Month: June 2013

The News that Counts

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I feel like I should have something to say about the Supreme Court rulings on marriage, but I just don’t.  Every time I start to try to compose something thoughtful about the federal recognition of same-sex marriages, I get stuck on the Supreme Court’s simultaneous roll-back on voter’s rights protections and the tightening of restrictions against promoting diversity in higher education.  Hell, just when it comes to the citizenship of gays, I’m hard pressed to get up a head of steam about a marriage license when we have no federal protection against simply being fired from a job or refused housing or lodging just because we’re gay.  So marriage.  Yeah.  That’s cool, but…  Then again, my political comments are always guaranteed to raise a rant, which I have little energy for today, so I should stick with what I know and love best.  On that note, let me just do a quick round up of things I should have posted about in the last couple of weeks, but I’ve been just too damned slammed with work to make it happen.

First, Alex recently guest posted (thanks again, Alex… you rock!) about the theme of the bad assed, low down, dirty rotten cheat of a jobber (or, the heel/jobber).  I loved his analysis, and was provoked by his suggestion of how this variation on the jobber motif might stir the pot in homoerotic wrestling.  Readers had a couple of examples of wrestlers who might be considered to make this angle their own.  One reader who was mentioned in the post, Darius, also was inspired to send a private comment to me along with some juicy, non-photoshopped evidence of precisely what he looks like ready to wrestle in black gear.

The gear to accompany a bad ass attitude!

Mmmmmm….  Da-a-a-a-ammn.  I’m on board to watch Darius fill whatever role he wants in the wrestling ring.  And I can think of no more ideal heel/jobber move than for Darius to not only show up in bulge-sucking black gear, but also to have said gear used to choke a babyface hero viciously as we finally get a look at every massive muscle that this beautiful man packs into his trunks.

No need to imagine Darius dressed to wrestle down and dirty in black gear… 

Darius is a truly outstanding friend of neverland, and I continue to hope to see much, much more of him in the ring. Promoters and private aficionados of high quality muscleman wrestling need to hit this hunk of stunning beef up… hard.

Then again, even in black, Darius is such a babyface beauty!

My next writing project to publish is a special match dedicated to two of my favorite friends of neverland, one of whom is none other than stunning Darius.  As soon as I get my boss off my back, I’m polishing that puppy off and getting it posted.

You think the body is hot?  Check out what goes on in that homoerotic wrestling kinked head of Ben Monaco!

In other news from the homoerotic wrestling friends of neverland, Ben Monaco has been updating his blog, Monaco Off the Mats, answering the question of which of the BG East battlers would he be “all over” given the opportunity to wrestle them.  He’s doing a fantasy top 10 countdown that’s become seriously distracting from my aforementioned perfect storm at work.  We have numbers 10 through 8 so far, and Ben’s description of what about these gorgeous studs speaks to him most makes for incredibly hot reading.  This is exactly why I think the world needs more homoerotic wrestlers blogging.  Ben Monaco on the mats is guaranteed to make me explode (particularly when lips are involved), but Monaco Off the Mats takes us into that interior monologue, sorting through the tastes and kinks, lusts and longings that we might never catch wind of watching the bruising Canadian smothering some lucky bastard with his pecs.  I love the titillating glimpse inside Ben’s head, having spent hours enjoying lingering looks at his delightfully hot body soaked in sweat.

The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling

And one last item in friend-of-neverland news, Drake Fucking Marcos has been updating his new blog, Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling as well, demonstrating one of the most delightful side-effects I’ve enjoyed from chatting with on-screen wrestlers over the past 4 years: learning that these guys are complex and passionate about all sorts of things on and off the wrestling mats.  Personally, I’m hoping we get to read more of the internal smack down between Drake and his mild-mannered alter ego, D2.  When they start arguing with one another in print, there’s something incredibly sexy (in a twisted, probably diagnosable way) about it all that gives me a strong hit of Brad Pitt and Edward Norton pounding the living shit out of each other (well, Brad pounding the living shit out of Edward) in Fight Club.  Which suddenly makes me think what an insanely hot idea for a homoerotic wrestling fiction piece: Brad and Edward facing off again to settle just a bit of all that confusing, fucking hot, dissociative, violence-inspired self-love/hate sexual tension.  Yes, that’s what I’m picturing when I read Drake interrupting and slapping down D2.

Drake Marcos wrestles with himself.

I can’t promise more frequent posts for the near future, sadly, but I’ll do my best.  In the mean time, I’m thrilled that the homoerotic wrestling blogosphere is increasingly populated by more tasty treats for us all to enjoy.

One final news-ish note, I got an alert from Blogger (corporately owned and barely run by google) that they will be “cracking down” on blogs that “monetize adult content.”  Since I don’t get paid penny one from this blog, I’m assuming this does not refer to me.  I have been sorely tempted, but in the end declined several requests to post actual ads on the pages of this blog, even for the producers and companies that I talk about incessantly in my posts.  Are homoerotic wrestling sellers “adult websites?”  Is my rave, uncompensated review of a product an ad?  Are our google overlords so ridiculously underworked that they are seriously going to spend time trying to whitewash their empire as other than fueled by guys getting off on online content?  If someone else has a better platform to suggest, let me know.  I’ve been wanting to buy back my soul from google for a while now, and perhaps this “threat” about adult content is just the thing I need to jump ship.

