Author: wrestlebard
Name That Ass
Bill of Goods
With that preamble in mind, let me just ask you: is Naked Kombat’s new rookie, Cliff Jensen, what you’d characterize as a “muscle god?” NK’s text teaser to get you to click through to the match characterizes this pairing as, “Huge-dicked muscle god takes on sexy stud.” Sebastian Keyes is a scrappy little wrestler who fulfills my fantasy of what it would be like to see Seth Green in homoerotic combat. I’m 100% certain that Sebastian is the “sexy stud,” and not the “huge-dicked muscle god.” Which means that Cliff Jensen must be the one NK is selling as the huge-dicked muscled god in this scenario.
At the risk of sounding catty, I don’t buy the line that Cliff Jensen is a muscle god. Huge-dicked, okay. But muscle god? Is this the physique of a muscle god?
I’m probably as culpable as anyone in over-ascribing godliness to certain homoerotic wrestling bodies. But when I wax hyperbolic about a physique, it tends to come from a place of nearly disbelieving awe. That body simply cannot be solely human. His face is too handsome. His proportions are too perfect. When it comes specifically to the characterization of “muscle god,” I tend to picture physique stars with slabs of beef hanging off of their skeletons like a meat locker. “Muscle god,” I think, requires competition bodybuilding quality muscle, thick, defined, a little freakish (though I reserve a whole different class of adoration for the “muscle freak“). I’m picturing the mountainously muscled Thunder’s Arena’s Conan, for example…
…or the inhumanly perfect aesthetics of classic BG East muscle man Wade Cutler…
…or even the simply gorgeous, powerful, thick, hard, veiny awesomeness of Kid Brock.
I buy “muscle god” for a lot of homoerotic wrestling physiques, frankly. There are a lot of fine works of art wrestling out there with entirely worship-worthy bodies with more than an echo of divinity built in. But Cliff Jensen’s charm is just not cut from that cloth, I’d argue.
He’s pretty. His long and hunky. He likes his ass spanked hard, god damn it. And for all of that (along with the stunning body art), I’m a fan of the rookie. But “muscle god?”
Homoerotic Wrestler of the Month
Ah, hell. The task of sorting through the potential homoerotic wrestlers of the month for March is paralyzingly difficult. Everywhere I turn, there’s another beautiful bauble catching my eye. Typically, I like to run down all the contenders, even those who I may not have seriously considered for the title, but who deserve an honorable mention. There are just too many honorable mentions to mention this month, so I’m giving you might top tier, March 2011 elite eight from which I made the very difficult call of who’s taking the title as my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month. No one will be surprised to hear that Patrick Donovan is definitely a finalist, for his very sweet initiation of the Z-Man into the delights of BG East in Sunshine Shooters 4. Z-Man would have gotten one of those honorable mentions if I hadn’t felt so overwhelmed this month (though, I suppose I just honorably mentioned him). Equally unsurprising will be both Brook Stetson and Mitch Colby for their Sunshine Shooters face off. Holy hell that’s one hot, intense match. Kid Karisma slaps away a whole boatload of would-be honorable mentions with his freckled bulging bicep and fantastic victory celebration over Christian Taylor in Wet & Wild 5. Despite my incredulity toward Joe at Ringside at Skull Island for insisting that Ringwars 19 is the must-have collection of the year so far, I have to admit that Alexi Adamov secured his spot in my elite eight this month just as relentlessly as he secured Nick Naughton’s face trapped between Alexi’s sweaty thighs as he dangled from the rafters. I’m giving Naked Kombat’s DJ another very impressed nod into the final elimination round for his total mastery of Kyle Braun on March 23. Spot #7 in my elite eight I’m going to hand to Big Sexy from Thunder’s Arena for exactly three reasons: he’s big; he’s sexy; and he spends about 90% of camera time in No Holds Barred 6 with his hand wrapped around Z-Man’s balls. My final spot in my elite eight had belonged totally and solidly to Cameron Matthews for Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat… until yesterday, when Rock Hard Wrestling came out at the very last second dangling Travis Storm in front of me, pounding a sweaty beat down on Chris Cox/Christian Taylor. The Southern boy with big teeth, a huge back tat, and a hot, fit body turns my eye yet again, and Travis slips in under the wire to be a finalist this month (especially for his fantastic final fall finish as he screams at Chris ferociously with the long and lanky one draped helplessly across his knee).
Damn, that is one fine stable of homoerotic wrestlers who all powerfully impressed me in their March new releases. Sending 7 of these hardbody hunks home seems somehow unthinkable. But you don’t pay me the big bucks to equivocate (I know, you’ve heard that joke before). After agonizing and sweating over this, pouring over match after match, exhausting myself with studying the fine, subtle details that require repeat viewing after repeat viewing, I’ve made my decision. It’s a first for my reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month title, in that it’s a 2-way tie. There’s just no way to give one of these boys the advantage. I simply have to name them co-holders of the reigning homoerotic wrestler of the month title:
Despite my helpless awe in my initiation into the wonders that are Brook Stetson, Mitch quickly grabs me by the chin and demands the appreciation that he’s come to expect from me. This is Mitch in peak physical condition, tanned and toned, thick in all the right places, tight and narrow everywhere else. I could camp out for days on Mitch’s body and never grow tired of adoring his pecs, stroking his powerful thighs, licking his biceps (for starters)…
Faced with a mountain of a muscle man in front of him, Mitch looks vulnerable, which is the beginning of my crazy lust for Mitch to keep facing that fear, to keep getting outmuscled and tossed around by his heavier opponent, to keep getting twisted and pried and crushed and still keep coming back for more.
