Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

The Sweet Spot

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Wade Cutler v Phil Latini  – BG East’s X-Fights 15
In my interview with my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division, Lon Dumont, Lon mentioned that he typically doesn’t have to put a lot of strategic brainpower into destroying his “dim-witted” competition. If pressed, however, Lon says that he sometimes will choose to isolate a body part. Personally, I’m a big, big fan of a ringmaster chaining together move after move, all concentrating systematic, brutal, and incapacitating punishment on a singular body part. In particular, there’s something awfully hot about the unleashing of back torture that makes all the physical development of a muscle hunk completely useless. Sure, you can bench press a horse, but if you’re lower back is so compromised that you can’t endure the agony of standing up straight, those gorgeous, strong pecs and arms are just beautiful, yet pointless, accessories.
Cole Cassidy v Tarzan Tyler Reese – BG East’s Ringwars 11
Like Wade Cutler, simply gleeful (I always loved it when he laughed unselfconsciously when he had his opponent in a bad way) as he wraps up Phil Latini’s lower back like a twist tie, the lower back proves itself to be an awesome, vulnerable point of exploitation for seriously hot demolition. True, some muscle freaks can actually pack on shredded slabs of beef across their lower backs, but for most of us mortals, even in top physical condition, the lower back is a site of vulnerability. When your opponent has maneuvered you into position to crank your lower back folding in the wrong direction, you’re pretty much screwed. When he also delights in grinding his fist into quivering cords of traumatized muscle struggling to protect your lower spine, such as Cole Cassidy’s astonishing boston crab variation on loin cloth clad rookie jobber, Tarzan Tyler Reese, you’re seriously screwed.
Kid Leopard v Ken Decker – BG East’s Demolition 4
In thinking about this theme, I came across pics of Kid Leopard’s Demolition 4 decimation of muscle hunk Ken Decker.  KL is nothing if not the ringmaster of all ringmasters, and he illustrates to perfection the point of my post today. Let’s count the ways that KL, outweighed and outmuscled by hunky Ken, more than evens the playing field by isolating and absolutely pulverizing his opponent’s lower back. In the pic above, he KL looks like he’s nearly about to rip Ken’s head off of his neck, as his lower back is creased and pried at nearly a 90 degree angle in the opposite direction it’s built to bend.

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.

There’s the tried and true over the knee backbreaker to isolate the hunk’s lower back in a particularly delightful and humiliating fashion (always one of my favorites). Ken looks impressively bendable, but that’s no inoculation against incapacitating, prolonged back torture, now is it?
A camel clutch especially for the viewing audience cranks further on the square-jawed hunk, prying his upper back and shoulders as well as torturing the lower back, and just for good measure, a humiliating hair pull and knuckles to the temple. I love the look of fierce concentration on KL’s face here, right next to his exhausted, defenseless, nearly unconscious opponent’s face.

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.

KL drops some more knees into Ken’s back to continue to weaken up the sweet spot, as Ken flails in agony on his stomach in the middle of the ring.

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.

One helpless suspension hold is not enough, however. KL maneuvers the handsome one into still another variation, now facing backward, with Ken’s right knee stretched painfully around his own trapped left ankle, and his right ankle hooked between KL’s upper thighs. 
Back to the corner, KL traps Ken’s head between his thighs (look at how beet red Ken’s face is here!), and somehow manages to pry the hunk backward, locking his ankles underneath KL’s armpits. I’m going to have to buy this DVD to see how two bodies can manage to get into this position, because I simply can’t imagine it. However, the end result is still another fantastic example of isolating poor Ken’s lower back, creased and folded over on itself, with the hunk literally having absolutely no place to go.

Since we’re in the corner, and since KL is never shy of capitalizing on anything and everything at his disposal to torture his opponents, KL wracks Ken over the turnbuckle and ropes and pries the muscled hunk backward with a vicious tug on the hunk’s chin with KL’s right hand and on the hunk’s balls with KL’s left hand. Ken’s ass squeezed out the top of his trunks doesn’t hurt the aesthetics here, either. So many points of agony, but the relentless assault on Ken’s back is clearly the purpose of this, like every other, hold.

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.

From start to finish, this is an awesome homoerotic wrestling plot told by a master. Relentlessness, small guy conquering the big guy with cunning and wits, more relentlessness mixed with a healthy pinch of merciless viciousness, and topped off with some ass humping, hair pulling, ear nibbling pleasure. Sweet.