Freshly Inked

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I think it’s been a while since I mused over my infatuation with tattooed wrestlers.  It’s true that my own ink likely biases me toward my appreciation of illustrated hunks, but then again, my appreciation of illustrated hunks definitely influenced my own body art choices.  Not everyone looks good inked.  Definitely not all ink looks good, as far as I’m concerned.  But there are many tattooed wrestlers who instantly own my allegiance when the step onto the mat or into the ring, in large part because they’ve got incredibly sexy ink that I crave to see wrapped up all over their suffering opponent.
Here’s some of my choice pics from the recent crops of new release homoerotic wrestling products, featuring ink that grabs my attention and makes me pull for one hardbodied hottie over the other based in large part on the artistry they embody even before they sculpt their bodies into that most provocative aesthetic form: homoerotic wrestling.
Illustrated Eli: BG East’s Mat Hunks 9
Okay, I love me some Cameron Matthews.  His attitude, his wit, his relatively recently redefined incredibly conditioned physique, that ASS(!!!)… it’s hard not to find myself wanting to identify with the babyface brawler turned muscle daddy for a heel bid.  But fuck!  Eli Black works his magic in my shorts once again in Mat Hunks 9, solidly holding my gaze and making me acknowledge he’s my boy in this match, and I have to think it’s his ever growing collection of tattoos. 
Kevin Crowes’ crows: Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4
A relatively recent release in what I think is Can-Am’s best genre contribution to homoerotic wrestling pits epically long-time favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy of mine, Rusty Stevens, against almost painfully beautiful pretty boy, Kevin Crowes in Pro Sex Fight 4.  I have a documented record years-long that proves that there’s almost nobody to compete with Rusty Stevens in delighting, entrancing and infatuating me, starting well before he lays a finger on an opponent.  And Rusty’s got some sweet ink, albeit he could use some touch ups, if you ask me.  But Kevin Crowes’ combination of imminently fuckable classically proportioned beauty along with his bold, massive, gorgeous ink does what perhaps only one man before has been able to do: hold my attention and settle my ass securely and convincingly in the opposite corner from Rusty Stevens.
Paul Hudson’s tatted bicep makes Lon Dumont just a little less pretty.

Lon Dumont’s skin is smooth, clear and entirely absent of foreign pigment.  It’s not the art tatted onto Lon’s body that has propelled him into the top echelons of my favorite homoerotic wrestlers, but the incredible beauty of his competition physique paired with a smart, vicious persona and high quality pro wrestling execution.  What could make me root against my reigning favorite!?  I think it’s two things, really.  One, there’s something deeply stirring watching a whittled to an anatomy chart physique star go slack over and over in a knock outs match, and (more to the point of this post), his opponent Paul Hudson surprises me by smacking me firmly into the Hudson camp with his bulging trunks and upper arm ink.  Lon’s face slack and smashed into the black band inked across Paul’s right bicep is simply gorgeous.

Illustrated MJ rides Attila’s ass

The 3rd match in Mat Hunks 9 catches me by surprise by how compelled I am by it.  Attila Dynasty (and in particular, his ass) has long been an infatuation of mine.  But MJ Vergara is visually astonishing the moment he walks into the BG East mat room and shoves Attila stumbling ahead of him.  The mohawked muscle man is amazingly built, veins popping, muscles bulging, 25 inch waist (my guess, I haven’t measure him myself… but I’d be very happy to).  His bold, beautiful tattoo stretched across the whole of his left pec and massive deltoid and trapezius muscles is simply beautiful! Attila is such a smart ass, such a cocky, swaggering, proven-dangerous son of a bitch, of course, and there are plenty of matches in which that character is exactly the one I can’t wait to watch work up a head of sadistic steam all over his crushed opponent’s body.  Not this time, however.  Fuck, I’m all on board with compact muscle stud MJ going ape shit all over Attila’s fine, fine ass, and I’m thinking that he’s got me sucked in to identifying with his plans for bully revenge thanks in large part to that gorgeous ink that absolutely swallows up Attila whole.

Beauty and power you just have to touch.

Chace LaChance and Braden Charron in BG East’s Summer Sizzler’s bonus are both in the best shape I’ve ever seen either of them, and sporting more ink than I think we’ve ever seen on either phenomenal muscle men.  All of that inked muscle wrapped around each other, squeezing, stretching, and flexing is breathtaking.  Who to root for when both stunning physique stars are in the best condition and most extensive ink ever?  It’s a toss up for me, but I’m not complaining.  There’s no way this can miss!

 Big Sexy’s big, sexy ink on display.

Less surprising is Thunder’s Arena’s Big Sexy owning my lustful allegiance in Battle Space 45.  If there’s a “total package” in homoerotic wrestling these days (by the way I estimate packages, at least), Big Sexy probably has the best claim.  He’s smart and funny, highly skilled on the mats, handsome as hell, beautifully built, one of the most fuckable asses on the planet, and all of that beautiful artwork!  Both an artist and a work of art, I’m entirely a Big Sexy fanatic when he steps onto the mats with the entirely tattooless muscles of a muscle star, Muscles.

