Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Joe's Back(side)

Superherofan.net caps the scenes that will haunt my dreams from True Blood! 
Get ready. Here comes Joe!


Season 5 of True Blood is shaping up to be all about Joe Manganiello's superhuman sexy body. Not really, of course. The plot is complex, a little tedious even. Now that I've read the entirety of the currently published Sookie Stackhouse series, I'm seeing what story lines they have thankfully changed as well as some key sub plots that they have unfortunately left out. Sexy vampires remain in abundance. They appear to be about ready to pass over yet another superhuman, giant, mouthwatering muscle daddy character from the novels who's a tiger in the sack, unfortunately. Christopher Meloni's off the charts sexiness paired with an egomaniacal sex and blood crazed dominator character is a gorgeous improvisation from the original text.  Male stripper fairies are showing up in the background (now THAT'S a plot line that they're seriously missing out on by neglecting from the novels!). But let's face it, I sort of forget whatever else is going on in the series when the sight of Joe Manganiello's undulating, bulging muscle back and lovely naked ass fill the screen!


A rough, physically bruising sex scene is both entirely compatible with the way that werewolves are portrayed in the novels as well as completely consistent with my fondest fantasies of Joe in homoerotic wrestling competition. So, sure, I have to mentally photoshop out the distinguishing characteristics of the woman he's throwing across the room and pounding into the mattress. I'm completely capable of making that mental adjustment, and the director of this week's episode largely leaves her in the shadows anyway, so as to highlight the jaw dropping beauty and power of Joe's 6'5" of physical perfection (eat your heart out, Olympians!). Those knees in the air with big Joe's flexing glutes between them could easily belong the hot piece of English ass Joe defeated (and took a shine to) in my homoerotic wrestling fiction when he conquered Russell Tovey to claim the title of the top dog among the werewolf boys.


When Joe next appeared, teaming up with wrestling partner Mehcad Brooks, things went South for this muscle monster.  Some strategic double/triple teaming left Mehcad flat on his stomach with Gerard Butler working off a victory celebration with Mehcad's bubble butt squeezed in one hand. It also left big, dominant Joe out cold on his back, with Henry Cavill straddling the alpha dog's waist, worshiping his pecs, and laying down several showers of spunk across Joe's neck and chin.


Woe be to the poor soul who has to face this brutalized beast in the wrestling ring next! The huge muscleman is ready to reassert his pack dominance by ripping apart some badboy wannabe, obliterating the outclassed hopeful in 3 straight falls, and then flinging the loser across the ring, pouncing on him, shoving his knees apart, and pounding his cock up the loser's ass for days.  Hunky muscle contenders beware!

Grab hold of something. Things are going to get crazy!

Monday, July 30, 2012

More Olympic Spirit

Popular culture is acknowledging the connection between the Olympics and sex more than ever.  With these games, magazines have been publishing strategically posed naked pinups of the world class physiques heading to London. Even team websites often display the gorgeous muscles and babyfaces of the athletes of the XXX Olympics. I saw a mainstream news piece repeated a couple of times alluding to the outrageous quantity of sex that happens among the stoked, toned, hormonal young lovelies all packed into dormitories for a couple weeks of intense socialization, requiring metric tons of condoms to be supplied to the Olympic village.  Competitive athletics and sex go together like a horse and carriage. Just throw in some hot, homoerotic wrestling action into that formula and you have the foundation of pretty much everything I ramble on about here.

Fabian Hambuecher demonstrates why gymnasts are so sexy
Men's gymnastics was always the highlight of the summer Olympics for me as a kid.  Babyface boys with zero body fat and masses of mouthwatering beef hanging off their narrow joints? My infatuation hardly requires explanation! Muscle, power, flexibility, and grace... what could be sexier than watching these bulging hunks flex and stretch and then occasionally between events, peel out of their skin tight tops and show off their godlike torsos shirtless?