In Love and War

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For quite a while now, I’ve been nursing a fantasy of a wrestling tag team comprised of hot hunk lovers who get sexed up harder and harder for each other the more they dominate their opponents. The seed for this concept was planted by Tag Team Torture 2, in which both tag teams in match #2 signal that they’re partners in more than just the competitive sense of the word. Adorable Liam Ryan and daddy bruiser Brian Powers are as into each other as they climb into the ring as they are cockily confident in the outcome of the match. Brooklyn Bodywrecker climbs into the ring with his cub, Shane McCall, having tamed and claimed young Shane in leather dog-collared body and soul in Dark Knights 5. Both sets of teammates seem to grow hotter for each other the longer they hold the advantage in the match, culminating in BBW and Shane passionately making out in the center of the ring with Brian tied helplessly in the corner and Liam on his back as BBW force-feeds him Shane’s cock. Damn, I’d love to see more of this concept.
In the mean time, I’m left to my imagination, which inevitably turns to writing up my homoerotic wrestling fantasies in the form of fiction. Over the weekend, I posted a new team match in the Producer’s Ring, which continues the story of British beauty Sean Maguire as daddy-in-charge over his cub pack comprised of Scottish hunk Gerard Butler and Henry Cavill.
To my reckoning, Sean bit and clawed his way (mostly bit) on top of Gerard in a 1-on-1 match earlier. The big Scotsman had no idea when he entered the bathhouse arena that he’d be leaving not only conquered, but the willing (dare I say eager?) pup to the wiley English funnyman. The two showed up again in a team match against co-stars Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Henry Cavill (who’d also worked out their own daddy discipline arrangement earlier). Turns out, Sean and Gerard had their eyes on stealing young Henry away from Jonathan from the beginning, which indeed, they do. For his part, Henry seems to need little convincing to join Sean’s pack once he’s been put in his place.

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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So pull out your quiz and let’s review your answers:
Tat #1 belongs to…
…none other than BG East bread-n-butter himself, Brad Rochelle.
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.

Don’t know this homoerotic wrestler? Stop here and go directly to BG East – Brad Rochelle.
Now on to tat #2…
… which appears on on the rippled, hairy abs of Can-Am’s Jimmy Dean.

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.

Then there’s tat #3, which belongs to…
…BG East’s Jonny Firestorm.
Specifically, in this case, it’s Jonny proudly flexing his tight, hard muscles as he squeezes the kidneys of Rico Rave in Demolition 12, a compilation which also stars the #1 contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy division, Joshua Goodman. Jonny has a personality that fills the ring, which I credit with distracting me away from his fine tats. The back tat, the left shoulder, the left bicep all look like the fine and intricate work of an accomplished artist… like Jonny himself.

Tat #4 stumped everyone I heard from, which surprises me, because it belongs to…
…Thunder’s Arena’s STL.
STL v Big Sexy – Thunder’s Arena’s Bodybuilder Battle 20
So I don’t toss STL in the category of homoerotic wrestling icon, though I’d pay money to have a go at tossing him somewhere. He is, however, delightful to watch work up a sweat, and he’s liberally covered in tats, including several in particularly painful places to get tats (I’m talking about his inner bicep and lower arms!). Specifically, this pic of STL comes from a brief breather in his Bodybuilder Battle 20 against asstastic (and beautifully tatted, as well), Big Sexy. All that muscle… all that sweat… and not a bare ass in sight… something so wrong, something so right (okay, you do get to see some of Big Sexy’s ass as he ridiculously/delightfully attempts to wear way to small of trunks).
Tat #5 belongs to…
…BG East brute and muscle daddy, Joe Mazetti.
Joe Mazetti v Ricky Martin – BG East’s Demolition 7
In particular, Joe is here pictured pummeling the living crap out of the sweet pecs of beautiful jobber Ricky Martinez for Demolition 7. The juxtaposition of massively, thickly muscled Joe, born to bully and absolutely thrilled to dominate, with doe-in-the-headlights Ricky, all relatively slender, aesthetic lines and movie star good looks, is stunning casting. Joe is more the muscle beast in this match than possibly any other, with biceps bigger that Ricky’s neck. I wasn’t not looking for Joe when I first stumbled across him in Fantasymen 18, but he rocked me hard in his match against Derek D’Amore and made me an instant fan.

No one scored a perfect score on the quiz, so a pic of one of my tats once again goes unclaimed. There are some prime examples here, however, of staple homoerotic wrestling fare, so if you don’t recognize the tats, I recommend you study up on more of the beautiful work of these gorgeous wrestlers.