Oiled ink on ridiculously hot Landon Conrad.
Naked Kombat’s newest release makes me gasp.  Even if Landon Conrad didn’t have a few, modest tats  on that insanely hot muscle bod, he’d definitely be my man in his match against amazingly hot, yet somehow unavoidably diminished in comparison, Alex Law.  However, ridiculously handsome muscle hunk Landon does, indeed, have tats that drive home the point that this porn gladiator is suddenly my #1 Naked Kombat kombatant in any match for the foreseeable future.
Specimen illustrates total domination.

Thunder’s Arena has long been the place for the battles of the big men, and Battle Space 46 is a prime example.  Looking for everything like Superman’s alternate universe arch enemy Bizzaro, bad boy and mighty meat head Vinny was never going to be my man after the tiff he dusted up around his “gay taunt” earlier in his Thunder’s career.  But then again, with beautiful, branded beef like Specimen is serving up, it wasn’t like Vinny had a chance anyway.  Beat his ass, make him cry, and give him an up-close examination of every tat, Specimen!

My final tat shout out is for another a BG East newcomer, bad ass Vic Madone.  Vic is a perfect example of the difference between still frame homoerotic wrestling images and homoerotic wrestling in action.  In still frame, this gorgeous stud is GORGEOUS!  I mean, crystal blue eyes to swim in.  A face  that should be hocking ultra-expensive men’s cologne. A lickable body that appears to be the perfect intersection of form and function.  Even with all of those very, very nice tats, I could picture still-frame Vic easily donning a tuxedo and walking a red carpet (and then climbing into a wrestling ring for a rip-n-strip extravaganza).  But when I watched his debut match on Mat Hunks 9, there was nothing “pretty” about Vic.  He mumbles non-stop, and I’d pay money for a translator, because I’m sure that incessant trash talk is sexy as shit.  But Vic is an object of my lust like Michael Imperioli is in the Sopranos.  He’s rough, mean as hell, machismo oozing out of his pours, and absolutely BRUTAL!  Personally, I’m likely to root for anyone going up against Ray Naylor simply because I’m dying to see someone seriously ride that epic ass of his.  But Vic is honestly phenomenal in this match, slowly warming me up from an initial tingling in my crotch to a full-on raging fever over the course of the first 5 minutes.  I pity anyone who faces this hot, inked hunk, but I fully expect that if anyone does, you can count on me standing right behind Vic in anticipation of him doing serious damage.

So ink seems to be adding up to my allegiance lately.  Of course, just because I’m rooting for one wrestler to win doesn’t mean I don’t thoroughly enjoy being surprised, having my boy bested, watching the power I’m invested and identified with tamed and conquered.  But tattooed muscles wrapping up and locking down an outmatched opponent is a particular brand of hot for me.

DrakeFuckingMarcos

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Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat
About halfway through my interview with BG East new kid Drake Marcos, I sat back and told him that he had a lot to say that needed to be said.  I still harbor a seriously raunchy wrestling fantasy in which Drake and his doppelgänger, John Fugelsang, rip and strip one another to pieces until one is riding the other like a Funny or Die video starring Dave Franco.  Drake’s got that persistent, perpetual smile on his face every time the camera rolls, unable to disguise (if he wanted to… not that he does) that there’s nothing in life he likes more than to square off against another wrestler and see what crazy shit happens next.  He’s well read, well spoken, and he connects the dots between a lot of topics that I intuitively recognize as closely tied, but have never, myself, managed to articulate as clearly as Drake does how all of the pieces fit together.  Gay culture, wrestling fans, homoerotic wrestlers, body image, gear, pain, domination… all of these elements are part of what moves me most about the subject of this blog, but there’s a proportionality and aesthetic about the precise concoction of each element.  Too much body worship without wrestling, or body worship that bleeds into body fascism, or aggro wrestling that buys too much wholesale a hetero male macho construct, and the whole hot genre starts to crack and peel away.  What I like about Drake, both in my interview that I posted and in several private conversations since, is that he’s got both an all-in enthusiasm for homoerotic wrestling and a critical eye for what works, what doesn’t, and why some things that seem to work perhaps shouldn’t.
Ray Naylor rides Drake in Mat Scraps 2

So I started early and continued often to tell Drake he should open up his own corner of the interwebs and get his words out there unfiltered.  A couple of weeks ago, I got a cryptic message from him: “Shhh… he’s writing.”  A few days later, I got this link: Drake Marcos: The Cheshire Cat of Homoerotic Wrestling.

Ray squeezes the smile off Drakes face

You want to check it out.  Like a few before him, Drake tells a bit about his early days of discovering the erotic satisfaction of wrestling.  Unlike anyone I’ve ever read, he writes with the voice of both of his personalities (diagnosable, to be sure, but somehow that much sexier!).  D2 is apparently a highly calculated, cautious, deliberate planner who thinks the hell out of everything.  I’m guessing it’s D2 that brings the critical lens that catches me off guard when I’m chatting with him/them.  D2 is not impetuous or impulsive.  I picture D2 as an aspiring chess grand master, which makes total sense to me how he could both find his way onto a wrestling mat and execute a studied, dispassionate game plan to topple and conquer a hardbodied hunk with plans of his own.

Drake gets himself into the sweetest of tight spots!

