Having documented my instant infatuation with Thunder’s Arena’s newbie sensation Wolf, I ponied up for a second helping of the big slab of beefcake. Testing the theory that two great tastes taste great together, I settled on what appears to be Wolf’s debut match, staring down Thunder’s current It-Boy, June’s Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month, smooth, seductive, sexy Marco.
Rough & Ready 59 is classic Thunder’s Arena mat wrestling. Wolf is awe inspiring in nothing but those outstandingly over-stretched baby blue and white trunks that never quite successfully manage to cover the muscled expanse of his ass cheeks. Marco is packed tightly inside his lime green and dark blue very briefs and also wearing black wrestling boots. Visually the two are a stunning study in contrasts. Wolf is 5’11” and listed at 225 pounds, all muscle. Marco is 5’8″ and weighing in a much more mortal 180 pounds, similarly all muscle, just leaner, less massive. Wolf is groomed just like I like him, his torso and traps covered in tastefully, but not aggressively trimmed hair, whereas Marco is lickably smooth. Wolf has a full, sexy beard unable to disguise an adorably baby face and tantalizing lips. Marco has a few whispy whiskers on the tip of his chin, looking like I did when I was 15 and working on coaxing my peach fuzz into a manly need for a razor. The side by side has already written a fantastic homoerotic wrestling narrative before the boys even lock up. Now, if only they can pull it off…
Marco brings his fearless homoerotic trash talk and slaps it down instantly, calling out what you and I have been entranced by from the start, Wolf’s “big hairy tits here.” He even cups the low hanging meat playfully, suggesting that Wolf’s genetics give him almost feminine proportions. Noting the astonishing separation between Wolf’s hairy pecs, Marco presses the side of his hand between them. “I bet your boyfriend lays his penis right there,” he says. He tauntingly wonders out loud if the big rookie has a vagina. Misogyny and mention of the female anatomy can throw cold water on a steamy set up for me, but the supposition is so patently ridiculous, it merely serves to call my attention to Wolf’s pouch. You can see the outline of the head of his cock, stretching to the right like it’s eager to make contact with the gorgeous young pup paying so much attention to Wolf’s bod.
It’s that explicit attention paid to his opponent’s clearly impressive body that makes Marco such a sensational storyteller on the homoerotic wrestling mats. If he’d tried to ignore this magnificent specimen of muscle in front of him, if he’d not mentioned Wolf’s remarkable pecs, his stunning overall fitness and mass, this would turn the burner on low like so many homoerotic wrestling matches do. But Marco is always so fucking secure in his own masculinity, so pleased with his own awesomely aesthetic proportions, he doesn’t give up an ounce of raw sexiness to pay abundant attention to his opponent’s physique.
Now here’s where rookies far too often drop the ball. Marco calls him out for having a boyfriend (let’s call it an involuntary outing rather than a homophobic locker room taunt, because there’s a lot more obvious homophobic crap in the industry than this). He draws attention to the rookie’s pecs, fondling them even. He speculates about what the newbie is packing in his trunks. So many rookies just can’t handle that heat. It unsettles them. They act insulted, threatened, turn the narrative to having to defend their masculinity from the homoerotic implications. But fuck yes, Wolf just smiles like he’s eating this shit up. Far from needing to turn to violence in the face of the erotic subtext, I get the impression that the big man just can’t wait to get his paws all over the young pup poking him with a stick. There’s a lot more eagerness than defensiveness, more hunger than anger about the rookie’s response. He’s game, goddamnit! I fucking love this guy!
The rookie suddenly grabs hold of his opponent and drives three solid, swift knees to the pretty pup’s gut. He throws the veteran babyface to the mat, and with Marco lying vulnerably on his stomach, the big bad Wolf straddles the kid’s tiny waist and applies a nasty arm bar. “You like that boy?” he asks, shoving the kid’s face into the mat. Holy fuck, I’m already pushing pausing and rehydrating!
The narrative is one of a middleweight, very dangerous amateur pro with a ton of homoerotic pro experience putting his speed and technique up against the jaw dropping mass and power of an inexperienced rookie. Happily for me, this is not a squash by any definition. The boys trade riding time. Marco luxuriates in shoving his balls in the rookie’s face in a gorgeous schoolboy pin, but the newbie puts in the time to work his way free and return the favor, delighting in demanding to know how his crotch smells after skipping last night’s shower. “That’s right,” the rookie crows with a grin stretching ear to ear, “the big bad Wolf is going to put that in your face!” He tugs at the top of his own trunks, like he’s just barely restraining himself from yanking out his cock and dick-whipping Marco’s beautiful, trapped face. Absolutely, Marco controls the pace overall, but there’s an impressive sell from the rookie using his mouthwatering, grade A beef to muscle the kid into some sweetly vulnerable positions.
