Month: July 2010

Eureka

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No one took up my plea for more shots of a particular hot young hunk with a hint of stunning back ink. So I had to go and dig this up on my own. True enough, I feel particularly pleased with my efforts. I start with just a nameless, relatively anonymously pic of a beautiful body in profile, and I end up with Diego Fragoso.
Diego is Brazilian, apparently somewhere in the 19-20 year old range, and fantastically hot. Love, love, love this ink.
The tats on the legs are highly unusual, I think, which ups his stock in my estimation. Of course, bathing himself and his hot buddy in skivvies also lends itself to making a lasting impression. I can’t decide which I’d prefer to fantasize more… that they’re washing up after a hot and sweaty wrestling match, or that Diego is just about to Pearl Harbor his unsuspecting buddy and slam his ass to the mat, initiating a hot and sudsy match. Let’s go with both scenarios combined.

I’ve sat and looked at this photo shoot of Diego getting baptized in his underwear for quite a while, and I still can’t get enough. Somewhere in there, there’s a critique of the church and the sexuality/asexuality of the Roman Catholic priesthood. I’m sure of it. I can’t quite pull together all the pieces of the text of this art, but it’s there, and it provokes, and I’m enthralled, and Diego is both art and the content of art in this case, which warps my mind just a little.

I promised to owe a favor to whomever rounded up full on pics of this beauty’s ink. I’ll have to decide how to cash in and treat myself…

Daily Swoon

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I fall in lust several times a day. Truly, I believe the world is populated with gorgeous objects of hunky beauty around every corner. Maybe I’m just easy to please, but I think it’s healthy to swoon on a daily basis. A shirtless rollerblade boy did it to me yesterday at the park. I saw him coming down the path from a ways, so I got to savor the view for a while as he approached. He was black, sweat-soaked (you KNOW how I love that), with thick, round pecs, a flat stomach, and long, defined quads pumping as he chugged along with his i-pod providing his own personal sound track for the world.

I’ve already been swooning again, waking up to this sight this morning. In my never ending browse for beauty, I came across Allen Clippinger as I was surfing the net. Allen immediately made my heart race, my jaw drop, and my eyes water just a little (probably from trying not to blink).
I’ve never heard of Allen, but his gorgeousness has well populated several corners of the web already. Model Mayhem suggests that he’s 26 years old and hailing from Miami, originally a Cali boy. He’s apparently been banking on that stunning body and riveting face for a several years, including some early features with Abercrombie & Fitch in 2006.
DJ with Stunning Men Who Grace This Earth has all the skinny on stunning Allen. He was a Navy boy, which brings to mind a boatload of junior high “seamen” jokes that I’ll spare you. I will say, though, that the first great love of my life was a Navy midshipman, and I always remain partial to beautiful men in that branch of the armed forces.
He has a twin hunk with whom he’s modeled. They have the bare bones of their own website, with a lot of provocative, dead-linked title pages. It will be a crime against humanity if they don’t finish off the content under the link “Battle of the Twins.”
Allen’s ass is simply everywhere, and I’m so entirely supportive of that. Like every inch of him, Allen’s ass is gorgeous and gracefully proportioned. He’s simply a genetic lottery-winner for which I’m both envious and worshipfully awestruck.
His interview with Covermen Mag fills in just enough details to make my imagination run away with me. Allen says he’s up for nudity (obviously), depending on the situation/job and as long as it advances his career. Surely, there are career advancing photo shoot opportunities ready to be had for this man’s glutes. Tragically, he hopes to go back into the Navy in the officer track, which would be a miserable waste of six pack abs.
It’s at times like this that I second-guess the applicant pool in the Secretarial Pool auditions in my wrestling fiction. With a little military combat training and the delightful twin gimmick to throw into the mix, I think Allen would make a devastating addition to the Producer’s Ring. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover a little 2-for-1 gemini performances showing up in my wrestling imagination in the near future. In the meantime, Allen Clippinger is already starring in a homoerotic fantasy playing presently in my mind.