Name That Tat

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I’ve been light on postings lately as I’ve been immersed in work on a couple of wrestling fiction pieces. Back to fun and games, though, I’ve decided the Sunday quiz will focus in again on tattoos. As regular readers will understand, I’m a big fan of beautiful body art on a homoerotic wrestling hunk. Today’s game features some close ups of some very distinctive tats. I’m putting up as a prize, once again, a pic of one of my own tats for the first person who can correctly identify the owner of all five tats below along with the opponents for the matches pictured. Tough stuff, I know, but I don’t just give my shit away for free! Seriously, I think someone will have a serious shot at running the board this time, with some very identifiable body art on display. I’ll post answers late tomorrow afternoon, to give you some time to study.
Now, Tat #1:
You cannot tell me that you don’t recognize this oddly disturbing shoulder tat. I’ve had more to say about only one other homoerotic wrestler in my nearly two years of blogging. Trickier may be the challenge of identifying the match from which this pic comes, though even there, I think there are abundant clues for even one with passing familiarity of this hot hunk’s body of work.
Tat #2:

I think that this tat is possibly as distinctive and unmistakable as tat #1. Unlike the owner of tat #1, though, we have the growing body of body art documented over time for this fine, fine specimen. In fact, he was the feature of my very first Bodies Over Time post. He’s been incredibly productive in the homoerotic wrestling business. So much so, in fact, the real challenge will probably be teasing out the match from which this pic was captured. You can eliminate the lengthy part of his resume that came before the tats featured here, so that should help. Just because I’m a pushover and can’t stand to hear you complain that this is always too hard, I’ll just say that this match inspired me during the Winter Olympics in Vancouver last year. ‘Nuff said.
Tat #3:
I’d like to know the artist who inked this homoerotic wrestler, because I think the work is fantastically pristine. I find it interesting that I don’t really notice his body art when this wrestler wrestles, which is in part why I put this halfway down the quiz today. This ink belongs to an extremely versatile wrestler with skills in the ring and on the mats (and in some Boston back alleys, I’d wager). Again, the match will pose the biggest challenge here, but you can pare down this wrestler’s resume to just the matches in which he’s smooth and in fighting trim. It’s also the only time that this hot wrestler makes an appearance on the same tape with the top contender for the title of my favorite homoerotic wrestler – nonpornboy division. Obscure clue, I realize, but you’ve got to work for your marks in my class.
Tat #4:

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.

Tat #5:
This gorgeous artwork is fantastic, but I’m suspecting that it may not be entirely distinctive enough to immediately ring your bell, so I’m landing it in the place of honor as last and, potentially, most challenging for today’s game. Similar to tat #2, we’ve had an opportunity in this homoerotic wrestler’s resume to see him before and after he began collecting ink. When I first saw him (not in the match pictured), I was really buying the product primarily for a different match on the tape, but it was this homoerotic wrestler’s snarling, flexing, dominating performance that quickly became one of my favorites. His resume is quite long, but a good deal of it covers the time before the ink showed up, so I’m not feeling too, too generous when it comes to helping you out with naming his opponent. But I’ll just say that his opponent here was one of the classic jobbers, all gorgeous handsomeness and hot muscle packed into “beat-me-senseless” pink trunks. Damn, just like waving red in front of a charging bull…
So there’s your assignment. Novices in the appreciation of homoerotic wrestling should really focus on identifying the first two tats. If you don’t know them yet, you’ll want to soon. Intermediate fanatics will likely recognize tat #3, but need to put in a little extra study time to nail down the last two tats and all the opponents. Expert homoerotic wrestling aficionados will likely have no trouble recognizing any of the above wrestlers, but may find it just a stretch to sort out the opponents for each pic (particularly since the last three pics don’t show you anything of the opponents!). Good luck. You may begin…

Karismatic

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I have been so hot for Kid Karisma lately. That body, that attitude, that incredibly hot sexuality dripping from him like honey. Each time I catch Kid K in something new, my infatuation grows.
In the new release Wet and Wild 5, the karismatic one picks a pool fight with Christian Taylor. Christian is muscled up and harder than I’ve seen him before. And he seems to get a kick out of the playful calling out that Kid K slaps down. They’re in the pool quickly and tossing one another around impressively. On the theme of rides that would be fan favorites at a homoerotic wrestling theme park, getting the chance to have Kid K on your shoulders, crotch-to-face, as he flexes and taunts, would be in Space Mountain territory.
I’d stand in line for Christian’s crotch in my face as well, for that matter. Now typically, a pool match leaves me feeling all frustrated. So much of Kid K’s gorgeous physique is underwater most of the time. I love seeing him throw Christian around like a rag doll, of course, but what opportunities that arise from wrestling in water seem to me to be outweighed by the obscuring of the wrestler’s bodies themselves. In this case, the pool time is relatively brief, and it does serve the most excellent purpose of displaying Kid K’s muscle-bully attitude (with a twist of arousal).
On dry land, Christian takes several more trips on Space Mountain, with Kid’s crotch shoved hard down onto Christian’s chin. The karismatic one continues to taunt and bully. Even though Christian has the long limbs and potential leverage to have a chance against Kid K, he can’t rally for more than a minute before the cocky red-head slaps him down like a puppy. 

