|Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month -|
I had an instant crush on homoerotic wrestler of the month, Lon Dumont, when I saw his BG East debut in Fantasymen 32. Lon's cocky swagger and clear, strong voice, paired with his beautifully sculpted body and fully formed wrestling persona had me riveted before big Eddy Rey even showed up ringside.
When Eddy finally arrived, Lon continued to captivate me by taking the lead in the dance of establishing the plot. Eddy encouraged Lon to continue with his posing routine, but Lon refused with a snort. "People pay to see me flex," he explains. Lon wasn't about to just give it away for free. When Eddy proposes that perhaps he might just make Lon flex for him, Lon put his hands on his hips and tilted his head to side, thinking. When he acknowledges that Eddy is a tall drink of water and calls him, "Sprout," I both laugh and grow even more aroused at the same time.
In short order, Lon confirmed my fondest hope. Via a blindside assault on big Eddy, Lon demonstrated with brutal grace that he has not only the body, not only the persona, but also the ring savvy and wrestling skill to deserve my firmly established fanaticism. On message like a bear trap, Lon made sweaty Eddy flex his hot muscles over and over, wringing one submission after another out of the big man. Lon was patient but firm as he physically and psychologically broke down big Eddy, systematically transforming him from an over-confident, hard-bodied hunk into a whimpering, obedient, defenseless plaything.
As documented here at neverland, each and every new release from Lon Dumont makes my heart flutter like a star-struck schoolgirl. I most appreciate his rookie wrecking work, such as beating down to size the likes of big, dumb (and presumably full of cum) Terry O'Daly and, most recently, hairy bruiser Morgan Cruise. Big, strong, barely legal studs like these are genetically predisposed and socially trained to believe that they deserve to come out on top over smaller, more mature opponents. Handsome, letterman jacket-wearing sides of beef grow up unfailingly reinforced in the faith that youth and size merit victory when they stand, flexing, side-by-side with the likes of 5'6 and 15/16" tall, 150 pound, 30-something opponents. When Lon picks them apart like Thanksgiving turkey leftovers, you can see their rookie worldviews come crashing down around them. As Lon cuts them down to size and then lifts his right boot, pauses as he takes aim, and then stomps all over them, tenderizing their cornfed muscles from head to toe, the likes of Terry and Morgan learn that the real world will not be handed to them on a platter just because they're big, fit and young.
|Ripped Lon and partner Chace LaChance|
|Joe's huge thighs crushing Lon's armored core|
And speaking of gasping... when I interviewed Lon earlier this year, I asked him what it would take to be bested in a singles match. "Perhaps someone with a 100-pound weight advantage might have better luck," he answered bluntly, "but besides that, I just don't see it happening." Perhaps going on the record like that gave the boys at BG East a devilish idea, because the next time we saw Lon climb into the ring, he was face-to-face... or perhaps, face to sternum... with 6'2", 240 pound Titan, Joe Robbins. Bigger men have gone weak in the knees in the shadow of humungous Joe, but Lon is a study in self-control. Whether Lon's prediction from my interview was playing through his mind as Joe wrapped his tree trunks around him and crushed him into sobbing agony, I don't know. But while nearly 100-pounds of weight advantage did, indeed, blemish Lon's undefeated 1-on-1 record, Lon proved that he's not just entertaining when he's large and in charge. He's a vision, suffering for days, enduring boatloads of pain for a marathon session of gut abuse that incredibly reluctantly wrings a string of submissions out of the bodybuilder. When Lon is gasping, clutching his rips, slumped against the ring apron, his loss to Joe is just one more check in the win column when it comes to confirming my lustful devotion.
|Picture perfect Lon rips Terry O'Daly's knee off|
|Like me, Lon can't help but marvel at the|
image of his complete mastery over Morgan Cruise
|Lon's excellence of execution|
There's something profoundly erotic about a man who is completely self-possessed and in control of his emotions even as he administers debilitating doses of pain and suffering. This probably explains why I continue to enjoy Dexter so much (despite Michael C. Hall's stubborn refusal to let us see his ass), and it most definitely explains, in part, why Lon captivates me so thoroughly. He's a rational wrestler. He's thinking as he's applying that armbar. He contemplating the moral of the story, even as he's threatening to rip poor Morgan's head off of his neck. When Lon is finished with Morgan, he gives the wrecked rookie a thoughtful examination. It's not personal. Hell, Lon even suggests that he'd be willing to entertain teaming up with beefy Morgan to continue to tutor the heel-hopeful.
|Lon's rippling abs, sculpted quads, bulding shoulders, rock hard pecs,|
|Lon wrestles, flexes, and thinks his way to #1|