Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month

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September saw a bumper crop of highly entertaining homoerotic wrestling releases! Occasionally, I find the field a bit sparse some months, but that’s not the case as I consider which new release featured the homoerotic wrestler who entertained and turned me on most. Whenever BG East releases a new catalog, they automatically become the wrestling to beat for my monthly title. Catalog 89 is no exception to that rule. From Florida Fights 3, Kirby Stone, Mitch Colby, and Cole Cassidy rise to the top of my affections. In fact, Kirby’s fierce beatdown and ownership over Reese Wells was unexpectedly moving, and I’m instantly craving more of the nasty babyface with that fantastic ass! The Science of Scissors pushes my buttons hard from start to finish, and Rio Garza, Jimmy Gee, Trent Blayze and Attila Dynasty could all equally merit the crown. Patrick Donovan’s Wrestler Spotlight makes me wonder how it’s possible that Patrick has never possessed one of my titles, not to mention the always enticing stylings of Tyrell Tomsen and Joshua Goodman (that’s Mr. Joshua to you!), who’s still chomping at Kid Karisma’s ass to muscle his way back into the top contender spot for my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division. Muscle god Dev Michaels, sexy rookie Lucky Loko, Jonny Firestorm (and especially his forearms) and Brook Stetson (both looking to claim the monthly title a second time) put in fabulous bids for September’s homoerotic wrestler of the month distinction. And still more from BG East, Cain McDonald’s amazingly hot ass, Z-Man’s coverboy pecs, and Skrapper’s intense, primal sexuality have all made me do a double take at Mat Scraps 1. And double rookie debut Magnus and Surge both put up completely competitive performances for Wrestle Worship 3. Rio Garza gets a second nod for his Can-Am appearance working out some long-built frustrations for that astonishingly long line of heel beatdowns, working over perpetually over-the-top Jobe Zander in Rio’s Revenge. From Rock Hard Wrestling, another two former homoerotic wrestler of the month title holders bring a fantastic ring battle to be considered this month: Jake Jenkins and Lucas Payne.
There were a lot of other releases in September that tempt me to make this long list even longer. But I’m drawing the line there. The rest, however delightful, are only also rans for my affections. That’s already 22 wrestlers working me hard, making this one of the tough, tough calls in the history of my homoerotic wrestlers of the month. Regular readers know that I frequently find myself moved most by the unconventional choices, the wrestlers who may not be the prettiest or appear to be the most popular in the discussion groups. With that caveat in mind, I’m boldly stepping forward, lifting the crown, and placing it squarely atop the shaggy brown mop of hair atop the head of…
… Z-Man.

Yes, perhaps my tastes this month uncharacteristically overlap with the majority (though I don’t think Neilsen’s actually has hard numbers on viewership of homoerotic wrestling). I’m not ashamed to say that the pretty, pretty, pretty (pretty, pretty, pretty) prettyboy Z-Man turned me on arguably the most for his Mat Scrap with one of my long-time, low burning crushes: Skrapper.
There’s always an inherent tension in picking a homoerotic wrestler of the month based on matches released in the prior month. For one thing, it takes two to tango, so to speak, so a particularly fantastic match is seldom built on the performance of just one wrestler. Mat Scraps 1 is a case in point. I’m turned on more and more every time I see Skrapper in action (keep your eyes open for more news on that front). His absolutely lovely delivery of both pain and humiliation on Z-Man is testimony first and foremost to his quickly evolving homoerotic wrestling expertise. He dishes out precisely measured portions of agony and ego-busting embarrassment, and he displays the coverboy’s picture perfect physique with incredible generosity. And I’ve got to say there’s something astonishingly sexy about Skrapper’s deep, bass voice. Not everyone who uses the word “Dude” with such frequency has the same effect on me, but that voice of his rumbles out of some deep, dark place where a seriously ferocious, primal lust to dominate lives.

So it should come as no surprise that Skrapper could just as easily been crowned this month for his work with Z-Man. However, it’s upon Z-Man that I’m placing the crown of laurel, because for a smokin’ hot hunk who’s always had a truck full of potential for homoerotic wrestling entertainment, for me this is the first time I’ve thought his delivery fully lived up to his potential. I’m being unkind when I say that I wasn’t always sure from Z-Man’s work with other companies whether he was burning at full wattage. There’s something bordering on thick-headed about his persona in the past, and pretty and smart turn me on about 100 times more than pretty and dumb. But I feel like in Mat Scraps, I got a glimpse of not just a pretty face (and ass, and pecs, and biceps, and ass, and ass…), but a clever hunk who can tell a story on the mats. He suffers exquisitely in Skrapper’s machinations, but Z-Man also remembers where they are in the plot. When Z-Man’s upper lip curls in fury as he rips apart Skrapper’s crotch like a Thanksgiving wishbone, the symmetry is beautiful. In almost the precise place and position in which Z-Man himself had been ripped apart earlier in the match, he gets his revenge on the wiry one.

It’s not as if I’ve ever not been turned on by Z-Man in still frame. His body is a work of art. His milky smooth skin stretched over an extraordinary gym body is captivating. But more than ever before, I believe Z-Man in Mat Scraps. I believe that he’s seriously pissed off that a skinny skater punk should dare to treat him with such contempt. I believe that he’s hurting, that those fists driving deep into the thick muscles of Z-Man’s pecs seriously smart. I believe that the Z-Man has some actual ego invested in meeting his opponent toe-to-toe, in not being made a fool of, in showing that he can corral the innate ham within and bring to bear all that strength, beauty, and yes, even smarts, to give every impression that he wants to be a competitor.