 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?

One could almost imagine this as a Thunder’s Arena bit from the bold strokes, but make no mistake, these boys wrestle hard. Unlike over at Thunder’s, where there often seems to be a wanting for motivation to explain why the boys throw down, Kid K and Christian build some sweet intensity laced unmistakably with the fine scent of foreplay. Christian does not just role over and take it, despite every evidence that he’s nothing but flattered to be in Kid K’s sights. Kid K is determined to show off, to act as if it’s a cakewalk, but it’s less about it actually being a cakewalk than it is about Kid K showing the pretty one that he can take him at any moment, that he will dominate him at will, that he can crush Christian’s boy and break his will whenever it suits him. Locked up tight in Kid K’s figure-4 sleeper, Christian struggles. He fights it. He doesn’t want to be embarrassed so completely. Personally, I think he desperately wants to prove that he can hang with the karismatic one, that he deserves to be in Kid K’s league. He doesn’t want to be muscled around and sleepered out cold with the pool water still dripping from his hair.

 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.

Backseat Driving

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Yesterday I was full of myself sufficiently to presume to offer advice to the hardworking, creative minds at Rock Hard Wrestling. I’m such a backseat driver. Worse, I’m the first to admit that I’ve never in my life produced a homoerotic wrestling video, so I’m sure I can’t imagine the challenges of working with athletes, sets, lights, cameras, gear… Producers of homoerotic wrestling are always free to slap me upside the head and chew me out for second guessing them all the time.
Dane Tarsen v Leo Lessard – BG East’s Britbouts 2
One thing I recommended to RHW yesterday was that even without explicitly sexing it up, they’d probably speak even more provocatively to the gay wrestling kink crowd with some of the bread ‘n’ butter devices that signal a wrestling match is at the very least implicitly homoerotic, and not just latently. For example, some nipple torture seems to me to be a tried and true move that directly links dominating pain and homoerotic pleasure.
Chip Slater v Jeff Jordan – BG East’s Wrestlefest 2
Take Chip Slater and Jeff Jordan from BG East’s Wrestlefest 2 (I love that entire collection!). Chip is a notorious sadist who, I believe, never failed to crank on his opponent’s balls with awesome viciousness. Perhaps it was when Jeff had the temerity to grind Chip’s nose against his pec in a face-rearranging side headlock that Chip couldn’t help but notice the beautiful target of Jeff’s nipples. Sure enough, climbing on top and twisting until the hunk screamed, Chip latched onto Jeff’s nipple like a clothespin.
Shane McCall, who was in the audience for Wrestlefest 2, must have been taking notes. When Shane had a go at Jeff a while later for X-Fights 23, he seemed to be taking a long, hard look at Jeff’s sweaty pecs and shiny nips as Shane reveled in the sight of his domination in the mirror in front of him. Did Shane have a flashback to Chip’s assault on those very same big nipples?
Shane McCall v Jeff Jordan – BG East’s X-Fights 23

Whether or not it was an echo of Chip, Shane inevitably slapped Jeff to his back, immobilized the hunk’s right arm behind his neck and trapping Jeff’s left arm underneath Shane’s body. With Jeff’s big, round pecs completely vulnerable and open, Shane grabbed hold and cranked on the dial with gusto.

The pain contorting Jeff’s face juxtaposed with the wide eyed, enraptured joy on Shane’s face as he watches the fruits of his labors is absolutely smokin’ hot.

Dick the Prick v Patrick Donovan – BG East’s Ringwars 4

When Patrick Donovan faced Dick the Prick in Ringwars 4, you had to expect Patrick’s broad, sexy pecs and gorgeous nipples to be in the sights of the Prick. Pretty much everyone had a go at squeezing every ounce of suffering from Patrick around that point in his career. Tall, handsome, lanky but with aesthetically compelling muscle tone, Patrick was on the menu over and over again.

Which made it all the sweeter when Patrick laced those mile long legs around the Prick’s abdomen and trapped Dick’a arms over his head, in order to have an unobstructed angle to pinch the punk’s right nipple. You can just see the look of fierce concentration forming as Patrick begins to go to town. There were a lot more blunt forms of abuse that Patrick could have employed at that very point, but his choice to twist the Prick’s nips so methodically signals to me that this is far from being simply about beating his opponent. This is about the delivery of pain for both physical and sexual domination.

Bud Orton v Mark Nelson – BG East’s Wrestleshack 4

There was nothing but sexual domination that ever seemed to be on Bud Orton’s mind. Bud seemed to have a look about him as if he was perpetually moments away from an orgasm. Sweat soaked and aroused in Wrestleshack 4, he looks absolutely ravenous as his gaze fixes on Mark Nelson’s pecs.