Joe’s Back

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Clearly, sweet muscle stud Joe Manganiello has earned himself an infinite supply of fans, including more than our share of gay male fanatical fanatics. His debut on True Blood this season has unveiled him shredded to bits, astonishingly huge, abs of a Greek god and, speaking of the Greeks, the shape of an Adonis. Even among those of us who are his drooling fanatical fanatics, though, Joe’s garnered just a little bit of hate. I’ve seen it repeated in more than one place, that there’s something just not right about a werewolf who, as a man, is smooth as a baby’s bottom.

Anyone who can find something to fault about this man’s body is smoking crack. And not that I’m a expert on were-lore, but isn’t the whole point that an otherwise “normal” man who’s restrained (repressed) and blends into civilized society, is driven looney by the full moon, at which point he bursts into full-body hair and takes the form of a wolf? It’s the contrast between the straight-line walking citizen by day whose catapulted into a primal state of blood lust by night that’s the point. By day, he isn’t a wolf. By day, he can look like Joe Manganiello, but in the full moon be Cujo.

I’m sure Joe doesn’t need me to rush to his defense, but then again, where else do I get to step in and act as protector for a 6’5″ muscle giant? I’ve got your back, Joe… and any other part of your body that you need any help with… anytime.

And Another One Gone

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I just uploaded the final match in the Secretarial Pool auditions, pitting models Kerry Degman and Ellis McCreadie against one another. At first glance, these two are well-matched. Both are just about 6′ tall. Both are fit, nicely muscled but not massive. Kerry has a known history as an accomplished high school wrestler, which might tip the scales, but face-to-face the two seem closely paired.

The fun for me, of course, is the story itself. It’s not just about who would win when pitting two celebrities against one another in an NHB match-up. It’s the delightful journey along the way that tweaks my kink for homoerotic wrestling. The story that has emerged from my imagination is that Ellis is a dark horse in the competition, seeming clearly outclassed, under-confident, and hiding something that the rest of the applicants are fiercely determined to uncover. Kerry has had his sights set on beating that secret out of Ellis from the first moment that they met, and he’s ready to illustrate his abundant skills in breaking down recalcitrant talent by humiliating Ellis in every way he can. Once again the executive assistants on the hiring committee have their role to play in the unfolding drama, which leaves one man destroyed and the other significantly dehydrated. Hopefully the semi-final round will begin to be posted soon, now that four of the initial hopefuls have been shoveled into the trash heap.

The Title Defense

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Rusty Stevens has been in possession of the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy for a little over three months. At 6′ and 200 pounds, Rusty is an astonishing hunk of grappling stardom. The tale of the tape shows Rusty’s undeniable strengths are his whip-like, on-your-feet-and-in-your-face dominating banter, his primal, ferocious growl when he kicks it into fifth gear, and his mouthwatering body that supports impressive speed and strength on the mats. Three months ago he ripped the title out of the hands of two-time champ, Mitch Colby, leaving Mitch stunned and hungry for a 3-peat claim on the title.
Enter the genius of Kid Leopard who specializes in making all of our wrestling fantasies come true. BG East arranged a head-to-head title defense of the champ and his #1 challenger. I don’t often get to enjoy my favorites in action with one another. I’m infatuated with stars from various production companies, of varying wrestling styles and genres, and the battle in my mind for who is my favorite is usually waged only in my own imagination. When I learned that Rusty would be defending his title in person against Mitch, I was giddy with anticipation.


I’ve watched the match repeatedly in the few days since it arrived. True enough, of the Breaking Point matches, it is, indeed, the sexiest. Rusty plays his strong suit like the defending champ he is as he walks into the room. He’s sneering and snarling his insults from go, working on beating down Mitch’s psyche by zeroing in on Mitch’s weaknesses. When he’s getting manhandled, true to form, Rusty taps into his inner neanderthal, his eyes glazing over with rage as primal, sexual ferocity roars from deep in his chest. And Rusty is in excellent shape. In fact, of the range of Rusty’s physical form over time (a little beefier in most of his Naked Kombat matches vs. a bit thinner and prettier in his earlier Can-Am bouts), I think he’s looking about as deliciously toned as I’ve ever seen him.