I get this match. Somehow, it seems like this match gets me. Skrapper is a stud that I’ll have more to say about soon, but today, this month, it’s Z-Man that I’m happily rolling back my prior bitchy criticisms of. He delivers powerful, personality-filled, ego-invested wrestling that I enjoyed without reservation. If I’ve ever offended Z-Man for being less than generous in the past, I’m contented to say that he’s made a believer out of me today. And if ever he feels the need to smack me around a little and lock my head between his fabulous legs and squeeze, I’ll certainly understand!

Hercules and the Giant Antaeus

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Cage Thunder’s blog post today lays out how he envisions a match playing out between new BG East wrestler Magnus and him. Cage has some inspiring ideas of the twists and turns in the drama that would undoubtedly unfold. Even conceding 40 pounds and 5 inches in height, Cage is thinking that he’d have Magnus’ number in the end. If anyone has the experience, savvy, and skill to conquer muscle freak Magnus, I’m thinking it’s Cage Thunder.

There’s a whole lot I like about Wrestle Worship 3. First and foremost, I’m excited to see another installment in the wrestle worship franchise. I own and love WresWor 1 (mmmmmm… Rafe….) and 2, and the notion of gorgeous bodies slipping seamlessly between battle and lustful adoration is one of my favorite homoerotic wrestling scenarios of all time. When wrestlers work up a roaring head of erotic passion out of the intense physicality of a battle for domination, it strums a chord right at the heart of my wrestling kink.

6’4″, 230 pound Magnus is fucking huge. When he’s posing in the mirror in the BG East matroom before his opponent arrives, he looks freakishly massive, but it’s only when Surge walks into the room and steps in front of Magnus that it’s entirely clear that Magnus isn’t simply huge. He’s fucking huge. 5’11”, 185 pound Surge is quite the impressive muscle beast himself, but lets face it, he looks relatively juvenile dwarfed in the shadow of the gargantuan wonder.

There are two things that occur to me as I watch the beginning of their tussle. First, I’m thinking that Magnus would be his own ride in that homoerotic wrestling theme park that I fantasize about every so often. I’d wait in line a long time, with a bottle of baby oil in hand, to have a go at studying every inch and ounce of his astonishingly worship-worthy body. The second thought that occurs to me at the start of this bout is that “little” Surge is like a hero of Greek mythology. He visibly swallows the stark terror that’s got to be washing over him and then bravely demands that Magnus wrestle him. “I’m not afraid of you!” he lies.
As you might guess, Surge is completely outmuscled by Magnus. It’s not as if it’s a surprise to see the 6’4″ muscle freak pick up, throw down, toss and crush his opponent without breaking a sweat. What’s more compelling for me is the gusto with which sexy Surge keeps throwing his own beautifully muscled body at the monster in front of him. While Magnus admires his own double bicep in the mirror, Surge creeps up behind him and struggles to wrap his arms around the massive lats and traps in front of him. I mean, literally, he struggles to extend his limbs sufficiently to be able to manage a full nelson on the wide open bodybuilder. When he does finally manage it, Magnus seems to barely notice. He simply steps backward and crushes Surge against the wall behind them. Surge loses his grip and slides off as Magnus returns to the middle of the mat to flex for his own pleasure some more. Undaunted, Surge sprints across the room and launches himself into the skyscraper again, lacing his fingers behind Magnus’ neck and making the muscle freak stumble backward. Here’s where I’m fascinated most: Magnus struggles in the full nelson! He strains and stretches with the ferocious terrier latched to his back. Sure, he eventually charges backward and slams Surge into the wall again, winning his freedom. But Surge’s determination to face down these incredibly long odds makes me, despite myself, start cheering for him!
Picture Hercules wrestling the giant Antaeus. That’s what I’m seeing as I watch, inspired by the sight of beautiful muscle hunk Surge get ground into the dirt and relentlessly keep coming back for more. Surge clearly has something to prove. He’s obviously not familiar with the feeling of being overpowered, and he stubbornly keeps launching one doomed effort after another to bring the giant to his knees. For his troubles, Magnus grows progressively nastier in dishing out his punishment, slapping down the Greek hero more and more brutally. And the longer Surge refuses to stay down, the more sexually charged the contact grows between them. When the square cuts come off, Magnus somehow seems to swell even larger.  He stands like a marble statue as Surge tentatively, almost fearfully peels the yellow trunks down Magnus’ freakishly thick thighs. When thongs get stripped not long afterward, the timelessness of this battle seems that much more poignant. I think it’s incredibly astonishing (and just damn unfair!) that Magnus’ beer can cock is perfectly proportioned to the rest of freakishly huge body. Again, Surge is no slouch, but he seems somehow merely mortal as he faces down the side of beef hanging between Magnus’ legs.

