Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

The Money, the Car, the Fame

wrestlebardLeave a comment
I’m always in awe of the serendipity in my ongoing delightful stroll through the libraries of homoerotic wrestling. Case in point: I had a hankering to see Reese Wells naked and suffering cock and ball battering in Ball Bash 2. That highly entertaining match reintroduced me to the particular joys of watching Jonny Firestorm relentlessly on the attack. So I was pleased to enjoy Jonny’s latest release, starring in both matches in Pros in Private 8.

Both of these matches appear to be from a few years back, when Johnny was ripped to shreds and awesomely veiny. In the recurring debate over body types, Jonny often pops up in discussion as having fierce fans of him looking smooth, hard, and sporting zero bodyfat, or, conversely, looking hairy, big and beefy. As with many things, I consider myself blessed to be versatile. I’ll enjoy him either way, and there’s nothing at all wrong with Jonny with veiny, shredded thighs and six pack abs.  I’m also a pushover for a thick, tough guy accent, which Jonny brings with him regardless of his BMI.
Again, serendipity strikes, as I’m loving my introduction to Rudy Cortez. I’ve stumbled across pics of Rudy before, but his pics just don’t capture his sexiness-in-motion. In particular, Rudy possesses an incredible ass that absolutely hypnotizes me as he wrestles. When I can tear my eyes away from his glutes, I’m also appreciative of Rudy’s handsome face and, most of all, his awesome athleticism. Like Jonny, Rudy is clearly an accomplished amateur wrestler who does a fantastic job of translating his skills into a pro ring.
Both Rudy and Jonny are pretty understated characters, by my estimation. They’re both eerily cool and confident, of few words, and emotionally ranging primarily between fierce and suffering. This is Jonny’s match from start to finish, though. Not that this isn’t a fantastically competitive confrontation, but the moment that Jonny strolls in, looking like a souped up version of a 17 year-old skater boy, explaining that he came to BG East for the money, the car, and the fame… from that point on, this story just seems to me to be all about Jonny.
Watching two highly skilled, hot young hardbodies throw, slam, squeeze and fly like this is awesomely entertaining and, what’s more, a major, major turn on for me. This match is one of those that has me frequently gasping in appreciation and wonder and breathless, over and over again. This is also one of those products lawyers should require come with the caution, “Don’t try this at home,” because these boys are nothing if not professional drivers on a closed course.

They both bend and bounce like rubber, putting each other’s bodies on beautiful display. These are classically gorgeous bodies locked in class pro wrestling. Jonny turns on the gas about two-thirds of the way through, relentlessly climbing back on top over and over to beat Rudy further and further into the mat. It reaches that point where I have to ask myself if Jonny will be satisfied with anything less than Rudy’s broken neck. In the end, watching Jonny work so hard for every single inch against Rudy, it leaves me wondering how Jonny feels about “the dream” these days, now that he’s tasted “the money, the car, the fame.”

No One’s a Winner

wrestlebardLeave a comment

My reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel, is wrestling in this week’s Naked Kombat release against Paul Wagner. I’m always thrilled to see Trent’s marble-carved physique slated for combat. There’s something about his shoulders in this match that captivate me. They’re just huge and hard and look like something out of a superhero comic book. Damn, I’m a fan of Trent.

But something goes terribly, terribly wrong in this match. It’s not the inadvertent knee to Paul’s forehead that makes the big, hairy brute look like he could punch a hole in Trent. No, frankly, that injury time out is fantastically hot! When a wrestler really gets popped and you can see the impulse wash over him to unleash the beast in an ugly brawl, that’s extremely arousing for my tastes. Sucks for Paul. Works wonders for me.

What goes wrong in this match is not the travesty of scoring that absolutely rips the rightful victory out of Trent’s grasp. Again, oddly enough, some rigged officiating can add up to extremely erotic tension, with bruised egos and righteous indignation fueling an “oh-no-he-didn’t”plot twist that demands an even more intense battle to right the scales of justice. I mean, even the post-match interviewer agrees with Trent that he thought Trent had the victory sown up decisively at the end of round three.