The most stunning factor as this match opens is Mitch. He’s not in the ripped-to-shreds shape of any of this prior matches. He’s even softer around the middle than his Naked Kombat appearance, which was the biggest I’d ever seen Mitch in action. With the extra weight on his 6’2″ frame, he’s moving a little slower (though speed has never really been his strength). Like a cruise missile, Rusty throws contempt at Mitch’s fitness, calling into question whether the challenger has it in him to go the distance.
I’m sure I’ll deconstruct this match-of-my dreams several times over on the pages of this blog, so let me just give you the most significant points that add up to the final decision in this title defense match. While I have a nostalgic preference for Mitch’s trimmer form, he’s still a sexy beast in this bout. Rusty is hardly a small man, but Mitch dwarfs him in a way that’s smokin’ hot. Nine times out of ten, when Mitch is serious about it, he muscles Rusty into nearly any position he wants to. When Mitch drops his ass down across Rusty’s chest as the champ lays flat on his back getting schoolboyed (he hates that), Mitch is one tasty main course of muscle domination. The series of very long-held bearhugs (front, back, side, everywhich way), are evidence that Mitch remains as strong as an ox and easily able to dish out crushing punishment as needed. Despite his fitness being a strike against him in my book, Mitch puts up one fantastic performance capped off with taking his competition commandingly in hand.
For the champ’s part, looking up at the hulking form in front of him, Rusty seems just a little thrown. He still delivers the snappy, domineering banter that propelled him to the top of the charts, but he doesn’t deliver with quite the biting cleverness he has in the past, which I credit to being seriously intimidated by how much space Mitch takes up in the small sun room. Still, Rusty delivers. Scrapping his way out of a tight spot with that primal roar, he makes me weak in the knees. He suffers better than I have ever seen him suffer before, which is a major advance for the champ in keeping his grip on the title. In the repeated crushing embrace of his challenger, Rusty sells with desperate choking and hacking, retreating to catch his breath with new found respect in his eyes for his competition. The camera work seriously plays into Rusty’s hands, as he works up a soaking sweat, making his spot-on competition form sparkle and highlight every gorgeous muscle.

In the end, though, the title defense is decided in my mind by the best line of dialogue I’ve heard delivered in a long, long time (perhaps ever). School-boying the challenger, his sweat soaked jock strap planted across Mitch’s forehead, Rusty buries Mitch’s face with self-congratulatory satisfaction: “I’m thinking you may want to say you give… but then again, my ass is in your face.”

And with that, despite a valiant, commanding challenge from the contender, even despite forcing several more submissions and sealing the deal with sexual domination… still… Rusty decisively retains the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy. I think the defeat leaves Mitch vulnerable to getting knocked out of the top rankings, marking a stunning plunge from the top spot he commanded for most of the past year. I have no idea who might be ready to unseat the former champ from his coveted #1 contender spot… perhaps Derek might make a another seat soaked, punishment-whore run. I’d love to see Rafe Sanchez command the respect that he has yet to be given. Perhaps even a dark horse rookie, such as Naked Kombat’s delightful powerlifter funnyman, John Magnum, might smack Mitch’s ass on his way to dislodging the former champ from his ranking. Two things are for sure, though. 1) Rusty and Mitch’s Breaking Point match is profoundly satisfying homoerotic wrestling kink entertainment. And 2) a lot of homoerotic wrestling pornboys will now be gunning for the disappointed former champ now.

Totally Grabs Me

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In the company’s yahoo discussion group, fans have been pleading for BG East to branch out into more customized and e-delivery formats of their homoerotic wrestling products. So Kid Leopard and crew have just released a match by match compilation, offering fans the opportunity to buy all three matches in “The Breaking Point,” or buy matches individually. I’m skeptical of this arrangement on a couple of points. For one, it doesn’t really address the e-delivery issue. I’m positive that I’m not alone in saying that I’ve been trained in recent years to expect instant gratification with the click of a button. Waiting for a DVD to arrive in the mail a week after I’ve clicked seems like an eternity, particularly when it’s a product I’m really randy for. That’s the case whether it’s a DVD containing one match or three matches. And then there’s the second, perhaps even more crucial point of skepticism for me:

Joe Robbins’ ass. It’s not that I think that the marketing strategy of BG East should be built entirely around Joe Robbins’ ass (though I think that would still be a profitable venture). But frankly, I haven’t been enticed by the stills of Joe to check him out before. There’s something that hasn’t reached out and grabbed me when I’ve seen pics of Joe in action in the past. Sure, he’s clearly huge and beefy, but for some reason, I just haven’t given Joe a second look. But when I purchased the Demolition 14 (primarily for Joshua’s bout with Austin, secondarily for Lon’s match with… well, anyone at all would do) I was introduced to Joe in action.