I’ve already lingered quite a bit on three particular moments in the homestretch of this mat battle. First, there’s a moment when Magnus has pounded Surge to his back on the mat once again. They’re both naked, and Magnus saddles up on top of Surge’s chest, slapping down his monster cock. The proximity seems to send Surge over the edge, as he desperately stretches his neck and lips to grab hold of the giant’s feast. Magnus teases him, keeping the tip of his head just a fraction of an inch out of reach of Surge’s hungry mouth. Eventually, Magnus demands that Surge “flex those big pecs” of his (I LOVE it that Magnus acknowledges Surge’s rocking physique!). Crunching out his pecs, Surge is delighted to be treated to Magnus stroking his cock, tightly squeezed in the crevice between Surge’s thick pecs. A second intoxicating moment in the match for me is the last of a whole boatload of bearhugs that Magnus applies crushing Surge, making him scream, swinging him about like a rag doll. The last one is over relatively quickly (though it’s not hard to imagine Magnus maintaining the hold for a week and a half). Both wrestlers are naked. Surge’s sweet ass is on gorgeous display. My herculean hero thrashes, throwing his upper body in every direction to try to loosen his captors grip. The pain in his voice as he submits once more is simply sublime! And the final moment captivating me is the sight of the two warriors standing, cock-to-cock and pec-to-pec in the center of the mats. From behind, Surge nearly completely disappears behind Magnus’ hulking form. Magnus holds Surge’s face in his hands, staring down domineeringly, as Surge lustfully slides his hands around the back of Magnus’ hips, grabbing the thick and meaty glutes of the superhuman giant. Pause. Rewind. Play again.

This is an excellent new addition to the Wrestle Worship series for many reasons. Magnus is a force of nature that, I predict, would stretch even the skills of someone like Cage Thunder, which would be simply priceless to watch! And sweet, sexy Surge is irrepressible. Watching him wrestle with his own stubborn refusal to admit defeat, only to see his desire to conquer morph into a lust to worship his conquerer is over the top hot. What a combination!

Asses Named

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So how did you do on our back-to-school edition of Name That Ass? Pull out your bubble sheet and let’s review the answers.
Ass #1 belongs to…

… BG East’s Cole Cassidy.

Cole’s body is sculpture. Every inch of him (at least every inch I’ve seen) is stunningly proportioned and absolutely perfectly Cole. That this perfectly tuned weapon is in the possession of such a sadistic heel ought to make much more competitive wrestlers than poor Brendan Byers quake in their wrestling boots. When Cole plants those muscled glutes across the mouth of devastated Brendan in their newly released match in Florida Fights 3, for that half a minute as Cole flexes and preens in victorious ecstasy above him, I’m bitterly envious of Brendan.
Ass #2 belongs to…

Rio’s got to have earned major frequent flyer miles getting that beautiful ass beaten from Florida to Boston to Los Angeles. He has some of the most loyal fans on the planet, and while I don’t consider myself a Rio devotee by any means, I unquestionably appreciate the aesthetic lines and sculpted contours of Rio’s beautiful body. I loved the concept of indy pros Cameron Mathews and Paul Hudson putting on a 2-on-1 clinic for Rio to tutor him in the arts of a professional-quality wrestling beatdown in Can-Am’s So You Want to Be a Pro Wrestler. Here’s another fantasy concept I’m just throwing out there… how about a rookie tutored by a pro and a homoerotic fantasyman? The pro beats him senseless and the fantasyman sexually dominates him.

Ass #3 belongs to…
… BG East’s Lon Dumont.
Ironically, the close-up of Lon’s ass appeared in the quiz right next to his image as my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division in the right margin. In particular, Lon is pictured here crushing the skull of Doug Rand on opposite sides of their Tag Team Torture 12 encounter. Lon has been in sole possession of the #1 spot in my non-pornboy rankings for a helluva long time, particularly considering he hasn’t had a new release in a little while. And still, hands down, he’s my favorite for his equal portions of smoking hot competitive bodybuilder physique and wrestling kink golden pro wrestling persona and ring skills. I’m not ashamed to say I’m a little obsessed with Lon, particularly after our delightful interview earlier this year in which he revealed himself to be both everything that turns my on in a wrestler as well as a damn fine human being. For those who regularly write me, asking for any news of the hunk, I’m deeply thrilled to pass on three titillating tidbits I’ve gathered: 1) Lon has achieved even more stunning development of his physique as he enters the new bodybuilding season, 2) he is still sporting the full head of hair he foreshadowed last winter, and 3) he and his full head of hair and mind-blowing muscles will indeed be showing up again in action for BG East!

Ass #4 belongs to…

… BG East’s classic workhorse, Bryan.

This beautiful, blond stud seemed to have been marching arm-in-arm with Kid Leopard in the pioneering early days of BG East. I think he was never more arousing than when he was 100% pro, in the ring in boots and square cut trunks and slamming some hot, pretty young thing’s face into a turnbuckle. However, the matroom pairing of Bryan and a very young, tan, in the peak of fitness Brad Rochelle in the seminal edition of Ultra Fight is awfully, awfully compelling. Those are two incredibly notable asses locked together in one hot, ferocious battle!

Ass #5 belongs to…

…Can-Am’s Beau Hopkins.

I repeat myself when I say that his opponent in Supermatch 11, Tom Flex, knew exactly what he was doing when he locked his crushing legs around Beau’s narrow waist, squeezed until the dark, hairy hunk screamed out, and then yanked on Beau’s trunks so hard that they entirely disappeared between those astonishingly beautiful ass cheeks. This is also a reminder of the delights that we miss out on, with the absence of baby oil in homoerotic wrestling for many years.

