It’s been ages, I know.  I think this has been my longest absence from posting here at neverland ever.  Thanks to those who reached out to check in.  I’m well. Just candles lit at both ends.  I miss the exercise of posting here, thinking through my erotic tastes, comparing notes with those of you who comment.  I’m going to try to get back on the wagon here. Comment often.  It’s positively reinforcing for me.

My goal is to keep things concise in order to post more regularly.  One of my traps is to overthink things, intending to say so much that it takes forever to get down on the page, if ever.  I’m also going to work on reflecting on my homoerotic interests in vivo, spending time more on what’s turning me on as I trek through my days.  And casual readers of these pages know that I tend to spend a lot of time worrying over politics.  So let me handicap the U.S. Presidential candidates today based on the only measure that really moves me: who I’d want to see in a homoerotic wrestling match.

Fuck. With every Republican and his turtle running, you’d think the field would be so much richer than it is.  But, again, I say, fuck.  So let’s start with the standout and most obvious choice over on the Democratic side: former Maryland governor Martin O’Malley.

I’ve been hot for his muscles for years, mind you.  The 6’1″ stud puppy is entirely fuckable, and adding to his allure is the fact that I’m pretty sure big Marty knows it. It isn’t by accident that you do charity appearances that require you to go shirtless.  Of course, I’m not the only one with my eyes on big papa’s pecs. Jim Webb comes in a distant second place for the Dem I’d most like to see strip down, climb in the ring, and work up a hot lather in homoerotic combat.  So sure, Marty’s got a snowball’s chance in hell of being our next Prez, but in the homoerotic wrestling rankings, he’s got the top spot locked up tight in a side headlock.

Finding anyone at all to contend with Marty is challenging.  Assuming they wrestle with a ball gag locked in place so I don’t have to hear a word of their bullshit, it’s still a tough call to imagine any of the other side of the aisle making me consider even the slightest swell of support. Marco Rubio could be a ripe, young babyface jobber worth considering.  I’ve never seen the senator shirtless, and I get the impression he’s a little doughboy underneath his Men’s Warehouse big boy suits. At 5’10”, the Cuban prodigy might make a compelling enough luchador on his way to getting unmasked, tied in the ropes, and totally owned. But I feel like I’m seriously having to stretch my imagination with that one.

Trump requires at least a mention (remember, the ball gag). It really requires no imagination at all to see him as a sloppy, underhanded, big bellied pro wrestling heel circa 1987. He talks shit constantly. He’s all bluster and overinflated ego built on cheating, lying, and stealing his way to the “top.” In the ring (let’s put him in extensive tights, because any more visible flesh than absolutely necessary on that putrid Baron Harkonnen-esque freakshow would kill any chance of a buzz), maybe, possibly I could get off on a high drama greasy, nasty, 6’2″ heel nearly cheating his way to victory of O’Malley with ball bashing and hair pulling, only to have the big, beautiful babyface hero battle back to leave the loudmouth screaming and crying and begging his way to loser-ville.  Still quite a stretch for me, though.

I think my pick O’Malley’s opponent for the money shot, however, is Rand Paul. Again, I feel the need to emphasize that he’d have to wrestle with a ball gag.  But daddy’s little (5’8″) rich boy is handsome enough, with curly locks screaming out to get dragged around the ring by. I see a catchweight match with Marty. Pasty white and soft in the middle, daddy’s little rich boy is all swagger and substance, certain of his manifest destiny to shoot his load across O’Malley’s bulging pecs. And I totally get off on a little guy working a big muscle hunk hard, so I’m giving Rand a ton of riding time, lots of shock and awe, high flying, bouncing off the ropes, schoolboy pins for days. Marty is pressed hard, soaked in sweat, looking like he could go down for the count in a munchkin figure-4 choke that makes both pols hard. But then dripping with melodrama, big Marty flips his opponent and the script, knocking the senator out with half a dozen gorilla press body slams, slapping him awake with his raging cock, and then forcing the ideologue to scream out his weeping submission wracked across the big papa’s bulging shoulders with one hand yanking down hard on his balls and the other pulling viciously on those curly locks.

Yeah, I just don’t see anyone coming out (or cumming out) on top over big Marty so far. And as for the rest of the Republican field, I’d sooner pop wood watching Hillary wrestle, which is a complete impossibility.  Mostly, though, I just prefer them all with ball gags.