Sweet man alive! I am, as of today, a fan of Joe (and in particular, Joe’s ass). Joe delivers the only true “demolition” of this compilation, in my opinion, and there’s no better deserving trash that needs to be taken out than smarmy, ever overconfident, doe-eyed Kieran Dunne.

Joe simply delivers in a way that I wasn’t expecting. He doesn’t just demolish. He likes it. And when he wraps up Kieran’s torso between his gargantuan, massively muscled, thick as tree stumps thighs, Kieran screams and I go breathless.
Particularly at the point that he’s mounted the jobber from behind, squeezing his mile-long legs around Kieran’s sides with Kieran helpless on his stomach on the mat underneath, Joe becomes a headliner in my eyes. With his truly stunning ass propped up high, his trunks riding up just a bit, those round, muscled cheeks are incredibly satisfying. And the thing is, I’d have given this match a pass if it was a piece-by-piece deal. So I worry that if BGE goes all match-by-match, I won’t know what I’m missing, and worse, it’ll only be the headliners who ever get their time on camera. I think compilations work to introduce us to new talent and to make a market for upcoming talent that perhaps hasn’t had the chance yet to convince us to be fans. Of course, I entirely appreciate that each of us has his own tastes, and for those aching for match-by-match options, this new marketing turn is an answer to prayer. But as for me, I’m skeptical, because I don’t always know from website pics and text what it is that will totally grab me when I see it in action… just like Joe’s ass.

Casting Hits Continue

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I’m finally caught up on season 3 of True Blood, and I am one happy camper. At every turn, a new gorgeous hunk has been introduced. I’m still bitter about Mehcad Brooks’ character being killed off at the end of last season, but by my calculations, the addition of Grant Bowler and Joe Manganiello evens the score (yes, it takes the both of them to cancel out the absence of Mehcad… one for each of Mehcad’s massive, round pecs). Then add Kevin Alejandro, Theo Alexander, and James Frain, and True Blood’s hunk quotient is back in the black (a little ironically). All of this new hunk blood merely compliments the main course hotness of Ryan Kwanten, Stephen Moyer, Sam Trammell, Nelson Ellis, and Alexander Skarsgård. Finally, in the first four episodes we’ve seen the beautiful bare asses of Alexander Skarsgård, Stephen Moyer, Sam Trammell, James Frain, Ryan Kwanten (twice!) and depending on how you count it, Grant Bowler. Hands down, this wins the best hunk-casting for a television show… ever.
In addition to the very satisfying rear nudity, the two highlights among the new kids on the block, in my opinion, are Grant Bowler and Joe Manganiello. I’m a little torn as to which one is my favorite so far. In the spirit of everything in my imagination, someone has to be on top, and typically these sorts of situations are settled with a wrestling contest (again, in my imagination).
Massive, massive (did I mention massive?) Joe Manganiello looks like he could snap Grant Bowler into two pieces with a decisive drop into an over the knee backbreaker. Not many 6’5″ boys can pack on the astounding muscle mass and proportion that Joe is sporting. Picturing that body stepping over the top ropes and staring you down from across the wrestling ring would be an adrenalin rush of a lifetime.

Still, my money just might be on an upset victory for Aussie extraordinaire, Grant. Whereas Joe is almost too pretty to be believed, Grant looks like he’s built for serious business. I’d be tempted to sketch Joe as the (overly?) cocky, physically dominating juggernaut/face who’s never really faced serious competition until he climbs into the ring with Grant. Joe would probably play by the rules. When you can squash your opponents like bugs underfoot, why need to cheat? But I’d sketch Grant as an ice cold, calculating heel whose jaw might drop a little to be staring up at the behemoth in front of him in the center of the ring, but who would make it his personal mission to teach the big boy that no one, no matter how physically dominating, is invincible.