Trapping Mark’s wrists behind his back, sure enough, Bud proceeds to torture his opponent’s nipple with his teeth. Of course, anything done with a wrestler’s mouth is going to be that much more homoerotic than if it were done with any other part of the body. RHW may want to pay it straighter than that, but the theory stays the same: some focused attention on nipples signals this is homoeroticism and not just latent sexuality disguised as macho aggression.

Rusty Stevens v Mitch Colby – BG East’s The Breaking Point

Examples are everywhere, of course. One of my favorite examples to illustrate pretty much anything is Rusty Stevens‘ clash of the titans with Mitch Colby in The Breaking Point. Rusty puts on a cocky, “I’m impervious” face to start any competition, but the display of his gorgeous body above seems to center his left nipple like a target.

And, indeed, Mitch takes aim and scores with a love/hate maneuver of simultaneous nipple twisting and kissing.

Kid Leopard v Rusty Behr – BG East’s Punishment 1

On and on, nipple torture has a long and storied role in the homoeroticism of homoerotic wrestling. So RHW (or any other wrestling company, for that matter) is welcome to tell me to go fuck myself for backseat driving. I’d totally understand. And yet, still, I must persist. Give me a little stronger dose of the homoerotic in my wrestling if you aim to really satisfy.

My Avatar

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So here’s the scenario: a long, lanky runway model climbs into a pro wrestling ring with a shorter, muscle bound fitness model, determined to put the “little guy” in his place. Regular readers of my work in the fictional homoerotic wrestling universe of the Producer’s Ring will recognize this story line instantly. But wait… I didn’t write this story! This is a live action, high definition, sweat and muscle throw down brought to you by the franchise that specializes exclusively (for the most part) in fantasy men: Rock Hard Wrestling.

New RHW wrestlers Jake Jenkins and Cliff Johnson star in RHW’s newest release. Jake is the 5’7″, 155 pound fitness model. Cliff is the 6’1″, 175 pound runway model. Staring one another down in the middle of the ring, these two instantly tweak one of my “guilty” wrestling kink pleasures: short v tall.

I don’t know exactly what it is that makes a short v tall wrestling match so intensely erotic for me. There’s of course something inherently sexy about one man dominating over another, and a notable size differential adds to the available repertoire of domination holds, lifts, and blows that more closely matched opponents might not be able to pull off. But by no means am I just a fan of the big guy tossing around the little guy (though that can be awfully satisfying). My kink also kicks into high gear at the sight of a smaller opponent beating the living shit out of the bigger guy. Perhaps it’s the nod to a bullied-revenge plot that speaks to my inner, insecure gay adolescent. Since I’m not exactly the tallest kid in the class myself, maybe I’m just superimposing myself, empowered and dominant, onto the tight “little” package of Jake Jenkins. Perhaps Jake becomes my avatar, working out all the aggression and righteous indignation I’ve felt over the years when bigger guys stare down at me with a smirk of condescension.

In any case, here’s what I see: Jake and Cliff execute nicely, in fact better than your average RHW match, I’d say. In the actual delivery of kicks, stomps and punches (which RHW matches consistently seem to fixate on), Jake and Cliff both sell with convincing flair and timing. Cliff is determined to not undersell his suffering when Jake has been on a roll, and I, for one, applaud that. I’m okay with the miraculous recovery under most circumstances, but I like the pathos of a wrestler fighting with the aches and pains of a vicious attack in order to battle his way back on top, despite himself. Cliff looks like he really struggles to overcome not only Jake, but his own physical tolerances for pain and exhaustion. Love that.

I don’t know where Jake or Cliff are coming from, but I’m guessing Jake has some amateur wrestling experience on his CV, and that Cliff does not. Jake sets the terms of this match instantly by going for a pinfall. Fall one, indeed, eventually goes to Jake for wrapping the long, long body of his opponent up into an ass-splayed small package. It’s a hold like this that makes me long to be ringside, with my champ, Jake, holding Cliff immobilized and humiliated, for me to slide into the ring and more closely examine, in tactile detail, the humiliated physique of the vulnerable hunk. I think there’s a market there, for not just the loser-gets-fucked by the winner scenarios (done delightfully and often), but perhaps a loser-gets-fucked by the winner’s manager, patron, second, or partner. You tag ’em, Jake, and I’ll bag ’em.

