Two Great Tastes…

Trent Diesel, my July homoerotic wrestler of the month, twitted just a couple of days ago that he has a new scene for Raging Stallion online with Rusty Stevens (whose on-again/off-again website has been sadly off again for quite a while). My July homoerotic wrestler of the month paired up with my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy is an excellent combination. The two of them in a boxing ring is the butter cream icing on an already fantastically tasty cake.
I’m pacing myself with regard to my porn budget these days, so I haven’t taken the bait and signed on to see the entire scene at Raging Stallion’s online membership site, Rear Stable. But they’ve offered a provocative-if-brief free teaser. Trent is looking as beautiful as ever with that awesomely aesthetic ink, but more notably in my book, Rusty is sporting a full beard. This fascinates me to no end. I don’t know if I prefer him with or without the beard, but more importantly, I’m thrilled with the opportunity to choose.
The teaser features tragically brief glimpses of these two stars of my wrestling fantasies sucking and screwing from different angles and positions, outside and inside a fight ring. There’s no hint of actual wrestling or fighting in the teaser, so the setting may be all ambient kink. The fact that both of these gorgeous pornboys have some impressive homoerotic wrestling on the resume’ make me still hold out hope that there’s some pre or post fuck wrestling (or during). But it’s all just me and my eternal optimism at this point. If someone else has actually seen the goods, you’ll have to tell me if this inhabits our corner of the homoerotic kink universe.
I continue to be intoxicated by Rusty in any setting. He’s stunning, fierce, and remarkably quick-witted in a career not exactly famous for it’s scholar-athletes. When he’s smooth and trim, Rusty makes me think of a classical marble study in the athletic male form.


With a furry chest, full beard, and hair on top of his head long enough to start to curl, he looks tailor-made for a pro-wrestling heel beatdown on some unsuspecting muscle jobber. I suspect Raging Stallion may not have actually brought that fantasy of mine to life, but the teaser is awfully inspiring, nonetheless.

The Spice of Life

Pyschology Today (via Towleroad, to me) has an interesting piece on the racial diversification of gay male porn over the past 3 to 5 years. Psychology Today is sort of like light beer… all packaging and marketing without much really satisfying inside. But I like the connections that the article draws between identifying what gay men find attractive and broader socio-demographic trends in racial politics.

As for me, I’m 100% in favor of more diversity. As a born-and-bred middle class suburban white boy, I was raised with deeply engrained, implicit lessons that chisel-chinned white boys are the physical ideal. Happily, just like other sexual tastes and attentions, I’ve since discovered that beautiful boys of all sorts of complexions offer treasures of objectified lusts.
I don’t really spend much of my time or money in the gay porn world, sans wrestling. It’s one long yawn for me. But even in the wrestling kink corner of homoerotica and porn, I think that we’re seeing more racial diversity and less a need to fetishize racial diversity, at the same time, which I think is a good combination.
Whereas it wasn’t long ago that products were prominently marketed that specifically catered to the tastes of those looking for cross-racial wrestling, these days when opponents reflect different racial-ethnic backgrounds, it most frequently goes uncommented on. In most cases, I think that’s progress. My homoerotic wrestler of the month, Bobby Horton, is a white guy who came into possession of that title on the merits of his smokin’ hot, edge-of-insanity dismantling of bodybeautiful muscle god, Tyrell Tomsen. I’m sure for many people still, a battle like that continues to be first and foremost a morality play in contemporary racial politics. And, true enough, the white boy delivers a beat down and humiliating defeat of the physically dominant black hunk, which stands in a long tradition of white fantasy about subduing and possessing the physical threat from men of color. But as far as I read the text (and I’ve been happy to read and reread that text over and over again to enjoy Bobby’s delightful performance) the story that’s primarily told is really about the battle between the beauty of brawn and the cunning of ring savvy. If anything, Tyrell plays the role of the refined, sculpted, entitled muscle god to Bobby’s crazy-ass, brutish, uncivilized short-cutter. I realize that this doesn’t eliminate the racial politics that play out in the homoerotic wrestling ring, but it screws with expectations and long-held prejudices enough to be at least resistant toward white privilege, if not entirely dismantling of it.
BG East has been promoting a lot of Latinos lately, and that’s 110% just fine with me. If white Eurocentric privilege managed to keep the likes of Rafe Sanchez (mmmm…. Rafe….), Rio Garza and Lobolito off of my shelf, my life would be much less entertaining.
Can-Am has been tossing the likes of Michael Vineland, Max Munoz, and yes, Rio Garza onto the mats, making their typically-happy-ending wrestling formula much more diverse than it may have been at one time.
Naked Kombat frequently puts up men of color, like recent battlers Jack Hammer, Derek Reynolds and Race Cooper. It’s not all one formula for fetishing the racial composition of the match, by any means. Depending on the fighters on any given day, Naked Kombat’s wrestlers of color end up battling each other or white guys, and they end up on top or on bottom with seemingly similar frequencies.
I’m intentionally taking a look at Thunder’s Arena with fresh eyes lately, particularly after reading the very enjoyable interview that Joe did with Mr. Mike and Ace Hanson at Ringside at Skull Island recently. Young stunner rookie AJ looks like another case in point of the expanding pool of skill and beauty to which homoerotically-inclined wrestling is turning.
More is better… variety is the spice of life… the pithy sayings go on and on to explain why it is that all of this is a very good thing. Still, I think we need to keep an eye on the way that racial politics play out even in (especially in) our erotic fantasies. I know, I know. It’s a buzz kill. But it also reveals something about what we believe down deep, how we live, and underneath any socialization or commitments to political correctness, how we picture ourselves in relation to racial difference. I like where things seem to be heading, and I think that we would all do well to remember where we’ve been, and the ways that racism have long played a major role in dominant homo-culture, much less hetero-culture, in the past forty years.