A Knockout
Photographer Joe Oppedisano simply connects all the dots between wrestling/fighting and homoerotic kink. In addition to some sweet, tasty pics (look under photos/artistic/Knockout), you can also appreciate a “making of” the Knockout photo shoot, via Greenwood Cooper and downloadable via Queer Channels On Demand (QUOD), if you live somewhere quite a ways east of where I live. I can’t attest to the reliability of QUOD, so this isn’t me telling you lucky, lucky boys in the UK to unload some pounds with them (you probably know better than I do). I am, however, quite certain that Joe’s eye peering through the viewer of his camera is seeing exactly what I’m seeing.
The intensity and intimacy of combat is erotic. Period. Straighten it up all you want, but I just can’t bring myself to believe that the homoerotic kink is a late-comer to male combat sports. Joe’s art may shorten the distance between HBO pay per view fights and Naked Kombat, but I refuse to accept that anyone alive today suddenly invented the notion that hot, hard, sweaty men pounding, squeezing, and climbing on top of each other until one of them is flat on his back and begging for mercy is sexy. As. Hell.
Full contact, I’m on the record, is not as arousing and engaging as wrestling for my tastes. It’s not that the moment a big, blond hunk’s eyes roll into the top of his head, as the tatted bad ass cracks his shin across the side of his face, doesn’t make my blood pump in all the right places. It’s just over so quickly. I need a little time to savor it, to milk the moment (so to speak), to be moved by the suspense of pressure and leverage and endurance and domination. When one hunk can turn the lights out on the other in a split second, I have to worry that it’ll all be over and done with way, way too soon.
QUOD tells me that I live in the wrong part of the world to check out Knockout. This is just one more reason I need to move to the UK (along with Russell Tovey, the real Being Human, Ashley Ryder and Grapple 101).
The Sweet Spot
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| Wade Cutler v Phil Latini – BG East’s X-Fights 15 |
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| Cole Cassidy v Tarzan Tyler Reese – BG East’s Ringwars 11 |
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| Kid Leopard v Ken Decker – BG East’s Demolition 4 |
I don’t know the actual sequence of this story, but let’s start with the direct approach. KL tosses the hardbody chest-first into the corner and pounds his knee into his back.
A fourth approach has KL grabbing hold of Ken’s right boot and left wrist and prying them upward in a nasty standing bow-and-arrow. If Ken had been doing his yoga, this might not have been quite as devastating as it looks like it was for him.
Here must be where Cole Cassidy learned it. KL locks up Ken’s legs underneath his armpits and folds the hunk backward. This was not the direction that the human torso was meant to bend. But a fist grinding deep into the muscle surrounding Ken’s spine breaks down the hunk’s core strength that much more. Again, look at the pain on the sweaty face of the catcher here.
Typically, from the last maneuver, an outmatched chump frantically reaches behind him to try to use his hands to protect his assaulted back. Always three moves ahead, KL happily snaps up captain america’s wrists and then leans back. This is nothing if it’s not art. The precision balance, KL’s face flushed with the effort, Ken’s face twisted in agony, and his lower back and shoulders pried starkly in the wrong direction… stunning athleticism, true, but aesthetically, this is art.
I believe that adds up to (at least) 11 ways that KL beats the living shit out of Ken Decker’s lower back. Damn, that’s hot. And once you’ve conquered a muscle boy and left him helpless and wasted on the mat, his back in too much agony to even try to roll over, then it’s time to reward yourself for a job very well done.
In Love and War
The most recent chapter I posted this weekend has Gerard and Henry in a command team screen test against up and coming True Blood hunks, Joe Manganiello and Mehcad Brooks. This is Mehcad’s debut in the Producer’s Ring, but regular readers will remember that Joe not long ago competed in a three-way bout against Russell Tovey and Taylor Lautner to determine who is top dog among the werewolf actors. Joe made a big impression on the the entertainment industry power hitters (not to mention Russell Tovey), and he could be in line for much bigger and better things, depending on how his screen test with partner Mehcad sorts itself out.
I don’t picture Joe and Mehcad to be lovers. I do picture them both buying into the hype surrounding their worship-worthy physiques, however. They’re both determined to not only defeat their opponents, to not only impress the talent scouts watching, but to claim what is rightfully theirs: the awestruck worship of their massively muscled physiques.