Then Drake interrupts him, at times a little unkindly (“Shut up you sappy windbag!”).  Drake is raw, running on red bull and a hard on.  I’m guessing it’s Drake whose grin stretches from ear to ear when he stares down an opponent, picturing, perhaps tasting the carnal delights he’s about to sample in hard, sweaty, vicious wrestling.  Drake fires all cylinders on intuition and lust.  Drake gets himself into precisely the tight spots that all of D2’s planning is intended to avoid.  Drake loves to hurt an opponent. He loves to be pushed to the edge of endurance and have his impressive tolerance for pain tested to its limit.  It’s Drake that fearlessly faces down an opponent, whether it be a muscle stud in a singlet or D2’s own self-doubt, and I strongly suspect that it’ll be Drake that gets into more enviably tight spots (aka, face buried deep up Gabriel Ross or Ray Naylor’s ass).

D2 may be wondering what Drake got him into

Looking forward to hearing more from him/them!

Don’t forget, you’re buying the popcorn!

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Eli Black faces Cameron Matthews in BG East’s Mat Hunks 9
I haven’t thought of Eli Black as a flirt before.  A sexy, dangerous, vicious grappling machine, yes.  A flirt?  No.  But BG East, in their wisdom, brought out some awesome new sides of my first (and so far only) 3-time homoerotic wrestler of the month by pairing him with one of the most engaging, flirtatious, wittiest grapplers on anyone and everyone’s payroll, Cameron Matthews, in new release Mat Hunks 9.

An ass-lovers feast for the eyes!

First let me just get the most obvious out of the way and say connoisseurs of fine, athletic, aesthetic wrestling asses will be in heaven.  Cameron was barely edged out of the title of best ass of 2013, and no one, including Eli Black, has failed to notice that Eli’s lean, lean, lean rump is simply phenomenal.  In many ways, this is a study in contrasts, with Cameron’s meaty, round bubble butt juxtaposed next to Eli’s anatomy chart muscle glutes.  On the surface, this just begins to describe the apparent contrasts in this bout.  Cameron is much better known for his extensive indy pro wrestling credentials, compared with Eli’s high performing amateur wrestling and cage fighting MMA resume.  Cameron is a champion smart-ass, slapping down both trash talk and flirtatious double entendre in an intoxicating mixture that no one I’ve ever seen before can quite duplicate.  Eli, on the other hand, seems to approach his matches with a more upright, straightforward mental approach, testing himself and his opponent until he finally finds 5th gear and goes ape shit all over whatever slice of beef gets trapped in his arsenal of holds.  I can’t remember Cameron ever failing to speak directly to the homoeroticism of his wrestling, while I can’t remember if I’ve ever seen Eli name the homoerotic tension in his work out loud.

Cameron brings out something new in Eli
That’s the last time I can write those words, because well before these two mat hunks get their hands on one another, Eli has more than risen to the occasion of Cameron’s flirtation-laced psych-up/out pre-match trash talk.  As they snarl back and forth at one another about talk being cheap and whether it was worth Cameron’s wait for tardy Eli to show up, Eli smirks, “I can more than pay for something!”  Like a lightening strike, Cameron makes his move to knock Eli on his heels with a pick-up line. “Good! You’d be a pretty good date, you know?”  Lesser men have been caught flat-footed in the line of fire of Cameron’s double entendre offense, but Eli just cracks the slightest smile and tosses it right back in his face. “Don’t forget, you’re buying the popcorn.”  
Voluntarily and forcibly compromised positions abound
In a different context, this could be a train wreck about to happen.  If either one of these beauties uttered the phrase, “No homo,” I swear I’d have turned off the DVD player in an instant.  But not only do they not back down or apologize, the sexual tension and double entendre grow more explicitly peppered throughout some incredibly beautiful mat wrestling.  Eli offers to start the second fall with Cameron in his guard, meaning all of the sudden Eli drops to his back, lifts his knees, and invites the indy pro veteran to climb on board.  “I don’t know if I know you that well!” Cameron protests half-heartedly, his gaze lingering at his opponent’s waiting crotch.  It’s only about 2 seconds of apparent indecision, but holy shit, I think somebody just out-eroticized Cameron Matthews!  A smart-ass retort, either verbal or physical, isn’t on the tip of Cameron’s tongue.  He has to think about it, ever so briefly.  Oh my god, Eli Black just out-flirted Cameron Matthews!
Saddle up!
It’s a rare, possibly unique moment to see in a Cameron Matthews match: he’s ever so briefly the one caught flat footed by an overtly homoerotic offense.  Again, the wrestling action that ensues is intense, powerful, and incredibly gorgeous.  But not long after Cameron brings the pinfalls back to even, it’s the indy pro veteran who grabs the bull by the balls, so to speak, and ratchets up the sexual tension much, much more than I’ve ever seen in an Eli Black match.  Dropping to his hands and knees and shaking that stunningly hot bubble butt, Cameron muses that Eli looks like a man who likes to be on top, so he’ll offer to start the next fall in referee’s position.  “Saddle up!” Cameron chuckles, spreading his legs and arching his back just a bit.  It’s Eli’s turn to raise his eyebrows and have to think for a second.  And perhaps we find the edge of the envelope, as far as Eli can go.  Rather than hold the erotic tension, he finally just shakes his head and marvels at the technical mistake Cameron is making by starting the fall off in such a vulnerable position for someone as skilled and proven-dangerous as Eli is.  The upright, straight-spined Eli kicks it into high gear, as the flurry of holds and counters gets nastier, more vicious, and stretches both boys to their limits.