Where It Hurts


When I was a kid, I’d typically scheme all the time to start
a wrestling match with a friend. Inevitably in the fumbling scramble, sooner or later, someone would get “racked,” by which we meant that they took a blow to the groin. It was always unintentional… or, at least, it was always unintentional on my part. Looking back on it, I sort of suspect that some of my wrestling buddies probably threw in a precisely placed knee every so often. I was always such a naive babyface.

The new Arena update at BG East has tickled my fancy once again with some preview pics of an upcoming release featuring the mouth-watering ass of Kid Karisma in action against Len Harder. This looks like it leans more the to homoerotic side than most of what I’ve seen Kid in, including some suck-face and ball claws. Good, good times…
The fact that this catches my eye and tweaks my kink so instantly is a relatively new thing. When I was a kid and would wrestle with my buddies, getting “racked” was an instant time out. The action stopped whenever someone took a blow to the groin. Every boy learns about the bundle of nerve endings in the groin, don’t we? At some point or another, we all experience that near-paralyzing pain of taking a shot to the balls. All the air rushes out of your lungs. Your head feels like it’s about to explode. You instinctively roll up into the fetal position with your hands cupped over your crotch to protect it from further abuse. It’s no fun, and as a kid it was typically a mood-killer for me.
Ball abuse as a mood-maker has been only a pretty recent development for me. I’ve always liked the concept of hands on genitals in my homoerotic wrestling. I just always cringe when I see some convincing bashing, twinges of some of my own greatest hits echoing through my body. I swear, it’s tissue memory more than anything cognitive. I see a blow to the balls, and I have a pre-cognitive cringe reflex. But lately, I find some hot, hard ball claws intensely erotic. I’m writing ball abuse into every fictional wrestling match I write.
I think I attribute my expanding my wrestling kink repertoire to Derek da Silva. He shows up frequently in homoerotic wrestling on the other end of the ball bashing stick. And he clearly LOVES it. I mean, seriously, he gets harder the more he gets bashed. Now, if Derek were naked and just hanging the laundry on the line, I’d be unable to stop myself from masturbating. But Derek grappling, getting ball bashed, and getting off on getting bashed has just turned a key in the back of my mind somewhere.
I still cringe. But the cringe and the pain and the primal domination of ball abuse are somehow doing it for me these days like never before. And it’s not like you can shake a stick and not smack up some ball torture everywhere you turn. Hell, in Naked Kombat you get points for it. It’s absolutely mandatory.
Can-Am has long sprinkled ball torture throughout their products. I remember one particular match that blew my mind when I saw Jimmy Dean shove his hand down the back of Mark Wolff’s trunks, reach between his legs, and claw at his testicles from behind. The boys, the gear, the ring, the bodies… everything about that makes me gasp a little.
BG East has ball claws featured prominently everywhere, in explicitly ball-torture themed products and otherwise. There’s just something stunning about the sight of a bodybeautiful, musclegod/ken doll like Jace Bradley pressed against the ropes and completely at Mr. Joshua’s mercy with his balls firmly in Mr. Joshu’s hand.
So I guess what this post is really about is the evolution of sexual appetite, the refinement of erotic tastes, and the observation that even when it comes to my wrestling kink, I’m not the same person I was even a couple of years ago. What strikes me as erotic, arousing, and captivating is growing and maturing as I march through life, scarfing down homoerotic wrestling every chance I get.

Brothers in Arms

I finally posted a reader-request superhero short story to the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group. As I mentioned before, this was a remarkably long time coming and a lot more challenging than I’d expected. I finally focused on the concept of the typical superheroes “beginnings” story from the perspective of homoerotic wrestling kink.
What sort of super power would you want to have as a full-time homoerotic wrestling extraordinaire? When push comes to shove, what superhuman ability might count for good wrestling kink drama? Those were the sort of questions that finally brought this wandering ship into port and helped me finish off a short story draft that I felt decent enough about to share.


So what I came up with was a “beginnings” story of two 18 year old adoptive brothers whose shared lifelong dream has been to earn their way into the ranks of “the League” of superheroes. I’ve built in some teasers for potential further chapters, including hinting at a post-apocalyptic context and more characters that might get sketched in. The two brothers find themselves wrestling one another for an audition to join the hero training program.

By the end of the 3-fall audition match, both young hunks are bewildered to discover that this wrestling match was like no other they’d experienced. They both tap into aptitudes previously unrecognized, and victory is balanced on skills that they never knew that they had before. Loyalties are tested, and their world is turned upside down as they both start to get the idea that the life of a superhero is something quite different than what they thought it would be.

This may not be the cup of tea for many folks who’re drawn to homoerotic wrestling chatter. It also may not quite line up with eroticized superhero fanatics. But for the narrow slice of you into a homoerotic wrestling superhero fantasy, check it out. If it strikes your fancy, let me know what works and what you might like to see more of. If it’s a miss for you, send me a sample of your own original wrestling fiction to give me an idea of how it’s done right!