Author: wrestlebard

I'm a gay man with an active imagination.

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

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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

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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.

The State of War

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So clearly, Joe at Ringside at Skull Island is determined to keep poking me with a stick. I can be magnanimous and say, “We may have differing opinions.” I can be conciliatory and say “Maybe one day, we’ll see eye to eye.” I rise above the fray and simply encourage readers to judge for themselves. But then today, Joe comes back at it like a dog with a bone, insisting that the was right all along, and that BG East’s Ringwars 19 is the superior new release, over and above what Sunshine Shooters 4 offers.

It’s not that I think anything that Joe says, precisely, is wrong. I just quibble with the calculus that adds up, at the end of the day, with Ringwars on top and Sunshine Shooters an honorable mention. As Joe mentions, like he, I was given the generous opportunity to see for myself what Ringwars 19 has to slap down on the table. It’s awfully meaty and good. Awfully good, damn it. And I’m on the record many times over for having a special kink-reflex in favor of ring action.

The match that Joe commends most for Ringwars 19 is Trent Blayze’s face off with Jayden Mayne. Like Joe, I’m slightly distracted by the extraneous “y’s” flying across this marquee, but aside from that, there’s a ton to commend this match. First of all, I had to watch this match twice, once to soak in the overall action, and once again just to delight in tracking Trent’s sweat stain as it slowly grows across his pink trunks. It starts early, stretching out from his ass crack, and progressively and entertainingly soaks him front and back. Trent’s ink is also astonishingly gorgeous, and he has a highly erotic way of talking out of the side of his mouth (literally) that’s a major turn on. He also manages a very enjoyable reversal partway through this match, after suffering meaningfully between Jayden’s whipcord thighs in an agonizing body scissor. Still trapped between Jayden’s knees, Trent crawls to his knees with Jayden still attached to his mid-section, then his feet, and with impressive strength and balance slaps on a bearhug that leaves the long-n-lean one limp in his arms and screaming.

It may just be because I’m feeling contrary. And I’m the first to admit that I’ve been accused of possessing an oppositional-defiant personality disorder, at least periodically. But I have to say that the boy in the ring here that turns me on the most is actually Jayden. He’s not as beefy as Trent, by any means. The two of them give me the feel of boys just out of college, Trent having been a frat boy and football player, and Jayden having been a frat boy (different frat) and soccer player (explaining the lack of love lost between them). I know that some snarky bastard is going to point out that Jayden is the more classically “pretty” face of the two, as if I should somehow be ashamed of that. But Jayden’s doing it for me in this match more so than the pink-trunked bully. I think Jayden should intern and eventually tag-team with Jonny Firestorm, because he has the potential to be another spitfire, wiry, dangerous, pit bull of a ring wrestler. He tells a hot story, too, going for Trent’s relatively soft core with satisfying boot strikes and an internal-organ-rearranging leg scissor. I’m not typically a blood fetish guy at all, but I have to say that Jayden earns himself a cut elbow that drips blood down his thigh in this bout, and I’m simply, instinctively aroused by it.

Match two for Ringwars 19 has Caleb Brand beating the crap out of Shannon Embry. Caleb has an impressively packed pouch, displayed awfully sweetly as he bridges high in the center of the ring more than once in this tussle. But it just has to be said that it’s Caleb’s ass that steals the show. He sports what looks like a painful wedgie from start to finish, which defies even his occasional attempt to pick it out. Hot, tanned, smooth, spankable glutes are surely value-added to any wrestling match, and Caleb is sporting just that. The action showcases sweet pro skills, telling a compelling story of advantage and reversal teetering on a knife’s edge for the first half of the bout between these two high class professionals. There’s fun pacing, a mix of holds, blows, and joint torture. But the best part, other than Caleb’s already mentioned ass, is Caleb’s use of the ring to heap on insult to injury. He tortures Shannon’s knee, arm and back in the ropes. He leaves his pale opponent hanging vulnerably over the edge of the ring to deliver a nasty looking assault on Shannon’s back, and he further sticks to the back abuse mercilessly working Shannon over in the corner (now that’s what a wrestling ring is for, damn it!). Caleb has hot pro strikes, boots and knees flying and plowing into Shannon at every angle as the catcher suffers admirably.