Eli wrings the sweat out of Cameron’s gorgeous muscles
Bodies and experience like these two bring to the mat guarantees that this is astonishingly entertaining wrestling.  While I love, love, love the smart, whip-cracking homoerotic banter, and I’m always a fan of the explicitly homoerotic side of homoerotic wrestling, when push comes to shove, it’s wrestling that tops me off.  And the wrestling in this match is a delight, with notorious sweat-stud Cameron glistening starting at about the halfway point.  There are wrestling products in the universe that leave me unconvinced that either pain or hard work were actually involved as the suspension of doubt wears thin for me, but this is the opposite of one of those matches.  I buy every second, as big, beautiful egos and powerful bodies pound and crush and rip and wrench each other with such force that it hurts just a little to even watch.
Cameron teaches the new kid a little humility (just a little).
The explicit storyline is that Cameron is here to teach relative newbie Eli a lesson in humility.  So much love, so much attention has been heaped on Eli, and not just by me!  It’s been, what, a year and a half since the stud puppy first climbed into the Rock Hard Wrestling ring and introduced the homoerotic wrestling world to the fatal mistake of underestimating the damage this brutally lean gladiator can inflict?  A year and a half, and he’s been my homoerotic wrestler of the month 3 times, mentioned in 24 posts (this makes 25) here at neverland and elsewhere interviewed and broadly admired.  Which perhaps puts Cameron’s initial response to me when he won my homoerotic wrestler of the month title into perspective.  “It’s about time,” he said simply.
Flirtatious banter and play turn joint-cracking serious

Their match in Mat Hunks 9 is a barnburner to the very end.  The power moves and muscle-against-muscle holds stubbornly persist until the very last moment of this match, when one truly astonished hunk takes a bruising blow to his ego by being forced to utter the final and decisive 3rd-in-a-row submission.  This is extremely high quality mat wrestling, entertaining glimpses into both the intellectual and kinetic smarts of both boys, and chart-topping sexy, sexy, sexy viewing.

Shrines

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“…a complete stranger’s secret masturbation shrine.”

A link to this post from Thought Catalog was forwarded to several of us with an overlapping interest in blogging and BG East.  It’s a clever, well-written post from some straightboy in California who stumbled across a particularly indicting… well, let’s just say indicative… scene on a recent walk in the woods in SoCal.  The author, I’m sure correctly, surmises that this is what is left of a remote jackoff session, with the remains of black-and-white computer printouts of “semi-nude male wrestlers.”  Referring to this as “a masturbation shrine,” the author marvels at the untold story of these artifacts.  Why, for example, did the owner of these images travel to such a remote spot in the woods to settle in for a moment of private ecstasy?  With the obvious availability of these images from the internet, why leave the color computer screen behind and surreptitiously carry black and whites 4 miles up a hiking trail and into the bushes to possess them for gratification?

The stuff of fantasies: Kid Karisma wrings the sweat out of Jake Jenkins in Hunkbash 12.

The reason this perhaps tongue-in-cheek blog post was forwarded to several of us was not so much for the words, but the images attached.  Take a look, and you’ll see that these are not simply printouts of “semi-nude male wrestlers.”  These are shots of some of the finest, sexiest BG East boys (with copyright intact, no less) going at it in the ring!  The close-up photo from the blog post is easiest to identify.  It’s quite clearly my top contender for the status of my favorite homoerotic wrestler, Kid Karisma, bearhugging achingly pretty, barefoot beauty, Jake Jenkins and showing absolutely no mercy in Hunkbash 12.

Barefoot beauty Jake Jenkins looks achingly vulnerable under Kid Karisma’s control

Studying the more wide angle on the scene, I’ve managed to identify 2 of the other 3 images.  Both also come from Kid K and JJ’s smokin’ hot match in Hunkbash 12.  One shows Jake looking for the world like a reincarnation of barefoot gladiator babyface Kevin Von Erich from the 80’s, getting his arms stretched out behind him as Kid K takes advantage of JJ being flat on his fine, fine ass.

Kid Karisma feels Jake’s hot body melt in a sweat soaked Boston Crab

The other image I can make out (anyone else decipher the badly “soiled” image on the bottom?) is an exquisite shot of Jake sweaty and slapping the mat in agony as Kid K torques the living shit out of JJ’s gorgeous lower back in a spine-snapping, ass-bonanza Boston Crab. Readers of neverland may remember that this is the match that, at the time, Kid Karisma identified as easily his favorite. In my interview with Kid K, he marvels at the memory of “getting a hold of that body!… I mean, I truly got to work him over completely!,” Kid Karisma enthused. “But when I had him in the Boston or bent over my knee…God, you can just feel his body melting and weakening…pretty epic.”

Pretty epic.
Epic indeed! This is quite clearly the stuff of fantasies, clearly a fantasy match for Kid K, absolutely a fantasy match for me (it’s one I come back to again and again!), and obviously a fantasy match for the creator of this masturbation shrine in the woods. I don’t know if necessity is what drove this person to find such a remote site to let the fantasy take him, or if he has a particular thing about black and white homoerotic wrestling images enjoyed in the woods. Or perhaps, as the Thought Catalog author suggests, perhaps this is making an ironic artistic statement on the disposability of culture and passion.