This American beast failed to make the Olympic team!? I think he'd fare better in my ring than on the rings!
Well, even better would be seeing these petite muscle men climb into the wrestling ring to put all that muscle, power, flexibility and grace to the best of all uses! While I used to obsess about Olympic men's gymnastics, I'm pretty much out of the loop these days. I don't know the all-around contenders from the apparatus specialists from the just-lucky-to-be-here boys. So who will bring home the gold from London for what they went there to win? I have absolutely no idea. But after hours spent sweating over pics of the Olympic gymnasts who are pounding the floor for the XXX games, I have some ideas about how things might sort themselves out in a few days from now, after the gymnastics are over, when the pint-sized muscleboys climb off the still rings and into the wrestling ring.
Dutchboy Epke Zonderland: 5'8", 152 lbs., 26 years old
I'm picturing the singles round robin as a particularly nasty display of muscle bashing (of course). Dutch gymnast Epke Zonderland's chiseled smooth body and blond Northern European good looks make him a particularly eye catching competitor, wearing a skimpy speedo (orange, of course) and bouncing his pecs in the middle of the ring as he awaits his opponent.

Brit stunner Louis Smith: 5'10", 168 lbs., 23 years old
Unfortunately for him, that opponent is Great Britain's breakout coverboy Louis Smith in blue posing trunks. I'd buy a vial of lovely Louis' sweat, at a premium price! Hunky Epke has some offense to offer, mind you. He stuns the British bombshell with a whip into the ropes and a clothesline that levels Louis flat on his back to send the message that he's here for business. But when Epke takes a few extra seconds to preen and flex, an attempted leg drop has his tailbone crashing to the mat as Louis easily rolls out of the way. A half a dozen chain suplexes soften up the smoldering blond's lower back. On a slow boil, fierce Louis eventually backs Epke into a corner and pummels his rock hard 8-pack. With the blond fading fast, Louis drags the Dutchboy's sagging hips out of the corner by the front of his minuscule trunks to continue to pound a methodical series of fists deep into his lean lower abdomen. Catching sight of the monster that lies beneath, Louis finally yanks the orange trunks down to mid thigh and squeezes the little dutch boy's little dutch boy until Epke withers to his knees and weeps out a humiliated submission. Score Great Britain!

American Jake Dalton: 5'5", 145 lbs., 20 years old
Another qualifying match would pit U.S. teammates against one another. Camera-ready Jake Dalton leaps into the ring first, wearing red, white and blue pro trunks and facing his corner, stretching his massive biceps, psyching himself up to dominate and destroy.

American Sam Mikulak: 5'4", 141 lbs., 19 years old 
Abercrombie boy Sam Mikulak charges into the ring at a full sprint in his high slit blue running shorts, delivering a spine crunching shoulder block to his unsuspecting teammate's lower back and dropping muscleman Jake like a sack of potatoes. The ensuing squash lingers a gratuitous 10 minutes of absolute brutality, with Sam delivering one power move after another to send a message to the competition that he plans to crush anyone in his way, and that he's willing to fuck up his buddy in a heartbeat if it means getting one step closer to the podium. Picture Jake folded in half on his back, his face smashed underneath Sam's gorgeous ass, his ankles hooked underneath Sam's underarms, and poor Jake screaming out a muffled, nearly unconscious plea for mercy, admitting his complete humiliation. Sam makes it into the next round.

American Danell Leyva: 5'7", 161 lbs., 20 years old
Possibly the Olympic athlete with the most naked photos on his resume, dark and handsome Danell Leyva is next up to climb into the ring in a metallic gold g-string. That's right. A g-string. Papi's got nothing to hide with his rock hard loveliness from head to toe. He sits on a top turnbuckle waiting patiently for the competition.