What goes terribly, terribly wrong in this match is that it ends in a tie. A tie?! Above and beyond the shady scoring that surely owes itself to Paul blowing the ref before the match (just speculating), just the fact that a Naked Kombat match ends in a tie is just wrong. What do you do with “round 4” when round 3 ends in a tie?

It turns out, NK also doesn’t know what to do with round 4 in this scenario. The ref announces the score and then, with a smirk, tells the boys to figure it out. Trent and Paul proceed to make out a lot, and then take turns sucking and fucking each other in the jacuzzi, all equitable and even-steven. In other words, this is not “round 4.” This is every vanilla gay porn scene ever filmed. Now, I’m not saying that I get no value added from watching Trent’s gorgeous body in action. But this is just no “round 4.” It’s not particularly kinky. It’s a pinch-hitter who bunts.

The post-match interviews are as awkward as the disappointing round 4, in my opinion. The boys try to give the no-win scenario a redemptive narrative. “We flip-flopped on the mat,” Paul awkwardly explains, “so we both sort of dominated” in the sex round. Trent works harder, and still more awkwardly, to cast the sex round in a positive light. “It was really hot… all the making out… the lack of power struggle…. We were both in charge. It was beyond compare…. yeah, so hot.”

I love you Trent. You are absolutely my champion. But “the lack of power struggle” is precisely what makes the ending of this match fall out of the category of wrestling kink. The action before the end of round 3 is intense and highly rewarding, but round 4 just goes off the rails entirely, coloring the whole match a shade of beige. To dominate, to tame, to conquer and then claim the rightful spoils of victory is the essence of homoerotic wrestling kink, as far as I’m concerned. Round 4 has never been done better than a victorious Rusty Stevens, snarling humiliation down like a thunderstorm on his loser opponent, taking any pleasure he wants, and then slapping on an elbow snapping armbar, making his crushed opponent jerk-off with his free hand to within a second of climax, and then demanding that he stop, denying the loser’s rising desperation to get off, until Rusty decides he can get off. “No power struggle,” indeed. No winner, more like it, and that’s just not nearly as hot.

Playing Hooky

wrestlebard2 Comments
Members of the Sidelineland wrestling fiction group will have received a notice by now that I posted a new story there. For newcomers, Sidelineland is site for any original wrestling fiction that you’d like to share. I’ve posted a lot of my own diversions there. Anything that doesn’t really fit in the Producer’s Ring universe, I drop over at Sidelineland. Several other contributors have also posted materials, including a sweet, ballsy challenge from Bearhugs a while back. He started a story featuring young, dumb, hopeful Shane angling to call in a favor from an old high school buddy in order to break into the local pro wrestling scene.
Shane from “Shane’s Big Break”
I want to say again how hot I think it is to get a writing challenge like that. I’d love to see more of that, and not just challenging me. There are a ton of good writers on the Sidelineland list, and many, many more of you have mentioned planning to submit a story than actually have (consider this your Lenten discipline). Anyway, it turns out, Shane’s old “buddy” from high school, Neil, has ulterior motives in mind when he offers to give Shane his big break in the pro wrestling biz.
Neil from “Shane’s Big Break”
Neil unleashes some nasty brutality on his old buddy, working Shane into a slobbering, jelly legged mess. Worse still, Neil hoists Shane over his shoulder after the match is over and hauls the battered boy back to the locker room for more intimate punishment. That’s where Bearhugs handed it off to me. I had a blast writing part 2 a couple of months ago, in which Shane and Neil are signed to make big bucks for some first-class ticket holders who get to stand ringside, once the unwashed masses have left, and call the shots. They get to choreograph their own kinks with, understandably enough, Neil dominating with his body builder physique, getting worshipped, muscling Shane around like so much furniture, and then finally fucking his old buddy in the center of the ring. When all is said and done, Shane has a pocket full of cash and his signature on the line for at least another 3 months in the biz.
Mikey from “Shane’s Big Break – Part 3”

I really have other things I’m supposed to be working on right now, but I’m feeling some resentment about my work obligations. In other words, I’m easily distracted. As a result, I pretended to be working yesterday afternoon when I was, in fact, writing chapter 3 to Shane’s Big Break – “Home Town Hero.” With fear and trembling and a hole burning in his pocket, Shane returns to the wrestling promotion a week later. To his immense relief, promoter Joey has decided that Shane needs some redemption and a lot more legitimacy in the ring if he’s going to be able to milk a storyline for him for 3 months. As a result, Shane is matched up with the former lightweight champ, Mikey, who’s just returned from an injury hiatus. Mikey is a pro, and he’s happy to give the rookie the spotlight and the three count victory. Shane is on cloud-nine. He’s intoxicated with the turn of the crowd to rally behind a cute-if-dumb new babyface. He’s soaking in the fan-worship with hot little hardbody Mikey writhing on the ground beneath him. And then Neil shows up to keep it real.