Fueling fantasies near and far.
Whatever it is that explains or describes the person who left these images behind, I know one thing for sure: he’s a homoerotic wrestling fan like you and I are.  And perhaps like the Gideons and like me, he’s just spreading the word about what he’s passionate about, leaving behind some provocative images that, while lost on a straightboy remembering sorting himself out as a kid to National Geographic boobies, may yet inspire another hiker to catch a glimpse of what turns him, and me, and you on: hot, hardbodied hunks wrestling for our enjoyment.
Worth a 4-mile hike.
If the kindred spirit who left these images in the woods happens to read neverland, let me know you’re out there, buddy.  Let’s strategize a better way for you to access the beauty of Kid Karisma making Jake Jenkin’s muscles melt under his control in a Boston Crab.  And I’ll personally do my best to get you an autographed, color photo from at least one of these fantasymen.  A 4-mile hike to spend time with them?  You deserve at least that!

Heel = Jobber [Guest Blogger: Alex]

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In trying to help Bard with content, I have discovered that writing for a blog is difficult. Maybe I just don’t have that much to say. One of my limitations is that I don’t watch nearly as much wrestling as others. So today, I’m going to flip the script and ask you a question. I’ll seek your advice and perspective.

I admit it. I liked Barry Horowitz, with his pulled-too-high trunks and back patting antics. Barry, Reno Riggins, Brooklyn Brawler … these are just some of the guys who I don’t think I ever saw win a match, but I found their arrogance and optimism oddly appealing.
Sure, Brawler, you’re going to be the one to defeat Tatanka. Good luck with that.
While face jobbers are required to look scared, weak and may not even mount any offense, heel jobbers start out with unearned confidence, a bag of dirty tricks (that are doomed to fail) and manage to get in a few licks before the inevitable ending.
So, are there any really good heel jobbers right now?

It’s a real question. Maybe there are and I don’t know it. As I said, I don’t watch a ton of wrestling these days, so there could be. There are definitely heels who lose occasionally, especially against other heels, but I’m wondering about a strong guy who walks in wearing black, talking tough then gets beat down by the talented face. Are there any who lose with Darius-level consistency? Are there any who maintain, rather than suppress, their inherent heel-ness while losing? Is there a heel equivalent of Braden Charron?

What if Darius wore black instead of pastel blue?

What if Braden wrapped his muscles in leather instead of the flag?

These guys could still job, but they’d job with an attitude. They’d go down to the man in white and pink, still mouthing off until they lost consciousness. I have to say that I have seen this from Aryx Quinn, but not sure if there are others.

Does it happen? Is the idea even appealing? I’d love to hear thoughts.

TMI

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As a lover of expressive language, I tend to hold contempt for text-talk (smh), but this tidbit I recently ran across leaves me with nothing to say except for “TMI.”  It was the headline “MMA fighter sues sex shop over burnt penis” that sucked me in, along with an arousing photo of said MMA fighter, Michael Waylon Lowe.

Michael Waylon Lowe: 32 y/o, 5’7″, 145 lbs., 14-4
So the gist of this story as best I can tell from reading it multiple times on different sites (because it’s a little unbelievable and hilariously/tragically salacious) is that this hard-bodied fight machine was playing the part of the hard-bodied sex machine with his fiance’ (who has no penis, sadly), when during an intermission, his cock began to burn and swell up to alarming proportions.
Just let me be clear.  This sounds like serious shit.  There’s a bit of tongue in cheek to a lot of the online coverage of Lowe’s lawsuit (I mean, his cock swelled to alarming proportions during sex… please), but if even half of his injuries are real, he deserves a healthy dose of sympathy and some serious respect for publicizing these details in his bid for a monetary settlement for his pain and suffering.
But there’s just something too provocative about the alluring concoction of details that compose this story.  Juxtapose a ripped, handsome MMA fighter and the details of his application of sex gel and my one-track mind leaves behind the potential merits of Michael Waylon Lowe’s claims against Kama Sutra Pleasure Balm Prolonging Gel.  Instead, I’m helplessly left to imagine what a far, far better world it would be if MMA competition always involved “pleasure balm” (not the kind that leaves you permanently scarred and dysfunctional, though).
I like the intensity of MMA competition.  I don’t watch it often, but when I do, I’m stoked hard and breathless right quick.  There’s a powerful eroticism to the element of danger, of two ripped, conditioned, highly trained combatants using their bodies to hammer, choke, or rip each other apart.  It’s an element that I miss when homoerotic wrestling is too playful, silly, or slapstick.  I like stakes, tension, and competitive aggression.
Lorenzo Lowe (no known relation to Michael Waylon Lowe) gets tortured by MMA fighter Eli Black
Davie Lowe (no known relation to Michael Waylon Lowe or Lorenzo Lowe) suffers in oil beneath the muscles of Terry Reed.
I also like explicitly homoerotic content, with two wrestlers above-the-table turned on by one another.  I think the sweet spot for me typically resides when these two elements (competitive intensity and explicit homoeroticism) are perfectly balanced.  If the intensity and competitive spirit are lacking, the hottest bodies in the most explicitly erotic circumstances can sort me out, but they don’t hit me where I really live.  And as I said, I don’t often watch MMA for the same reason (along with frequent homophobic ventures of prominent MMA personalities).  All physical aggression and combat can sort me out, but I’m typically providing some erotic backstory in my own imagination to connect all the dots that truly entertain me.
Hope you’re back to full function soon, Mr. Lowe
Back to Mr. Lowe’s burnt and disfigured penis, though.  Fuck, that sucks.  If you’ve had similar results from using Kama Sutra Pleasure Balm Prolonging Gel, let us know.  Play safe, fight hard, and keep fucking!