So it appears we have our work cut out for us as we start the new school year. No perfect scores were recorded for this Name That Ass quiz. The eternal strengths-based instructor, however, I think that just leaves so much more room to improve and to grow in our expertise when it comes to the studied appreciation of homoerotic wrestling asses.

Name That Ass

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I’m pretty certain that no one, but no one, loves a good game of Name That Ass nearly as much as I. Despite that fact, and in honor of the beginning of another school year, here’s a brand new quiz with the  invigorating smell of mimeograph still clinging to the page. Your reward for being the first to name all 5 of the following asses, as well as their opponents in the matches pictured, will earn you top marks, the right to pick the next Name That quiz genre, and elevation alongside of Topher as the only students to run the board in a Name That quiz. I think relatively novice homoerotic wrestling fans should get a couple of these glorious glutes. Well-versed fanatics will likely get 3 or 4. It’s the seriously obsessive homoerotic wrestling fanatical nerd who will name them all and recognize their opponents. Let’s hear from you, fellow nerds!…
Ass #1:
If you’ve ever seen these muscled buttocks, the image has remained seared in your brain. And if you’re at all like me, they’ve popped up with some frequency in sex fantasies. Everything about this man is distinctive, and I, for one, would recognize that ass anywhere!
Ass #2:
That, my friends, is a tasty ass! Doesn’t that just scream out for a severe tongue lashing?! His opponents (hint, hint) for this match lashed him with a whole boatload of other methods, but not their tongues, sadly.
Ass #3:

Don’t recognize this ass? For shame! The owner of this ass has already been guaranteed a spot in this blog’s favorite moments of the year wrap up that I do as the clock ticks down on each calendar year.
Ass #4:

Just look at those perfectly round glutes! This entry leaves a little more of a “classic” taste on the palate, so relatively old school homoerotic wrestling fans may have a leg up in identifying this beautiful piece of ass. I think it’s an expert, indeed, who can name his opponent as well!
Ass #5:

To quote Maggie Smith (which I do often), “Yummy, yummy, yummy!” This close up is a work of art, I think, and the inspiration to yank so brutally on those fluorescent trunks is pure genius. Whether you can name this ass or not, I think we should all be able to agree that just taking some time to linger on the image is reward enough. My guess (I’m often wrong) is that this will be the toughest item on today’s quiz, separating the boys from the men. I’m hopeful that I’ll hear from some men who can put their finger on the identity of these simply gorgeous, shiny glutes.

So welcome back to school, everyone! I hope to hear from you all what sexy wrestling adventures you got up to over the summer break. And even if you can’t name all of the asses above, feel free to submit your work (single-spaced, 1″ margins) in the comments below, to let us know how far you got. You may begin…

Life Imitating Art Imitating Life…

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Almost exactly 1 week after I posted my latest fictional homoerotic wrestling match, in which Hugh Jackman unloads a can of whoopass (and just unloads) on babybadboy wannabe Taylor Lautner, Hugh Jackman apparently appeared on WWE and unloaded a punch onto some bleach blond WWE boy in “real” life!

My imagination has been casting Hugh in wrestling action for a couple of years now, but I honestly never imagined that the Aussie would ever actually appear ringside and get in the action. Apparently the whole thing, including the PR stunt afterward in which the bleach blond boy reported that Hugh had fractured his jaw, was one massive product placement for Hugh’s new big screen release, Real Steel. The premise, I gather, is that Hugh character is a washed up boxer who ends up training a robot boxer in the sci fi world of the future.  It’s a kid-buddy movie with a cheesy premise and lots of scripted pseudo-violence… therefore there was no better situation in which to drop the product placement than WWE.

Whatever my ambivalence about WWE and mainstream straight pro wrestling, I’m completely stoked by Hugh being game to appear in a high profile wrestling venue in the pursuit of its promotional value. Who do I need to fuck to get Hugh’s next movie to feature him as a male stripper recruited into the world of underground gay wrestling videos, in which he gets his ass kicked (a lot!) early on, but he perseveres in the biz until he’s built legitimate wrestling credibility and does a major heel turn into a seriously sadistic, ball bashing bastard who learns to seriously love destroying an opponent and then working out a geyser of passion across his opponent’s beaten body?

Cause that most excellent movie concept would REQUIRE an appearance in the next homoerotic wrestling video in order to promote the flick to its true audience (you and I). I’m committing myself here and now to see that movie in the theaters at least 10 times, and then buy two copies of the DVD release. Who’s with me?

Short of that, the sight of ripped hard hunk Hugh in the ring beside an overtanned wrestling hottie will almost certainly inspire another appearance of Hugh in my homoerotic wrestling imagination!

What’s Been Unsaid

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After nearly about a month and a half, I can finally spit out the metallic taste of blood from my mouth! When I made my pilgrimage to BG East in August, I was treated to the privilege of seeing photos from all of the catalog 89 new releases. It was a profound thrill, like being told that I, and I alone, could open all of my Christmas presents a week early. But then I couldn’t talk about it! I couldn’t write about it! I couldn’t obsess on the pages of this blog about each and every tantalizing, confidential morsel from catalog 89 that made my mouth water. I’ve been biting my tongue non-stop since August 5th, and I’m overjoyed that BG East has released catalog 89 for purchase. Let the obsessive reviewing begin (and the healing of my bitten tongue)!!!