Full credit where credit is due: Shane and Neil are Bearhugs’ intellectual property (I have no idea where he found the pics for them, so I have no idea whose property those are). I’ve introduced a couple of new characters that I’ve sketched out on my own for chapter 3, including Mikey (pictured above, pic snagged from nameless Fight Planet archives), and a heavyweight veteran who goes by Dino the Greek, which, it turns out, is actually BG East’s intellectual property, as they have a rookie by that name in a new release. I had no idea from where in my subconscious I’d pulled that name, but it turns out, it wasn’t all that deep in my subconscious at all.

Anyhoo… I’m really, really supposed to be working again now. I hope fans of the homoerotic wrestling fiction will enjoy the third chapter in Shane’s Big Break, and I hope to see more ballsy, literary smack down challenges like Bearhugs’ in the future.

Catching Up

wrestlebard1 Comment

I had an awfully sweet message come across the Producer’s Ring group, just checking in to make sure that I was okay after about two and a half month’s absence from posting new fictional wrestling matches. It’s nice to be missed! Once I’ve got a crazy-ass major project under control for work, I’ll be thrilled to be back to writing more wrestling fiction. Perhaps more relevant to you, I’ll also be happy to share what I write.

On an unrelated note, I thought I’d update you about my hacked email account. I changed all my security settings, but my account was continuing to be used to send spam to my small list of contacts. Worse, my hope that perhaps the spammer was a hot, ripped young punk (picture Johnny Lee Miller via Hackers… I am…) just wanting to stir things up and perhaps grab my attention for an invitation to wrestle, appears to be unfounded (the coward). I’ve killed off that email account in the hopes that a slash and burn approach will kill the invader’s opportunity to annoy my online friends. My email access has migrated, and I feel somewhere in between a full-on resurrection and an enlistment in the witness protection program.

I’ve also noted, as has an eagle-eyed reader, that some of the muses for my homoerotic wrestling fiction has been showing up in the internet spotlight in the past couple of days. Every time there’s a new photo shoot of Andrew Stetson, I get requests to revive his role as a player in the Producer’s Ring secretarial pool. His selection as Socialite Life’s Male Model Monday boy earned him another pitch from a reader wanting to see him in action again. If only Andrew knew the profoundly loyal fans he has among the homoerotic wrestling crowd!

I totally get it. Andrew’s a smoking hot model. I love his ink. I love his eyes. I adore his abs. I’m a little intoxicated with staring at the boa constrictor that appears to be coiled up in the pouch of his underwear.

I’ll have to double check my story line, but I think for there to be any semblance of literary continuity, Andrew will have to be pulled off of duty as Luke’s personal whipping boy in order to find himself front and center, starring in another Producer’s Ring wrestling match. He’s been seriously crushed in body, mind, and spirit, and seeing him again will be nothing short of a resurrection. As is evidenced by my feelings at claiming a new email address, that’s not out of the question. Whether he’s resurrected in the manner of Calvary or more like Pet Sematary, remains to be seen.

I was also pleased to see over at Homotrophy another muse, namely Bernardo Velasco, has momentarily claimed the front page. Bernardo showed up as the model for a fighter in the most recent chapter of my superhero series at Sidelineland. I received a couple of comments adoring his tag team partner in that story, but no one has mentioned being quite as enamored with Bernardo as I am.

And speaking of smuggling astonishing wildlife in the pouch of your underwear… holy shit. Can you develop lower back problems hoisting around that much mass hanging from your crotch? Good lord almighty, if anyone has a pic of Bernardo’s cock, you must send it to me immediately. We’ll negotiate your reward.

