Mike Bennett, Massachusetts-based independent pro wrestler who won the heavyweight belt at Top Rope Promotions last month, looks like the typical North American jock--beefy with a tendency to turn bright red, intense yet hollow eyes, and a bright-white Pepsodent smile.
All in all, it's a type I like--in pictures, anyway, and in life, so long as the guy can refrain from being a total loudmouth blowhard with jet-engine vocal levels (a sonic quality that douses any spark of desire I might feel for a great many visually impressive males, and almost always they are American--even though, for me, as most of you know, attitude, spunk, and an inflated ego are in every other respect must-haves).
Ordinarily, though, this is not a type that enters into my fantasies--combat and/or erotic. Perhaps it's a question of over-familiarity. Perhaps it's a question of, almost by definition, the type's lacking any sign of vulnerability, so it's hard for me to imagine the guy potentially being mastered by another fighter, except in terms of instant total annihilation rather than (as I like it) a slow wearing down. And, then, "wholesomeness," often associated with clean-cut WASP types, is something of a turn-off for me.
But, as I have noted elsewhere, put a pair of eyeglasses on him and I'll be cumming all over myself.
Let me elaborate on that:
Put eyeglasses on this type and let me see him reading a book (anything except Ann Coulter) on a sofa with a tired old dog sleeping beside him.
Let me hear him wax enthusiastic about Walt Whitman.
Show me this type defending women, gays, blacks, or any discriminated-against group, and I'll be ready to shoot.
Put this type in a G-string, oil him up, set him up on top of a bar, and let him grind to an old James Brown hit.
Last, and most relevant to this blog, put this type in tiny tight trunks (either black or absurdly bright-colored) and let me watch him work an opponent (or get worked) as the sweat pops up on his skin and catches the spotlights like it's glitter.