Summer’s Back!

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I was pulling weeds in my front yard yesterday and caught my first sighting of the season of a truly stunning specimen of a hunk jogging in front of my house shirtless.  I mean, this boy was gasp-worthy. Amazingly broad shoulders, lightly hairy and powerful pecs, defined six-pack, lean & defined quads.  Handsome face with a square jaw, short-cropped near-buzz-cut.  But as he passed me and I stared openly, the view going was more incredible than the view coming.  Incredibly gorgeous, muscled back tapering down to a narrow waist, with those hot, thin nylon running shorts slit up the side encasing incredibly powerful glutes bulging so beautifully I could’ve set my Mai Tai on top of that shelf.  As I watched the specimen for two blocks before he turned up a street, I could help but smile to myself and mutter, “Summer’s back.”  Here are a few more backs that make me sit back, admire, and imagine….
One of the most gorgeous shots of my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler: Lon Dumont in Tag Team Torture 15.
Current top contender for the favorite title showing off his award winning backside: Kid Karisma in Matmen 23.
Alexi Adamov’s beautiful back muscles and bulging butt in Ring Revenge 1.
The stunningly pretty shelf of Pretty Pete Sharp from Gazebo Grapplers 14.
Paul Perris’ vintage backside beauty.
Multiple HWOTM winner Denny Cartier’s beautiful back in trouble in  Ring Revenge 1.
Chace LaChance’s stunningly built back displayed to perfection in Braden Charron’s bear hug in newly released bonus to Summer Sizzlers.
Tyrell Tomsen’s physical perfection from trapezius muscles to calves in Strip Stakes 1.
Another vintage babyface bodybuilder back belonging to Can-Am’s Jonny Olson
Cameron Matthew’s sweaty back glistens in new release Mat Hunks 9.
Brad Barnes bulges everywhere. Everywhere. As he surveys demolished Chace in Pec Bash 2. 
Incredibly broad wingspan on long, strong Paladin facing Stage 2 of Jonny.
Rio Garza showing off his Can-Am credentials along with his professional physique model body.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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Last month I skipped crowning a homoerotic wrestler of the month based on my fundamental lack of arousal at the overall offerings available in the new release homoerotic wrestling section in April.  Happily, I found several sweet treats in among new releases in May to give me some legitimate choices to elevate one wrestling hunk to the pantheon of my new release favorites.  There are several honorable mentions I want to note, including the phenomenal Marcus Ruhl who I went dizzy for in a review of his May 15 Naked Kombat match against Jeremy Stevens; Thunder’s Arena’s new most-phenomenal-ass-debut of Kid Titan going pec-to-pec with muscle monster Specimen in Rough and Ready 40; fratboy compact powerhouse Atom showing how mouthwatering a catch-weight crushing can be when he’s owned by the massive muscles of massive Muscles in Battle Space 41; Brodie Fisher at Rock Hard Wrestling initiating a long, lean rook by the name of Colton Palmer in Boxing Gone Bad; as well as RHW’s Josh Steel stealing my attention with that insanely tempting ass as he works over new kid Alex Waters in Out Muscled.  That’s a seriously satisfying back bench of second-stringers, so I’m not saying a bad word about the state of the industry these days.  I am, however, saying some good words about a wrestler not among these also rans, who has tantalized and tempted me repeatedly over the past month to keep checking out his body and body of work.  My new reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month is…

… Naked Kombat’s Will Parks.
5’11”, 180 pounds, hot, handsome hunk Will “still waiting to punish” Parks

Will is one of the reasons I’ve resigned for yet another re-subscription to Naked Kombat after they lost my business when they, for all intents and purposes, went out of business a while back.  They’re back, and now I’m back, and there’s something a little surprising to me about the way that the image of young, handsome Will Parks keeps playing in my mind hours after I watch him wrestling his pick-up opponent John Jammen on May 8.  Clearly the kid is a hot hunk of meat, don’t get me wrong.  He’s 5’11”, 180 lbs., and handsome as shit.  Of course I like the look of Will, particularly with a liberal dousing of sweat.  But there’s something more that he brings to the table that I haven’t entirely put my finger on.

A lot I’d like to put my finger on…

NK’s new thing is to give all of their wrestlers sometimes forced also-known-as names, and for my new HWOTM, it’s Will “the Punisher” Parks.  Ironically, with his loss to everyman opponent John “Jizz on Your Face” Jammen (see what I mean?) on May 8, “the Punisher” is running an 0-3 record at NK, proving that he’s more likely to be punished than do the punishing.  Perhaps that something unfingered has to do with this combination of earnestness/Clark Kent sincerity along with his twice-fucked-and-back-to-fight-another-day vulnerability.

Will’s muscle back and hot ass are in a league of their own on this mat.