In my imagination, Bernardo’s form is transposed onto a character I’ve dubbed “Remote” for his power to manipulate his opponents’ bodies telekinetically. Indeed, he has our protagonist, Nova, in a bad way, beating the living crap out of him from across the arena. He has Nova in a bad way, that is, until Nova remembers that he also has an ability to manipulate his opponents from a distance. In Nova’s case, it’s the ability to ignite his opponent’s libido, and once Nova grabs hold of the initiative, he quickly has Remote gasping defenseless on his knees with precum dripping from the head of his cock “like a leaky faucet.”

If anyone has a picture of Bernardo specifically in that situation, you can pretty much name your price.

In any case, despite my absence from posting new fiction, and despite the death of the email address I’ve had for years, I’m still alive, still obsessed with homoerotic wrestling, and looking forward to more fully engaging my imagination for my (and, by extension, your) entertainment soon.

Tats Named

wrestlebardLeave a comment
No one won the grand prize for perfect marks on yesterday’s quiz. One regular reader came pretty damn close, but he’s only getting a gold star. Here are the answers that would have won someone a pic of one of my tats:
Tat #1 belongs to…
…Rusty Stevens.
This pic was from his delightful clash of the titans with Mitch Colby, wrestling for BG East’s Breaking Point release last summer. Fan-freaking-tastic match, which was one of my all time favorite moments of the year.
Rusty also has those provocative lipstick-tats around his crotch and ass. Damn, I’m still bitter that he’s forsworn porn.
Tat #2 belongs to…
…Derek Da Silva.
There’s a bit of mystery about precisely when this posed pic may have been snapped, but I do believe it was in conjunction with his Jobberpalooza 9 beatdown of Kevin Lee.
All that astonishingly gorgeous ink, that wide, muscled back, that incredible ass, and the delightful pain-play… Derek is a homoerotic wrestling god as far as I’m concerned. And he has entertaining tweets.
Tat #3 belongs to…
…Angel.
Specifically, this is Angel’s 2-on-1 scrap with rookies Jackson and Scooter in Mat Wars 22 for Thunder’s Arena.
In case you missed it, 5’5″, 135 pound Angel is the 1 in this 2-on-1, but that awesome sleeve and the ribcage ink even the score, as far as I’m concerned.
Tat #4 belongs to…
…David Taylor. 
In particular, this is David getting a riding rear choke from the owner of Tat #1 above, Rusty Stevens, for Can-Am’s Wrestle Bait.
I think David’s ink is possibly the most attractive in homoerotic wrestling history (me being the judge, of course). His long-held bearhug, suspending Rusty off his feet, with Rusty sitting across David’s fantastic erection like a fencepost, is also possibly the most arousing homoerotic wrestling image I’ve ever had seared into my memory.
No one ventured a guess at Tat #5, which in fact belongs to…
…Can-Am’s mysteriously named “Derek.”
Linger a while on the slabs of beef that are this man’s pecs, then continue when you’re ready to learn more.
So Derek, or Derek(2) as he’s listed in the by-model search at the Can-Am website, was quite the eye-catching muscle stud when I first caught sight of him in promotions for Ropin’ Ruckus. His pubescent, is-this-guy-legal opponent here is Oliver Swift. Derek was one handsome hunk of beef, who appropriately enough gets roped and ridden by young Master Swift. Derek(2) also appears in Can-Am’s Hotel Hell: Toronto and SuperMatch 25/26 tape for those of you as taken with the sight of him as I’ve always been.
So nicely played, those of you who checked your scores with me privately. Keep studying, and one day, perhaps, you’ll be teacher’s pet.

Name That Tat

wrestlebardLeave a comment

Wow! There was a spike in the traffic through the blog yesterday, with almost 3,500 page views and close to 1,500 visitors. That must include a lot of new folks walking through the door, so a special welcome to those of you just tuning in. While this blog is never a numbers game, it certainly does include fun and games. So for this week’s quiz, take out your number 2 pencils and get ready for a little twist. I’m changing up our subject for today. Rather than asses, we’ll be playing, “Name That Tattoo.”

The rules are the same. On scant evidence, see how many of the following homoerotic wrestler tattoos seem familiar. For full credit, name the wrestler with the ink. For extra credit, name his opponent and the match. Advanced students ONLY should proceed to item #5 below, because I’m the first to admit that it’s a damn tough one.