What makes me think that Cliff doesn’t have the amateur cred that Jake does is his second fall win with an odd pin that, while immobilizing Jake to his back, leaves the fitness model’s shoulders nowhere near making contact with the mat. It’s one too many “pins” for my taste anyway. Bring on the submission torture, boys! Speaking of which, I’m liking the corner abuse both boys inflict in turn, in a tit-for-tat exchange with legs “trapped” over the top ropes and the victims hanging helplessly upside down for bashing. Cliff takes the lead first, stomping and punching Jake’s rippled abs, taunting him nicely. Jake follows up, with a significant assist from Cliff to get into position (size differential is requires some stagecraft on a few counts… no harm, no foul, I’d say). Jake lands two hot drop kicks into the runway model’s abs, without a ton of momentum, but hot, nevertheless.

The third and decisive fall is a figure-4 leglock submission following up a completely gratuitous stomp to the runway model’s balls. Now there’s the glimpse of greatness I hope for from RHW! There are no refs. They sell a full contact, NHB sort of story. So there’s absolutely no credible reason that we aren’t seeing more ball bashing. There’s just no excuse for failing to see more long, torturous holds with the catcher screaming in agony and the pitcher taunting, delighting, soaking in the sight of his domination. Cliff taps way too quickly in the figure-4, and Jake releases the hold similarly too fast to make this entirely kink-satisfying. And the pecs on Jake are screaming for some laughing pec claws threatening to rip the fitness boy to shreds. Cliff’s comparatively soft core should provide a legally binding requirement for Jake, the fitness model, to claw, stretch, pummel and knead the runway model’s abs like a loaf of bread dough.

As is so often the case with my reviews for RHW, I say again, there’s a lot that’s going right here. The gay wrestling kink audience (surely 99.9% of RHW revenues) should find plenty to entertain us. But the personalities need to be about 15 times bigger, the holds held about 3 times longer, the gear either about half the size, or stripped out of the square cuts partway through to much less/nothing, and the physiological bases of homoerotic wrestling abuse (pec/nipple abuse, cock & ball bashing, holds that not only dominate (lingeringly) but display these impressive physiques like serving up a platter of steaks) need to be covered with their audience in mind. I know, it’s easy to be Barcalounger Quarterback. I don’t want to suggest that I wouldn’t snap up another Jake Jenkins match (please, I beg of you, against Travis Storm), in a heartbeat. But I’m still waiting to throw that coming of age party for RHW that Joe and I have been longing to celebrate.

Asses Named

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No one posted a perfect score for this week’s installment of Name That Ass. I’m still looking for teacher’s pet. Keep studying, gentlemen. Adoring homoerotic wrestling asses requires intense, exhaustive study. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do well. I grade on a curve, and preparing for the next quiz should be it’s own reward. In the meantime, here are the answers to the quiz:
Ass #1 belongs to:

 BG East’s Tyrell Tomsen.
Stunning size and gorgeous proportions, when Tyrell is naked and soaked in sweat in the wrestling ring, he can strike one of the most lustworthy still life’s on record. As pictured, Tyrell was playing dominating bully to opponent Braden Charron for Strip Stakes 1. It was Tyrell’s Summer Sizzler against Bobby Horton that convinced me that Bobby deserved the title of homoerotic wrestler of the month last summer.  Tyrell has definitely been out-wrestled in his brief tenure with BG East, but he’s never been out-muscled or out-classed when it comes to his picturesque physique.
Ass #2 belongs to:
BG East’s Kid Karisma.
Kid K has captured me in his gravitational pull lately, and I’ve found myself circling back to marvel at his performances over and over again. His ass, in particular, is simply astonishingly beautiful. This particular shot is from his face off with Rocco in Gear Wars 1. I’ll gush soon about his Wet ‘n Wild appearance with Christian Taylor, but in the mean time, marvel a little longer at those glutes…

Did ass #3 pose a challenge? It belongs to none other than…
Can-Am’s pornboy extraordinaire, Mark Wolff.
Blake Onassis would have also earned you full marks for this one, since he’s cross listed under both names. This particularly fun shot is of Mark getting his face smashed into the lockers by Billy Herrington (also AKA’s Billy Marcus) for Lords of the Lockerroom. He was always a pornboy musclegod, with an ass for days and nipples the size of half dollars. Frankly, it wasn’t really Mark’s wrestling that ever sold me, but I’d buy some full contact moving pictures of that body anyday.
I imagined ass #4 might have given some students trouble. It belongs to…
Naked Kombat’s John Magnum.

I’m positive that I’ve seen Magnum wrestling somewhere else, but for the life of me, I can’t remember where. He blew my socks off (pants, too!), when I saw him in his one and only (to date) appearance at Naked Kombat in a nail-biter against Phillip Aubrey. Phillip nearly took the big muscle brute in this match. If there was ever a tie, in the gestalt sense, these two boys were perfectly, evenly matched, despite having distinctly different styles and builds. John’s personality, though, is absolutely kink-stastic. He’s 110% present. He delights in every second of domination, and he struggles to free himself from absolutely ever nano-second under Phillip’s control. He’s a beautiful man, and although I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy much more wrestling from him, I get a little contact high off of his tweets now and then.