Match 3 is another highly entertaining piece of wrestling art. Whereas watching the sweat stain growing on Trent Blayze’s trunks was worth a second viewing of match #1, watching the sheen of sweat grow in the valley between Alexi Adamov’s fit young pecs is worth an entire viewing or two (with many pushes of the pause button) over and above the ring action itself in match #3. The ride Alexi gives Nick Naughton as the sexy-one hangs from the rafters would be a sell-out at a homoerotic wrestling kink theme park. I’d wait for hours for a front seat! Nick also spends a whole lot of time camped out on the mat with his head stuck high and tight between Alexi’s long, hard thighs, which would surely also be a feature ride at the homoerotic wrestling kink theme park (if anyone ever opens one, I want creative credit). Alexi packs a pair of square cut trunks awfully nicely, particularly from behind. Nick’s smuggling citrus fruit in the front of his tight, tight blue trunks. They bring some very sexy, intense, acrobatic action. These are two rookies, however (early in Alexi’s career with BG East), and it shows. There are a few odd cuts. There’s a bell off camera to give the action some needed borders (which makes me again long for some homoerotic wrestling with a ref and an audience). Nick forgets to use his finisher, and has to come back from the showers well after Alexi is beaten and done with to tie up his rookie-loose-ends.

So, Joe is so right that Ringwars 19 is extremely high quality homoerotic wrestling action. But I still say Joe goes one step too far when he concludes that this collection puts a schoolboy pin overtop of the action in Sunshine Shooters 4. Like Joe, I don’t think that the Z-Man/Patrick Donovan match is really the goods that shine the most for Sunshine Shooters 4, despite the likely strong appeal for many fans of seeing the Z-Man get the BG East treatment. But the intensity of all three Sunshine matches, including Z-Man’s pecs and abs turning fluorescent red from the pounding that Patrick gives him, the incredibly slippery and non-stop shoot between Cole and Tony, and particularly the exhausting, ferocious face-off and strip down between Mitch Colby (back to #1 contender for my favorite homoerotic wrestling pornboy) and Brook Stetson, still makes this decisively the one purchase to prioritize. Ringwars 19 puts up some awfully nice looking boys in impressive ring action. But if you’re in the mood for big, powerful, relentless men in action (well, apart from Z-Man… he’s still got a boyband feel about him), you’re going to turn to Sunshine Shooters 4 every time.

Fresh Favorite

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Along the lines of models as fighters, Xnotdead: The Fagzine has this photo series of model “Roman,” by Arno Roca. This is my first introduction to Xnotdead, and I have to say, I like it. I like the name. I like the feel. I love every smokin’ hot image of gorgeous, naked and nearly naked men featured on just about every click.

I’m not entirely sure what the scope and point of it all is, and somehow it’s still working for me. Perhaps the quirky, intuitive and nonlinear nature of Xnotdead is itself the point. There’s a distinct and explicit celebration of fetish eroticism, and that can’t be bad. Is this post-post-modern art? Or politics? Or erotics?

Whatever. I like it, and it’s instantly on my shortlist of sites. Now let’s see Roman flexing a double bicep over top of some bloodied, crushed hunk flat on his back. Or perhaps some vanquished piece of meat licking the sweat off of Roman’s brow.

I’m hoping to continue to be shocked and titillated, and if Xnotdead is really, really good, perhaps even scandalized.

Kiss It Some More

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Ace Hanson v Antonio – Thunder’s Arena’s No Holds Barred 5

If there’s one image that put Ace Hanson over the top in winning my homoerotic wrestler of the month title, it’s got to be the image of him flexing his huge bicep in Antonio’s face in No Holds Barred 5. Sweat streams down Ace’s forehead, drops falling from his brow. His freckled back is browned from the Florida sun. He presses the peak of his stunning bicep against Antonio’s nose humiliatingly, surely the scent of Ace’s sweaty body filling Antonio’s nostrils. “Kiss it,” Ace demands. And Antonio kisses it. Good God, that turns me on.