German Philipp Boy: 5'8", 150 lbs., 25 years old
German cover boy extraordinaire, Philipp Boy, would climb into the ring cautiously in yellow skin tight square cuts showing off his muscled ass and heavy ballast up front. Danell's choice of gear makes the German pin-up boy's eyebrows arch as the American climbs off of the turnbuckle and adjusts the pendulum swinging between his legs. The most highly competitive of this first round, Phillip and Danell trade turns owning the momentum. Danell's a high flyer, fearlessly launching leaping body blocks off the ropes from the start. Philipp's got the speed and flexibility. He's savvy enough to let Danell overextend himself, ducking out of the way and letting the American take hard tumbles. But as Danell slowly builds a riding time advantage, Philipp's stamina starts to fade in inverse proportion to the swelling in the American's pouch. Coated in sweat 20 minutes in, Philipp cries out a screaming submission to Danell's knee snapping figure-4 leg lock. Not content with just the hard-fought win, Danell cock-pin's Philipp's gorgeous face to the mat for a slowly humiliating 5-count pin.

Bulgarian Jordan Jovtchev: 5'3", 137 lbs., 39 years old
The final qualifier features the "old man" of these games, Bulgarian beef master Jordan Jovtchev, methodically, powerfully sauntering to ringside in his green pro trunks. This salt-and-pepper muscle daddy is stunningly gorgeous and fucking strong! He's the shortest of the competitors to climb into the ring, and ge may not be bouncing as high off the floor, but when he gets those massive pecs pumping, alternating back and forth, he makes the boys watching at ringside have to adjust themselves!

German Fabian Hambuechen: 5'4", 137 lbs., 24 years old
Daring to face the Bulgarian muscle daddy is German babyface muscle boy, Fabian Hambuechen, wearing skimpy red speedos. Rosy cheeked, softball-sized biceps, melons for shoulders, Fabian's M.O. is to look like an angel and fight like a badger. The German has plenty of muscle to ante up, but Jordan repeatedly wins the collar and elbow tie ups in the middle of the ring, shoving the angel-faced muscle boy into the corner and knocking the wind out of him with knee lifts and punches to his wasp-thin waist.  Fabian turns the tables about 8 minutes in, when Jordan attempts a corner-to-corner splash on him. Spinning out of the way at the last second, Fabian quickly rallies to work some muscle ripping pec claws on the thunderous Bulgarian. It's all coming up roses for the flush-faced German until he throws an unnecessary knee into Jordan's crotch. The veteran muscle basher has a high level of tolerance for crotch abuse, and it merely inspires him to muscle his way out of the corner, whip Fabian into the ropes and spear him in the gut with a breath-stealing shoulder block. Fabian suffers long and hard for his insult, losing his speedos and getting his nuts and bolt screwed tightly in the viselike grip of the Bulgarian as Fabian suffers for ages in a naked over-the-knee backbreaker before conceding he's been outmatched. Score Germany!

Louis Smith is ready to slice and dice with his scissors!
Grade A beef Jordan Jovtchev with pecs, shoulders, and arms pumped for a bearhug
Semi-finals find sexy Louis Smith facing the musclebeast Bulgarian, Jordan Jovtchev. It's speed and quick strikes against muscle pounding strength moves. Louis gets caught in a rib crushing Bulgarian bearhug, and things are looking bleak for the Brit. He presses his knees into Jordan's hips to relieve some of the pressure. Before Jordan realizes what's happened, Louis straightens his legs and locks his ankles together, squeezing the petite powerhouse's midsection in a defensive leg scissors. Jordan squeezes that much harder trying to wear the Brit out, but Louis' knees grinding into his kidneys sap the Bulgarian's strength first. When Jordan crumbles to his knees, the end is near, and that end is Jordan being suffocated in a skull crushing face-to-crotch head scissors. First, Louis peels out of his blue posing trunks, locks on the naked scissors, and then pulls on that salt-and-pepper head of hair to choke the Bulgarian out with his meat pressed hard against his lips. The muscle man furiously beats the palm of his hand to the mat in a bitter submission. Louis heads to the finals.