First up, tat #1:

I don’t anticipate regular readers of the blog will require any additional clues, but I’ll give them to you anyway, just to make sure we all have a little taste of success early on in the quiz to keep us from starting off demoralized. Clue #1, this homoerotic wrestler does not perform under the name Gabriel. Possibly more helpful, he also has some smattering of additional tattoos around his hips and crotch that look like lipstick marks (I’d kiss that!). My final clue, because you certainly don’t need more, is that this tatted wrestling wonder possesses the record for holding the title as my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy longer than anyone else. This is an open-book quiz, so, seriously, you have no excuse at this point.

Tat #2:

Damn, this man is a work of art. I’ve been sorely missing him from the homoerotic wrestling scene, though I get my dose of him regularly by following his many “tweets.” A musician, an educator, a former favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy of mine, and a wicked smart piece of work. I’m rating this item only slightly more challenging than tat #1, and as I mentioned, this is an open-book quiz, so no more clues for you.

Tat #3:

Fans of this petite homoerotic wrestler were a little stunned when he returned from a hiatus in front of the camera with a liberal coating of ink. His homoerotic wrestling moniker does not start with a J or a G, but he’s a gorgeous, scrappy, ferocious little pit bull who, let’s face it, tends to get his ass handed to him by the much, much (much) bigger boys in he battles in the one production company he works for. In fact, I’d say it’s a miracle that he’s managed to avoid serious, life-threatening injuries even playing with the body building mega monsters he typically faces. He must have God on his side. Now I’ve said too much.

Tat #4:

I’m not sure whether you’ll find this gorgeous ink easier or more difficult to name than the owner of tat #3. His tenure in homoerotic wrestling was tragically brief, but he accounts for a whole lot of viewing pleasure from me. He’s participated in the NOH8 campaign. The arm about to choke him out in the pic above is much more familiar to frequent readers of this blog (and also belongs to an inked hottie). That’s more than enough said. This one is supposed to be hard.

Tat #5:
So I’m serious now, this one should only be attempted by advanced students. Remedial homoerotic wrestling fans will likely only find this bewildering. This homoerotic wrestler is included in today’s quiz because, like the owner of tat #4, he accounts for many more moments of climactic pleasure of mine than his scant homoerotic wrestling resume might imply. Making this extra tough is the fact that he’s unlisted in the wrestler profiles of the company he wrestled for, despite his having appeared in 3 wrestling tapes dating around 6 or 7 years ago. That’s it. If he caught your eye as commandingly as he did mine, the bull skull inked to his hot left pec will instantly ring a bell for you. If not, you’ll have to hit the library and put in a whole lot of study time to pull this one off.
As usual, feel free to play at home, but you’re also welcome to compare notes with one another in the comments below. The first player to score all possible points (wrestlers, opponents, and matches – even the matches for the posed pics where no opponent is visible!) on this assignment (before I reveal the answers in tomorrow’s post) can claim the prize of a pic of one of my own tats, just to make things (possibly) more competitive for you. You may begin…