That said, it’s not exactly hard to imagine an opponent giving it a second thought when the day comes to actually face this beautiful hunk in a fuck-stakes mat tussle.  180 pounds doesn’t convey the weight he carries as his sweaty chest heaves and the veins rise across his bulging forearms. On pluck and attitude, I don’t doubt for a second the story that Will showed up for the NK taping to find his scheduled opponent didn’t have the balls after all to risk the damage that “the Punisher” is determined to hand out to some lucky bastard destined to be his first get-out-of-jobberhood-free card.  They supposedly start the taping with Will ready to just lift his fist in victory with a smirk and a snide comment about the cowardly no-show, when off camera someone (two someone’s actually) chime in to say that they’ll take a crack at Will’s gorgeous ass.  It’s John Jammen who peels off his t-shirt first to take the mat, an untested, unknown quantity (like seriously, where did this dude come from?).

Beauty and the beast, and that’s just what Will brings to the mat!

John is nowhere near the level of physical conditioning that porn athlete Will Parks is.  I mean, not a chance in hell.  I’d say there’s a beauty and the beast aspect to this juxtaposition, but Will is both beauty and beast to John’s much more run-of-the-mill body.  The drama has captured me by this point, as contrived as it may be.  I’m thinking to myself that the Punisher has finally met his first loser.  Jammen is 2 inches shorter and a reported 25 pounds lighter, though I’m skeptical because the boy carries a bit of a half-inflated tire around his midsection that’s got to weigh him down more than the reported 155 pounds.

Will’s hot body dominates the man off the street in round 1.

After round 1, my excitement to see hunky Will Parks get down to punishing is seriously stoked as he leads bench warmer John by 5 points.  Experience and strength seem to be showing. The kid’s muscles pumped and glistening are just incredibly beautiful.

John knocks the Punisher on his ass to pull up to even.
Round 2 seems to start to turn the tide, in part aided by a sharp elbow strike to Will’s forehead that leaves the wunderkind reeling.  John’s strongest offense comes in racking up gratuitous NK points by sitting his ass down on Will’s chest and molesting his tasty body.  Talk about drama.  He’s pulled back to even to end the 2nd round with both kombatants tied at 32 a piece.
Will’s over the top erotic suffering in round 3 seals the deal.
Round 3 is looking worse for the mysteriously alluring Will, at least at times.  I often think that NK points are a little like Olympic figure skating scores.  Honestly, this hardbodied porn athlete was owned by luckiest bastard on the planet John!?   I am a surprised as Will obviously is to learn that John outpaced him to take the entire match with a score of 52 to 46.  I suspect Will loses points he’s legitimately earned by just looking so damn HOT when he suffers.  All that gorgeous, powerful, pumped muscle getting ground into the mat is such a hunkbash feast! I’d still seriously enjoy watching the punisher unleashed in round 4, but I could understand why an NK judge could be swayed by the promise of watching how sweetly Will gets crushed and owned in the sex round.
Will suddenly looks like the hot high school chump getting erotically bullied in the bathroom.
And, indeed, he’s a goddamned artist on the receiving end of sexual domination!  Again, I’m getting close to fingering what it is about him that grabs me so hard here.  He goes from a young, hot hunk with a heaping helping of mature beef on his bones to looking like a barely legal muscle kid in way, way over his head, which is a compelling journey!  I am NOT a fan of bathroom sex.  I’ve got way too many OCD features (short of a diagnosis) to be fully engaged with a public restroom sex romp fantasy.  So I’m only lukewarm on rookie John’s ownership of Will’s hot, hot ass.  The hairpulling is definitely nice, no doubt…
Will gasps.
…as are the fishhooks.  Stretched out over the urinal, however, makes me think of nothing by a need for a can of lysol.  But fuck, fuck, fuck, Will crumbles and whimpers so damn hot!  There’s a little taste of fear mixed with excitement along with a chaser of awe at his own physical response to his everyman conqueror.  This is a sweet elixir the Punisher mixes.
0 and 3 with NK, but #1 in my book: HWOTM Will Parks
John’s post-match interview solidifies my impression that this guy just can’t quite believe his luck in getting a crack at this match.  “I mean, he’s a beautiful guy!,” the goofy, overenthusiastic rookie gushes, looking over his shoulder at the porn athlete standing stone-faced behind him.  “And an amazing ass!,” John adds, his eyes wide with sincerity.  When it’s Will’s turn, the interviewer tells him he did a hell of a job, and “you can’t win them all.”  “Yeah,” Will grins, “but it would be nice to win one.”  When the interviewer almost apologizes that they keep punishing the Punisher, Will shrugs like a classy dude and says, “It’s okay. I think that I secretly really like it!”  Yes, Will?  Do tell!  When asked about the bathroom sex round, Will struggles to find the words.  “The bathroom, well, yeah,” he says, looking around at the facilities. “It wasn’t my favorite place to go, you know.”  And perhaps in this post-match testimonial there are the elements the less than obvious allure of Will Parks for me.  He’s got the heart of a jobber, but he’s got standards.  He promises that he’ll come back to NK, and I for one am waiting with baited breath.  In the mean time, he can sit that “AMAZING ass” down on the neverland throne (which is nowhere near the bathroom), because he may be 3 and 0 on the mat, but he’s unquestionably on top of my list of wrestler’s slapping down a favorite new release in May!