Mitch Colby v Jeremy Burk – BG East’s Motel Madness 8
I just don’t really watch much straight-up wrestling these days, but I have to imagine that this is not a common plot development. One man’s lips planted on the body of another is inherently homoerotic. I suppose even straight-up pro wrestling might dabble in a humiliating bicep kiss as an act of subjugation, sort of a bully’s prank, chuckling at the “degradation” he’s wrought on his loser opponent. Some of you who follow straight-up fare can tell me if this does, indeed, pop up from time to time. Regardless of whether straight-up wrestlers work a forced bicep kiss into their repertoire, I still say there’s something essentially, unmistakably homoerotic about one man’s lips on any part of another man’s body. Mitch Colby, with his massive hand holding Jeremy Burk’s head like a grapefruit, pressed the twink’s mouth against his beautiful bicep in Motel Madness 8. That kiss, along with Mitch shoving Jeremy’s face into his crotch and scissoring the twink’s head while Jeremy copped a completely understandable feel of Mitch’s pecs, decisively turned this motel pick-up match unavoidably down the path that would lead them to end up soaping each other up, tongues down each other’s throats, soon afterward.
Kid Vicious v Lobolito – BG East’s Wet & Wild 4
Reigning BG East sadist-extraordinaire, Kid Vicious, may not have the biggest biceps, but they’re nonetheless beautiful and more importantly, devastating. Every KV wrestling match is a morality tale in mastery. And the moral of the story? Don’t fuck with KV, or more truthfully, get ready to be fucked over by KV. Skill, cunning, and the complete determination to sexually dominate will overcome all challengers, particularly fresh faced newbies who think that because KV isn’t a a massive musclebound stud, he can’t be all that dangerous. The Wet & Wild 4 taming of Lobolito captures the image perfectly. Lobolito’s right hand is stretched, seemingly lovingly, across KV’s lower back, his tongue obediently lapping at KV’s rock hard bicep (KV is looking particularly toned in this bout). It it weren’t for the look of abject anguish on Lobolito’s face, the sneering domination written across KV’s face, and the leather studded belt wrapped around Lobolito’s neck, the better for KV to completely exercise his vicious control.

Kid Vicious v Kieron Knight – BG East’s Bootboy Brawl 5

I haven’t seen them all, but I’m assuming every KV match includes his opponent’s lips pressed against his body. And why not? If you’re as accomplished at the homoerotic arts of physical domination as KV, why wouldn’t you insist that every conquest include some carnal worship? Babyfaced Kieron Knight from Bootboy Brawl 5 is clearly an awed protege of the vicious one, as quick off the dime to kiss his bicep as he is to do his darnedest to show the master the best he’s got. To know when to be tender and to know when to be tough is surely the sign of a zen-homoerotic-wrestling master.

Rusty Stevens v Mitch Colby – BG East’s The Breaking Point: Sexiest [by far]
And just to cover my bases on the topic, I also want to mention that I’m a big, big fan of the self-worshiping homoerotic wrestling hunk. Any self-worship has it’s delights, but particularly the self-worship of a stunningly muscled, accomplished and always dangerous wrestler like Rusty Stevens, pushes the same buttons for me as the forced bicep kiss from an opponent (well, the buttons are at least kink-adjacent). It’s cliche, I know, and yet I’m always a sucker for a hunk with baseball biceps lifting his arm to his face and planting a lingering, adoring, lustful kiss on his own bicep. Any beautiful physique can pull this off satisfyingly for me, but particularly a physique that I’ve seen dominate hunk after hunk, inflicting precisely measures quantities of pain and humiliation, putting every aesthetically perfect muscle to no better possible use than to one overmatched stud after another. The bicep kiss is just giving credit where credit is due – showing some love to what got you there, and to what it is that will bring home victory after sexually dominating victory.