Contending with Joe

wrestlebard7 Comments
Joe at Ringside at Skull Island is very, very keen on BG East’s new release, Ringwars 19. Since I possess a preferential regard for both ring wrestling and Joe’s opinions, Ringwars 19 is instantly on my to-own list. Joe’s description of an early-career Alexi Adamov hanging from a rafter with his long, gorgeous thighs clamped around the head of Naughty Nick Naughton is sufficient to convince me that Ringwars is my kind of wrestling kink.
But now that the new releases are available for the masses to order, I’m feeling the need to contradict Joe. Perhaps less a contradiction than a contention, I’m feeling that if you own no other new release to emerge in 2011, you’ll want it to be Sunshine Shooters 4. Joe argues that all-time need-to-own would be Ringwars 19. It’s not that I doubt Joe’s tastes in the least. But I jumped on the Sunshine Shooters 4 wagon at the earliest possible moment, and was blown away. This release includes three matches that hold my attention and turn me on, non-stop. Most newsworthy for most, though, will be the fact that cover boy, Playboy model, and internet softcore it-boy, Z-Man Zack Vasquez, has dipped his foot in the deep end of the pool that is BG East wrestling.
I’ve had a love/hate (or at least a lust/antipathy) relationship with Z-Man for some time. Ever since I first saw him ham it up against Alexander years ago for Thunder’s Arena, I was both captivated by the Z-Man’s incredible physique and aggravated by his salesmanship. Following his progress with Thunder’s and in the early crop of matches with Rock Hard Wrestling, I’ve been adamantly proscribing a stern, merciless lesson in being introduced to actual pain in order wipe that irrepressible, smarmy, “this-is-all-play-acting” smirk off his truly beautiful face. I’ll marvel more about the details in a future post, but for now, let me just bow down to the perfectly tuned stylings of veteran Patrick Donovan who delivers exactly what the doctor ordered. 
Frankly, I suspected that bringing along the Z-Man could be a bit of a gamble for BG East. In my estimation, BG East’s strength is in their high quality, all-in wrestling, so a half-assed, smirking performance by even a Playboy model could be an embarrassing ding on BG East’s fine reputation. But the Boss rolled the dice and damn, did it pay off! The pacing and action here make me gasp. The wrestling is completely engaging and astonishingly hot. Patrick seriously beats on Z-Man with his fists in a way that totally satisfies me. The audible thumps followed quickly by Z-Man’s reflexive grunts are just about as stellar as the sight of the Z-Man’s gorgeous pecs and eight-pack abs turning bright red from the relentless assault. Z-Man (and Patrick, for that matter) has never looked more tasty, more toned, or in skimpier wrestling gear. Z-Man-addicts, and I know there are many of you, will find this bout simply fantastic. 
Next up, there’s Cole Cassidy and Tony Vencini working up a sheen of sweat that continually makes me press “pause.” Cole never disappoints me. This is my first Tony match, and he’s one big, solid brute of a battler. Their grappling is astonishingly high quality, with incredibly intense and relentless pacing that tires me out just watching it (for many reasons). But again, just like my assessment of Patrick and the Z-Man, I have to say that having adored Cole’s body many, many times before, he’s simply never looked more stunning, shiny, hard, and ripped to shreds, working incredibly hard against an accomplished and bigger boy. Another truly entertaining match.
Seriously, I’d pay money (but probably couldn’t afford) for Cole to slide my head between his devastating thighs and squeeze, and I’d tip him a whole lot extra to let me me reach up and squeeze those meaty pecs of his at the same time.
But as I mentioned a couple of days ago, I’m totally smitten with the amazing match-up of beefy bruiser Brook Stetson going muscle to muscle against my inaugural favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy and regular fixture in my fondest wrestling fantasies, Mitch Colby. Like all the shoots in this collection, these boys (okay, I like the term boys, but in this case, I simply have to call these studs men), these men are working their asses off. Just as importantly, they work their singlets off and are both quickly coated in each other’s sweat. Something happens inside me though, when Brook hog ties Mitch’s wrists behind his back using Mitch’s own jock strap as bindings. Mitch’s beautiful ass is wedgied high and hard, and for the first time in this entire match, Mitch’s endless tenacity simply can’t keep him fighting against the overpowering behemoth. Brook is understated, but unmistakably pleased with his handiwork as he slides Mitch face-first high between his oak-tree thighs for an astonishing face-to-crotch, hands literally tied behind Mitch’s back, head scissor submission. Holy fuck.
That “something” that happens to me, by the way, is the completely out-of-the-blue return of Mitch to the top rankings of my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboys. It was a brief tenure that DJ enjoyed as the top contender for the title, and I wouldn’t count DJ out of the running for long with the way he’s been tearing through the competition at Naked Kombat as of late, but Sunshine Shooters 4 unquestionably bears witness to a shocking assault from behind, in which Mitch manages to gorilla press DJ’s lightweight, ripped to shreds body over head, leave him hanging and gasping in shock and terror for an eternity, before tossing DJ right out of the ring, leaving Mitch the undisputed top contender staring down my reigning favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy, Trent Diesel.
Perhaps I might think differently once I get a chance to enjoy Ringwars 19. Perhaps you might think differently with both products in hand and well-scrutinized. But I’ve just got to say, I suspect for many of us, if there’s no other new release we buy in 2011, we’d simply have to own Sunshine Shooters 4.