I’m just hitting a few highlights for today, because there’s just too much that I’ve had bottled up that I’ve got to say about so many of the new releases. So in addition to nearly making want to cry to see Mitch Colby barefoot in the ring in Florida Fights 3, I’ve been aching to comment on match #1 from that same DVD. Hell and damnation! Kirby Stone can WEAR a pair of skintight shiny pink trunks! That ass has most certainly caught my attention!
Pretty much precisely the same thing has to be said about Cain McDonald in his appearance (taking fall #1!!!) against Mikey Vee. The legs and ass on this grappler make me gasp! That face looks just about too juvenile to feel entirely guilt-free about, but that lower body is 100% guilt-free adult male entertainment.
Next up on the comments burning a whole in my belly: Dev Michaels looks like a fucking monster in the ring against slender, unclassically but undeniably handsome newbie, Lucky Loko. Man alive the two of them make for an astonishingly arousing picture! The fact that Lucky didn’t run screaming from the building on sight of Dev makes him a hot commodity in my book.
And speaking of monsters in the ring (I’ve been DYING to use that line!), has it escaped anyone’s attention that Attila Dynasty appears to be smuggling major meat in his trunks in his scissor fest against Trent Blaze?!!! If the summer Olympics have taught me anything, they’ve taught me that gymnasts are sexy as hell, and the pics of Attila’s acrobatics in the ring have caught me completely off guard. I had no idea from his debut to expect either all that Attila can accomplish without his feet on the ground, or the massive ballast in the pouch of those powder blues (I’m heading back to Backyard Brawls 7 right now for another look).
Next up, it simply must be said that the sight of Z-Man clawing Skrapper’s chest and swinging for the rafters makes me just about ready to pop right here and now. If I know Skrapper, however, Z-Man better not count him out a moment too soon!
And I’ve been anticipating the hating for a while, but I call it like I see it. And as much as the sight of Rio Garza’s body getting worked over (and that face crushed between his opponent’s legs) is like icing on the cake, the pics of Jimmy Gee’s slabs of beef that are his muscled ass has got the be the most delicious main course in this match for me.
I’ve also been aching to say that it’s about time for another installment of Wrestle Worship. I love this concept. I need more of this concept. And newbies Magnus and Surge appear to dish up an extraordinary amount of eroticism with delightful proportions of both wrestling and body worship. Does anyone else wonder if Magnus requires his own zip code? And speaking of numbers, does anyone have Surge’s telephone #!?
Again, I’ve been dying to celebrate the return of ripped, rock hard Tyrell Tomsen. I can’t think of a better opponent to pick apart a bodybuilder adonis than the likes of sexy-assed veteran Patrick Donovan.

And finally, Mr. Joshua, Patrick, barefoot, in the ring, with Patrick’s testicles getting crushed in Mr. J’s fist… You’ll have to excuse me now. I need to rehydrate after writing those words. I’m sure you’ll be hearing much, much more from me about all of this in the future.

Legacies

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I read a sci-fi short story at some point in my youth, I believe, in which people have the job of deleting electronic files that accumulate over the course of a person’s lifetime. I’m pretty sure I read this well before there were “blogs,” but the idea was already there that people would utilize networked computer technology to broadcast themselves, their trivial thoughts, their kinky dreams, their bad poetry, etc., and their archives would live on well past their deaths. The technological equivalent of garbage collectors would be tasked with combing through the piles of electronic stuff left over at the end of a life in order to clean things up and to delete the electronic echo of a person’s life and creative spirit.

What reminds me of this short story (I can’t remember the name… let me know if it sounds familiar), is wondering what happened to the Just Beautiful Men blog. I checked that blog regularly for quite a while because, well, obviously, it was filled with images of beautiful men. The blog is still there, but it hasn’t been updated since October 29 of last year. I just emailed the blogger… hoping to hear that he’s just moved on and doesn’t have the time it takes to invest in posting new material (trust me, I’d understand). On the other hand, it makes me think about my own legacy and what happens to the ridiculous amounts of myself that I’ve invested in neverland over the past two and half years. What happens to neverland, to my homoerotic wrestling fiction, to my passions and musings and bad poetry when I die?
Dark, huh? Well, in honor of the inspiration that Just Beautiful Men has brought me, and as a send-up to my own longing for eternal clemency from the big delete button in the sky, I’ve worked the simply beautiful man featured so tantalizingly on the last post of JBM into my homoerotic wrestling fiction. This is hardly some work of charity, of course. This guy is astonishingly beautiful. The photos nearly make me cry looking at them (which was a frequent reaction I had to Just Beautiful Men). So this blond adonis hardly needs any justification for earning a spot in my homoerotic imagination or in the pages of my fiction.
As summer fights valiantly to fend off the encroaching autumn, I’m particularly loving the sight of thick, muscular thighs, which the coverboy in question has in abundance. JBM thinks that the awe-inspiring hunk may be Danish. I’d buy it. Scandinavian boys have been turning my head hard lately.
So next up for me in the download of my vanity will be a Sidelineland short story, the next chapter in the Brothers in Arms superhero serial, which will include the introduction of a character built on the physical, aesthetic template of the most recent Just Beautiful Men coverboy. And if JBM is still out there and kicking, I hope he’ll shot me an email to let me know that life is simply too engaging (and hopefully pleasing) for him to have had time in the past 11 months to post.