Danell Leyva is ripped from head to toe and everywhere in between!
Sam Mikulak has an upper body for days!
The second semi-final sees Danell knowing better than to turn his back on his U.S. teammate, Sam, for even a moment. Sam's delivery of a humiliating squash all over Jake has left him relatively fresh and strong relative to the hard fought victory Danell beat out. Like Philipp, however, Danell's swelling python in his pouch is quite the distraction for Sam. Sure, he's seen it before in the locker room, but with his teammate crouched for combat and the head of his cock stretching over the waistband of his golden g-string, Sam is both aroused and intimidated. On this world stage, to be intimidated is a dangerous thing. Danell slowly builds the momentum, clawing at Sam's pecs and squeezing the air of him with body scissors. Sam's back arches high off the mat with Danell's legs still locked securely around his waist. Sam's wearing thin, unable to offer much more fight, but refusing to submit. Danell releases him, peels of his own g-string before slipping Sam's blue running shorts off. The adrenaline rush of fear gives Sam a short rally, but Danell subdues his teammate with a most intimate, fully erect full nelson, sliding the length of his cock slowly up and down between the sweaty ass cheeks of his shorter opponent. All that muscle locked in such an intimate embrace! Sam's cock tenses, grows. His neck feels like it's about to snap off, but somehow his arousal just spikes that much more. Danell parades him around the ring, swinging him from side to side in the full nelson, grinding his hips into Sam's ass. Pre-cum streams from Sam's cock. Danell pauses in the middle of the ring, pumping his hips back and forth, and with a gasp and a choked scream somewhere between  agony and ecstasy, Sam's cock shoots a jet of cum halfway across the ring. He's wasted, muscles quivering, defenseless as Danell slowly lowers him to his knees and slides his forearm across his throat in a rear choke. Sam's out for a 10 count in an instant. Danell's got a date with the gold medal round.

Danell Leyva's sexy, and he knows it
Louis Smith is sexy, and he knows it, too!
There's something that seems inevitable about Danell and Louis going pec to pec for the gold. Both boys' luscious bodies have been snapped in all their naked glory for mainstream mags. Both boys are hot hunks with iPhones. Sex oozes out of both of these boys' pores, as does a primal, arousing, compelling fire to dominate the competition. They face one another warily in the ring. They test one another carefully, pushing and pulling, feeling each other's power, balance, and speed. Daniel's cock, once again not quite contained in the pouch of his golden g-string, swings hypnotically. Danell can't help but smile as he notices Louis blue posing trunks filling to capacity in one intimate lock up after another. But when Louis abruptly peels off his own posers and tosses them out of the ring to stand naked in front of him, it's Danell's whose mouth drops open in complete distraction this time. Louis is swinging pipe to make every Brit proud! It's no squash, mind you, but eventually it's Danell, still halfway in his g-string, his arms tied into the top two ropes with Louis outside the ring, bending the American backward over the ropes and straddling Danell's face buried between his stunningly sexy legs.  Danell shakes and grunts in protest.  He kicks his feet and tries to shrug his shoulders free of the ropes. It takes a couple of long, agonizing minutes, but the American is sleepered out cold, starved for air with his mouth and nose locked immovably up the Brit's world class ass.  They carry the hunk out on a stretcher, his right arm in a sling with a potentially career ending injury. Louis Smith: homoerotic wrestling Olympic champ!

Sam Mikulak offers to shake on a new alliance with a cautious Jake Dalton.
The 4-way tag team mash up for the team trophy is shocking all on it's own. With Danell out of the running with an injury, Sam Mikulak offers to bury the hatchet with Jake Dalton and qualify for a shot at the medal.

Philipp Boy has a plan...
German teammate Marcel Nguyen (5'4", 119 lbs., 24 y/o)  gets surprise the nod for the tag team competition!
Philipp Boy passes up quarter-finalist teammate Fabian Hambuechen in a controversial call, teaming up instead with still another German sexy boy, Marcel Nguyen. Marcel doesn't have Fabian's power, and he looks awfully, awfully precious, but Philipp seems to be banking on the extensively tweezed prettyboy bringing something crucial to the table.

Louis Smith let's it all hang out!
Britboy Sam Oldham looks so innocent... (5'5", 137 lbs., 19 y/o)
Gold medal stunner Louis gives a nod to GB teammate Sam Oldham for the tag team competition. Although Sam has the face of a 12 year old, he's entirely legal at 19, with a shredded muscle body of full grown world class male athlete. Will his boyish innocence unsettle the competition enough for team GB to sweep the golds?