And let’s face it, Gerard and Henry are undeniably outmuscled. Gerard is a big, hard boy, but he hasn’t been in 300 shape lately. Henry is just now filling his physique out, renovating a fashion model body into an action hero body. Both of them are damn, damn hot in my book, but when it comes to raw power, they’re simply outgunned by their opponents. However, they have two things on their side that their opponents don’t, and it’s those two crucial elements that will determine which team saddles up onto their sleepered-out opponents to pump out some side-by-side victory explosions: the cub pack is fighting as only passionate intimate partners can, and they’ve got daddy Sean coaching them ringside.
Good luck, Joe and Mehcad. You’ll need it.
Tats Named
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| Brad Rochelle v Alexi Adamov & Bodie – BG Eat’s The Contract 7: Revenge of the Jobber |
Specifically, Brad is shown here displaying that messed up psycho clown tattoo of his as he finishes off both Alexi Adamov and Bodie (both rookies here) at the same time for The Contract 7: Revenge of the Jobber. Brad is simply a classic homoerotic wrestling icon. If you don’t know him, click away from this site instantly and place your order for a Brad Rochelle feature at BG East. Seriously, if you don’t know Brad, you’re banned from finishing this post until you have ordered up some of what no one but Brad can deliver. Start with Brad’s epic introduction of Joshua Goodman (this was before you were required to address him as Mr. Joshua), when Josh was a green rookie. Or to fully understand the “revenge of the rookie” concept, check him out when he was writing the book on muscle jobbing, such as against Dom the Dominator in Demolition 3.
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| Don’t know this homoerotic wrestler? Stop here and go directly to BG East – Brad Rochelle. |
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| Jimmy Dean – Can-Am’s Border Thugz |
Showing off his tummy tat, his smoking hot body with precisely the right amount of body hair, and classic Jimmy Dean ferocity, here he’s completely out wrestling Chris Cumberland (I believe) in Border Thugz. Jimmy started off his homoerotic wrestling career a lot smaller. Much more recently, he’s grown a whole lot bigger. But like Goldilocks, I’m partial to Jimmy right here in the middle, tatted up, thick and hairy, but still life-size and maneuverable. If you tell me that you have no recognition of Jimmy Dean, we need to enroll you in an intensive course of Homoerotic Wrestling 101: Icons of Homoerotic Wrestling. Your first assignment will be to sample the goods of Brad Rochelle and Jimmy Dean, and be able to identify every body part from any angle.
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| STL v Big Sexy – Thunder’s Arena’s Bodybuilder Battle 20 |
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| Joe Mazetti v Ricky Martin – BG East’s Demolition 7 |

Name That Tat
This tat resides on an incredibly meaty left pec. “Honor” it says, with a heart, which should be distinctive enough for you. It’s not the only ink this tanned homoerotic wrestling side of beef owns, but it makes me obsess about licking the sweat off his pec whenever I see it. His body of work isn’t so extensive that I feel like I need to give you a ton of clues, but I’ll just say that his opponent in this indoor bout was an answer to a former “Name That Ass” quiz. If I say more, I might as well just tell you the answer, so that’s it.
Karismatic
Christian doesn’t always appear to be too upset about it, either. I mean, he suffers just fine. He takes a beating, getting slammed and tossed and choked every which way to Sunday, but can you blame him for the irrepressible smile stretched across his lips as Kid K flexes and preens with his cock pressed against Christian’s chin?
But Kid K knows what Christian wants, and all the wrestling foreplay pays off as Kid K wakes sleeping beauty with a kiss. To be clear, Kid K has been smacking down aggressive, stolen kisses frequently during the action. This is explicit homoeroticism that makes me stand up and cheer (once I’ve toweled off). The harder Christian makes him work, the more Kid K seems to grow hungry for the taste of Christian’s lips. Finally laying him out cold, Kid K crouches over his vanquished opponent and tenderly, like Prince Charming himself all of the sudden, he tenderly wakes Christian up in one of the most pleasing ways one can be awakened.
Rough play followed by tender care is one of my very favorite stories of all. Kid K helps the tall, battered boy, woozy from his sleeper, up to his feet. Tenderly, dare I say, lovingly (well, at the very least, lustfully), Kid K wraps his muscle bound left arm around Christian’s waist and lets the pretty boy lean on him for support and balance as they slowly begin to make their way inside. Christian, perhaps not as befuddled and in need of a gentleman’s aid as he might have let on, slides the palm of his hand down the bulging muscles of Kid K’s back and underneath Kid K’s turquoise trunks, copping a quick feel of those legendary muscle glutes. Kid K cups the pretty one’s tight ass, as if in reply, and they head inside.
Fantastic homoerotic wrestling fare. I buy the story from start to finish, of sexual tension that detours through rough housing, bullying domination, building hotter and hotter until Kid K puts Christian out cold, at which point all the allusions and implications are finally played out. They put their cards on the table. And they walk off arm in arm (and asses in hand), both fully aroused and ready to blow. This is a wonderful piece of homoerotic wrestling.























































