It’s Who You Know

wrestlebardLeave a comment
While I have no regrets in having just handed the title belt of homoerotic wrestler of the month to Ace Hanson, it has to be said that in February 2011, Cameron Mathews was everywhere. Starting with making a surprise appearance as a reference in my interview with my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy, Lon Dumont, every time I turn around I’m seeing images of Cameron.
Cameron Mathews v Rio Garza – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat
Truth be told, that typically causes a drop in a homoerotic wrestler’s stock as far as I’m concerned. I’ve gone on the record several times calling to task producers who are overexposing the fine, beautiful talent that we pay to enjoy. Give me steady diet of champagne and caviar and I’ll be sick of it soon enough (sooner, really). But hearing from Lon that he and Cameron go way back, and in fact Lon trained Cameron in pro wrestling, softens me up a bit as I consider the omnipresence of Cameron. His ever beefier bod with tracks of sweat pouring down his gorgeous pecs as he applies a boston crab to Rio Garza for Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat, on the other hand, makes any hint of softness in me evaporate and a decided hardness come over me, instead.
Cameron Mathews v Donnie Drake – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat

Cameron has got to be one of the hardest working hunks to climb into ring after ring after ring. He’s got 20 times the energy level of almost any opponent I’ve seen him face. He’s a “performer” in the very best and most respectful sense of the word. He’s working his craft, toning his body, and selling story after story of a fierce, babyface gladiator with a razor wit and genetic lottery-winner of an ass going toe-to-toe to prove that he’s not only the strongest, not only the most skilled, but he’s also the most clever.

Cameron Mathews v Rio Garza – Can-Am’s Pro Bashed Triple Threat

Can-Am tends to sell Cameron’s cred as an indy pro veteran. Not only did he appear in Can-Am’s “gay themed” release of Pro Bashed Triple Threat in February, he also showed up in their straight-up version of indy wrestling, Cyberfights, in Tag Team Battle 3. And true enough, Cameron clearly knows his way around a wrestling ring. He has an awesome understanding of his own body as well as the way to work over, immobilize, and inflict pain on the bodies of others. He sells every moment I’ve seen him on camera.

Cameron Mathews v Rocky Brick – Thunder’s Arena’s Mat Wars 25

And did I mention his ass? Yes? Well let me just repeat myself. Cameron’s got the bubblest butt I’ve ever seen. I can marvel at the sight of his glutes for a long, long time without losing interest.

Cameron Mathews v Rocky Brick – Thunder’s Arena’s Mat Wars 25

He’s got a clever-clown persona, particularly in his work with Thunder’s Arena, such as their late February release of Mat Wars 25, that bridges the gap for me between an impressive wrestler and a hot wrestler. Delight is included in Cameron’s range, along with ferocious and agonized and fearful and vicious. Too many hot homoerotic wrestlers skimp on the expression of delight, I think. Without some moments of expressed delight, the rest of a wrestling performance can come across a little more like constipation than competition. Cameron does not appear constipated. Like Lon, Cameron can chuckle at the sight of his opponent humbled. He can thrill to dominate and mug for the camera. It looks like he’s not just punching the clock, but that in moments (perhaps not so much when he’s getting his ass kicked and selling his agony), he’s having fun.

Cameron Mathews v Billy Lodi – BGE Mat Brats 2

So for all he brings, and particularly for getting a nod of respect from my favorite homoerotic wrestler – non-pornboy, Cameron gets a pass on my typical bitching about a wrestler showing up in too many places at one time.

First Class

wrestlebard1 Comment
It’s been my policy to avoid posting pics from the BG East Arena until the matches are available for sale on the main page. One reason for this is so that I don’t get a flood of “where can I find this match!?” comments. A second reason is that I figure membership should have its privileges, as the old credit card commercial instructs us, and just like the classist foundations of procedures for boarding an airplane, those who pony up should enjoy some perks.

