riveted, his attention totally and completely fixed on the truly lovely, divine body pumped in front of him and shoved in his face.  I get the feeling that these guys probably went out and had dinner together after all of this luscious on camera intimacy, because they actually enjoy each other’s company.

So life will be left just a little unfulfilled if a couple things fail to happen:  1) More Wimpy Boy on SMG action needs to happen, preferably including tongue and Wimpy Boy stripping SMG; and 2) Steel Muscle God partners with his tag team sidekick, Wimpy Boy to take on a couple other Eastern European bodybuilders (preferably a couple guys SMG has faced 1:1)!  Steel Muscle God continues to totally turn me on and entertain me, and Wimpy Boy does nothing but multiple both the hotness and the quality entertainment!

As the World Watches

I actually wasn’t going to post today, but a very sweet, direct appeal from a reader for something to divert his attention from election day anxiety convinced me otherwise.  I’m not sure what topic is appropriate for a day like today, as Americans go to the polls to cast votes with such big potential to impact people around the world.  We have way too much influence on the well-being of people worldwide, those of us who live and vote in the US.  So many people may prosper or suffer based on the (let’s face it) fickle and often superficial election choices of Americans.  So today, I honor those who have to sit on the sidelines and watch the wingnuttery of American politics play out yet again, just hoping that those crazy Americans won’t elect a(nother) nutjob who will start yet another war of expedience, exploit more of the earth’s resources while ignoring the impact of our exploitation on the global climate, or arm more wingnuts worldwide to fight wars of ideology that ultimate do nothing but increase overall human suffering.  So here are a few of the fantasy men I lust after who today, as far as I know, don’t get to vote in the 2012 US election…

Even armored in newly minted, mouthwatering muscle, high impact x-wrestler Gabriel Ross can only sit back and sip his tea, hoping that those crazy Americans get it right.  Then again, Gabriel and his UK buddies have their own political insanity to sort out on their side of the pond…

Monstercocked leatherboy Rob Chandler and dizzyingly handsome x-wrestler Chris Xaos both command my lustful adoration.  These gorgeous, nasty battlers do such things to me! But one thing that they can’t do: cast a vote for the American politicians who will undoubtedly have undue influence over the world economy and their own local well-being in the UK.  Truly, I’m sorry boys.

Ben Monaco and his hot and hairy pecs are Canadian, which is a particularly hard place to be on a day like today, I’d think.  There’s so much American shit that rolls down hill and across our northern border.  Again, Canada’s got their own bizarre politics to cope with, but at least they have universal health care.  And if it’s any consolation, at least Ben and his compatriots will have another 3 years or so before they have to hear completely ignorant and misleading American political ads warning against being “too much like Canada.”

Rio Garza compete for Mexico in fitness competitions, though his livelihoods seem intimately tied to his commercial success in the US.  I can’t imagine what the US campaign season looks like from south of the border.  Even worse than for Ben and the Canadians, Rio and his countrymen can almost certainly count on being continually demonized as the barbarian hordes beating down the gates of America, all of them drug dealers and mafioso murders who want nothing more than to sneak across the border in order to sit in their lazyboys and soak in all the free shit American’s mistakenly think we provide anyone, much less undocumented immigrants.  It’s guaranteed that U.S. policy makers will bat around Mexican interests like a cat with a ball of string, but do Mexicans get to have any voice in directly influencing their overly wealthy cousins to the north? Despite wildly misleading allegations of voter fraud (always implicating Central and South American immigrants), the answer is no.

Vlad Varek is billed a Russian cage fighter who made just one trip to this country to beat the living shit out of a few weak-assed Americans.  True story or promotional gimmick, I can’t actually attest, but if Vlad is indeed from the motherland, he’s also got to be wondering just how much more saber rattling American politics will get based on who we elect today.  The right wingers in this country still try to dabble in resurrecting Cold War terrors to motivate the electorate, and let’s face it, Russians have more than their fair share of both widespread corruption and undue influence over their neighbors, near and far.  But whether the US will keep trying to put the boogeyman mask on them or, conceivably, deploy actual diplomacy that doesn’t come at the point of our over-estimated sword, Vlad and his peeps can only wonder.

I’ve got a crrrrazy infatuation building for the particular combo of Dan the Steel Muscle God and the return of his plaything, Wimpy Boy.  These Hungarian beauties have managed to reach halfway across the globe and grab me by the balls with the intoxicating chemistry that they’ve got going.  I sweat to god, I’d do a lot of things for the chance to get my hands on SMG, but I’d give my left kidney to round out the entirely naked threesome with BOTH SMG and Wimpy Boy.  I have no idea what their politics are, but if they know what’s good for them, they’d better be hoping for increased prosperity for their army of gay US fans.  Whether they think that would come from re-electing President Obama or siding with $Romney$ and Ayn Rand budget slasher, it doesn’t really matter, does it?  Because Hungarians don’t get a vote in our crazy hot mess of an election in the US.

I’m sure there are more citizens of the world in our homoerotic wrestling universe, but those are the ones I could come up with on short notice.  Whether this little jaunt across the globe actually serves as a distraction or not from the insanity of election day in the US, I don’t know.  But for those of you like me feeling extremely tense and at least a little nauseated today with worry about the future of the US and our social and civil rights, I encourage you to pop in a homoerotic wrestling tape, lay back, and pound yourself into a stupor until the political ads start to fade.  After you’ve voted, bitches.  But then, let your favorite wrestlers take you far, far away.