School’s in session, and someone needs a little corporal punishment.

Blue Eyed Beast

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Almost a year ago I posted about a new artist sharing his 3-D renders of hot, hard, and HUGE wrestlers. Sadly, he stopped posting new material merely a month or so later. There’s something about computer graphic homoerotica that tweaks the same kinks that tickle when I watch gay wrestling. What 3-D graphics exaggerate, center and examine in fierce detail is precisely what my eye lingers on whenever I see a beautiful man who sparks my imagination.

Meet David by ManOfSteel. David has quite an online following already, it seems, so you may have already met. David fully engages my homoerotic imagination. ManOfSteel has given me permission to post a few of the many renderings of the blue-eyed beast himself, for which I’m grateful. Cruising through David’s website and the galleries of David at Renderotica.com, I find myself reliving that moment when I’m jogging at the park or walking into the shower at the gym or just strolling through my day, when a superhumanly beautiful man catches my eye. In real life, he probably doesn’t look like David. But in that moment of everyday infatuation, in a sea of average-looking people who blend into the background, every so often I see a beautiful hunk of a man who seems bigger than life, impossibly handsome, uncommonly massive. If only for that instant of intoxicating lust-at-first site, a gorgeously muscled man with a square jaw and magnetic eyes can take up a whole lot of space in my mind. Perhaps he isn’t literally built like David, but this is precisely the spirit of what I see when a stunning hardbody crosses my path.
Imagination plays a big part in the graphics of David. Not only is David a testimony to a fantastically hot erotic imagination on the part of ManOfSteel, but many of David’s scenes are set in the context of a mortal-sized man’s imagined conquering of David in body and soul.
Now if I could only find a shot of David taking a job in the ring, trapped in the ropes and suffering like a pro.

Diesel Powered

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Tattoos, hardbodies, balls out wrestling… what’s not to appreciate about the latest release from Naked Kombat? It’s an odd set-up this time around, because apparently Trent Diesel keeps figuratively fucking up his opponents.

The first-first round pits Trent against NK mainstay, Patrick Rouge. These two bodies side by side are a work of art. In action, they scramble and scrap ferociously up the point at which Trent drops Patrick hard on the back of his head. Poor Patrick keeps getting knocked out of his matches due to injuries. I’m not sure who he pissed off, but it sure seems like he’s got a target on him for all the NK boys to do some serious damage. If you’re going to get bounced off the mat on your neck, at least it’s at the hands of the gorgeously inked, zero bodyfat bodybeautiful, Trent.
So NK sends in Alex Slater to pick up the action against Trent. In many ways, Alex is the antithesis of Trent. Where Trent is blond and smooth, Alex is dark and hairy. Where Trent’s six-pack abs stand in sharp relief against his sweaty torso (particularly gorgeous at the the end of round 3), Alex is decidedly softer and clearly nowhere near as cardio superfit as his opponent. Moreover, where Trent seems generally unphased by every abuse thrown his way, Alex has a weak spot that quickly surfaces: Alex can’t handle ball and ass abuse. Twice in the trunks-on round with Alex, Trent pounds the hirsute contender’s balls into crying submission. When Trent shoves his fingers up Alex’ ass (with some fine artistic flair), Alex’ grunts and groans instantly rise an octave as panic creeps into his cries of protest. In his post-match debrief, Alex confesses that his strategy was entirely defensive, “just trying to make sure his hands weren’t going to the right place,” (he points at his crotch). Not sure what Alex was thinking NK would be like, but he’s no match for the tattooed, sliced to pieces energizer bunny battler, Trent.
Alex also fails to measure up on one last point. In the trunkless round, both men start hard. Alex is limp within seconds of the action starting, whereas Trent (the paradigmatic grower-not-shower extraordinaire), stays at least semi-hard throughout. My sympathies always lie with the hot and hard stud who finds sweaty, naked grappling sexually arousing. I hope we see more of Trent Diesel.