What Goes Around

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Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4 
Reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month, Rusty Stevens, is no stranger to the pages of this blog. He’s the third most cited wrestler here at neverland, and now that he’s back in the business, I wouldn’t be surprised to see him growl, flex, and dominate his way past my second most frequently cited wrestler, Brad Rochelle. Then again, with the news that Brad isn’t done with his contributions to homoerotic wrestling, it could be a dog fight. Let’s just sit with that image for a moment… Brad, Rusty, in the ring, brutalizing one another for their places in the pantheon of homoerotic wrestling iconography. Holy hell, now that would be a fantasy match that would make my head explode…
Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight 4
Rusty is nothing if not provocative. At least, he never fails to provoke me. Perhaps the move the provoked me most was Rusty’s announcement that he was retiring from porn. I was instantly somewhere around both the 1st and 3rd stages of grief, desperately denying that Rusty’s retirement could include his work in homoerotic wrestling, and bargaining, pleading for his wrestling prowess to be exempted from his move away from the industry. Rusty went silent for nearly a year. I documented the existential crisis that this provoked within me, as I had to decide what to do when my very long-running favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy walks away with the title still belted around his waist. I felt toyed with, betrayed, angry, sad. So it should come as no wonder that I was profoundly moved yet again when Rusty showed up this summer in Can-Am’s Pro Sex Fight Series. He isn’t in quite the muscle-brute shape he once was, but he has precisely that same snarling, slicing, crushing mouth on him that has made one adonis after another wither. Regular readers here should have experienced no surprise at all to see Rusty crowned homoerotic wrestler of the month a few weeks ago.

Can-Am’s Wrestle Bait

What Rusty does best, and what really provokes me most, hasn’t changed at all over the course of his homoerotic wrestling career. He delivers a cocky, contemptuous, ferocious character with smarts to match his beautiful body. I believe the first sight I had of Rusty was his Can-Am appearance against gorgeous tattooed porn god, David Taylor in Wrestle Bait. Rusty was lean and mean, and though the “prisoners forced to wrestle and fuck at gunpoint” gimmick was a little distracting for me, I already detected that Rusty was a hunk who hated to be dominated nearly as much as he loved dishing out humiliation. If David ever showed up on Naked Kombat (which seems entirely possible) to face Rusty, I’d put a whole lot of money on Rusty crushing David like a grape. In Wrestle Bait, the action was more scripted, and both boys took their turns on top.

Naked Kombat – Rusty Stevens v Tommy Defendi

I think the next notice I took of Rusty was discovering his back-catalog for Naked Kombat. Holy fuck! Rusty was made for Naked Kombat, and vice versa. In fact, every Naked Kombat match I watch now I automatically compare with Rusty’s performances. Arguably the most stunning physical and sexual domination I’ve seen from Rusty was his oil match against doe-eyed Tommy Defendi. This match is not close by any stretch of the imagination (7-58). However, unlike many squashes, Rusty has no problem maintaining intensity, pushing the pace, innovating and ad libbing, and making every single second pure joy for any homoerotic wrestling fan. I still think that his leg scissors choke on Tommy after everything else is said and done, barking at the loser, making Tommy stroke himself almost to climax and then denying the loser the right to cum, over and over, until Tommy is nearly ready to explode from the sound of Rusty’s voice alone… that’s got to be one of the most pristine, purest, unadulterated moments of thrilling wrestling kink I’ve ever seen.

Can-Am’s Arena Part 1

Rusty’s meteoric rise in the rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys, however, really dates to his return to Can-Am, sporting his Naked Kombat physical conditioning, in the Arena series. Again there’s this incredible moment that frequently replays in my mind of Rusty having obliterated Brian Bodine in Arena Part 1, leaving the gorgeous hunk ass-up and unconscious in the middle of the mat. Aryx Quinn strolls in and insults Rusty’s handiwork, questioning his manhood, laying down a challenge of wit and skill. What the fuck was Aryx Quinn thinking? With his huge, beautiful cock erect and bobbing up and down as he strolled around Bodine’s unconscious body, Rusty unleashes a trash-talking assault on Aryx that twines together humor, domination, and humiliation in a way that I’ve never seen the likes of since. Aryx tries to keep up, tries to parry and counter. He’s no match, no how, for Rusty’s smart-ass mouth. The two never lay a hand on each other (until Arena 2), and yet that exchange ranks awfully high on my list of most erotic moments in wrestling.

Can-Am’s Arena Part 2
When Rusty and Aryx finally consummate this marriage of trashtalking and wrestling, yet again I give the verbal domination win, unquestionably, to Rusty. Aryx seems to think that’s keeping up, but he’s just not. Honestly, I get the impression that Aryx may be smarter than the average porn star, but trying to trade barbs with Rusty makes him look like a slobbering fool. The wrestling in Arena 2 is highly enjoyable. As is Can-Am’s way, both boys trade riding time. Rusty looks utterly defeated and humiliated with Aryx fucking him hard. But emblematic of Rusty’s homoerotic wrestling skill set in total, Rusty sneaks up from behind and snatches a crushing victory over Aryx from the jaws of defeat, with Rusty’s furious verbal assault always twice as erotically stimulating as his very hot sexual domination. My #1 criticism of the Arena series is the indulgent need for the whole scenario to be framed as a “Can-Am conquers BG East” backstory. It’s as if Can-Am was taking the opportunity of hiring the likes of Aryx (and Rio and Jobe and Cameron and…), all around that same time, to co-opt BG East fans. For me, that’s never going to fly. The two companies offer entirely different twists to my homoerotic wrestling kink, and every BG East boy that Can-Am touches seems to me to deliver a decidedly Can-Am performance for the west coasters. That’s fine, as far as I’m concerned. But I’ve never found anyone else turning my wrestling kink crank in the manner that BG East does, regardless of the performers involved.