Jordan is, pound for pound, the strongest competitor in the ring!
Italian beef Matteo Morandi (5'5", 157 lbs., 30 y/o) is the perfect counterpart to Jordan's crushing power!
The final team for the 4-way mash up stars semi-final singles wrestler, Bulgarian beefcake Jordan Jovtchev, crooking his finger and calling over fellow mature muscle beast, 30 year old Italian Matteo Morandi. These are the beautiful bears among the muscleboys of world class gymnastics, and there are a couple of pretty little things that better steer clear of these two brutes!

A 4-way tag team match is chaos, of course. It's insanity, with tags happening in crazy places making for curious (and hot!) bedfellows. Each team claims a corner. Jake is eager to start the action against Louis to redeem team USA, but the British beauty smirks and gives the lead-off spot a pass. Big bruiser Jordan is more than happy to pick up the slack and face Jake for the opening volley.  It takes only about 5 minutes for Jordan to deliver an onslaught of ring-shaking body slams on the American it-boy, softening him up quickly for a spine crunching Bulgarian bear hug. Jake moves to lock on a defensive leg lock like Louis managed, but the Bulgarian is having none of that shit this time. He drives Jake into his own corner at a full sprint, pounding the American's back into the turnbuckle. As he steps back, Jake drops breathlessly to his gorgeous ass on the mat as Matteo tags in. Right back up into a pec-tacular hairy chested bearhug, and Jake is a rag doll in the Italian's arms within minutes, tapping out and being tossed like the trash out of the ring.  As Jake's teammate, it's incumbent upon Sam Mikulak to enter the fray next. He stays out of the Italian's grasp and leg-tackles the big brute to the mat. A leg lock has the bear grunting in pain, but Matteo tags out with the closest pair of hands reaching for the action from the nearest corner, which happens to German pin-up Philipp Boy.

Philipp leaps over the top rope and like an arrow drives his feet into the American's sweet pecs, knocking Mikulak halfway across the ring. The German delivers a barrage of stomps to Sam's vulnerable body, including a couple of carefully placed heels to his crotch. Before Sam knows which end is up, Phillip has tagged in Marcel who drags the American to his feet by a fistful of hair and then delivers an astonishing flat-footed standing drop kick, driving both heels squarely into Sam's chin. The American is unconscious before his head hits the mat, and Marcel hooks his leg for a smirking count-out before rolling him out of the ring.

With both ends of the all-American team out of the running, the remaining wrestlers look at each other expectantly, waiting for a volunteer to enter the fray against surprisingly dangerous prettyboy Marcel. Louis encourages his teammate, Sam Oldham into action as the freshest man in the mix. Marcel bounces on the balls of his feet smiling as Sam ducks through the ropes. He takes two steps into the ring before an astonishingly fast Marcel has leapt into the air and lands another flat-footed standing drop kick on the chin of another opponent. Sam is thrown back into the ropes, and by the time he's bouncing back toward the center of the ring, Marcel has tagged Philipp back in who levels the Brit with a nasty clothesline across the Adam's apple. Sam's back hits the mat and a second later he's bounced up into a seated position, his arms clutching his throat as he's unable to suck in air. Philipp delivers a heel to the temple that sends the babyface brawler sprawling across the ring. Sam reaches up instinctively and tags in the nearest hand reaching out to him.  Big, burly Jordan climbs across the middle rope and flexes a most-muscular pose that stops Philipp in his tracks, wiping the smirk off his face.