A League of Their Own

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I think of myself as a booster of the industry that produces homoerotic wrestling products. I get caught up in brand loyalty wars more than I care to, but when it comes down to it, I think the more creative, kinky minds producing homoerotic wrestling, the better. I’m more a booster of explicitly homoerotic wrestling than otherwise. Not to say I’m only kinked up by explicit sex wrestling, but rather I prefer companies that explicitly identify themselves as homo and erotic. There are a lot of companies producing wrestling for you and me who pull their marketing punches. I get it, that there’s a market for relatively closeted homoerotic wrestling. Hell, I was there myself a long time ago. But I think of coded, closeted homoerotic wrestling as more a transition object than the heart of what revs my engine these days. So these days, I think of wrestling with merely implied homoeroticism as sort of second-tier fun.
But all of that is just lead up to my unveiling a new category of favorites that I’ll be tracking from now on. For many months, I’ve been charting the title defenses of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys. Mitch, then Derek, then Mitch again, and now Rusty have been sitting pretty atop the rankings. I’ll be posting on the match-of-my dreams head-to-head match up of champion Rusty vs. #1 contender, Mitch next week. In the mean time, as of today I’m starting to track a new championship division. It isn’t just the pornboys I love (though, let me reiterate, I LOVE the wrestling pornboys). So starting today, I’m ranking my favorite homoerotic wrestlers in the non-pornboy division.
The distinction here is that gorgeous muscle studs who go the full monty and crank off some onscreen cum shots are in a league of their own in my affections. But the boys who typically keep their cocks in their trunks still merit some virtual lovin’. If at any point there’s a dispute about who should show up in which division, my line in the sand is the cum shot. Any hot hunk on film working off a load has to compete with the likes of Rusty Stevens, and Rusty appears ready to beat (and eat) wrestling pornboy ass anytime.

Without further ado, allow me to unveil my top two rankings for homoerotic wrestlers in the non-pornboy division:
Sitting very, very pretty on top of the dais is the stunningly tight little package who made my jaw drop from the moment I first saw him last autumn: 5’7″, 150 lb, Lon Dumont.
I don’t pick up a lot of buzz about Lon, so I don’t know if I’m the only one whose buttons are so invariably pushed by him. The attraction for me exactly 50% body, 50% performance (and I rank them both a 10 out of 10… you do the math). He’s earned his way into claiming the inaugural championship title of non-pornboy extraordinaire. I’d donate the lower half of my liver for Lon to jump divisions and pound one out in a schoolboy pin on top of Rusty’s pecs, but in the meantime, Lon’s at the top of the new non-pornboy division for me.
His number one challenger is also no stranger to the pages of this blog. 5’10”, 180 lb, Joshua Goodman, (that’s Mr. Joshua to you), would likely be significantly offended to come in second place in anything. Considering Mr. Joshua’s behemoth package is often not quite entirely contained in his trunks, he’s a hairsbreadth away from jumping divisions. After aching for this to happen for years now, I’m finally conceding that Mr. Joshua is likely never to join the pornboy ranks. Still, he deserves major credit for his extremely entertaining performances and the hours upon hours of enjoyment he’s given me. Lon is a relative rookie on the homoerotic scene in comparison to Mr. Joshua. Mr. Joshua certainly outweighs the lightweight bodybuilder significantly. Mr. Joshua has earned his chops in victory after defeat after victory, whereas Lon remains a bit untested against the established headliners. All that suggests to me that Lon has one hungry, indignant, cocky hardbody on his tail (and that’s an image that lingers in my imagination).
As I’ve said, the more homoerotic wrestling in the world, the better. Both Lon and Mr. Joshua are BG East exclusives, as far as I know, but I’m happily scouring plenty of other wrestling operations for new challengers to toss their hats in the ring. There are plenty of deserving candidates. But for today, for now, let me place the crown of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, non-pornboy division, on the fantastically shaved head of Lon Dumont. And let me give a virtual slap on the ass to runner-up Mr. Joshua. I’m looking forward to seeing them both in plenty more matches to come, performing their hearts out even if keeping their trunks on.