BG East’s The Breaking Point: Sexiest

Ironically, after I went on my original rant calling foul on Can-Am’s attempt to co-opt BG East fans along with BG East wrestlers, BG East turned around and delivered my fondest fantasy. Never would I have imagined it as even a possibility, but just at the moment when Rusty was my #1 favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy and Mitch Colby (the prior #1) was running a close #2, BG East released the two of them in a sweat-soaked mat match in Florida. I hardly need to point out that Mitch (who is by far the most cited wrestler in the pages of this blog), will perpetually own favorite-emeritus status, and I was ready to witness Mitch deliver a wrestling performance that would decisively snatch the title away from Rusty. And it’s damn, damn close! The gallons of sweat make that match hard for me to watch more than about 2 minutes of at a time. Rusty is in the most attractive physical conditioning of his career (for my tastes… I know that others will disagree on that point). But it’s that mouth of his, as always, that made me confirm that Rusty remained at the top of the heap. Mitch took the match victory by jacking off Rusty in the end, but it was Rusty’s mouth that owned my homoerotic wrestling lust. “I’m thinking you may want to say you give… but then again my ass in your face.”

The Once and Future King?

So Rusty’s back. He sounds like he’s been smoking a lot, as he coughs and sputters in his suffering in the Pro Sex Fights (5 features Rusty against Michael Vineland, already available in Can-Am Max). He’s not as hard or big as he’s been in the past. And the stories seem to be built around the concept that the “returning veteran” needs to get schooled by the young new breed of homoerotic wrestling pornboys at Can-Am. He tops and bottoms (as is Can-Am’s way), and he strokes and gets stroked in the midst of entertaining pro-ring wrestling (which is a formula that I wholeheartedly endorse). But there’s no mistaking it. This is Rusty: beautiful, nasty, cocky, selling every second, and trash talking in a league all his own. Keep it coming, Rusty! Mitch may be ripe to get knocked out of the contender spot for my current favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy!

Colliding Assets

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Rock Hard Wrestling’s newest release features a battle between two of my former homoerotic wrestlers of the month: Jake Jenkins and Lucas Payne. Both Jake and Lucas wrestled their way to the top of the ranks in their respective months by turning me on with their gorgeous bodies, snarling cockiness, and highly skilled salesmanship in the ring. Bodybuilder Lucas got my nod back in the beginning of May thanks in large part to his ability to paint such a vivid character with his knack for mocking his suffering opponent and growling like a grizzly. Muscle stud Jake hip-tossed the competition out of the way two months later with his seriously entertaining and hot wrestling savvy that was totally unexpected for such a green rookie.

With two such great tastes climbing into the ring together, this was bound to make me happy. I’m thrilled to report that I’m deeply satisfied with the result! Both Lucas and Jake bring the best of what they do to this match. They’re both jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Lucas growls and humiliates like a nasty bully with a serious delight for domination. Jake tosses, pounds, flies, and works that hot muscle ass of his off from start to finish. It’s a relatively quick bout, but it has a whole lot of the elements that get me off, including that famously astounding camera work that RHW does better than just about anyone, taking you so close to the action that you can just about smell the sweat beading up in the deep crevice between Jake’s pecs as he applies grunting, crushing body scissors on a desperately thrashing Lucas.

The premise for the match plays right into what these boys do best, even if it may be a tad predictable. Jake is “Mr. Skills,” calling out Lucas, who is lifting his “baby weights” at ringside, as being nothing but a bodybuilder pretending to be a wrestler. Skill versus power, big versus little, cocky muscle hunk versus cocky muscle hunk, with bragging rights that much more important for these two young, built, and testosterone-fueled bucks. Side by side you might think that it’d be a stretch to sell Jake as ready to stand toe-to-toe with such a big, beautiful bodybuilder. Jake is giving up a reported 3 inches in height (looks like more), and 15 pounds in weight (again, looks like more). But Jake is fucking fast and furious, and I wouldn’t doubt for a second that any encounter between these two boys would be seriously competitive. When “little” Jake snaps on a full nelson and locks his knees around Lucas’ incredibly narrow waist, clamped across Lucas’ back like a tick, the big bodybuilder’s voice sounds sincerely pissed and frustrated as he does his futile best to dislodge his opponent. “Get off me!”