When you’ve got a 45 pound weight advantage, clearly one of the most effective offensive tacts to take is to just fucking sit on your opponent. Again, showing the newbie’s got an impressive presence of mind, he does this often. After one sexy scramble of limbs, Wolf finds himself sitting on Marco’s lower back, facing the kid’s feet. Marco tries to squirm free, but Wolf wisely lets gravity do the work for him, leaving him plenty of time for the rookie to play bongos on the kid’s gorgeous ass. He laughs with pleasure that seems to be less about being a sadistic fuck, and more about an honest, raw delight in the opportunity to take liberties with the power packed muscle kid.
There’s a second narrative, a sub-plot, if you will, that starts to change the tenor of the match about halfway through. The big, hairy, muscle beast of a rookie seems more and more hungry to take possession of his opponent’s hotly muscled young body. Personally, I think this is the perfect response to Marco’s opening homoerotic head games. He stokes the beast with talk of impressive muscles and speculating about what’s stuffed inside those trunks, and after a while of trading intimate holds, grinding muscles together, shoving each other’s faces in crotches, the big bad Wolf is licking his lips. At one point he has Marco trapped between his legs, the muscle kid’s ripped abs stretched backward, his pouch bulging beautifully. Wolf murmurs, as if startled to realize how erotic a wrestling match can turn, “Mmmmm, you like that, don’t you!?”
A little later, he’s got Marco trapped in kneeling head scissors. The kid grunts and squirms, but have you seen those fucking massive thighs? He’s not going anywhere. Wolf stares down at the kid’s body with that look of hungry pleasure. “Mmmmmm,” he coos, “look at that ass right there!” Of course we’re looking at that ass, but more importantly, so is Wolf!
He flips Marco on his back and, I kid you not, sits that magnificently muscled ass squarely atop the kid’s trapped, sensationally smothered face. The plot could be all about dominance, which is of course a favorite narrative of ours. This moment could be punctuated with withering taunts about what a weak piece of shit the veteran is, so helplessly stuck in such a humiliating predicament. But Wolf stretches his hands forward and tells a totally different, 100% homoerotic tale, beginning to eagerly stroke Marco’s six-pack abs. “Yeah, I gotcha now,” he coos, his eyes following his hands as they stretch down to Marco’s thighs, squeezing, stroking, and then gently cupping the kid’s pouch.
I’m not sure if Marco saw this coming. Remembering how much attention Marco paid earlier, the rookie smothers his face for days between those epic, hairy pecs. Near the end of the match, standing in the middle of the mats, Wolf takes advantage of controlling the kid from behind. Someone more focused on the competition might have sealed the deal then and there with a big, bulging bicep pressed across the kid’s carotid artery. But between Marco’s homoerotic taunts and the intoxicating elixir of sweaty muscles and adrenaline, Wolf just strums his finger tips down his opponent’s washboard abs. “Look at these fucking muscles right here,” he murmurs like it’s pillow talk, brushing his palm across Marco’s pouch again and feeling the kid’s strong upper quads. “I like these!” he announces unnecessarily. He kneads Marco’s sweet pecs in his big hands, playfully pinching the kid’s magnificent nipples. “Yeah, you like that?” Marco replies a little breathlessly.
The end of this story is abrupt and a little jarring. Wolf gets sleepered out cold (sort of), and Marco stomps off leaving all of the homoerotic tension just lying there. I’m left wondering if all of Marco’s infamous security in his own sexuality and masculinity may have been tested farther than he’s been tested before. He didn’t have nearly the sweet, game retort he typically has. He just puts the beast down and walks away.
Kudos to both of these studs. They not only lived up to the hype and promise, they far exceeded it. Particularly the big bad Wolf brought something that I’m just unaccustomed to seeing on the Thunder’s Arena mat. If there’s any justice in this world, wrestling producers will be relently throwing sensationally hot pretty boys at this gorgeous, hairy beast, feeding his obvious hunger to explore just how erotic wrestling can be.