That said, I’m unable to resist posting some preview pics of the upcoming release of Sunshine Shooters 4. My inability to restrain myself is partly a result of the fact that Arena members can already download this match for viewing (so we still have our class privilege), and also because it’s been well-documented that I have both a pathological lack of impulse control AND a crazy crush on Mitch Colby. So there’s access to instant download, Mitch in peak physical condition, and he and juggernaut Brook Stetson stripped to jockstraps and soaked in each other’s sweat. I’m as defenseless as the picture of Mitch with his wrists hogtied behind his back in his own jockstrap (more on that in a second).

Sunshine Shooters 4 has more surprises in store, including the appearance of internet phenom it-boy, Z-Man, wrestling for the first time in the big leagues with BGE. But what I’m obsessing about is Mitch, all 6’2 and 206 pounds of Florida-tanned gorgeous muscle, getting tied up like a pretzel and mounted from behind by 5’11, 240 (!) pounds of thick, granite, hairy musclestud Brook Stetson.

This is not a squash. Man-of-my-dreams Mitch brings some extremely impressive skill and tenacity to the mat. He even wrings a submission out of the mountain of a man in front of him. But, damn! Brook is an astonishingly skilled wrestler and uses every opportunity to exploit his weight and strength advantage to work Mitch into one humiliating, compromised position after another. The sight of Mitch’s head getting completely crushed high between Brook’s ridiculously huge and fantastically inked thighs is wrestling kink perfection.

But wait. Brook then uses Mitch’s own jockstrap to tie the tanned hunk’s wrists behind his back, taunt and humiliate him some more, and then slide Mitch back between his gargantuan thighs for a face-to-crotch head scissor!? I had no idea that you could so decisively improve on perfection. Now, I love Mitch in charge and muscling around his opponents. But there’s something entirely intoxicating about him tenaciously coming back for more, over and over, and getting completely devasted and made defenseless. This match rocks my wrestling kink world. Once it launches for the coach seats, I’ll have much more to say on the matter.

Got Hacked.

wrestlebard5 Comments
Got hacked.
neverland appears to be untouched, but my email account has clearly been compromised. My apologies to folks who were in my contact list who may have received phishing emails with nefarious links. I’m migrating my email correspondence, at least temporarily, to a gmail domain.
I feel a little dirty and a lot violated. Someone touched my virtual things. He put his hands on my address book and impersonated me. Who was this shady character lurking in the shadows? Was he a socially retarded, morbidly obese slob on the order of Stieg Larsson’s Plague, wallowing in his own filth and refuse and never seeing the light of day? I prefer to picture him as a young Johnny Lee Miller from Hackers: awkward tech geek with visions of anarchy, but above all, really, really, really hot.

I’d be okay with picturing him as Garrett Hedlund from Tron: Legacy, also a studmuffin hacker boy with a six pack and big, broad pecs. Really, if I’m going to get violated and virtually fucked over, I’d much prefer to suffer at the hands of a big, hot hunk, than a pimple-ridden, value-less adolescent with delusional visions of grandeur because he can co-opt my email account to send malicious crap.

Seriously, this shit sucks and makes me a little sour on having an online presence at all. If my violator is Plague, who has to climb over his own delivery pizza boxes to make it to the toilet (if he bothers), then all of my earnest, sincere effort to explore the beauty of homoerotic wrestling and gorgeous men suddenly seems like just a little more trash littering his filthy loft. I’m suddenly struggling with an existential crisis here, my friends. What does it all amount to, if what seems like a beautiful thing to me is toilet paper to the next hacker who picks it up and wipes his butt with it?

On the other hand, if my hacker is a hot, snarky homo with a little Loki in him, nursing a bit of a heel-wannabe mischievousness just to keep us all on our toes, perhaps I shouldn’t despair. If I can replace the image of Plague rifling through my underwear drawer with the picture of a handsome, wicked smart, scrappy punk with a razor wire sense of humor and a body built by much more than roosting in front of a computer screen, maybe I shouldn’t be quite so disillusioned. If this is all some elaborate ruse to get my attention like a naughty puppy shredding my manuscript so that I’ll play with him, maybe this doesn’t merit a full on existential crisis. If he’s really just itching to arrange a face-to-face for me to kick his tight, athletic ass back and forth across the room, claw his balls until he screams, and crush his skull between my thighs as I jack his cock until he cums, then well-played. Game on.

For now, though, I’m irritated, bitter, and wondering if the lurker in the shadows will end up taking all the fun out of this for me.