I’ve lobbed armchair criticisms at RHW in the past for any number of weaknesses, but this match seems like solid wrestling entertainment to me. The holds continue to be too brief, each advantage milked simply too little to fully believe that these guys have quite a passionate lust for domination. But the range of the action is hot as hell. Lucas’ repeatedly digs his claw into Jake’s luscious pec, even while the bodybuilder is crushing the air out of Jake’s lungs with his pride and joy “thunder thighs” squeezing out his fantastically enviable bodyscissors (I’d trade places with Jake in a heartbeat if Lucas promised not to let go of those scissors until I screamed). Jake’s ability to toss, slam, and have his way with his bodybuilder opponent makes me gasp in awe and count up the abundance of evidence that Jake’s had a wrestling resume long before we first saw him at RHW. The sight of Lucas pulling Jake off his feet in a string of bearhugs (including a beautifully suggestive rear bearhug that REQUIRED me pushing pause, rewind, play, pause, rewind, and play) is profoundly arousing. I found it dizzyingly hot to watch the big hunk with those massively thick arms squeeze the pint-sized dynamo and thrash him back and forth, as Jake’s arms and legs fly about like a rag doll in my terrier’s mouth.

Like I said, I’m loving the range of action that these boys deliver in this match. There aren’t many examples of holds chained together like the veterans do so pleasingly, but both wrestlers mix it up with blows, strength moves, throws, slams, and joint work. Jake uses three out of four corners to launch his increasingly deep arial arsenal. Lucas bounds off the ropes on all four sides of the ring in all-in sprints, and I was powerfully entertained to see the bodybuilder choking his smaller opponent in the middle rope in round 2. They cover the geography of the ring well. They spend good time on their feet, in the ropes, in the corners, in the air (particularly Jake), and on the mat. They demonstrate both speed and power, and between nicely sold strikes and some crafty camera work, I found very little to break my suspension of disbelief that these two rock hard hunks were punishing the hell out of each other.

It’s a rare thing to see two of my favorites go toe-to-toe, and it simply demands comparison not only in the sense of competitive combat (as in which wrestling hunk is going to come out on top), but also in the sense of competing for my loyalties as the cream of the crop. Which homoerotic wrestler of the month alum comes out on top in commanding my lust, when the two display their assets one-on-one for 16 minutes of high quality wrestling entertainment? Neither of these beautiful boys are losers, by any means, and I hope that we see more of both of them, building on their ring presence and wrestling skills and continuing to thrill with the cocky characters that they’ve both impressively established.

But as mouthwatering as it is to watch Lucas work up a sweat, it’s Jake that sells me hardest and most pleasingly. Lucas pulls his weight, no doubt, particularly with selling the delightful sight of a cocky bodybuilder suffering. But Jake’s delivery of the “little man” who’s in control, out-moving, out-maneuvering, and yes, even out-powering his bigger opponent is just the tastiest treat on the menu. Jake simply works harder and sells every second one step more convincingly and entertainingly. He holds the initiative for about 2/3rds of the match, and although that demands a whole lot of exquisite suffering from Lucas, it impresses me and arouses me even more to see Jake maintain the energy and momentum with a steady stream of beautifully paced, skillfully delivered, commandingly executed wrestling entertainment.

Keep up the excellent work, boys!

1 Rocking Hunk

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I strongly suspect that a certain co-author of mine may be clicking his heels with joy that Noah Mills is co-starring in a new CBS series called 2 Broke Girls. It was Metellus who “recruited” Noah to play a starring role in our joint project in the Producer’s Ring, a fictional homoerotic wrestling universe. In our joint imagination (Metellus’ and mine), Noah is an elite executive in the high stakes post-modern universe where the entertainment industrial complex runs the world. In the short story “Global Cooperation,” Noah gets into a bar fight with shirtless, tattooed hunk Mateus Verdelho. When Noah takes some arguably unnecessary liberties in humiliating Mateus, fitness muscle god Tyler McPeak leaps into the action to teach Noah a little humility and lend a hand to a drunken Mateus. Just as the bar boys start to bring Noah to heel, a ferocious David Gandy steps in to even the playing field and come to Noah’s aid. 

In our homoerotic wrestling imaginations, David’s rise to Noah’s defense is clearly motivated in large part due to some lustful admiration that he has for the double-teamed hunk. And checking out the caps of Noah’s shirtlessness from his new TV show, it’s no wonder! Metellus has got an eye for talent, as far as I’m concerned. Noah’s physique is incredible! He’s definitely harder and more heavily muscled than any twink, but Noah is no musclehead, either. His physical balance and beauty is perfectly complimented by a stunningly handsome face that, once again, defies simple pigeonholing. Gorgeous and masculine with a boyishly charming grin, Noah’s mug stands out in a crowd of chisel-chinned, blue-steel boys (such as David Gandy, I’d say).

The caps from Noah’s sitcom debut show him barely squeezed into remarkably low-rise pants, his similarly super-low rise underwear peaking out. The rippled six-pack and armored obliques pointing like an arrow toward his belt buckle are riveting. The super-duper low-rise wardrobing most certainly required some meticulous bodyscaping to be safe for American prime-time. Good God, this is certainly major temptation to inspire me to return to prime-time CBS viewership after a long, long hiatus. Very, very tempting (but I’m not sure quite tempting enough, however).

At the end of “Global Cooperation,” David scrapes Noah, stripped naked, off the pavement and carries him lovingly from the scene to nurse him back to a full recovery. Metellus and I have already batted around some story ideas for a part 2 to Global Cooperation, but the wrestling partner/lovers concept (of which I am many times over on the record as hugely turned on by) seems like it will inevitably play a part. As hot as the  near-porn shots of Noah are from his real-life television appearance, I’d bet money that 2 Broke Girls isn’t nearly as sexy as what we’ve got in store for Noah in the Producer’s Ring.