As Jordan begins to close the distance, Philipp backs away fearfully. Backed into the Brits' corner, he grabs Louis' resisting hand and slaps it before ducking to the ring apron. Jordan smiles wide at the angry gold medalist cautiously waiting for the big man to back away before climbing into the ring for the first time.  He gets only one foot in before Jordan has grabbed him by the neck with both hands, yanked him off his feet, and tossed him corner to corner across the full expanse of the ring. Before Louis realizes what's happened, Matteo drops to the floor outside the ring, reaches around the corner post, and yanks on each of Louis' ankles, sliding the Brit across the ring and sending his balls crashing into the metal post. Sam's yells of protest from the far corner are met with a middle-finger salute from the Italian. Louis' teammate is still trying to recover from his own near knock out, and he's nowhere near ready to try to equalize the underhanded double team.

Jordan reaches the gold medalist and drags him back toward the middle of the ring by his hair. He strips Louis of his blue posing trunks, shoves them in the Brit's mouth, and then drags Louis off the mat by his neck. Louis' eyes flutter as he is dizzyingly hoisted into the air and pressed straight-armed overhead, Jordan's left hand squeezing the Brit's right thigh and his right hand locked tightly across the back of his neck.  Sam groans in protest, seeing his partner hanging helplessly overhead. Jordan growls like a bear, making a short circuit around the ring to display his strength to the remaining competition. Finally he drops his opponent crashing down, catching Louis' lower back bending backward across Jordan's knee. Louis screams in agony, but he doesn't submit... until Jordan wraps his viselike fingers around the Brit's naked balls and twists. Louis is tossed over the top rope into the shadows.

All eyes turn back to Sam Oldham. It's his responsibility to pick up where his partner left off. The babyface Britboy climbs back into the ring reluctantly. Jordan charges him, but a lightning fast boot to the lower gut stops the Bulgarian in his tracks. The Bulgarian struggles for air, bent forward with his hands resting on his knees. It's all the break the babyface needs to wrap his arm around the Bulgarian's neck, spin him around and drop to the mat, bringing the big man's chin down across the Brit's rock hard shoulder. Jordan's eyes roll into the back of his head, and he's down for a quick 3-count before Sam kicks him out of the action.  Matteo is already sprinting across the ring before Sam sees him coming, however. The big Italian is in a rage. He drives a knee to the Brit's groin, dropping Sam with a thud to his knees. Matteo rips the trunks off of Sam, yanking at the seams and pulling them away in shreds in the big man's grip.  Sam whimpers, kneeling on all fours, trying to breath in through the agony in his crotch. His hot, lily white ass looks both stunningly powerful and completely vulnerable. Matteo kneels next to him on one knee, shoving his right hand from behind high between the Brit's sweaty legs to grab him by the base of the balls and squeeze. Sam screams, grabbing Matteo's wrists with both hands, his chin dropping to the mat as his face screws up in agony.  Matteo begins to rise, lifting Sam off the mat by his captured balls. It's just a couple of inches before the second Brit goes down in a wailing submission.

With Sam clutching his testicles and crawling, weeping, for the ring apron, Matteo stands up and looks at the corner of the German prettyboys. The odds are 2-on-1, but Matteo is a bear daddy looking like he's ready to bring to heel a couple of baby cubs. Philipp ducks through the ropes, taking the lead. It's a game of cat and mouse for a couple of minutes. Matteo charges in. Philipp dodges out of reach. The swift footed German lands a couple of punches to the kidneys, but he bounces away quickly to keep clear of the big Italian's brutal holds. When Matteo starts to look winded, Philipp tags in Marcel who continues with the same tactics, forcing the Italian to chase him down, tiring him out bit by bit and tagging in his partner to keep the fresh man on tap. Matteo sees the writing on the wall and makes a desperate lunge for Philipp's legs while he still has gas in the tank. It's his last fatal mistake. Philipp dodges the attempt and instead drops his elbow into the center of the Italian's broad back. Boot stomps, punches, tags faster than Matteo can keep track of. He can't tell which of the prettyboys yanks off his green pro trunks... at this point they both look the same. It's definitely handsome Philipp who locks on a leg lock from behind, capturing the Italian's ankle in the crook of his crotch while reaching forward and wrenching Matteo's head backward with both hands. He's tough, though. He refuses to give to this and several further submission holds. But he's soaked in sweat and nearly out on his feet when Marcel locks on a standing rear choke. Matteo drops to his knees, his arms limp at his sides. He taps his submission even as he's falling forward with the German strapped onto his back.  Philip leaps into the ring and joins his partner in straddling the sweaty, naked Italian hunk, flashing mirror image victory double biceps and then turning to one another for a deep throated, sweaty, cock rousing make out session.