I didn’t hear from any advanced players who correctly identified the monster muscle glutes of ass #5 as belonging to…
Thunder’s Arena’s Coupe.

I’ve marveled before that Coupe is a muscle freak. That does not always equate to homoerotic gold, but just like his trunks in his poolside back-and-forth with Cameron Mathews, Coupe is indeed homoerotic wrestling kink gold in my book. If ever there was a body that absolutely required comment, even awe from his opponents, it’s Coupe’s. But that’s not really what Thunder’s does, sadly. It’s much more frat house romp than full on homoerotic body worship. I haven’t seen him at Thunder’s in a while, but I’ll just put it out there here and now, if ever Coupe is looking for some homo muscle worship to make up for all the neglect the boys at Thunder’s have made him suffer, I’m first in line with the baby oil.

So how did you do? I put more weight in progress over time than any individual quiz grade, so I hope that you’re finding that you’re performance is improving as you take more Name That Ass quizzes. Don’t be discouraged if you didn’t do as well as you’d hoped. We both know that you love the subject matter, so devoting yourself with renewed enthusiasm to your studies should be no burden at all.

Name That Ass

wrestlebard1 Comment
Queer Me Now commended readers to try their skills at Name That Ass, so I’m venturing another installment of the game that, I suspect, tickles me much more than you. In any case, I always enjoy hearing from folks who are trying their hand and naming the homoerotic wrestling asses below, with scarce contextual detail other than a close up of a beautiful derrière. Extra credit for naming the opponent for each pic. As always, the asses below belong to some of my favorite wrestlers (so please note, there’s no intended double entendre with the name of the game… I’m not casting aspersions on anyone’s character by calling them an ass, but rather celebrating the glorious glutes that these lovely men have obviously worked hard to craft).
Enough of the foreplay. Now for the main thrust of the game…
Ass #1: 
I’m suspecting that this will be the easiest entry this time around, thus I’ve placed it first. In an industry clearly dominated by wrestling white boys, some gorgeous glutes like this on a black homoerotic wrestler are as beautiful as they are rare. For novices, though, let me give you some more clues. To the best of my knowledge, the hardbody hunk to whom this sexy ass belongs has wrestled in seven homoerotic products, including one ring match that propelled his opponent to capture a homoerotic wrestler of the month title from me (but that’s not the opponent he faced in this pic). He comes in two distinct packages: “big ‘n beefy” and “competition bodybuilder.” I love that he loves the sight of his own physique nearly as much as I do, and I love even more that he’s wrestled completely nude in one match and wearing only wrestling boots (which I actually think is even sexier) in another. He’s 5’11” tall, with a reported weight of 185 pounds, and if you don’t know this ass, you need to.
Ass #2:
I’m not sure if this will be particularly tough for regular Name That Ass players or not. So I’ll give a few more clues than I strictly think are necessary, just to toss a bone to the intermediate players who may get stumped. First of all, I must say that this ass belongs to a wrestler that I’m nursing a quickly growing infatuation with. He’s shown up in 6 homoerotic wrestling matches, and I’m desperate to see him in a dozen more (I’ve got opponents all picked out for him). He has the odd distinction of being a homoerotic wrestler who has yet to be seen entirely nude, and yet has been exposed sufficiently for a proctologist to give a preliminary exam. He truly delights in dominating, and he’s been using those lips of his more and more liberally in every match I’ve seen him. You can count on him slapping his pouch down across the chin of pretty much every lucky opponent he meets, but I think there have been only a couple of them lucky (lucky, lucky, lucky) enough to have had that ass planted squarely across their faces. He’s 5’8,” 170 pounds, and the member of an exclusive and most arousing homoerotic wrestling club.
Ass #3:
This may be quite a leap in difficulty parameters, but although you may not necessarily recognize these muscled glutes at first glance (or the glimpse of ball sac), this has got to be one of the most iconic and prolific homoerotic wrestlers ever. I think it’s physically impossible to count the actual number of homoerotic wrestling matches that star this star, but I’m hazarding a reasonable count of around 26. He wrestled under two names (that I know of). He wrestled in the ring. He wrestled in oil. He wrestled on a mat. He wrestled in a locker room (extra, extra credit for writing a Dr. Suess-style poem about him). He’s reported at 5’10” and 200 pounds, and his ass is, in every possible scenario, golden.
Ass #4:

Here’s where things get tough, and the truly gifted students have an opportunity to shine. Things get a little esoteric from here on out, so you’ll just have to bear with me. This wrestling ass made me sit up and take notice when I saw it the first time. The wrestler is unconventional, incredibly strong, and appropriately named. Here’s where things get possibly misleading with the clues, though I seriously don’t intend it: I’ve seen him wrestle twice, but I can only remember where I’ve seen him wrestle once. A little piece of trivia that absolutely will not help you: seeing this hunk wrestle was what inspired me of the need to start a homoerotic wrestler of the month title, though he himself never possessed that title (told you that wouldn’t help you). 5’8,” 190 pounds of gorgeous muscle, and he laughs evilly with every awesome humiliation he inflicts on his opponent. Hot. Hot. Hot.

Ass #5:
I’m torn as to whether this ass or ass #5 will be hardest (so to speak). Literally, it’s this final ass that is, without a doubt, unquestionably and indisputably, the hardest ass in the field. This is a muscle ass extraordinaire. This homoerotic wrestler makes me gasp just standing still in a speedo. This wrestler has the body of a god, such that any wrestling that fails to include abject worship of his body, and in particular his glutes, is a waste of talent; and I’m so very, very sad to say that this talent was always wasted in the five matches that I can track down with him. That does nothing to make me less desperate to worship his gorgeous, veiny, sliced to the bone physique myself, though. He’s certainly not the best wrestler. But all 6’1″, 215 pounds of him scores extremely high in my rankings of muscle studs who should never, ever, ever, ever be allowed to wear more than a thong.
I’ll post the answers tomorrow. In the mean time, good luck.

Stagecraft

wrestlebardLeave a comment
I like to think of myself as sporting a big, meaty, pendulous imagination. Homoerotic wrestling, like porn broadly considered, requires a suspension of disbelief. It requires us to just roll with the scenario that two beautiful hunks can settle their differences in no other way than to strip down, oil up, and climb into a wrestling ring. It requires us to believe a man can fly, pummel and be pummeled, crush and be crushed, and rally back from the brink of destruction to do it all over again. Pro wrestling in general, and homoerotic wrestling in particular, walk us through a series of dramas that some of us are well-endowed enough to find captivating, entertaining, and arousing.

Fiction surrounds our lives at every turn, of course. We take in course a dozen fictions before breakfast. We roll with the fiction that we are immortal, that what Jeff Glor reads from the teleprompter is, in fact, “news,” that our homes are not filled with toxins that are almost certainly shortening our lives… We roll with the fiction because it makes life manageable, at the very least. Or, in the case of homoerotic wrestling, it makes life that much more delightful.

Homotrophy recently posted these pics from the 2011 underwear/undergear collection of Victor Luis, in which model model body beautiful Ariel Bresky poses as fighter who appears to have just hit the locker room after man-on-man competition in motor oil. There’s some unmistakable truth evident in these very hot pics. There’s the truth that Ariel is a smoking hot male model with a long, lean torso. There’s the truth that the undergear products are quite provocative, square cuts alluding to a jock strap and painting a target across Ariel’s pouch. But there are a couple of fictions here that I find distracting.

Someone has drawn, as if with a grease pen, the outline of a six pack across Ariel’s already gorgeous abs. They have shaded with make-up underneath the expanse of Ariel’s broad, sexy pecs, as if to convince us that he’s packing more the meat of a competition bodybuilder than a lean and lovely male model. Now I’m not naive. I know that this happens ALL the time, across all media and mass marketing, in infinite numbers of ways. Body’s are smoothed out, plumped, flattened, stretched, and swelled by applications, surgical interventions, and digital technology. Blemishes are erased, asymmetries are reconstructed, colors are altered and textures reapplied ALL the time. But Ariel’s photo shoot for Victor Luis is just… well, just too ham-handed for me to manage to suspend my disbelief. While I applaud ever fight-kink allusion when a male model is posed as a full contact fighter, I must draw a line and say that crayon outlines of abs and pecs, no matter what your lighting challenges, are not sexy. Leave this hunk of gorgeousness with more modest overlay, that we may savor the truth enhanced, not distracted, by the stagecraft.

Speaking of male models as full contact fighters and stretching the ability to suspend disbelief, I’ve reached a momentary pause in my work responsibilities that permit me to happily return to writing some new homoerotic wrestling fiction. I’ve been sorting out a new plot for the secretarial pool in the Producer’s Ring with a co-author, bringing some old favorites as well as new contenders from the world of male modeling into high stakes wrestling drama. Hopefully you’ll see some postings soon, definitely in the Producer’s Ring, and possibly in Sidelineland. As always, I’m looking forward to seeing some contributions from more of you fine writers/kinksters, as well.