Philipp Boy loves it when a plan comes together!
Marcel Nguyen, turns out, is both a lover and a fighter!
Team gold: Germany.

Saturday, July 28, 2012

The Olympic Spirit

Another quadrennium has passed, and it's time to ogle the world class physiques of the young and gorgeous athletes who have descended upon the seat of hormones and sexual tension that is the 30th (that's XXX!) games of the modern Olympics.  The concentration of fitness and hotness is nearly too much to handle at one sitting. As per the particular bent of this blog, of course, we'll concentrate on the boys who inspire homoerotic wrestling fantasies in my mind.  To start with, you might guess we'd go directly to the wrestlers, but I'll save them. Bigger hype around the U.S. by far is for dueling coverboys Michael Phelps and Ryan Lochte. You can't take a piss at a checkout stand without hitting one of them in the chiseled abs (try it!). 


The morning "news" reports it as an epic competition of sportsmanly friends, the only question remaining being who will come in #1 and who will come in #2. Other competitors? Apparently non-existent. Other swimming events than the head-to-heads these two will race? Irrelevant.

Michael's game face is fierce!
I'm hardly a competitive swimming expert, so I have nothing to back up a critique of this fixation on Phelps and Lochte. And speaking of fixation, fuck! The bodies on these two Olympians are entrancing! 27 year old Michael is an incredibly long torsoed 6'4" and 185 lbs.   Also at 27 years young, Ryan packs on a little more muscle, at the same 185 lbs but only 6'2" tall. Stay Puft at Inner Jobber has already started the conversation about what sort of pro wrestler Ryan Lochte would be. My contribution was to suggest that rather than strictly a jobber, a baby face hero, or a heel, he might be simply a douchebag.

Douchebag? Perhaps. Hot as hell? Definitely!
An obvious homoerotic wrestling fantasy is having these two hyped beyond belief young hunks climb into the pro wrestling ring in the skimpiest of speedos to punish each other's world class bodies until somebody screams out a weeping submission... naked.  Lochte seems to have the momentum of popular attention on his side, but I'm picturing Michael stripping this tanned stud of his speedo and then using it first to aid in choking the punk out in a hot camel clutch finisher, and then wrapping the trunks around Ryan's neck and dragging his flailing muscle body across the ring before tying him to the ropes and making him suck Michael's Olympic cock. Gold medal: Phelps.

Micheal screams, "Suck this!"
But really. Anyone could see that scenario through! A Michael v Ryan homoerotic wrestling match seems so... obvious. I think the real drama is the team match-up that happens after singles competition is over. Michael tags up with his tamed teammate to face the really pissed off world class competition who are sick as shit of all the camera flashes pointing at the two of them.  Maybe Michael and Ryan are the shit when it comes to the pool, but I'm seeing some serious beef who just might have other plans in mind for the two pretty boys in the ring.

Team: Coverboys
There are two impromptu teams that I'm proposing for a 3-way tag team mash up in which the world opens up a can of humiliating whoop ass on the Coverboys, Michael and Ryan.  First up, let me introduce you to team Young Guns. Hailing first from South Africa, climbing into the ring at 6' even and 190 pounds soaking wet: 24 year old Cameron Van Der Burgh.

South African muscle man Cameron Van der Burgh
Cameron may not have the height of Michael or Ryan, but his pride and joy are clearly his biceps. Damn, the boy can't stop flexing those gorgeous guns!  Muscle stud Cameron has plans to lock those puppies around Michael's boulder shoulders from behind and lace his fingers together behind the albatross' neck, back his way into a corner, and climb the turnbuckle in order to shake 6'4" Mr. Invincible in a neck-wrenching suspended full nelson. Take a look at those guns again and just picture Michael screaming and flailing with those monsters locked on like a vice!

Cameron cannot stop himself from flexing those monsters!
Cameron's Young Guns tag team partner is 21 year old Australian James "The Missile" Magnussen.

Australian swimming god: James "The Missile" Magnussen
So sure, I could've made that nickname up as an ideal homoerotic wrestling handle, but I didn't need to. James was already dubbed "The Missile" long ago. He can look down his nose at even Michael from his 6'5" height, and he's shredded like cabbage at 190 pounds of long, lean, aesthetically ideal muscle. And like all of the field of world class swimming hunks, including Cameron, James likes to flex his blazing guns in victory.

James' is carrying not-so-concealed weapons of dominating destruction
Ryan Lochte a heart throb? The Missile has plans to pile drive Ryan into semi-oblivion, parade the coverboy from turnbuckle to turnbuckle for a series of septum busting face smashes, and then schoolboy pin the punk and explode his missile all over Ryan's ruined face... well-before pounding out a 3-count pin or submission.

The Missile is ready to explode!
Cameron requires two hands to handle
I wouldn't give Michael and Ryan a snowball's chance in hell of making it past the Young Guns of Cameron and James. But unfortunately for them, they'd have a third team of indignant muscle hunks in yet another corner, with eyes for nothing but humiliating the overhyped Americans. Sure, technically all 3 teams are competing against each other, but nobody's taking their eyes off of the Coverboys until they're both beaten all to shit, humiliated miserably, counted out or submitted, AND tossed out of the ring. Team #3, the Sexy Beasts, steps into the ring with a score to settle for getting passed over for the beefcake covers of muscle mags in favor of the Coverboys.

Brazilian muscleboy bad ass: Marcelo Chierighini
First to leap into the ring for the Sexy Beasts is 21 year old Brazilian Marcelo Chierighini.  He's a baby face muscleboy bad ass with an ego nearly as big as his thunderous delts. That wasp-thin waist, the long, lean 6-pack, his kick-sand-in-the-face of some 98-pound weakling sneer... sure he's only 21, but he's raging mad that it's not been his smoldering, classic good looks on the covers of the magazines. 

Sexy Beast #1 is out to fuck somebody up!
When he's tagged into the action, he's got his eye on a crotch assault never before witnessed in international competition, backing Ryan into the corner and pounding his package with a flurry of knees, kicks, punches, and a couple of headbutts that will turn handsome Ryan green.

Sexy Beast #2: Italian pec master, Fabio Scozzoli
Marcelo's fellow Sexy Beast is 23 year old Italian sexpot, Fabio Scozzoli. He's 6'2" and 190 pounds, a whole lot of which comes in juicy, olive oiled breast meat.

Fabio is all business.
Fabio is out for nothing less than knocking Michael's ugly mug out of competition forever, first crippling the veteran with a tendon snapping figure-4 leg lock, followed by smothering the legend by trapping his face deep in the crevice of the Italian stallion's massive chest.

Young Gun James: Pow, pow!
Young Gun Cameron: Fist pump for kicking the Coverboys to the curb
So Michael and Ryan have nothing to look forward to other than being crushed and crippled, humiliated and humbled by the world class hunks hot on their tails. Once they've taken out the trash, however, which team stands alone? Young Guns are determined to be flexing their double barreled assault weapons with their knees planted on the ample chests of the Sexy Beasts. I strongly suspect that there's a new generation of homoerotic wrestling Olympic swimmer badboys to be reckoned with, however, and if the Sexy Beasts can bend the rules, isolate one of the big boys with strategically vicious double teams, and bring the big men to their knees, then The Missile may be worshipping a Brazilian ballistic and Cameron could easily be on his back and sucking a mouthwatering nipple on a sultry Italian stud draped overtop of him in final victory. Now that would be a gold medal finish for the XXX games!

Sexy Beast Marcelo raises his hands in victory?
Sexy Beast Fabio gives a thumbs up to more modeling contracts.

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